by Billy Wong
Tears moistened his eyes as he continued to ramble. "But at the same time, I'm scared to let her know how I feel, because how can I be worthy of her love? Other men can say they'll protect their women, support them, be their strength. But what do I have to offer Rose, that she doesn't have more of? Bravado? Even my 'incomparable' brute strength can only match hers. She's smarter and tougher than me, and it seems like I always need her to save me, not the other way around. She's accomplished more noteworthy deeds, though she's nearly a decade younger. What am I to her? I'm not even her equal, how can I be her husband?"
Derrick was touched by the emotion Finn displayed. He wasn't sure what to say, as he hadn't found love yet as an adult, but did the best he could.
"If you're looking for something you're better at than her, you could indeed start with bravado. A man doesn't need to be better than a woman for her to love him—especially with Rose, who sure isn't the type to hide behind men. I can tell she likes you too. All you need to give her is your love, support, and friendship, and I'm sure you'll do just fine. She's in a lot of pain too, emotionally I mean, and somebody's got to soothe her.
"And besides, you're the strongest man in Kayland. Even if you're not better than her, if not you then who?"
Slowly, Finn nodded. "I think you're right. When she wakes up, I'll be waiting to proclaim my love, and if she rejects me, at least I won't have to wonder about it. Thanks for your advice, and see you whenever Rose feels like letting me go!"
Derrick hadn't expected it to be so easy. Maybe Finn wanted to tell her already, and just needed Derrick's approval to boost his resolve. With that, Finn left for her room. Alone, Derrick really didn't feel that tired anymore. He ordered another drink.
#
Derrick woke up still tired as hell, barely able to open his eyes, in his chair at the bar. He'd thought he knew better than to push his own limits so far, and wondered if a bit of Rose had rubbed off on him. Obviously, it worked better for her.
He made the difficult climb upstairs, and saw her door was open. Derrick hoped she hadn't gone out celebrating already. He peeked inside and saw Finn slumped against the dresser in a chair next to Rose, who was awake in bed. She smiled as Derrick sat by her side. "He was asleep when you awoke?" he asked, and she nodded.
Then she burst into a fit of joyous laughter which must have set her insides on fire, though she hardly seemed to care. "He loves me! He was holding this little poem, which he must have been planning to read to me! It's so sweet, too! Read it!"
Derrick took the scrap of paper and tried to decipher the, well, terrible handwriting. Finn had only planned to read it himself, so it figured. Watching him struggle over the words, Rose took the paper back and began to read herself, her voice blissful as she spoke.
My lovely more beautiful than your namesake flower
More strong and enduring than a dauntless boar
Armies fear and flee before your power
Monsters cower before your thunderous battle-roar
Lady warrior without peer
Stricken with wounds to a slay a hearty man
Still you stand and shed not a tear
But fall upon the enemy and break his perfect plan
Troubles fall away before your spirit unyielding
Your kindness boundless as the strength of your will
Effects more than strongest drink towards my unwinding
The song of your voice my most treasured thrill
Gentle lady your beautiful heart honors me to ward
Your hand I yearn to hold through joy and sorrow
Let our souls entwine together as we stride hopeful toward
Our shining sweet tomorrow
Derrick didn't know how to respond, and sat speechless for the moment. At least Finn had the rhyming part down, if nothing else. It was crude, but fitting of her, somehow. Rough and spirited, indeed. "It suits you nicely," he said with a grin. "He captured some of your essence on that scrap." Rose gasped in mock terror and broke again into laughter. "I suppose you'd like me to leave you two alone now?"
Still laughing, she replied, "That'd be great. I've got my own little surprise for him when he wakes up!"
Wondering what it could be, Derrick walked out and closed the door. Well, if it was more poetry, it'd be welcome proof anyone could learn to appreciate the finer arts!
