Post by moralhazard on May 16, 2019 23:42:53 GMT
Sundabar, 1484
“Your assignments are the same as yesterday,” Captain Fogehammer studied his squad of guardsman. He looked tired, worn; even after one day of the dark swirling morass overhead, there were dark circles under his eyes. The edges of his beard were worn and frayed, with bits of uncontrolled shaved hair clouding the usually clean contours of it.
Foregehammer paused, looking at them again. “That means – Kulenov, your team is on the eastern edge of the market again. Night shift tells us that few merchants managed to get goods from outside. The Watchblade’s orders are the same: harm no one if you may avoid it. In Tyr’s name, I charge you to further law and good today, and bless you in all your endeavors.”
All the heads in the guardsman bowed.
When they lifted again, Kara glanced over to Bor, the leader of their six person squad for the day. He was looking over, nodded once, and jerked his head off to the side.
Kara nudged Hana, and the two peeled away from the rest of the larger squad, joining Anders and Dardahr to meet Bor and Mysra, the three humans, two dwarves and the half-elf crossing the square towards the gate.
“Kara, Kosef is back with us today?” Bor asked.
Kara nodded. The cut on her arm, leftover from a fight the day before, hadn’t quite closed the night before, although it no longer pained her. She had left a heavy white bandage over it, not intending to open herself up to infection.
“Good,” Bor exhaled.
The mood was tense and heavy as they left the gate. Even Anders was almost frowning, the bruise on his cheekbone from breaking up a brawl was still solidly purple in the center, but yellow and green were creeping in already at the edges.
Kosef, when he joined them at the gate, looked no more relaxed. He had a spot of stubble on his chin where he’d missed shaving, and like the rest, he had a tired look to his face, a faint drooping. “Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” there was a rough chorus of responses.
Kara reached out and clasped his hand with hers, nodding to him. Kosef nodded back, squeezing lightly against her forearm. Kara smiled at him.
“Kosef, walk with me,” Anders suggested. “I’ve a few questions for you about some of those spells we saw earlier.” He grinned at the cleric. The light chatter coming from them as the seven walked through the city lightened the mood.
Sundabar was a dwarven city; it was a neat and ordered place, well-planned and intuitively laid out, with neat grids of streets drawn between the strong walls and the moats. Normally, it was clean as well; the city was too small and too efficiently run to allow for the sort of sewage and garbage piles that amassed elsewhere.
Not today. The city smelled like fear, rank and unwashed, with piles of garbage at the corners of a few streets where the sweepers had missed them. The cobblestones were dirty, wet in some places and muddy in others. Houses were closed – a few more were boarded up than the day before. It was quiet too, except for the faint wailing of children and a few shouts echoing through shuttered windows.
At least, it was quiet until they reached the market.
The day before, the market had been full of merchants doing their best to sell whatever goods they had to a dampened city. Today, there were only relatively few market stalls open, and what they had looked mostly left from the day before. Signs were posted here and there, many with crossed out prices raised much higher, even for wilted lettuces and limp, draggled carrots. But the noise wasn’t from the merchants.
The noise was from the people. The rest of the city had been almost empty, belying its size; but it seemed the one place people still meant to go was the market, to buy food for themselves and their families, and those who came had been deeply disappointed, and angry about it. Their fear and frustration was like a charged pulse in the air, one that caught up the hairs on Kara’s arms and neck and sent them standing upright.
Anders and Kosef both abruptly stopped talking as they reached the edge of the market. There were no fights to stop today, no shouting matches. The quiet building of tension was much more frightening, humming with growing energy.
The seven reached the fountain at the edge of the market. The day before it had been cheerfully burbling with water; now it was damp, with a few small puddles left behind. At least they smelled like water.
Bor rubbed his face. “Hour-long loops through the market, no fixed route, same as yesterday. Hana, Kara, you take south. Mysra and I will go north. Anders and Dardahr, stay here for this shift. Kosef – I’d like you here at the fountain with whichever guards stay here, central.”
Bor exhaled, slowly, looking around the market, and rubbed his head. “Stay safe.”
Kara tightened her grip on her glaive.
“Kara,” Anders pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to her. Kara caught it, looking down at the shaped wood. “Use this to cover the blade,” Anders said, quietly. He was already attaching a similar piece of wood to his halberd. “Blunt today, I think.”
