Notes and disclaimers in Chapter 1
Chapter2
Fred hurried through the woods, thankful for the cover that night gave her, thankful that she didn't have to spend every moment in hiding, terrified of being found without a collar. That had been a serious and dangerous lapse, running off without it earlier. True, she had been in doubt as to the reality of the very cave she'd been sitting in at the time. Still, she should have known better. Over the years she'd learned caution. She'd learned you have to do everything you can to cover yourself, whether you believed in it or not.
So now, as she returned the cave she believed in again - and to the beautiful man she believed in more than anything - she was grateful to the night for providing such lovely darkness to move about in freely. And move she did, fast as she could, eager to get back to Galahad to tell him what she'd learned.
Despite the momentary insanity that had caused her to flee, her impromptu trip to the village had ended up being most enlightening. Just what they needed, in fact, as if she had been guided there. Hiding in a barrel, ears just above the water line, she'd heard some very interesting things. Things she thought Galahad would find interesting, too, for she was certain what she'd learned was central to his quest.
Ah, Galahad! She felt terrible for running out like that and picked up her pace a little more, her feet flying over the grass and dirt and underbrush of these woods that really did exist. But she knew he would forgive him when she gave him the news of the Groosalugg. She couldn't wait to tell him, to see the smile that would surely light up his face.
Passing the rock formation she used as a landmark, she knew she was almost there. But it wouldn't do to come to him, all mussed and out of breath, so she slowed, trying to smooth down her hair and her dress as she walked the last few yards -
And came to a dead halt, frozen in fear.
There was, unmistakably, something outside the cave.
Not something. Someone.
Even face down, even from this distance, she knew it was Galahad. Her heart was in her mouth as she tossed all thoughts of propriety and appearances aside; she ran to him, falling to her knees at his side. Gently, she turned him over and was alarmed at the wet stickiness she felt when she gingerly touched his wound; the bandage was soaked through. Terribly frightened, she could barely get her voice above a whisper: "Galahad?"
She gasped as, responding to her presence and her touch, he started suddenly. Struggling, he mumbled, "Get back... too much... we can't... we can't win! Fall back!" His eyes fluttered, but when they opened they were unseeing. "Graham! Get them back! ADAM is too strong, he'll kill them all!" He was lost in some horror from the past. "I gotta find her... She needs me!" Riley thrashed his head side to side, reliving everything as if it had just happened. "I can't feel my legs! I can't move! Oh God Oh God!" He went rigid and then his head lolled to the side again.
Even as she bent closer to him when she felt his body go limp, sliding back into unconsciousness, Fred felt her heart leap at his words. "She needs me." That had to be her, didn't it? She was right about him! She wasn't sure about the rest of it - was Adam an evil knight? a sorcerer perhaps? - but thought he must be describing a battle he'd fought to get to her, the one where he'd been wounded.
There would be time enough later to hear his tale, so Fred shook her head as she carefully slid her hands under him, seeking a gentle yet firm grip as she began to pull him back into the cave. For now, she had to work on getting him well enough to hear her news. Well enough to fight the Groosalugg.
Once she got him settled on the bed of rags, she prepared more compresses and began to clean his reopened wounds. Though she didn't want him to be ill, a part of her enjoyed tending him. It wasn't just the healing. It was feeling useful. It was the shared company, the physical contact, the comfort of strangers. They weren't really strangers anymore, though, if they ever had been. "You'll be alright," she murmured as she washed the dried blood from his chest. "You'll be alright now."
This time it was her voice as much as her touch that seemed to rouse him. Be a good boy... Riley. He gasped and struggled back through the fog of unconsciousness. "My - my name!... Riley...." He opened his eyes and looked around blindly. "Maggie? Where the hell are you?... Won't let you make a monster outta me!... Die first...." He groaned and went limp again, his mind aswarm with images and memories that he didn't understand.
