Chapter 18

The Poles were dancing again.

Catty sat near the doorway, watching the soldiers and women spin and stomp their feet in the dining hall, tables and chairs pushed to the walls to make room. There was some big party at the King's palace, apparently, to which SHE had not been invited. Neither had the soldiers. Unlike her, they were not stewing at the (understandable) slight. Instead, they were making their own fun. Catty could understand that. She could also, to her surprise, understand the music. There was a seductive rhythm to it, a beat which seemed to seep inside you. Seemingly against her will, the Queen found her right leg bouncing up and down in time with the notes. A strange sound was heard. It was her, voice unconsciously mimicking the melody. Part of her wanted to stop. It was embarrassing. Another part...

"Catty."

She looked up. Far had stood, the other three of her soldiers, companions, friends, still seated near her. And he had used her name. Not "your Highness", but...

"Should we try dancing with the primitives, Catty?" His voice was a smile, his face a song.

Dance. He wanted to dance with her. Dances were ... intimate. Emotional. Catty ... she had never, really, danced. Not ... not with a male. Not like that. He stood over her, Catty's dream mate, hand reaching out to her. His hand...

"Y ... yes."

How she said the words, Catty didn't know, neither her mind nor body was hers to command. As if drawn by his magnetic pull, her hand lifted. Far took it. Their hands had touched often. Never had her entire being trembled at the contact. She stood.

As if her movement was a signal, the music ended. The Poles were laughing, talking. Those playing instruments set them momentarily aside, taking long drinks from mugs and flasks. One of the women, an older, slightly portly Pole, came over to Catty. Her face was flush, sweat glistening on her neck.

"Oh! Are you going to dance with us, Queen Catty? Wonderful!" The woman turned before Catty could think of a reply, hands giving one clap. "The Elves are going to dance with us! Play a good one!"

The music started again. The humans paired off, moving and spinning. Catty had no idea what to do!

Gentle hands turned her. She faced Far. He stepped up to her, one hand touching her waist, the other taking her left hand. She trembled.

"Just do what I do," he whispered. Catty nodded. Almost instantly she was moving, circling.

Dancing.

Whether she danced for moments, or an eternity, Catty couldn't say. She knew they paused, clapping their hands together as the Poles did to honor those playing the music. Her other three remaining friends also took their turns spinning with her around the room. For all they had spent months together, fled and fought for their lives, for the first time she felt one with them. Yet, it was when the young Elf woman was once again in her Far's arms that she felt complete. Felt...

Wanted.

The music had stopped again. The people around her talked, refilled their drinks. She sensed, in that way she sometimes did, the mood of the room had shifted. To what, she was not sure. There was much touching among the Poles, casual, teasing. Catty found herself looking away, both embarrassed, and ... excited.

"Here." Det stood before her, a mug in his hand. She took it, grateful. "It's just water."

She drank, eyes closed. She could feel it going down into her, refilling reservoirs drained in the dancing.

"She looks tired, Far, You should get her some fresh air."

"I think I will. You three staying?"

"I think we'll go back to our quarters. We've amused the Poles enough."

Catty felt the now empty mug taken from her. She smiled at her friends, receiving theirs in return as Far gently guided her out of the room. Her body, of its own accord, leaned against him. He was so ... so Far. That was the only way she could find to describe him.

"This way, Your Highness."

The blast of cool, even cold, air hit her as Far held open the barracks door. The hazy fog fled her, arms moving to hug a body not clad for such temperatures. Far was warm beside her, though, her body moving even tighter against him.

The brown skinned Shanna had asked Catty if her people could see in the dark. A silly thing to ask. Compared to who? Catty could not see through Polish eyes. Thus, she knew not if those of her people were better, or worse. She saw the movement, though, as the two of them paused in the doorway. Saw something person shaped fall through the darkness onto the ground near the western wall. It hit the ground with a thud, a sound devoid of life. Her eyes rose. On the walkway following the top of the the wooden wall, a dark form stood. Behind them, another shape rose up, climbing over the barrier meant to protect them.

"Catty!" She was shoved aside, stumbling along the wooden porch. Her eyes shot to Far. Her love had jumped in the other direction. Behind where they had been, an arrow penetrated the floor boards.

How dare they.

How DARE THEY!

Fury rose in the Elven Queen. Unbidden, words formed before her, vanishing as their meaning slipped out from the aether. The air shimmered. Another arrow came. It flew close to her left cheek, only to spin away as if swatted. She stepped forward, not noticing the change from porch to dirt. She saw them. Saw the invaders. Saw the dead guards, saw the living guards locked in battle. Saw her Far, grabbing a hunk of wood to protect her from the oncoming man.

No.

"FLAME!"

Catty extended her right arm, two fingers extended. Fire shot out from between them, rushing forward like burning water. It struck the male who had just dropped down to the ground, his entire Polish being igniting as if made of tinder. Screams tore into the night.

