Searching the Heart 4

The next morning, the fresh smell of water lingered in the air. The air was still cool from the night's rainfall, the grass and leaves glittering with dew drops. The sun was just rising over the pastures when the farmer and his wife entered the barn bearing breakfast for Cora and Arlan: eggs, buttered bread, and cold potatoes. Cora accepted it with a small smile of thanks. She was unusually subdued and less than enthusiastic as she stared at her food. Arlan, on the other hand, welcomed the food eagerly.

After Cora had finished with her tale Junas last night, she and Arlan had said no more for the rest of the night. Cora had turned away from him and lay down. Arlan had crossed to his original spot in the barn and spread out a blanket left behind by Maidra. He'd turned his back to her and lay down, as well. Of course, he had not been able to sleep. He was especially aware of Cora just across the barn from him. And later that night, after the fire had burned out, he'd heard what suspiciously sounded like soft weeping. He did not know what to think of this side of his princess. But her tears did prove her human, proved she had a heart and feelings, that she was not the ferocious hellcat he'd once thought her to be.

This morning, there was no evidence of her tears. During breakfast, she gained more of her composure and energy, and Arlan had to admire her for this. She changed into her own clothes, plaited her hair into a neat braid, then went outside and splashed her face and neck with water from the farmers' well. Back in the barn, she neatly folded the blankets and nightgown and left a handful of coins on top. Then she swiftly saddled up Nivo. Arlan jumped up as he finished the last of his food and saddled Demon up just as swiftly. Watching how she acted, it was as if last night had never happened, as if she'd never even bared her soul to him. She was the proud princess again, and yet, not proud, with no dignity.

The road was soggy and muddy from the heavy rains, but the air was crisp and sweet. Cora drew in a deep breath, smiling slightly.

“I love it after the rainfall,” she said contentedly. “The world seems so much cleaner and more beautiful.”

Arlan made a face as mud splashed his knee from his horse's hooves. “I beg to differ,” he said dryly.

“You can think what you like, but I think it's wonderful,” Cora replied. She remembered that Junas had loved days after a rainfall, as well. He'd said it was as if the gods were cleansing the earth in anticipation of something wonderful that was about to happen. He'd always said such things like that, always so fanciful and imaginative with an underlying tone of seriousness. She missed those moments now, especially in the company of Arlan, who could not see the beauty in the world, as Junas had been able to.

They rode all morning at leisure, having no true destination. Few people were on the road because of the mud and sogginess. At one point, they neared a horse and wagon that had a wheel wedged deep into the earth. Arlan glared at Cora, silently praying to the gods that they would keep riding, but the gods turned a deaf ear to his pleas.

Cora determinedly dismounted from Nivo and approached the cursing middle-aged man, who was splattered with mud.

“Honor and blessings to you,” he said in a rough voice.

“Honor and blessings to you, Master –”

“Master Smythy. I'll be stuck here all morning, what with no one traveling these roads. I was riding to the town to deliver these iron kettles and kitchen goods.”

Cora gave him a bright smile. “It is fortunate we are traveling this morn.” She examined the sunken wheel, then at the horse, frowning slightly. The animal wasn't a particularly large horse, and the burden must be doubly hard to pull through the sticky mud. “I think we can pull you out if I hitched my horse up alongside your own.”

Master Smythy eyed her stallion as he stood pawing the ground. “He's too fine a beast to be hitched to do this kind of work,’ he protested.

“Of course not! No job is too low when it comes to helping someone in need.”

The man protested awhile longer, but Cora continued to shake her head adamantly, while Arlan watched from atop Demon in annoyed amusement. He knew even by now that Cora was as stubborn as a mule, for good or worse. He saw her throw him an annoyed look through narrowed eyes.

Arlan slowly and unwillingly dismounted and sighed. “Well, Master Smythy, I suppose as the horses pull, we can push from behind,” he heard himself say, even as he groaned mentally and cursed himself for the offering.

The older man nodded in agreement. “I thank you for your help, lad.”

After Cora had managed to tie Nivo to the wagon, she looked back at the prince and Master Smythy, who had settled themselves behind the wagon. Then she placed herself in between the two horses and pulled at their bridles to move them forward, murmuring soft, encouraging words. The wagon gave a large creak and the mud sucked at the wheels. Arlan and Master Smythy were pushing with all their strength from behind, and slowly, the wagon began to move. After a few more moments of cursing and pushing and pulling, the wagon was on solid, safe ground.