"Riley?" she repeated uncertainly. "Sir Riley?" She brushed the stray hairs back from his forehead as she placed a compress on it, alarmed that the fever had gone up again. So his name was Riley. Was her name Maggie? No, that didn't sound at all familiar. And he'd said Maggie wanted to turn him into a monster. Maggie must be in league with the sorcerer Adam. Clearly his feverish dreams were transporting him back to his battles - victorious ones, otherwise he wouldn't be here... unless he'd been defeated and vanquished? Oh, there were simply too many possibilities. Focus, Fred, she remonstrated herself. One step at a time, just like everything else. Step one: bring the fever down.
Over the next few days, as she watched over and tended to him, Fred hardly slept and rarely left his side. She moved from step to step: bring down the fever, keep him hydrated, keep his wounds clean, find "medicines" to aid the healing.
She couldn't help being curious about the things he said and at first her mind invented pasts and futures for them. But gradually she began to piece together a genuine picture of him: his name was Riley, and he was the true-hearted, exiled son of the evil Queen Maggie and her consort, the powerful sorcerer Adam. They had not been content to merely exile Riley and had, apparently, animated a forest and sent an army of tree-creatures against him and his loyal squire Graham.
Not all of the pieces fit so easily. He would occasionally shout about an angel. At first she thought it was her guardian angel, for the angel was clearly connected to "her." But he seemed to be warning her. A fallen angel, then? Another demon?
More importantly, Fred wasn't sure where she herself fit in. Sometimes Riley made references to needing to get to "her" and protect and help "her" - and she thought, she so wanted to believe, that she was that "her." But he never said her name, and there were things that didn't seem to fit. Like it almost sounded like she was a warrior, too, but Fred didn't think she'd ever been a warrior in any life.
It was all so confusing.
She had enough confusing thoughts on her own, so she didn't think about his.
By week's end, the fever was down, the wounds were closed, and Galahad - or Riley, she reminded herself, was opening his eyes lucidly once more. He didn't seem to remember the fevered nightmares, and since they'd caused him such distress she decided not to bring them up. The only thing she asked him about was his name. He lit up when she said "Riley," so that was what she began to call him.
Riley was growing stronger again and was grateful when Fred would let him venture to the mouth of the cave to breathe in the fresh air. Fresh night air, for only at night would she let him go. She was adamant that it wasn't safe during the day, which something in his mind found amusing. He wasn't sure why; seemed to him, though, that it was the night he used to fear.
He still limped a bit and standing straight was painful, never failing to make him hiss with the stinging, throbbing twinges it brought to his wounds. But he was healing and soon he'd try to find out where he came from and how to get back there.
It had been another week since he'd reawakened this time, and Galahad - Riley had made remarkable progress. Relief had barely entered her mind, for Fred had been certain he would recover, but she was definitely happy. She'd had to exercise all her willpower not to tell him about the Groosalugg right away. He was up, yes, but not at full-strength. She could see he was eager to return to the world, to his quest, and she was afraid that if she told him what she knew too soon, he would dash off prematurely and only hurt himself again. Besides, she still had to find him a horse.
So she'd kept a careful eye on him, noting every little hesitation and weakness. Finally one night as they sat at the cave mouth silently watching the stars, she thought at last he was ready. She'd watched him carefully all day and he'd moved around easily. She was preparing to tell him her news, when he spoke.
"Fred?" He'd noticed she was very quiet around him, which worried him. And he wasn't sure how she would react to what he was about to ask her. "I know I haven't made things easy on you and I'm sorry. But now it's time for me to try to find my home. I have a feeling you don't belong here either. Do you - do you want to go with me?"
His words caught her off-guard. Did she want to go with him? Was there any other way the story could go?
But then she relaxed as she realized he was just being chivalrous. "Riley," she remembered to address him properly, "yes, of course I will go with you." Eyes gazing deep into his for a moment, she smiled at him. "In fact," she continued, "I wanted to talk to you about that. I learned some thing that I think can help you - us, that is. About the Groosalugg!" She beamed proudly.