Movement above. Catty raised her arm, whipping the rope of flame upward. Two more creatures ignited.

Poles were rushing out of the barracks behind her. On the northern wall, someone was running along it, heading for the gate.

She turned him into a pyre.

Shanna pulled back on the reins as flame shot from inside her distant fort.

It ... it couldn't be possible. Nothing in this world could do that. She blinked, leaning back in the saddle, as if gaining distance would give her enough perspective to disprove what she was seeing.

Another tendril of flame disabused her of that. It also awoke her mind to the fact her companions had not stopped. Anelie and Piotr were now far down the road. Groaning in frustration at her own stupidity, Shanna kicked her heels into Black Beauty, her mount leaping forward.

At almost the same moment, a horse's scream tore through the darkness.

"Damn!" Shanna dug her heels even further into her horse, body lower, every fiber of her being willing them to go faster. The sounds of an animal in agony came again, pitiful, heartbreaking. Whose horse? She almost didn't want to know!

She saw them. Saw the poor animal on the ground, trying to stand and failing, head raised as it let out its cries of pain. Saw, in the road...

Piotr.

"NO!"

She almost broke her poor mount's neck pulling back on the reins. Shanna dropped to the ground at a run, not wanting to believe. No. No...

Piotr lay in a rut in the wagon road, body still. One arm lay twisted, jutting out the way no limb should. His horse flailed beside him, an arrow in its chest. Shanna threw herself beside him, hands clutching at him.

"Please, please, please, please..."

He had been crushed. She knew it. Knew the horse had rolled over him. Knew ... knew...

The most infinitesimal of gasps came to her ear.

Shanna let out a wail which drowned out the horse. He was in agony! Piotr was in pain and dying, and there were no doctors here! No hospitals! Even if he could be saved, he couldn't be! She clutched his uniform, forehead touching his chest.

"Don't die! Please! I love you!" Shanna turned her head, ear on his heart. "I love you..."

In some part of her mind, Shanna heard the sound of hooves. The sound of her friend.

"I ran one down, Lady Shanna. The other..."

Both sounds stopped. She felt a presence beside her.

"Oh, God! Lady, we have to tie off his arm! My God! Lady!" There was a pause. Shanna pressed herself closer to her man, somehow imagining she heard his heartbeat. "I ... I'll do it. You stay there, Shanna. Keep him warm. I ... just a second!"

His heart. His wonderful heart...

It beat. She did hear it beat. She wasn't imagining it. Shanna raised her head. Anelie was beside her, the first aid kit Shanna had insisted each soldier and mount carry open on the ground beside her. Her friend, lover, was tying a tourniquet above Piotr's elbow, just as Shanna had taught her.

She could save him. THEY could save him!

"I..." Shanna forced herself upright, pushing aside the torrent of emotions overwhelming her. "I can do it, Anelie." Her friend glanced at her, determined, terrified, unsure. "I'm OK. Go to the fort. Get the wagon out here, blankets."

"Lady!" Anelie tied off the tourniquet, jumping to her feet when she was done. She ran to her horse. Shanna took a deep, ragged breath.

"I can do this. Oh, Piotr, stay alive..."

Catty let her arms drop.

It was over.

Exhaustion suddenly washing over her, the Elf Queen released her magic. She felt it floating away from her, back to the world from which she had taken it. Shield now gone, she stood exposed to the world. Trembling, she looked at what she had done.

Flames lit the stockade wall. Polish men and woman were forming a line, buckets of water passing from the well to the fires. Two of her friends were in that line, helping. Should she help? Around her lay the dead. Many were strangers, in strange armor. Others ... she knew. More dead in the service of her. That they were not Elven did not matter.

Catty saw Far approaching slowly, limping slightly. She had done this for him. Fought, killed, for him. She would do anything for him.

"Are you OK, My Queen?" he asked. Tears came to her eyes.

"Will you be my King?"

Far stopped where he was, straightening.

"Yes."

"Then I am all right."

"Open the gate!"

There was a shout from outside the fort. Both Elves turned, recognizing it. Polish soldiers swiftly moved to un-bar the gate, pushing it open. Anelie rode into the fort, dress bunched around her waist as her bare legs straddled the horse. She reined in hard.

"I need a wagon, blankets, and a medic! Piotr's down, and it's bad!"

"God," the Pole Lewy said, running to her, "this never ends! We have wounded here, but I'll go. Casimir! Get a wagon!"

"Come, My Queen," Far said, putting an arm around Catty. "Let's help."

"Yes..."

The message filled two of the chalkboard slates, the precisely formed letters belying the horror described. James read them again. And again. Anger built.

They dared. They DARED! His head shot up, eyes scanning the room. And there had been a warning. Conversation overheard in that very ballroom, nobles or others of rank AWARE of the upcoming attack! Perhaps even its instigators!