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“The mountain fortress where you visited me before,” he said. “The Craadil were on their way to attack us there and we chose to fight in the meadow rather than be besieged. We were outnumbered and losing when you arrived with your incredible fire weapon.”
After about half an hour, the soldiers took a break and Garrin lowered her to her feet. “Do you think you can walk now?”
“Walk, yes. Run like you overachievers, no.” She clung to his arm, still woozy.
“We’ll be climbing to the fortress now actually.”
Dianora would have preferred running. The approach to the fortress was up a steep staircase carved out of the mountain with no guardrail and a dizzying drop on one side. Garrin put her next to the wall and climbed beside her, giving her support as they climbed. She was in pretty fair physical condition but she was huffing and puffing by the time she entered the fortress at the end of the climb. Dianora waited in a courtyard while Garrin consulted with two of his men and then he came to her.
“Let me escort you to my rooms so you can bathe and rest,” he said.
It took her two tries to summon words. “We should talk.”
“Was this your first time in a combat situation? Your first time to inflict harm on another being?” Garrin asked, his eyes full of concern. “I regret the stone brought you to the killing fields but yet again your arrival saved the day and saved me.”
She swallowed hard and told herself not to cry. “I’ve never shot at anything but a target before. I’m the kind of person who takes spiders outside rather than kill them.”
“You had no choice today—it was kill or die.” Garrin enfolded her in a hug. “I’m proud of you and I know how the first battle can affect one, especially a person lacking combat training.”
Dianora clung to him for a long moment. “Today can be my last battle too, as far as I’m concerned.” Even as she said the words, however, she remembered the war wasn’t over and it was probably inevitable she’d have to fight again. She’d made her choice and how she’d have to follow through. Of course there’d be consequences—why hadn’t she thought about this? What else hadn’t she properly anticipated when she made her choice to travel here?
He took her hand, interrupting her agitated listing of her worries as he said, “Come, let me tend to you in private. The servants will have been filling the tub with heated water and we don’t want to let it grow cold.”
As they walked toward the entrance to the imposing building, she observed wounded men being carried into the courtyard on crude litters.
“That reminds me, I brought a limited amount of medical supplies,” she said, unslinging her backpack. “I may be able to help treat your casualties. I have had first aid training.”
“I insist we take care of you first.” He took the backpack and kept her walking. “Then yes, of course I must visit my wounded men and you would be welcome to accompany me.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Dianora passed through the doorway ahead of him and found another long flight of stairs waiting for them. At least these stairs had a handrail.
“Anything, my lady.”
“Your people won’t think I’m a witch or anything, will they? I don’t want to be burned at the stake.” She managed a laugh but her question was serious.
“A witch?”
“You know, bringing my uh fire weapon and doing what I can for the wounded tonight.”
He was holding her hand and now he raised it to eye level, causing the ring’s gems to sparkle and gleam in the light. “It is well known you travel to me from another realm and therefore expected you would bring your own magic with you. Witches can be good or evil but no one would dare cast aspersions on your motives and magics. None may question what I have accepted as good and proper.”
Garrin’s voice rang with conviction and she was reassured, while also wondering how much magic there was in Argorn. Her own ‘magic’ was actually advanced technology but what would explain magic here? She was too tired and stressed from the battle earlier to think it all through. Garrin said she’d be accepted and she’d trust his word.
They proceeded up the staircase to his suite of rooms and as she entered in front of him a maidservant was pouring a final pitcher of hot water into a large tub in the ensuite bathroom. She bobbed a curtsey to them. “All ready for you, my lady. Do you need help undressing?”
Dianora stared, flustered by the question and then shook her head. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”
“I’ll bring the warm water for rinsing shortly,” the maid said.
Taking a deep breath, Dianora reminded herself she really was in a medieval time period, not a fictional trideo or a dream.
As the door closed behind the maid, Garrin asked,” Problem?”
“It’s a lot for me to get used to.” She gestured at his well-appointed room, with the tapestries, lamps and candles. “Very different than where I’m from. I don’t have servants and no one helps me with my bath.”
He came closer with a smile. “I’d be honored to assist you, my lady. No need for a maid.”
Blushing from head to toe, she retreated a step. Garrin captured her wrist, gently circling it with his fingers. “Your heart beats like the wings of a bird entangled in a net. Are you then frightened of me? Of what there might be between us?” His voice was low and tender.