"Groosalugg?" Riley felt the hair rise on his neck. "Okay. What is it and how will it help?" Somewhere he could remember missions and... debriefings. "I don't have my weapons, I can't fight an HST without them." He paused again. HST?... Hostile... Subterrestials... HST! I remember that and... and Hostile 17? Something was there, at the edge of his memory, but like so much else it eluded him. He snapped back to the present with a start, realizing she was staring at him and that he could have been babbling out loud... again. "Did I just say that aloud or think it?" I practice our conversations in my head.... The mental image slipped away again through the sieve of his damaged memory, leaving only that fragment. He sighed heavily and leaned back against the cool stones at the cave mouth.
Fred looked at him uncertainly for a moment. She had learned not to try to understand everything he said, since he often seemed to be speaking more to himself, and latched onto the part that seemed directed at her. "You - you didn't come to fight the Groosalugg?" she asked hesitantly, feeling the old doubts creeping up to her mind and peering at her through the window. But no, he had been hit on the head and didn't remember everything. Why should he remember the Groosalugg, when he'd never met it? He did remember her, and that was good enough.
So she adopted a different tone. "The Groosalugg," she explained, "lives in the castle. He's the ruler here. And more importantly, he guards the books we need to get home. We need the maps. They go with the words." She gestured at the letters and codes adorning the cave walls. "So you, my champion, must fight the Groosalugg." She paused to see if he was following. "Or is it the weapons you're worried about? I can get you weapons!" She nodded vigorously; weaponry was a concrete problem she could solve.
"I have to fight the Groosalugg and... and get a physics book?" Riley looked totally confused and his head was beginning to throb with the strain of remembering. "And this will help me get us home?" He rubbed his temples and looked at her curiously, then nodded as he thought about it. "Yeah, weapons would be a plus."
Not knowing what to do and feeling a suddenly oppressing sense of dread, he pulled himself upright and walked outside the cave to look at the stars. He felt her follow him and stand quietly back, and he knew she was concerned. But for a moment he couldn't speak to her.
Nothing in the sky looked familiar, the constellations were all wrong. Dread gripped him and for the first time he wondered if he were even on Earth anymore...."Fred? Are you sure I'm your Champion?... "
She moved around to him and searched his face as carefully as he had just searched the heavens, seeking to ground herself even as his words spun her around. There was something in his eyes, something that should not be there.
Fear.
It wasn't that a champion could not feel fear. Of course he could; and that only made him more human, more heroic as he overcame it. But the way he looked now, the fear was threatening to overcome him in a way it had no right to. Fear was for little creatures that crept around the edges of the world by night and lived in caves by day and mooed when they were called upon....
Without thinking, she reached for him - not to help him physically with injuries or illness, but to touch his face. She cupped his cheek lightly, her fingertips barely resting on his skin. Locked with his, her gaze connected him to the warmth and strength radiating from her smile. "I'm sure," she said quietly.
She let her hand rest on him another moment, then dropped it back to her side. She blinked and smiled again. "I know where to get the weapons you need." A glance at the placement of the moon in the sky told her there was enough time. "I can get them tonight. But I have to leave now. You'll wait here, won't you?"
"I'll wait," he nodded with a smile that made her heart dance. "But I'll go with, if you want me to. I'm good as backup."
She shook her head at once. "No!" Immediately she softened her tone; the last thing she wanted him to know was how dangerous this was. If she got caught, she would need him to rescue her. "You should rest," she said. "You're going to need all your strength to fight the Groosalugg." Then, fearing she'd offended him, she added, "Of course you'll defeat him! He's definitely no match for a warrior like you. I just... don't want you to get hurt again." She dropped her eyes, feeling a flush warm her face. She hoped that the moonlight was not enough to reveal the color to him; how foolish he would think her! She looked up again, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'll be back before morning. I promise." She glanced at him, hesitated as if she were about to say more, and then with a quick smile and a quicker turn, she was off.
As Riley watched her go, a brief flash of blonde hair and a smile came to him, then was gone. Fred's words were achingly familiar, but her reasons for leaving him behind somehow felt truer than that snatch of memory.... He sighed and made his way back inside the cave to tend the small fire Fred always kept burning through the night. He'd awakened several times during his fever to see her sitting motionless as she watched over him. Now it was his turn to be responsible; he knew it was his duty to fight whatever this thing was.