Kara nodded. She lowered the glaive, balancing it over one arm, and went about adjusting the cover. After a moment, Anders stepped over, holding the heavy weapon steady as Kara fixed the blunting shaped wood in place. He looked at her, and Kara lifted her gaze from the glaive to his. She nodded, firmly.
Anders smiled, crooked, half of his mouth lifting. “I’ll see you back here.”
Kara nodded, lifted her glaive again, and followed Hana down towards the southern edge of the market. She glanced back once, to see Anders and Dardahr walking north. Bor, Mysra and Kosef stood at the edge of the fountain, Bor with his hands tucked behind his back, Kosef with his crossed over his chest, head bowed as if he were praying, and Mysra fidgeting idly with her baton, eyes scanning the market. Kara turned back to look at Hana, her partner.
“You’re quiet,” Kara said, unprompted.
The half-elf started. She looked, perhaps, the worst of any of them; her normally bright face was drawn, and there were bags beneath her eyes. “I didn’t sleep much,” Hana exhaled, and grinned at Kara, her first grin of the day. “I don’t suppose any of us did. I don’t think it’s the spell itself, just – there’s a tension in the air, isn’t there?” She glanced around, jaw tensing for a moment.
Kara nodded. “Fear,” she said, softly, looking at Hana, then around again. “I think,” Kara added.
“Fear,” Hana agreed. “And… anger, I think. But there’s no one to direct it against, and so…” Hana made a face. “No sense in getting fatalistic,” she grinned again, a little wider and more genuine. “All the same, I feel it too. It’s good to be on duty – at least we have something to do! Let’s go knock some heads.” She picked up her pace, long legs easily covering the market ground.
Kara had to almost trot to keep up, glaive in hand.
“So, Anders and Kosef, chatting,” Hana grinned at Kara, raising an eyebrow when the shorter guard caught her again. “Still haven’t told anyone, huh?”
Kara – blushed. It felt shamefully self-indulgent to think about such things beneath the roiling black sky, but she couldn’t help it. “He knows,” Kara admitted.
“He knows!” Hana’s eyes went wide. “So that’s why – at dinner last night, you were so – ” She broke off, amusement rolling over her face.
Hana’s face lit up in a true grin now, full of her usual playfulness. “Then why are you still hiding?” She asked, grinning down at Kara.
It wasn’t the joke Kara had expected, and the words took her off guard. Kara was so surprised she came to a stop, standing on the cobblestones. Hana never paused her strides, and Kara took off again to keep up.
“We should be – focusing,” Kara grumbled, cheeks still faintly red.
Hana laughed; it wasn’t a full-bodied, cheerful laugh, more of a soft chuckle, but her eyes were sparkling again, and she looked much more alive than she had a few minutes earlier. “All right, Kara. I’ll leave it alone. Again.”
Kara and Hana finished the southern route, then the northern one, and spent an hour of their own standing at the fountain, watching as the grumbles in the market mounted. Kosef looked just as tense as they felt, his face hard as he looked around. It was a crisp day, the air cold without the sun to warm it and the stones below. The crackling sense of tension never dissipated; it only grew, until it seemed to reach a fever pitch.
Then – ahead –
A merchant had taken down a sign announcing a doubling of prices for breads. He had only a few scant loaves left, hard as rocks, but he scratched on the sign for a moment, and put it back up – adding another coin to the price.
Someone threw a tomato; the rotten fruit hurtled through the air and smashed against the sign, seeds splattering against it and juices dripping to the ground below.
There was a pause, a moment where the entire market seemed to hold its breath – and then it exploded. Someone was screaming; more than one someone. A stall crashed to the ground, tipped over, then another, and another. People snatched up stones, hurling them, and sticks and bits of wood, crashing against one another with all the weapons at hand.
There was nothing Kara or Hana could do from the fountain; the riot seemed to burst out of nowhere in an instant, all that tension sparking like tinder and lighting just as quickly.
“Hold here!” Hana shouted. “The fountain – it’s a good defensible position. Kara – Kara, what are you – ”
Kara gripped her glaive and charged forward, darting into the edge of the rally. She used the heavy wood like a lever, forcing combatants apart to make space for herself. One hand snatched at a small screaming child on the ground, and Kara hooked the girl up under her arm, retreating back out, a stone smacking into her shoulder blade but not hard enough to make her stop.
Kosef had clearly followed her; he was pulling a woman free as well, a slender-looking woman with a large pregnant belly and a face that was already turning mottled purple and blue.
