Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 27: Possession

Image -- Rough approximation of Sir Kendrick. Minus the gigantic sword, of course.

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The training passes by with a nary a mishap nor an unfortunate incident. Gilbert and I mastered horseback fighting fairly quickly. Not a surprise. What is a surprise though, are Sir Kendrick's mannerisms while teaching us. His responses were slow, and his words unclear. In fact, he left me and Gilbert to figure out the basics all by ourselves. I think back on the way he was looking at us throughout the session—resentment painted all over his expression. He looked like a humanised form of a toad.

So, as Gilbert and I are brushing down the horses' coats, I jump slightly when the Bane calls for us.

"Falkner, Rutherland, leave the grooming to the stable boys! I've something to tell both of you," he yells. We look at each other hesitantly, before dropping the brushes and rushing into the sunlight. The warmth hits my face like a dose of hot water; I hiss at the sudden change in temperature.

Gilbert and I gingerly make our way towards our trainer, who is leaning against a wooden post. He attempts to look relaxed, but something about his posture seem off—his fingers latch onto his tunic a little too tightly, there is an odd rigidity to the set of his spine, and his eyes are darting about as though looking out for an invisible foe. I frown, puzzled by his behaviour.

"I..." A false start from Sir Kendrick; it makes all of my senses tingle. Something's wrong—very wrong. My eyes slide towards Gilbert—his countenance seems to be normal. However, I see a tinge of fear betrayed in his eyes.

All of the sudden, the Bane starts choking. His face purples; his tongue lops out in a grotesque version of Pst. Viramir's criticizing one. He jerks forward, losing control of his muscles. Gilbert looks at me, searching for direction from the supposedly cooler and calmer persona of our duo. Truth be told, I'm near panicking myself as I see this powerful, experienced warrior collapse before my eyes. Only Gilbert's pleading gaze snaps me to attention. I steel my nerves.

I drop onto one knee, feeling for the Bane's pulse. It's strong—too strong, thrumming along at an alarming rate. The spasms are dying down, but Sir Kendrick is barely clinging on to the last remnants of his consciousness. "Gilbert, get a Galennus. Now!" I pour in as much command into my voice as I can. He immediately shoots off with a speed that even I would have difficulty matching.

"No," Sir Kendrick croaks weakly. I quickly prop him up, supporting his weight with one leg. "Get him to come back. Before he attracts the attention of the knights on the other side."

Only half of me is actually aware of his command. The other half—the conscious half—is too numb to react to anything. Fortunately, the unconscious half is sufficient for me to carry out his orders. "Gilbert!" I yell. "Come back!"

He only continues to sprint away. In desperation, while screaming his name once more, I bellow for him in my mind.

I suddenly go weak.

My strength has suddenly been siphoned out from my body, leaving me with a mere husk of myself. Sir Kendrick's weight against my thigh is almost unbearable; a wave of fatigue slams into me. Fortunately, Gilbert slows into a jogging pace, apparently hearing my cry, and turns back. Scattered eyes from the other side of the training field begin to focus on us; I grind my teeth. Please ignore us, I think. Just, please.

My limbs feel like the heavy branches of an ancient yew tree. Thank Pst. Ailith, Gilbert is here to take Sir Kendrick's weight away. At least the knights have stopped paying attention to us. I've a feeling that they'll tax the Bane for the answers themselves once the training is over. I tumble onto the ground, unsure of what just happened, only knowing that I need to rest.