He owed it to her. She needed him... and that was what mattered.
There was nothing more to think about for now, so Riley lay down to sleep. As soon as his eyes shut, he was confronted by every beastie he had ever been told of, all the creatures that went bump in the night... and more. Inescapably more.
He woke with a start and sat up, his clothing wet with sweat, his fear getting the best of him again. A pale light shone through the cave entrance.
"If only I could remember. God! This is not good. I need to know - I have to know how to fight it." He spoke aloud, comforted by the sound of his own voice. "I don't want to let her down."
In the shadows at the threshold of the cave, Fred stopped when she heard him speak. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she just didn't want to interrupt him. Then, feeling guilty, she ducked back out. She leaned against the outer wall not just in shame but as if needing the physical support it provided, weighted with his despair as his words sank into her. He didn't remember how to fight? That, as he had observed, was not good.
But then reflectively, she was buoyed by his words at the end: he was doing this for her. Love and chivalry would win the day! She suppressed a giggle at the thought; she knew it was silly, but it was so pretty to think....
A little wistfully, she turned her thoughts back to practicality, looking down at the carefully wrapped weapons she'd brought him. While they were almost certainly not the caliber of his own lost ones, they would surely bring back technique memories once he held them. And she had something else for him, as well. She grinned, picturing the look and smile her surprise would bring to his face. She covered her mouth to muffle the giggle that escaped this time.
Judging she'd waited long enough so that he wouldn't suspect her of having overhead, she entered the cave with her hands behind her and announced, "I'm back!"
Covering his doubts, Riley turned to face her with a grin. "So I see. You okay? No trouble on your quest?" He got to his feet and went over to her. She looked so happy about something and the feeling was infectious. "What do you have behind your back?" He pretended to try to peek, but when she turned serious and backed away, he conceded, "Okay, your surprise. I'll behave." He sat down on the stones that surrounded her "wet mirror," as she called it. Her descriptions of ordinary things never ceased to make him smile, even if he didn't know the proper names himself right now.
Proudly, she produced two velvet-encased objects and handed them to him. She knelt on the ground by him as he unwrapped them. When his brow knit as he held up first the dagger and then the broadsword, her own face fell - no, she knew they wouldn't be up to his fine standards. "I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely. "That was the best I could do."
"No, no! They're fine... but what do I need them for?" He looked at her, utterly confused and at a loss.
Fred looked equally perplexed for a moment. "They're you're weapons!" she said with hopeful brightness.
"Are you sure?" he asked with lingering doubt, but she nodded the affirmation with such vigorous assurance that he decided to accept it. Somehow he knew these were not the weapons he was used to. But Fred said they were, so he'd do his best. Holding up the broadsword, he fought the urge to shiver. I'm gonna get killed.... Yup, no doubt about it. Riley Finn, you have lost it now! His eyes sparkled. My last name! Finn! Another piece of the puzzle fits.
He grinned at Fred again and gingerly stood up to test his new weapon. "Kinda heavy," he observed, swinging the sword around too awkwardly for her tastes, as was evident by the frown now showing on her pretty features. By the way he was handling the sword, Fred almost wondered for a moment if he'd ever held one. But she shook that thought from her head. It was just the memory loss. The way he'd just smiled, he seemed pleased and she could only think the sword had brought back something. Once he got started, she was confident the skills would return to him.
Seeing that her dismay was bringing him down, she decided this was the perfect moment for the surprise. "That's not all I brought you," she told him with another shy smile. "Close your eyes?"
He smiled in turn at the tone of request, and obliged her. He heard her footsteps receding, and in a moment they returned. More than just her own footsteps. Perhaps she'd brought a swordmaster?
"Okay," he heard her enthusiastic voice. "You can look now!" So he opened his eyes and saw -
"A horse? It's a horse!" Riley tried to look excited and happy, but he was more bewildered than before. "A nice, big, white horse." He took the reins she put in his hand and patted the animal on the neck. "I'd say he's a fine looking one, too." Okay, now what's she got in mind for me to do?