Kara clutched the girl to her body; she was shrieking noisily into Kara’s ear as they ran. She set the girl down in the fountain; Kosef helped the woman in next to her. The girl was sobbing, clinging to Kara’s leg, and Kara patted her head, awkwardly.
“You idiots!” Hana cried, rubbing her face with her hands. There was no heat in her voice, and she glared at them both for only a minute before she turned back to look at the riot. She lifted her whistle and began to blow, the loud sharp blasts of a guard summoning back up, the very first pattern they were ever asked to memorize.
The riot seemed to expand; it was like a living thing, writhing and growing, and it was spilling through the square towards them.
“They won’t be able to find us!” Hana yelled, whistle dropping from her mouth. The sound had barely been audible over the roar of the crowds.
Kosef turned to the decoration at the center of the fountain, a nearly five foot tall decorative piece that usually spouted water. He bowed his head and murmured, one hand pressed against the symbol of Helm emblazoned on his chest. There was a pause – a flicker of something seemed to pulse from the cleric – and light burst forth from the decoration, a bright spot in the darkness. The little girl cried out, letting go of Kara’s leg to cover her eyes, then promptly latching on again as she adjusted to the light.
“Now they will,” Kosef said, grimly, looking back to Kara and Hana. “It’ll hold for an hour.”
“Then we hold too,” Kara said, looking out at the crowd before them. Carefully, she pried dirty hands from her leg, stepping out of the fountain and gripping her glaive in both hands. “Kosef,” Kara took a deep breath. “Go to the temple. We need back up.”
“No,” Kosef gritted his teeth, looking from Kara to Hana. “No chance of that.”
Kara looked at Hana, who nodded, then back to her brother. “You’re our best chance to summon the clerics,” Kara said, firmly. There was steel in her voice and her gaze as she looked up at her brother. “Maybe our only chance.”
Kosef swore, shaking, breathing hard; his chest heaved, and he shook his head.
“Go,” Kara said again.
Kosef took a deep breath. He bowed his head, chanting again, and pressed a glowing hand to Kara, then Hana, then himself. Kara felt energy settle over her, a little bolstering that brought her courage and strength, as the glow where Kosef had touched her faced into her skin. She shivered.
“Helm bless you both,” Kosef said, firmly. He turned, scooped the little girl out of the fountain into his arms, and took off, racing off into the streets of the city.
And then the crowd was upon them. There were too many to count; it was a blur of faces and fists, kicking legs and thrashing elbows. Kara kept as close to Hana as she could manage, keeping the rioters out of the fountain. A few more who wanted shelter took up hiding in it; it was all Kara could do to keep back any who might mean them harm, whether intentionally or in their flailing. Within what felt like hours but was likely only minutes they were separated, pulled nearly to opposite sides of the fountain; Kara could only tell she was still near it from the cool stone at her calves and the bright light behind her. There were only feet between Kara and her partner, but it felt like miles, an unsurpassable distance, and it might as well have been.
Kara overcommitted herself with a swing of her glaive and felt herself stumble – one foot catching on the cobblestones – and a hand caught her tunic and pulled her sharply back.
“Don’t you dare!” Anders roared in her ear. He spun, using his halberd like a staff to hold someone back.
Kara could have wept with relief, but there was no time. She could see Dardahr, Bor and Msyra too, just for a moment before the battle closed over them all again. Anders was at her back; that was what mattered. If her glaive was an extension of her arm, then Anders was an extension of her; fighting with him was like fighting alongside another version of herself. She felt she knew where he would be before he was there.
But there was only so much they could do. The riot seemed to rage without any relief; it was all the six of them could do to hold the fountain, and protect the vulnerable people inside. Kara could never think longer than the next step, the next blow, the next swing of her glaive, the next fist or foot smashing against her.
At some point, something hit her on her head – hard – with a crack that seemed to reverberate from her skull through her entire body. Kara dropped; the last thing she saw was howling faces between her and the sky, snarling and twisted with rage.
There was a faint voice in the air above her – soothing and familiar. Kara fought her way towards it; it felt like swimming slowly through honey, but with each stroke it became a little easier. Finally, finally, she reached the surface, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
“Daddy?” Kara’s eyes flickered open, and she let out a little groan, head aching.
Vanka smiled, brushing Kara’s hair off her forehead. “He’s just stepped out. You took a pounding, guardsman.”
Kara closed her eyes again; her head throbbed. “I don’t remember,” she said.
