Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Exile

"Hal! Hal wake up!" Beric was shaking her.

She opened her eyes. The canopy of tree tops whirled dizzily above her and she closed them again.

"There's no time for that, girl. We've work to do. You're going to have to get up."

Hal dragged herself into a sitting position, resting her back against a tree. The rain continued to pour down but she no longer noticed it.

"Those wounds need stitching," Finn observed in a worried tone.

"Too bad I left my sewing kit at home, Finn. She's going to have to manage."

"She's lost blood already, Beric." Marc removed his coat, hanging it on the branch of a tree. He pulled off his shirt and tore some of the material away to produce a few makeshift bandages. Drained of emotion, empty, Hal watched. It were as if this were happening to another person ─ that she was a mere spectator.

"Best northern silk," Marc muttered with a grimace, wrapping one piece around the wound on her left arm before securing the remaining strips around the gashes on her thighs.

Jools sat apart from the others, crouching beside Orla's body in a kind of vigil, her face creased in an attitude of rage and misery, her dark eyes red with weeping. Kris stood behind her for a while, looking downwards at the prone body of their former friend. Then she lay her hands upon Jools's shoulders to comfort her, but the girl shook her off angrily.

"We have to bury her," she muttered.

"I know."

"Why?" Jools sprang up and advanced towards Hal, her eyes gleaming with grief. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're sorry that you just killed Orla, that you murdered the woman you once claimed you loved?"

"It wasn't murder," Hal protested weakly. "I had no choice." She stared down at the wet grass, avoiding Jools's gaze.

"You had every choice, Hal! You never had to answer that cursed challenge in the first place. We all told you it was a trap, but you didn't listen. Now look what you've done!" She wheeled round and knelt down next to Orla's body once again.

"She was our friend too. She wasn't herself, Hal. The southern territory had driven her mad. You were all she had left."

Hal could no longer keep her tears in check. Her body convulsed in sobs and she buried her face in her hands.

"Don't be so hard on the lass." They all stared at Beric in amazement.

"I never thought I'd hear you utter such words, Beric" Marc murmured.

"Well, she made a mistake; she shouldn't have come. That much is clear. But she's a duellist. Fighting's in her blood. Not to answer a challenge would have been..."

"...inconceivable?" Finn finished the sentence for him.

"Aye. Inconceivable."

"Even if the duel was illegal?" Marc queried sceptically.

"Even so. It would have been dishonourable in every way. And if you'd taken a beating like she had, you might not have been thinking too straight yourself, Jools. Revenge may not be a good motive, but it's certainly a strong one. Besides, if she hadn't fought the soldier, it's possible that none of you'd be alive to tell the tale now. So just save your words and let's get on with the task of burying this poor girl before the city guards find her. And as for you, Hal, nothing becomes you less than tears or self-pity, so dry your eyes. We've work to do."