Then it hit him: a knight! She wanted a knight - and he was it. "Fred," he asked, hoping against hope that he was wrong, "you don't have armor out there somewhere, too, do you?" He knew he had been a soldier, but not this type... or at least it didn't fit his memories. But then nothing seemed to fit right... and there was that headache again.
His words sent a thrill shivering through her. He did remember! She beamed at him as she nodded in confirmation. "You guessed your other surprise!" Without another word, she turned and dashed out of the cave, only to return with the helmet. She held it out to him in offering, nervously biting her lip. "I hope it fits. I - I had to guess at the size of everything. For the armor! I mean, I had to guess at the size of armor." She looked at him expectantly.
"It's wonderful. Really!" He took the helmet and, with a grimace as the metal grazed his still-tender scalp, forced it down. The fit was snug, but somehow it didn't bother him. Feels like my helmet in little league. Mom never could get the sizing right. Grinning at the memory, he looked at Fred and smiled. "Thank you."
As the helmet slipped into place, Fred let out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Another smile spread across her face. "I hope I guessed right on everything else!" she said as she left again, returning with another piece of the armor; after several trips, an entire suit lay at his feet, complete with shield. She looked at him expectantly once more, unselfconscious of the smile that lit her face.
When he made no move, she exclaimed, "Oh! You need your squire, don't you? To help you into it." She looked around helplessly, as if Toto or Graham or some other squire would appear suddenly. When none did, she looked back at him with raised eyebrows and a self-deprecatory half-smile. "There's no one here but me," she observed. "Will I - will I do, do you think?"
"Yeah, you'll do. And a good thing, too, 'cause I don't think I can get this garb on myself," he grinned. Especially since I have no idea where most of it goes! Since it was the most obvious, he held up the breastplate and let her fasten the straps. Shrugging his shoulders around to get used to the feel, he was reminded of something else: My flak jacket wasn't this uncomfortable, and at least it bent with me. This is going to be harder than I thought! Blushing profusely, he stood patiently as Fred helped him don the armor, fastening and adjusting each piece.
She didn't notice his blush at all as she helped him, aware only of the warmth coming to the surface of her skin, coloring her face. She knew if she thought of it at all, that would only make it worse. So she focused on doing it right, on not letting her fingers brush against or touch down where they shouldn't, on trying not to think of how this was different and alike to bathing him as she'd done for so many days - different, because now she was covering him up; similar, because it was so intimate... but she was not thinking about that, she reminded herself.
She'd done a good job selecting the suit and soon they were finished. When she took a backward step and raised a hand to shield her sight from the sun coming through the cave entrance, she found herself surveying a handsome knight in, yes, shining armor.
Without thought, Fred knelt at once. "Sir Riley," she murmured, head bowed as she offered him his sword.
Riley took the sword and smiled at her. "Rise, Milady. I won't have you bowing before me. You are far too important to me for that; I would be dead if not for you." He bowed as best he could. "I should be kneeling before you." Then he took her hand to pull her up, turning serious for a moment. "Fred, I can't possibly thank you enough. I only hope I don't disappoint you." With an impish grin, he kissed the back of her hand.
He took her breath away. Unexpected tears welled up in her eyes as she felt his lips press softly to her hand. Words wouldn't come, and she swallowed hard. "Never," she said at last, raising her eyes to his, the unshed tears shining in them. "You could never disappoint me."
She looked away before he could speak, before the tears could escape. Running her free hand through her hair, she removed the other from his gentle grip and turned. As she did so, the horse caught her eye. Clearing her throat hastily, she asked, "Do you remember how to ride?"
"I think so. Like a bicycle right?" Riley asked with a smile. Walking toward the animal, he realized the armor was far heavier than he had thought. He worked hard not to stagger, but he could feel the sweat already beginning to run down his back. When he finally made it the few paces to the horse, Riley saw he faced an even bigger obstacle: he couldn't get up on it. He looked around for a rock high enough and then carefully led his mount over, followed by Fred. While she smiled encouragingly, he stepped up on the rock and then with great effort and will power managed to throw a leg over the horse and pull himself up.