“Riots in market square,” Vanka said, her hand smoothing Kara’s hair.
Kara gasped, eyes shooting open. She sat abruptly, shaking, trying to fling the covers off. “Anders – Hana – are they – ” Kara’s eyes were wide and frantic.
“Down, down, down,” Vanka’s hands dropped to Kara’s shoulders, gripping and pressing her back into the bed. “Anders is in the next room. He is fine; the healers say his head is nearly as hard as yours. Hana is the one who pulled you out; she’s well, just bruised and battered.”
Kara shuddered, sinking back slowly into the pillow under the pressure of her mother’s hands. “Mama,” she was shaking, tears spilling slowly down her cheeks, fear and relief all mingled together.
“What’s this?” Petrus closed the door behind him, a cup of water in his hand. He set it down and crossed to the other side of the bed, sitting and wrapping Kara against his chest, a crushingly tight hug.
“Petrus, the healer said,” Vanka began. She sighed and gave up, her hand stroking Kara’s cheek then dropping to her hand, holding it tight.
“It’s all right, my heart,” Petrus murmured, rocking Kara against his chest. “You’re well, and so are your squadmates.”
Kara gripped her mother’s hand tightly, and turned to bury her aching face into her father’s shoulder, sobbing. She could feel his lips on her head, warm and soft. She wasn’t sure how long she wept; she only knew that when she stopped she felt light and clean, like her parents had washed all her fear away.
“There we go,” Her father smiled, looking down at her. “It’s all right, my heart. We’ve got you.”
Kara smiled up at Petrus, and at Vanka too, taking a deep breath. “I know,” she said.
Kara lay slowly back against the bed. Her head still hurt, but the pounding felt manageable now; she knew it would pass. “Kosef?” She asked.
“Fine,” Petrus said. “Worried about you. From what he said, you sent him to the Temple of Vigilance?”
“Yes,” Kara grinned, a little edge of pride flickering over her face as she remembered. “He listened to me.”
Petrus chuckled. “So we figured. It was a good call, my heart. The clerics came in force – casualties from the riots were much less than they might have been.”
Kara exhaled, shivering slightly, face sinking back into seriousness. “And the rest of my squad?”
“No one from Forgehammer’s people died,” Vanka said. The gentle smile that had been on her face faded, replaced with a harder look.
Kara looked up at her. “… but?” She asked.
“Your mother’s squad lost two,” Petrus said, gently. His arm was still mostly wrapped around Kara, and he gave her a comforting little squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Kara said.
Vanka nodded. “They were good guardsmen.” She smiled at Kara. “It is good to see you awake, Kara. Helm has blessed us today. Petrus, you will stay?”
“Yes, beloved,” Petrus smiled at her.
Vanka leaned forward to kiss Kara’s forehead. “Helm watch over you,” She whispered.
Kara snuggled into her father, slightly, watching Vanka go.
“So,” Petrus said, lightly. “Anything you want to tell me, dear heart?”
Kara froze, looking up at her father. “T-tell you?”
Petrus smiled down at her, letting go. He went to fetch the cup of water he’d brought, carrying it back to the bed side. “If you would rather rest,” he said, gently, giving her an out along with the glass.
Kara swallowed. She had faced down a riot, and survived, even if her head said it was only just. Surely she could – she could do this.
“Anders is – my – ” Kara began, voice strong, then faltered. She buried her burning face into the cup of water and mumbled the last of her words into it as she drank, hoping they’d be lost in the water.
Petrus just waited, calm and patient, smiling at her.
Kara scowled at him, and set the cup down. She crossed her arms over her chest – they hurt too – and took a deep breath. “Anders and I are together.”
Petrus grinned at her. “Very good, dear heart. Your mother says he’s the best guardsman in his year, you know.”
“Because he is!” Kara said, hotly.
Petrus laughed. “All right, I won’t tease you,” he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re sure, my heart?”
Kara nodded, blushing harder.
“He’ll come for dinner then,” Petrus grinned at her. It didn’t feel like an invitation so much as a command. “We already had plans with Grigor and Zora for three days from now. If you’re both out of your sickbeds by then, why don’t you and Anders come then as well?”
Kara stared wide-eyed at her father, but nodded, again, slowly. “Yes Papa,” she said, finally.
“We’ll look forward to it,” Petrus smiled at her. “Drank your water.”
