Falcon's Beginning

Slightly longer chapter. Hope you like!
Disclaimer-I don't own...surely you know this by now!

And thank you to my reviewers, i apologise for Tristan being a bit out of character in the last chapter.


Chapter 10-Dying Isn't So Bad

Falcon stared into the fire, face expressionless. Her hands were bound behind her back, her legs bound tightly at the foot and knee. The bruise on her face that had been placed there by the Roman Soldier was invisible-she had an even bigger one, this monstrosity covering almost half her face. Her lips were swollen, and her bottom lip bled. The rebel Roman Soldier assigned to be her guard whispered nervously to her, “Falcon?” She did not answer, a cold silence reigning between them. The youngish soldier leant back, eyes sombre. “I’m sorry, you know. I didn’t want this to happen.” He said quietly. Falcon choked, quietly in disbelief. The ex- soldier bowed his head. Falcon leant back against the log behind her, thinking. It was entirely likely she would die. Strangely, Falcon found herself more worried about the other knights. A passing grizzled soldier booted her in the side, making the already battered scout groan and lean over, resting her face on the hard ground. Gritting her teeth, Falcon closed her eyes as she felt the cuts that had only been recently bandaged re-open, spilling blood out onto her shirt. “Sarmatian Whore. Maybe we’ll have fun later tonight? Yes?” The man muttered, staring down at her hungrily. Falcon closed her eyes, fighting the pain and rage that threatened to bring her to helpless tears. The guard pulled her upright, making pitying noises. Falcon did not respond. She had not said a word to them since swearing at them in the stream. The blood that came away on the guards hands shocked the young man. “What happened, Falcon?” He asked, worried. She had known this man. Why should she hold him in silence?
“A roman happened, Ardon. A Roman. Why do you care anyway? I don’t know you.” The scout hissed, glaring at Ardon. “Leave it!” She snapped, as the young ex-soldier tried to reach into her tunic. “Get away from me!”
“Quiet down, woman!” Snarled another of the Legionnaires, standing up and walking to the prisoner. Falcon glared as the man dropped down to squat at her level. “Or we’ll kill you.” He whispered threateningly, reaching out a dirty hand to caress the side of her mucky, bloodied face. “Well…” He chuckled menacingly, “We’re going to do that anyway, once we know what we need to know.”

It was Bors who first spotted Falcon’s horse, the huge black gelding alone on the hillside. The comely knight swore loudly and called out to the others, who rode behind him, checking for anything that may have been missed. “You three! Look! It’s the Sprog’s beast!” Kicking his horse to a faster pace, Bors drew alongside the animal, which eyed him in distaste. “Woah, I know you don’t like me, but your mistress needs findin’.” Bors muttered to the animal. Gawain looked disturbed. “We have to find out what happened. Was she pulled from her horse?” Gareth looked the beast over, looking at the belongings safely packed, and the cloak thrown over the saddle. “Would the attacker put her cloak over the saddle? With the way Falcon is, I don’t think he would have time to.” Galahad suddenly pointed. “What’s that?” The knights looked to where the curly haired knight had pointed. A flash caught their eyes, and Bors muttered, “She dismounted to see what it was.” Swinging himself back into the saddle, Gawain reached down, picking up the reigns to the black gelding. “We’re coming, Sprog.” The blond knight muttered. The four knights pushed on into the forest, hoping against hope that they weren’t too late.

“Ha! Look at her! She can’t even stand!” Laughed one of the Legionnaires, as Falcon was tossed to another pair of bruising hands, trying to stifle a groan of pain as she stumbled over the ground. Only four or five of the deserters did not partake in her torture, as they had known the young woman in the fort, the rest of the soldiers however, had no qualms about beating the exhausted scout about.
Falcon was dazed, a blow to her head making her eyes hazy and her head pound. Her back and sides were screaming with pain, bruises covering her abused body. As she fell into another pair of hands, the felt her battered body numbing, her mind closing down. As she was tossed into the dirt, Falcon could feel a solitary, hot tear slide from her swelling eye, shame and fear encompassed in that single drop. When would the other knights realise she was missing? Why did she not listen to Tristan? Suddenly, she was picked up, and half dragged, half carried, in a hurry. Dimly, she could hear yelling, and screaming, but the dazed woman couldn’t figure out here it was coming from. With a startled cry, Falcon was dropped, for the second time that day, into a freezing blackness.

“FALCON!” Bors screamed, savagely snapping the neck of the man who tried to stab him. The prone and bloodied body of the scout was held out over the river, it’s churning waters frothing. The small stream that Falcon had been dropped into earlier that day paling in comparison as it trickled into the waters. Gareth fought madly, trying to get to the deserter and the confused Falcon. With a grim smile, the man shook her body with one hand, about to say something. That moment, the ground on which he had been standing, slid away, plunging the pair down off the small outcrop into the black waters. “NO!” Yelled Galahad and Gawain at the same time, back to back, terrified expressions on their faces. The other deserters, seeing their leader swept away, ran, heading deep into the woods. Bors charged down the riverbank, searching desperately for any sign of Falcon. Galahad ran beside him, eyes frantic, searching. “There!” Bors yelled, having spotted his friends body, the slender form rolling over in the water. Without a second thought, Gareth, who had run after the pair, tore off his tunic and plunged into the water.

Cold infused Falcon’s senses, and she dimly realised she was drowning. Feebly, she reached for the surface, but instead, her fingers scraped the bottom of the river. Panic seized her, pushing wildly at her heart, the breath she had left in her lungs slipping away. Blackness fogged her vision, cloudy waters churning around her. She really was so very, very cold.

Review, please, i'd like to know how i did...