As she took the reins and led the horse out of the cave, Fred found that she couldn't stop smiling. Yes, this was exactly how she pictured it all. Exactly. Damsel in distress. Knight in shining armor on a white horse. She smiled some more. Once they got outside, she relinquished the reins to him and stood back, nearly giddy with the anticipation of watching her handsome knight gallop off and back to her on his proud steed.
Riley took the reins and nudged the horse with his heels. It came to him that he'd ridden horses all his life back home. This should be no different. But no sooner had the animal started a gentle trot than Riley knew he was in big trouble. There was no saddle and, with his legs in the armor, he couldn't grip the horse; he was sliding off and there was nothing he could do about it. With a bone-rattling thump, he landed in a heap beside his mount, winded and trying not to look as stupid as he felt.
"Oh!" Fred exclaimed, looking at him lying there. "Oh!" she said again, still rooted to her own spot for a moment, not quite able to process the information her eyes were sending her brain.
Then her brain received and decoded the message: clearly, Riley had not yet fully recovered from his injuries. Eager to return to his quest, he hadn't let on to her about his still-weakened condition. And in her own eagerness, she'd overlooked the signs. She berated herself for her selfishness as she ran to him and found herself in the familiar position of kneeling beside his prone body. "Riley? Are you hurt badly?"
"Just my pride. I can't move in this getup." Riley struggled to sit and, finding that he couldn't on his own, gave up with as sigh. He looked up at Fred with an apologetic grin. "Little help here?"
Grasping his hand and slipping her other under his shoulder, she pulled him upright. As she let go, she kept her hand at his back for a moment, just to be sure he would stay. Unconsciously biting her lip, she looked at him and then let her lip slide from between her teeth as she smiled. "Maybe we should call it a day?" she suggested, not wanting him to overexert himself into a relapse. "Then again - they say if you fall off a horse, you should get right back up on it." She tilted her head to the side, brow knit as she wondered where that had come from. "They do say that, don't they?
"Yeah, that's what they say. Can you help me get the leggings off? I can't get the grip I need on horseback." Trying to unfasten the armor on his legs and thighs, he added as an afterthought, "And maybe the arms, too. I think the breastplate will be enough. After all, I can't fight if I can't move!"
"Of course, my liege!" Fred said automatically as she undid the straps that held the armor in place. She pushed any doubts from her mind. If he preferred to do battle without full armor, then that was how he should fight; he knew himself and his ways far better than she. It was just that he looked so perfect in the armor...
And as she looked at him now, in breastplate and helmet alone, she realized he looked no less perfect. Embarrassed by the color that came to her cheeks , she turned from him to look for the horse and saw him standing patiently a few feet from them. Such a good horse. He should have a good name, she thought . Something nobler than Toto. Deferring to Riley, she asked, "What shall we call him?"
Riley looked at the horse for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. "Silver. I think it should be Silver." With a laugh he turned to her. "I seem to remember a hero on a white horse and the horse was named Silver, so maybe it will bring me luck."
"Silver," Fred murmured in approval as she looked at the horse, nodding to herself. She turned back to Riley. "But - you don't need luck." Her confidence in him shone in her smile. "Just a little more practice, perhaps," she added quietly, ducking her head that she had dared suggest it.
Riley laughed out loud. "Yeah, thinking that would be a good thing. I'm not sure about this sword."
She couldn't help the worry lines that ran across her forehead as she looked at him. "Not sure...? Do you need a different one?"
"No, no! I just need more practice. I don't remember a sword this big. Or heavy. But then, I don't remember my last name either, so...." He saw her concern and gently tilted her face toward him. "Hey, I'll be okay, and we'll get out of here and back home. I promise. My word as a knight. Okay?"
Fred could only nod at him and smile again. After a moment, realizing she'd just been gazing at him, she shook herself out of her reverie. "Well, Silver isn't going to get himself!" she said, and with a turn went over to the horse, gathered up the reins and brought him back. Now rested and unhindered by armor, Riley got back up on Silver and proceeded to amaze his admiring "squire" with the difference it made in his riding skill. He laughed and actually enjoyed himself, taking some pleasure in showing off a little for the sad young woman who was counting on him so heavily.