Kara took another sip of her water, leaning back into her bed. “I’m – tired,” she set the cup down; yawning ached, but she couldn’t help it.
“I know, dear heart,” Petrus stroked her cheek, helping her lay back down. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
“I know,” Kara whispered. Her eyes fluttered, softly, and she was asleep.
“… largest riot in the market’s history. The Watchblade…”
Kara shifted in her bed, eyes starting to flutter open.
“… armies massing. The Argent Legion…”
“… King Firehelm is worried about the drow, he says…”
The second familiar voice finally registered. “Captain?” Kara blinked, looking as the blurry form of Captain Ironfist at the bottom of her bed.
Ironfist nodded to Petrus, and turned to Kara, raising an eyebrow at her.
Petrus grinned. He clasped Kara’s hand in his, rose, winked at her, and left the room.
“Well,” Ironfist crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought I taught you better than to get your head bashed in during some market riot.”
Kara sat up in her bed, resting back against her blankets. She scowled at her mentor. “I kept hold of my glaive!” Kara didn’t remember much at all, but that she was sure she could swear to.
Ironfist glared back at her, then began to laugh. “Bells, I swear to Helm - You did. Telnarryl swore it to me – she said as she dragged you out of that mess you had one hand wrapped around that glaive.”
Kara blushed; she wasn’t quite sure why, but she did. She couldn’t tell if Ironfist was making fun of her or not.
“Anders lost his,” Ironfist said. There was something sharp in her eyes now, and she raised one eyebrow. “They found it in a few pieces on the cobblestones the next day. It’s mended now, of course.”
“Oh?” Kara felt more red heat in her cheeks, and she shrugged and dropped her gaze to the blankets.
“Bells, do you think I’m an idiot?” Ironfist asked, gently.
Kara looked up at her, wide-eyed. “No! Of course not, sir!”
Ironfist stared at her, then chuckled again. “All right. It’s not any of my business, what you and Anders do on your time off, and anyway, by all reports you’re very effective on duty.”
Kara buried her face in her hands, head aching again. First her father, now this – she thought she would have preferred to discuss having her head bashed in again.
Ironfist’s hard, callused hand squeezed Kara’s shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “That’s not why I’m here, anyway?”
“No?” Kara’s voice was hopeful. She lifted her face from her hands, glancing up at her mentor’s face.
“It’s yours, Kara,” Ironfist said, her voice deep and serious. “Maybe it always was. I ought to have done this formally some time ago, but – the glaive’s yours, from now forward. If you want to think of it as the Stone Shields’ gratitude for your service during the riot, you can.”
Kara stared up at her. “My – mine?” She asked, voice small.
“Yours,” Ironfist grinned down at her. “I cleaned it for you, though,” she gestured at the corner with her chin.
Kara turned her head. The motion prompted a sharp aching pain that made her wince and feel faintly nauseous, but it was worth it for the sight of her glaive – her glaive – sitting clean and polished. She stared at it, then back at Ironfist. Kara could feel the hot pressure of tears behind her eyes; her lower lip trembled.
Ironfist winked at her. “Take care of it, Bells. And of yourself.”
“Yes sir,” Kara promised, hands gripping her blankets tightly. “I promise.”
Ironfist squeezed her shoulder one last time and left.
“It wasn’t bad,” Anders said, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
“Not – bad!” Kara groaned, but she couldn’t help snuggling slightly into Anders side. They sat on the rooftop of his building, looking out over the quiet city. Even at night, the Darkening could be felt above; there was no moon, no stars, only a sucking darkness worse than the cloudiest nights. All the same, Kara couldn’t help the quiet pulse of happiness in her chest at the comforting weight of the arm wrapped around her.
Anders chuckled. “They love you, Kara. That’s all.”
Kara groaned again, but the scowl on her face was a fake, and they both knew it. The only time her parents – and Grigor, who had demonstrated an impressive paternal streak – had stopped grilling Anders was when the conversation turned to the rumors outside Sundabar, the Darkening overhead, and the unrest through the city.
Kosef had come as well, although he had left Anders alone, he had some news from the temple that no one had heard, passed along from the House Invincible in Silverymoon; spies had reported that giants were planning to join the upcoming war, on the side of the drow. That had broken the mood for some time. Zora had taken Natali out of the room; the baby was too young to understand, but she had started crying at all the tension in the air. Finally, Petrus had gotten up and served dessert, and somehow no one had felt they could speak of such things with a mouth full of sugar.