#
Finn awakened to something rubbing his head and looked to see Rose sitting up, softly stroking his hair with her beautiful callused hand. As he gazed into her radiant eyes, she squirmed away to the other side of the bed, beckoning him to join her under the sheets. Now, common sense would have prescribed going no further than their initial cuddling, but Rose was never one to be deterred by wounds, and passion soon prevailed over sense. She did show some wisdom by asking Finn to take it easy, but it was only a matter of days before the ceiling of the room below began to shake in earnest.
#
A week after the confrontation at the Archmages' Studio, Derrick stood at the edge of the gathering as Sir Jacob was laid to rest in the little graveyard outside the Heron estate. Understandably enough, Rose and Finn had chosen not to come. They had already visited Adam and apologized in person, but did not want to face the awkwardness of extended proximity to him and Elaine.
The two had both survived their drowning and revival treatment, and were no longer possessed of the Clarities. Still, they'd avoided Derrick's gaze since his arrival. The rift that had opened between the groups could not be easily mended, and they were no longer the same friends as before the battles.
Still, Derrick felt at least one of his party should be here to honor a fallen ally, even if he had been their enemy at the end. When it came time to give offerings to the dead, he threw in the broken spear pulled from Rose's body. It was what Rose and Finn had said the old knight would have wanted, and Derrick could hardly question their knowledge of warrior customs. Adam looked at him and gave a slight nod, and Derrick thought that it was at least a start.
His somber mood evaporated as he approached the tavern, and his thoughts turned back to his friends. Over the past week, the two had been enraptured with bliss in rediscovering one another, and Derrick able to share in some of that joy. He had never seen anyone quite so happy, and supposed that in lives full of violence and danger, the love Rose and Finn shared must be a welcome oasis indeed.
He was about to walk through the door when he heard Finn's voice call out to him. "Don't waste too much time in there, we've got to hurry!" He and Rose sat mounted on their horses, and for a moment Derrick entertained the fear that another battle was at hand.
Then Rose said, "Get on behind me! There's a Spirits Festival eighty miles from here in two days, showcasing every kind of alcohol you can imagine, but especially the spirits! No way we're going to miss a second of it, so let's go!"
Well, at least he'd have some good stories to tell, Derrick decided as he climbed onto the massive steed. He wondered if he would make a good drunk, and hoped Rose and Finn would remember to take care of him in their merriment. And they were off, riding towards a new adventure hopefully more fun, and less dangerous, than the last.
Act 2
Chapter 6
Derrick staggered under the wounded soldier's weight as he attempted to escort him away from the thick of the fighting. The man sagged further as an arrow sprouted in the back of his neck, and Derrick knelt to brace the corpse above him as a fleshy shield. The body jerked beneath a thick rain of arrows, and he watched soldiers fall all around him.
He was still terrified, but had gotten somewhat used to the feeling. The first few minutes of the battle had felt like hours, but now time seemed to have resumed its normal pace. He yelled encouraging slogans about courage and honor, but they rang hollow in his ears as he saw more of his comrades slump lifeless to the ground.
The deadly hail ceased, and Derrick dropped the corpse to follow his allies' advance across the dusty plain with its sparse, trampled underbrush. He often stepped over bodi
es of men he had talked to only hours or minutes before, and the stench of blood and fouler fluids assailed his nostrils. A masked spearman, tall and menacing, darted into view and thrust at him with a yell. Derrick sidestepped and slashed into the side of his neck. He fell, thrashing as blood gushed from the wound. Immediately, Derrick looked away and continued forward.
Where? He wasn't sure, but followed the colors of his allies, many of whom probably made use of the same guidance. He stumbled over a dropped shield, and wondered how the hell so-called "great heroes" could do this so gracefully. It seemed he had to watch every step he made, as any misstep could mean his doom, and the chances for missteps were plenty. Another spearman came before him, only to be struck down by a javelin.