As she watched him gallop and wheel, weaving a sophisticated route through the trees, Fred kept her hands by her chin where she'd brought them as he'd remounted; instead of being clasped in silent prayer, however, they were now clapping against each other as she cheered him on. She shivered as something raced through her, something stronger than mere joy at the beautiful sight she couldn't take her eyes off of. Yes, Gal - Riley, she reminded herself, swept up in memory and fancy. Yes, Riley certainly was ready to ride off into the sunset with her. Sunset? Do knights ride into sunsets? There was something right and yet not right about that, but she didn't let it trouble her as she continued to watch him.
When at last he reined in and came back to her, both were a little flushed for their own reasons. "That was marvelous," she told him. With two hands, she held the sword up to him hilt-first and smiled expectantly, prepared to be equally dazzled by his next display.
Riley took the sword and hefted it. Turning the horse around, he sized up a nearby tree, trotted over and attempted to lop off a branch. All he succeeded in doing, however, was getting the sword stuck. With a sheepish grin, he turned around and rode back to yank it free. "Okay, that could use work."
Jaw dropped in a silent little "o", Fred didn't say anything in response; she couldn't say anything, for there was not a word in her head. All thoughts had fled, gone as if to search for an explanation. She was sure one would come at any moment, so she did what came to her naturally and smiled encouragingly. Perhaps... perhaps his strength was up, but the fever had left his vision blurred and thus he'd misjudged the tree? Oh dear. What a horrid possibility. Think of something else! she implored herself as he freed his sword. With bated breath, she awaited his next pass.
This time he managed to cut the branch off, but he knew it was basically luck and frowned. This is just not working. Don't think I fought on horseback. "Fred? I think I'm not a horseman. Foot soldier, maybe. Recon and drop and sweep." His eyes lit up again. That's it! Drop and sweep...out of a...chopper...in the jungle. "In the jungle..." he muttered as he rode back to her side.
"A foot soldier?" she repeated uncertainly. That - that didn't fit. She'd seen him gallop the horse with her own two eyes, seen the way Riley and Silver moved perfectly together, centaur-like. But, that was just another dream, centaurs. She was pretty sure she'd never seen a real one.
She had seen Riley on a horse, though; she was looking at him now. She chewed on her lip some more, feeling things shifting and slipping away from her again. She raised her eyes to his when he rode up to her and swallowed hard as she reached out to pat Silver's neck, reassuring herself that the horse was real. Tentatively, she rested her hand on Riley's; so warm and solid, just like the horse's neck. Yes, they were real. "Not," she said hesitantly, her eyes searching his face, "not a knight?"
"Well...yeah. Where I live, we were like knights. But we didn't have to fight on horseback. We had machinery that replaced the horses and were much stronger, and safer." He gripped her hand in his and smiled again. "But I can ride if you think that's best. I can make do with what I've got. Survival training, you know. Just don't make me eat bugs!"
She felt lightheaded again and missed his playful tone as she let her hand slip from his, supporting herself against Silver. Soldiers... machinery... did she have the wrong dream? Was he from a different dream? The words came out of nowhere - came out of another world, sliding through her head and directly out her mouth: "Desert Storm?" she asked. But no, he'd distinctly said "jungle." Brow creased, she tried, "Vietnam?"
"No. My Dad was there. I was in Belize." He said it so simply, like he'd never forgotten anything. And there it was: "Ohmigod! Fred! I was in Belize and we were fighting! Fighting the lizard demons and...and...." Then once again the curtains on his memory closed and he lost the thread of thought. With a sigh, he fought back the frustration and just shook his head.
"I'm sorry," she said, not sure what she was apologizing for exactly. All she knew was that he was upset now. She'd upset him with her stupid, foolish question, and he was bravely trying to hide that from her. Trying to protect her. Whatever he called himself, whatever they called him back in Belize or wherever he was from, he was still a knight. That thought made her relax, even if she couldn't quite smile. "I'm sorry," she said again, sincerity and sympathy coloring her tone.