Cora praised Nivo excessively and patted his neck as she untied him from the wagon. She looked back at the two men; it took a great amount of restraint to hold back the laughs that hovered at her lips. The front of Arlan's clothes was completely covered with mud, as well as his face. Only two dangerous, glittering green eyes glowered at her. Arlan was trying to pull mud out of his hair, but it was to no avail. Master Smythy looked much the same, except he was grinning broadly.

“Again, I cannot thank you two enough,” he said in gruff thanks. “The highest honor and blessings to you both. I do not know what I would have done.”

Cora smiled as he shook her hand. She thought she heard Arlan mutter, “You would have waited for someone else to do this dirty work.”

“We were glad to help you, sir,” Cora said warmly.

“I must offer you something. I have some fresh bread my wife baked me last night, and some plump, ripe fruit.”

Cora began to protest, but Arlan cut her off quickly. “We would take it gladly, sir.” He ignored Cora's chastising look as he accepted the food with a smile. “We thank you.”

Master Smythy was still smiling broadly as he hoisted himself up onto the wagon seat. With a last word of thanks, he lightly slapped the reins against his horse's rump.

As soon as the man was a distance away, Cora burst out laughing, doubling over and holding her sides. She gasped for air and tried to wipe her tears from her eyes, but they’d quickly be replaced. Arlan had retained his scowl, but it was even fiercer than usual.

“Have I proved my worthiness to you yet, princess?” he shouted over her laughter. He looked down at himself in disgust. “Is this good enough for you? Have I dirtied my hands enough? And my whole body?” He was angry and shivering as the cold mud seeped through his clothes to his skin. “Gods curse it! I'd prefer the women who want moonstones and rubiest! They're expensive and you're impossible!”

She grew solemn before his anger. She studied his face closely, or what she could see of it, and she saw that he was truly hurt by her laughter. This puzzled her, and she felt the slightest guilt. Why should her laughter wound him? He disliked her just as much as she him. And why should his hurt make her feel guilty?

“I think you are plenty dirty,” she said at last in a forced light tone. “Actually, too dirty for my taste. And you can keep your moonstones and rubies. I think they're rather vulgar and heavy." She then crinkled her nose at the sight of Arlan. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot staff. Except maybe to do this.” She gave him a slight shove with her fingertips, then waited to see if he would take her words in earnest, or in jest, as she meant him to.

At first, he stood gravely still, watching her watch him, and she wondered if the mud had buried his sense of humor.

“Oh you wouldn’t, would you?” he said in a low voice. He took a step forward and returned her shove. “I've never been the best at arithmetic, but I do believe less than ten feet stand between us now.”

With both hands, she pushed his shoulders. “And I would prefer it if more did stand between us. You're filthy!”

“Indeed I am, mistress, and all on your behalf.” He managed an elegant bow, as if he were in the royal court. When he straightened, he shoved her back roughly, but a little more than he'd meant to.

Unprepared, Cora slipped in the mud and was falling, but she grabbed Arlan's arms to pull him down with her. She fell to her back and felt the mud splash her face. Arlan landed beside her. She stared at him in a moment of shock, then grabbed handful of slimy mud and shoved it into his face.

“You are such a bastard!” she shouted, trying to wipe some of the mud from her face.

Arlan began to laugh as she smeared more mud over her face. “You started this whole bloody mess,” he shot back as he dumped a handful of mud in her lap.

She gasped incredulously and glared at him. Then without warning, she tackled him. They rolled around in the mud, wrestling and fighting. They stuffed mud into each other’s faces and onto their clothes, shouting, and soon laughing. She made sure Arlan got a good taste of the mud, and a new wave of laughter overcame her as he was spitting and gagging. After they had completely covered each other in mud, they got to their knees to look at the other. Then they both erupted with laughter, thinking the other looked very ridiculous.

“I don’t thinking I’ve ever seen anyone look so ugly!” Arlan exclaimed as he wiped mud out of his eyes.

“You should not be so cruel to yourself,” she replied, grinning. “But I think you look a trifle better than you did the night of the ball, all gussied up like you were.”

He looked down at himself mournfully. “A fine mess is what I look. You yourself look one, too. But I really must wash myself off. Is there a stream or river nearby?” He was still spitting out mud and shaking his head like one of his dogs.

Cora turned her head as mud flew from his hair. “There should be one a little ways ahead.” She was just as eager to clean herself off, for though she disliked ball gowns and such, she still favored cleanliness.

They found a wide lake of crystal water in the midst of a small wood. Nothing seemed to disturb the surface so still it seemed to be a mirror reflecting the sky and the earth. Large, sweeping trees hung over the lake at its edges and dipped their branches into its silvery depth.