Derrick looked back at his helper to see him beset by two foes. As he rushed to aid the soldier, something smashed into his helm. He reeled and tumbled to the earth, momentarily blinded. His vision returned in a clearing blur and he saw how lucky he'd been, as a huge catapult-tossed boulder lay atop two mangled men to his right. A piece of that had broken off and grazed him, merely a pebble compared to its rocky parent.
Then a great shadow fell over him, and he looked up. The woman's upper body bristled with arrows, and there were a few shafts lodged in her lower areas as well. She also bore scattered gashes, made where heavy blows had breached her armor. Still, she stood firmly upright, if with a pained expression. Her single hand grabbed the back of Derrick's shirt and hoisted him to his feet as if he weighed no more than a toddler. Despite the cruel wounds she bore, a smile broke out readily across her round face.
"Rose," he breathed. "It's been too long."
Her reply was good-humored as always. "Don't talk like that! It makes me feel old, and besides, it hasn't even been a year. And it makes you sound like an old man, too!"
Derrick laughed as he hadn't for what seemed an eternity, then sobered as he looked her up and down. "Are you well? This is a lot of hurt, even for you."
A little shudder ran through her shoulders, but she shrugged dismissively. "I still feel fine—well, not fine, but I'll live. Besides, it isn't as bad as it looks; the inner layers of my armor hold most of them, though enough got through. Anyway, I'm done fighting for today. See? The Coblan forces are retreating. It's too bad they haven't the honor to lose graciously. They shot an armory's worth of arrows at me after I beat their leader."
Derrick gently touched her shoulder. "I can tell that just by looking at you. Are you and Finn back together yet?"
She shook her head, and some time passed before she spoke. "The issue between us remains unresolved. He surely doesn't approve of me coming here, and I fear how his anger simmers against me now. But I just had to help you how I could."
Several months had passed since Derrick last saw Rose and Finn, and that day hadn't been a happy one. It'd been less than half a year since Finn declared his love for Rose, and already the couple was having problems. Her parents had accepted their love with surprising ease considering their distaste for her fighting—perhaps because they thought as a fellow legendary warrior, Finn would be well suited to keeping her safe.
But Finn himself had been in a rush to have Rose birth and raise his children, while he would continue to live as a traveling warrior. The last straw came when a heavy blow caused her to bleed between the legs, sending Finn into a panic over possible damage to her womb. He had insisted she retire from adventuring then, and in the argument that ensued accused her of being an irresponsible woman likely to make a poor mother.
She'd shot back with remarks about his selfishness, and in her anger implied Finn was only mad due to jealousy of her greater deeds. He attacked her then, and their vicious brawl all but destroyed her parents' house. Rose ended up leaving while Derrick, who suffered his share of bruises trying to break up the fight, tried to free the stunned Finn who Rose had driven halfway through the floor with a slam. Since then, Derrick had not seen either of them. He'd missed them, and now was glad to behold the mighty warrioress.
Now Rose looked at him curiously and asked, "What are you doing on the battlefield? I thought a scholar like you was worth more to everyone using his mind to solve problems, than risking your life out here like this."
"Well, it is my homeland, and I'm not so bad a swordsman myself. After all, you and Finn did name me a warrior. I'm sure glad you're here, though. With you around, the Coblan army should scatter out of fear in no time!"
She laughed, but without real mirth. "I see that though you've fought them, you haven't gotten the chance to know them. These men are not easily broken; they're courageous and disciplined, and it takes a lot to rout them. This is some army Prince Wilner has assembled. The champions I fought today equaled the best of many a kingdom, and this was only the first test. This battle won't be easily won."
Prince Wilner was the ruler of Coblan, the former province that had broken away when one of his ancestors got into an unsettleable disagreement with the then-king of Kayland. It had been a weak nation from its independence, but Wilner's rise to power two decades ago changed that. The young ambitious monarch set out to make his kingdom a military power, beginning with the conquest and subjugation of disorganized tribes in and near it. Twenty years into his reign, he'd expanded Coblan to three times its original size, building its army into the most frightful on the continent. Now he set his sights on the closest province of Kayland, the dry and infertile northwest corner of the kingdom called the Brushknoll; and who knew where he would turn after that?