Shaking off the last of the elusive memory, he looked down at her and touched her hand lightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Fred." He paused and added, "Now, I have some villains to contend with!" With a grin, he wheeled and charged at the next leafy "enemy."
He'd been attacking and, he thought with humorous pride, even defeating trees for hours when the aroma of something Fred called "stew" wafted over to him, and his grumbling stomach begged him to stop. It wasn't stew like he remembered it, but he'd had worse. He dismounted and unsaddled Silver, making sure to rub down the horse thoroughly before joining her.
"I think I'm getting pretty good at fighting the forest!" he chuckled - and then his face blanched. He grabbed for the cave wall. Oh God! Fighting Forrest! I... I killed Forrest! But... it wasn't Forrest. Just the remains of him pieced together with demon parts! He sat down hard and gasped, "I killed Forrest!" The memory, clear and fresh in his mind, made him shake like one of the leaves he'd just been "battling."
Fred dropped to her knees beside him at once, spilling some of the water from the bucket she'd brought him to wash up with. "Riley?" His quivering vibrated through her as she laid a hand on his shoulder. Oh god, she'd been a fool to let him practice so long! He'd been overzealous in "killing the forest" and had overexerted himself, as she'd feared might happen.
But a part of her recognized the shudders rippling through him as something other than purely physical, and she felt a sickening dread without knowing why. Though she wasn't sure if it was proper, her instinct was to hug him - so she threw decorum to the wind and put her arms around him.
Riley clung to her, his shaking subsiding only gradually. "I. I killed Forrest," he repeated. "I remember that. Oh God." He held onto her and started to rock back and forth slowly. The memories were rushing at him in a dizzying mental assault. Then just as fast as the memory of that battle came to him, it faded again, leaving behind a terrible sense of loss and emptiness... and guilt. "I need to make that right. I gotta make it right."
Fred closed her eyes as she rocked with him. She didn't understand what he was talking about. He "remembered" killing the forest? But hadn't that been just now, and just in play? Or - of course! In his fever he'd spoken of the forest demons he'd battled, the ones sent by the evil sorcerer Adam to stop him from getting here to her. And a traumatic battle it must have been, judging by the effects of those memories. That must have been where he lost his horse and squire; he must blame himself for their deaths. She continued to hold him, not knowing what to say, what words could comfort the Champion in his grief and guilt.
For he was a champion. Her thoughts turned back to the present, knowing they would need a plan for when his thoughts returned as well. Whatever he was, whatever kind of warrior he was, he had demonstrated mastery of horse and sword. In her book, that made him physically ready. But psychologically - that was another story, clearly. Feeling his body quiet, she let go of him and sat with her knees hugged to her chest.
After watching him another moment, his face turned to the wall, she said, "Riley? You don't." She stopped and drew a deep breath, knowing that she had to do this for him, whatever the cost. "You don't have to fight the Groosalugg, or anyone. Ever again. You can just," she cast a glance around the clearing, eyes coming to rest on the cave entrance. "Stay here with me. If you want."
"I have to, or we won't ever get home." His voice was distant but strong as he raised his head. "It's what I do. It's my duty, Fred." Then his voice got quieter. "But I think it would be nice not to have to worry anymore, and just be here. With you." Sighing, he dropped his head again. He was suddenly very tired and didn't want to think or feel or "see" anything else. He just wanted to close his eyes and let his mind be blank; the emptiness hurt so much less than the remembering.
"Riley," she murmured so softly she barely made a sound. Her arms went around him again. This was the part of the story they so rarely told: the champion in crisis, wanting nothing but succor from his lady. And though she hardly dared call herself that, still it was the part she was playing, the part he seemed willing, for this moment, to let her play.
But the champion was the champion because he more than knew his duty; he accepted it. And so she, if she truly wished to be his lady, must accept it, too. She would give him an easy rest tonight, staying near to watch over him, should he need to be awakened from another nightmare.
And in the morning, she would go with him to the village as he faced the Groosalugg. Once the enemy was vanquished and the treasure procured, she would go with her knight wherever he took her; and then, she hoped, he would awaken her from her nightmare.
to be continued