“My sister would love this,” Arlan remarked. “She has a passion for lakes and waterfalls and tends to them religiously in her gardens.”

“It is said the Goddess had been wise in all things except love,” Cora said. “This is where she fell in love and where her heart was broken. She learned what it felt like to be human, to experience sorrow, to know of a love and hatred for a man at the same time. And here is where she wept.”

“A pretty story,” he said flippantly as he unsaddled his horse and threw saddle and bridle to the ground. He began to brush the caked mud from Devil’s coat and then rubbed the horse down until he was dry. “As long as it makes me beautiful again, I’ll be satisfied.”

Once both horses had been tended to, they were saddled again in case of danger. They did not seem to mind, though, as they continued to tear away at the grass.
Arlan stripped off his shirt. She watched him walk to the lake’s shore a few feet away to rinse his shirt. She had seen many men without their shirts; the young men often practiced fencing in the outside courtyards and would be prone to stripping down to relieve themselves in the heat, and also to show off and impress the young ladies, especially the princess. Her mother disapproved of such displays, but she did not forbid her daughter some fun, remembering herself how it was to be a young woman.

In the villages and countryside, men often worked with their shirts off. Their bodies would be tan, well muscled, and gleaning with sweat. Most times, they were much more impressive than the men of the court.

Arlan was nothing special. His skin was smooth and pale from too much time spent brooding over books and ledgers and attending meetings in sunless rooms. He was lean, not overly muscled. He had been born with an athlete’s grace. He seemed comfortable in his body and the world. His walk was balanced and agile, his movements effortless.

Cora turned and sat behind a tree, her back against the rough trunk. She could see the road from here, though not very clearly. She heard a large splash that signified Arlan had jumped into the lake. Her own clothes were stiffening from the mud, and her hair and skin were completely encrusted. She could imagine her father and mother’s face if they could see her. They’d be shocked, disapproving, and at last, exasperatedly amused. Cora stripped off her boots and socks and threw them by her stuff with disgust. Her feet her were soft and pruney. She couldn’t wait to feel the cool water against her skin. She heard more splashing behind her that said Arlan was finished. She waited a few more moments, then peeked from behind her tree and saw that he was dressed. She went down to the lakeshore for her own bath.

Arlan was clean and soaking wet. His hair fell into his eyes and dripped onto his face, but he brushed it back impatiently and grinned at Cora. She was still coated in mud, looking nothing like the lovely, and yet, high-strung princess he had met but a few days ago. She made a face at him and waited until his back was turned.

As he checked the saddle girths to make sure they were tight and that all of their gear was secure, Arlan turned to his thoughts. He could not imagine spending the rest of his life with this young woman who would wrestle in the mud. In Amalur, the women were taught to be graceful, submissive, and pleasing. Cora was going to be a whirlwind at court. She would be shunned and gossiped about by the other women, for they looked down upon unruly women, his mother especially. Of course, a few rebellious women would take pity on Cora and encourage her behavior. Those women Arlan would have to see to it that they were kept far away from her.

The water felt wonderfully cool, and Cora dove deep into the water, though the lake was too deep for her to touch the earth. She had swum here before many times, and had brought Junas here, once, as well. He had been delighted by the myth to the lake, unlike Arlan and his scornful carelessness. Junas had wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, treating her like she was a goddess herself. It had been one of the many magical moments they'd shared together. As she splashed through the surface, she shook her head angrily. What good did it do to dwell on the past? She was in the present with another man whom she was going to marry. Cora saw Arlan’s arm come in view from behind the same tree she had sat behind as she swam to shallower waters so her feet touched the ground. Suddenly she stiffened as she instinctively submerged her body deeper into the water. She didn’t turn even as she heard a faint crack of a twig.

Arlan was wondering if Cora was like all women and took hours to groom themselves. He sighed and resigned himself to a long wait. On impulse, he looked around the tree trunk to see only Cora’s head from the crystal water. He couldn't help but admire her slender shoulders peeking above the surface. Her long hair was sleeked back and clung to her. Many noblewomen often indulged in the rich foods of the rich living and cared naught for their physical appearance. Those women were all flesh and no beauty. And then there were those who ate nothing at all, driving themselves to obsession to watch their figures. Cora was neither; she was perfect.

But now she was unnaturally stiff and slowly swimming to the shore. Her head was cocked as if listening for something, or the lack thereof. Since she was listening, he listened as well. He did not hear a sound, and he tensed. It was too quiet. He forced himself to casually walk down to the lakeside.

“Arlan, get back,” Cora hissed as she crossed her arms over herself beneath the water.