A young soldier, who had been listening in on Rose and Derrick's conversation, added in a hushed tone, "I heard that among the enemy army, there are dozens of great champions equal to many a lesser warrior combined, and that Prince Wilner is the most fearsome fighter of them all. With his two axes, he is said to form a whirlwind of steel no foe can withstand, and to kill hundreds of men every time he takes the field. One day, he slew a thousand."
Rose fixed the man's eyes with a harsh glare. "So you think we're doomed to lose, then?"
He shrank back a bit, looking cowed. "Well, I don't know. We do have some fine fighters on our side as well, and our kingdom is larger than theirs. What do you think, lady?"
Her expression hardened further, and she looked intensely towards the mountains beyond which Coblan lay. "All I know," and Derrick could guess what she was going to say, "is that all men die the same. And this Wilner is no exception."
#
General Lipner looked up as Rose walked into his tent in response to his request. He was an alert, harsh-looking man in his early forties, his inherited baldness only enhancing his aura of intimidation. He did seem impressed by her stature and the way she pretended not to be bothered by the arrows still protruding from her body, but his narrowed eyes held more than a touch of suspicion.
"Welcome, Lady Rose, and thank you for your great help today. I am curious to know, are you truly the slayer of numerous demons and undead, krakens and dragons? A great hero?" In the last phrase, she thought she detected a hint of contempt.
"No, of course not," she said, and saw him exhale. "Just one dragon, a couple of undead, and I don't know how many to count as real demons. But there was a family of krakens."
A glower tugged at his mouth before he suppressed it. "So, what brings you here? I did not think a freedom-loving adventurer like you would wish to join such a structured organization as my army."
Did he think she meant to take credit for his victories? She smiled pleasantly. "I came because I heard a good friend of mine was here. He's not an experienced warrior, and I thought he could use my support. As for my motives, I just want to be able to stay by Derrick's side, and help him through the battles. I don't plan to steal your glory."
He pretended ineffectively to relax and returned her smile. "Derrick? The name doesn't ring a bell, but I don't have a problem with you staying as long as you don't make trouble. And you'll be expected to follow orders like everyone else, agreed?"
"Of course. May I go now?"
He waved her away, sighing audibly as he did so. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she turned to leave, and knew he hadn't changed his mind about her. He must have imagined that every self-centered adventurer did all they did solely for their own gain. But even if that had been the case, why should he care so much? In a battle like this, the less brutal side could use any help they could get.
#
"So why exactly is Prince Wilner invading here? There's no resources but iron, which Coblan has enough of, and he can't possibly think to take over all of Kayland with the forces he has." This came from Kevin, a gangly young soldier who sat with Rose and Derrick at dinner.
She had finally removed her armor and arrows, and now sat in her torn cotton undershirt. Looking around the campfire, she saw most of Derrick's squadmates were young men, and her heart ached to know many of them would be dead before the war ended. She found herself wishing Kayland kept more career soldiers in its employ; these boys, she knew, would suffer for their lack of experience. More than one let his eyes linger a bit on her well-scarred face, but Rose hardly cared. She was used to stares.
George, a stout, well-mannered soldier with a healing cut down the center of his chin, answered first. "Maybe he's trying to impress his allies? Show them his might, so they'll be more willing to help him conquer Kayland?"
Derrick shook his head. "Nobody's going to be much impressed by the conquest of a little scrap of border territory like this. Why do you think King Benedict sent so few troops here to ward him off?"
"The arrogance of stubborn men," Rose mumbled unhappily, "is too often their folly."
"She's right," chubby redhead Tom said, voice high with delight. "Wilner is indeed a fool, we'll be home glorying over our victory soon once we crush his pack of rabble!" None of the others thought that was what she'd meant, and looked at him with mixed admiration and contempt. He was optimistic—a good trait in a soldier, if all too rare.