It had almost been a relief when Vanka had turned to Anders and asked a demanding question about his parents. Zora had come back in, teasing Vanka and Anders alike; Kara had held Natali for a while. There was a smell to her, like milk, and her warm soft head had cradled against Kara’s chest. Privately, Kara thought she could have held Natali for hours before tiring of it. Anyway, it had been good to have something to do that wasn’t squirming as Petrus switched to asking Anders his thoughts on the Watchblade’s latest edicts.
“It wasn’t really fair anyway,” Anders said, cheerfully.
“Fair?” Kara asked.
“Well, you’d met my uncle already,” Anders grinned down at her.
“Oh, but he’s – nice,” Kara shook her head. She had met Anders’ uncle nearly a month ago; he was a traveling merchant, and he had stopped at Anders’ room one night, rather late, when Kara was already there. She had thought her face would fall off from blushing so hard, but his uncle had roared with laughter, hugged her delightedly, and invited the both of them out for drinks. He looked like Anders, Kara thought; he had the same crooked smile when he was really happy.
Anders laughed. “Because he likes you. I swear he writes to ask more how you are than how I am. Anyway, they were nice, you know – your family.”
“No!” Kara laughed. “Not bad, maybe, but – nice! Anders!”
Anders grinned. “Before we left, your mother took me aside and told me she’d heard good things about how I handled myself during the riot. If that’s not her approval, then I don’t know what is. I’m fairly sure Kosef likes me, at least.”
Kara shook her head, but snuggled a little closer into him. “It doesn’t matter what they think,” she said, staunchly.
“Doesn’t matter?” Anders grinned, kissing her head. “Kara, you’re closer to your family than almost anyone I’ve ever known. If they didn’t respect me, how could you?”
“Of course they respect you! If they didn’t I’d – I’d – well, they’d be wrong, if they didn’t,” Kara scowled for real this time. She couldn’t imagine it, and she felt resentful just thinking about her family potentially being so unfair.
Anders was chuckling softly; Kara could feel the reverberations of his chest against her.
Kara gave up, resting her cheek against his shoulder with a last soft grumble.
Anders squeezed her to his side. Everything was quiet for a long moment, on the roof and in the city below. They were on lockdown, all of them, with a tight curfew. If the distinction between night and day was hard to see, then the city would enforce it. The streets were clean as well. Anders had provided that gossip; apparently King Firehelm had said that either the city would clean up the streets, or he would personally be there with a broom doing it himself.
“When you went down, Kara, I – ” Anders exhaled, slowly, softly, breaking the silence. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.”
“I don’t remember much of it,” Kara admitted. “The beginnings of the riot – the fighting, in flashes. I couldn’t tell you who hit me.”
“I wish I couldn’t either,” Anders said, grimly.
“I’m fine,” Kara promised.
“Of course you are,” Anders lightened again, grinning down at her. “Hardest head out there.”
“Who was it?” Kara asked, after a moment. “The – that hit me.”
Anders kissed her head again, one hand rubbing up and down her arm. “A dwarf. You’re short, Kara – he brought a bit one wood from one of the stalls right down on your head. I thought – ” he closed his eyes for a moment; Kara could hear the taut, tight tension in his voice. “You fell so hard.”
“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered.
“I’m sure,” Anders sighed, eyes closing.
“What happened – to you?” Kara asked. “Nobody told me, just – I know Hana pulled us both out.”
“I didn’t ask,” Anders said, grimly. “I was – coming for you, and that’s the last thing I remember.”
“I was scared too,” Kara’s voice was small, half-swallowed. “When I woke I – I didn’t know if –”
Anders’s arms both wrapped around her, pulling her firmly into his chest now. He tucked his chin over her head, taking a deep breath; she could feel his chest rise and fall against her, could hear his heart beating strong in his chest. “I love you, Kara. It’s going to be all right.”
“I love you too,” Kara closed her eyes; if she couldn’t see, it was almost like the darkening didn’t exist. “But you can’t promise that.”
“I can and I will,” Anders said, firmly. “It’s going to be all right, Kara. I won’t leave you, and I won’t let you leave me.”
Kara didn’t argue anymore; she couldn’t. Her hands fisted in Anders’ shirt, and she pressed her face against him, taking another deep breath. “It’s going to be all right.” Kara agreed. Perhaps if she said it often enough, it really would come true.
((Word count: 4,929))