He bent his knees down to be more level with her. “Get out of the water,” he commanded softly as he smiled. Out of the corner of his eyes, glanced at the horses. They were alert, as well, chewing on their bits and shaking their heads. He went to her haversack and pulled out a blanket. “You really should not be in the water so long!” he admonished almost playfully. “You've been keeping me on this shore all alone for far too long!” He turned his back, waiting.

She would never admit it aloud, but she had the same foreshadowing feeling. He felt it so strongly that he was posing to be casual and at ease, even affectionate. She dried herself off and threw on clean clothes, trying not to appear anxious. She slowly backed up against a tree and surveyed the area, Arlan hovering close to her.

“You did say bandits like to hang around lakes and such, right?” Arlan asked her. “Well, I think they’re watching us. Have you ever confronted these savages?”

The tone of his voice irritated her, making it sound as he had all the experience of the world with bandits or danger such as this. “I actually have,” she replied coldly. “Though they've never been in large groups, mostly solitary or in pairs.”

Arlan turned his back to the lake and leaned a hand against the trunk, by Cora's head. He lowered his own head closer to her face, and without warning, he kissed her. For a stunned moment, Cora was paralyzed as his lips caressed hers. A distant part of her mind and body felt warmed and lulled by this, but a much stronger part of her rebelled.

She managed to push him away with all of her strength as she gaped at him. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

A roguish grin spread across his face. He didn't look at all perturbed that she'd broken off the unexpected kiss. “Perhaps if it looks like I am seducing you, they will not want to interrupt us.”

Anger now flooded her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She had not wanted to even think about making any kind of intimate contact with this man until she truly had to. “You will do no such thing again,” she snapped. “Bandits are not modest or afraid of interrupting anything. And I am not to be easily won over by a few kisses.”

Arlan chuckled, but then stiffened as he heard the twang of a bowstring, and he ducked, jerking Cora down with him. Where Cora's head had been was an arrow deeply embedded into the tree. Another followed, and another, and Cora swore as she swung around behind the tree. They had to get to the horses, who were panicking as arrows streamed past them. Cora gave a piercing whistle and Nivo flew to her, the whites of his eyes showing as they rolled in fear. Demon had followed the black stallion.

The shower of arrows came to a halt, and Cora sat for one still moment, holding her breath. She chanced a peak and gasped with dismay. At least a dozen men were standing across the lake. They were splitting up to go either way to get on their side of the lake. They were coming very swiftly. She swore again.

“What is it?” Arlan demanded. He followed her gaze and he swore, as well.

Cora's heart was beating wildly, and panic was rising in her stomach. “We'll have to try and outrun them. Either that or be killed so they can rob us. Or worse.” She shuddered to think what they might do to her. “Come on. Our horses are better than theirs, and we have a good chance.”

She hurriedly pulled herself up into the saddle and turned Nivo towards the road. But the stallion suddenly half-reared as a wiry, dirty man reached to pull Cora down. His hands grabbed her leg tightly as he leered up at her. Cora felt a surge of anger and pulled her foot loose from the stirrup to kick him in the face. Before he could recover, she jabbed her heels into Nivo's sides. She bent low over her stallion's neck, urging him to fly. A knife soared past her arm, grazing it slightly; arrows followed, and they were much too close for comfort.

Her heart stopped at the sound of a few horses. She looked behind her to see two bandits on horseback. They were scraggily beasts, but they seemed to be sure-footed and swift. She knew her stallion could easily beat them, but she didn't like the arrows the riders had strung up to their bows. One arrow grazed her shoulder, ripping the fabric.

They were almost to the road. Nivo was stretching his long legs and neck to climb up a hill with just as much urgency as his rider felt. She could see Arlan’s roan stallion at her knee. They were almost there. Cora felt a small sense of hope.

At last, their horses’ feet touched the dirt of the road. Cora directed her horse across the road to the opposite forest and rode as quickly as she could through the growth. Cora didn’t know how long they’d been riding through the woods when she looked behind her. It was rare that bandits had horses, and if they did, they had only a few. Cora and Arlan silently sat in the thick of the woods, waiting to see if anyone had pursued them. After a few moments, Cora let out her breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She kissed her fingertips and raised them to the skies as a sign of thanks to the gods and turned to look at Arlan.

She gasped at the sight of his blood-soaked shirt. Some of his blood had dripped onto Demon’s lathered shoulder and dark mane. A knife protruded menacingly from his side and was bleeding heavily. Cora quickly dismounted and went to Arlan’s side as she saw him slightly waver in the saddle.

“Arlan, we need to get that knife out!” she said urgently, hoping that he would not faint.

Arlan was blinking rapidly as he gripped the front of his saddle with an iron grip. "Hell, I need to get out of this damn saddle first." He slid down slowly and Cora, alarmed, caught hold of him around the waist. “Let go of me!” Arlan snapped angrily. “I am no child in need of coddling!" He tried to pull away, but winced and stumbled. “Damn!”

“Come on, you ungrateful wretch,” she said, gritting her teeth and trying continue to feel sympathetic for him. She was tempted to step away and allow him to tend to himself. But as she glanced at the knife again, blood racing down his body, she felt her heart race with worry.

Blood was quickly spilling out over his hands. His pale face revealed a silent cry of agony. Cora could not help but pity him, despite his arrogance and rudeness. Arlan bit his lip and swore passionately as he collapsed to the ground and leaned his head back against the tree. His face was gleaming with sweat and suppressed exclamations of pain, his chest rising and falling heavily. He turned his head to survey his wound. His hand crept up to the knife to begin to close around the hilt.

Cora impatiently knocked his hand away as she would a child. “Don't move,” she commanded as she studied the knife with dismay, knowing she was to have the bloody task of pulling it out. “I’m going to have to pull that out,” she told him in a tone that would have no argument. “You can't do it yourself, otherwise you'll make an even bigger, bloodier mess of yourself.”

Arlan summoned up a scowl. Even through excruciating pain, he could manage to be surly and arrogant. “Since when have you become an expert healer?” he demanded heatedly. “You'll probably make a bloody botch of it and kill me, for all I know! I know you've been plotting to all along!” The pain was getting to him.

She shrugged and sat back on her feet. “Now how did you ever guess my plan? Well, you ungrateful boy, you can either let me get it out nice and smoothly and straight, or you can do it yourself at an angle and cut even further into your flesh, causing even more pain than I would.”

“And I'm sure you'll enjoy giving me a little pain,” he growled.

“On the contrary. I'd greatly enjoy giving you a lot of pain. But the bandits have beat me to it.” Though she spoke in a light, mocking voice, she truly did fear for Arlan, for the amount of blood he was losing. “Now shut up and let me get that knife out of your body. I'm sick of looking at it.”

At last, Arlan nodded in agreement, leaning back against the tree and biting his lip, allowing his pain to overcloud his arrogance.

“Do you trust me?” Cora said softly.

His feverishly bright green eyes stared at her. In that one moment, Cora was held immobile by the complete trust she did see there.

“Well, get to it,” he muttered.

Cora ripped the fabric of Arlan’s shirt around the wound. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of it. It was still streaming of fresh blood with old, dried blood crusted around it. Thankfully, it didn’t seem too deeply embedded, perhaps less than halfway in Arlan’s flesh. She tentatively took hold of the hilt, and she heard his breath hiss between his teeth. She grabbed the hilt of the knife with her other hand and slowly began to pull at it. A soft groan protruded from Arlan’s lips, and the veins in his temples bulged. Slowly, Cora began to pull again, trying to ignore his pain, but she couldn't.

She put a frustrated hand to her forehead, smearing blood on herself. She finally concluded that giving a hard tug and pulling the knife swiftly from Arlan’s torso would be the most merciful thing to do. Trying to ease it out slowly was a hopeless cause. With fresh determination, she set her one hand on Arlan’s shoulder to give her leverage and the other on the knife hilt. She breathed a quick prayer to the Goddess and then pulled with all of her strength, falling back as the knife came free. Arlan exercised his extensive knowledge of curses and filled the air with them. Cora ran to her pack and grabbed a flagon of water and ripped one of her extra shirts to shreds. She soaked one of the pieces and cleaned the wound of dried blood. Then she swiftly and tightly bound fabric around his torso, making sure the bandage was tight to staunch the bleeding.

Arlan’s face was pale with beads of sweat freely falling from his face. His fist was balled into a tight fist. Cora stood a few feet away, her arms wrapped around her body. The smell of blood in the air was strong, and she was becoming slightly nauseated. Arlan then uncurled his fist and reached out his hand toward her.

Puzzled, she pushed aside her sickness and kneeled by his side. To her complete astonishment, he took one of her hands in his cold and clammy hand and squeezed it tightly.

He summoned a weak smile for her. “You didn't kill me after all,” he whispered faintly. Then he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. His steady breathing told Cora he slept.

Watching him made her realize how exhausted she was. She positioned herself against the tree trunk, as well, and closed her eyes to doze off, Arlan’s hand still grasping hers.



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