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The breeze that rustled her skirts echoed quietly in the cave behind her, like a low and haunting howl. It reminded Katherine of the wolves that could be heard from Trosky castle after nightfall, a sound the girls that worked there often swore came from apparitions seen along the rocks of Apollonia. While she thought the notion ridiculous, she couldn't help the way her skin crawled and she wrapped her arms around herself with a reminder that it was not the sound that caused her hair to raise but the very real threat of living, breathing men that hunted them.
Her eyes peered at the trees ahead of her through the darkness. Lights danced in the distance, flickering and bobbing in between the shrubs and leaves of the forest. Had they not been the torches of Von Bergow's soldiers that searched for them, she could have seen them as beautiful.
Behind her came the shuffling of footsteps against stone before the voice of an older man spoke: "No sign of him?"
"No," she answered, her braid brushing against her shoulder as she turned her head. Katherine knew little about Father Godwin. He'd only arrived in the region the day before, shortly after the attack on Nebakov, in search of Lord Hans Capon of Pirkstein and his companion, Henry. He seemed kind enough but Katherine knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving, and Godwin's appearance was unexpected, to say the least. Her eyes flickered once to the sword on the priest's belt, something that seemed to draw little reaction from him. He was either used to having folks look at him with suspicion — who heard of a priest carrying a sword, after all? — or he didn't care.
"Give him a little more time," he said in a calm tone.
"How is he?" Katherine asked, glancing over Godwin's shoulder to the soft hint of light that wavered against the uneven stone around the corner from deeper within the cave.
"Stable, for now," Godwin answered. "He needs fresh bandages though, and something for the pain would help."
Katherine nodded. She figured as much. They had done what they could in the prison. There had been some bandages on the guard she had killed outside the torture chamber that they used to wrap the worst of wounds on Zizka's torso. And even though he had managed to make it down the stairs and through the tunnels beneath the castle, it was clear he was in pain. His movements were slow, his steps more cautious. His voice was hoarse and he kept his sentences shorter than normally would. She'd tended to Zizka in the past and knew each and every scar he had gotten in the last several years but it had never been this bad.
"Why don't you go check on him. I can stay here and keep an eye out for Henry," Godwin offered. When Katherine's head turned to allow her eyes to nervously scan the trees again, the older man pulled the bollock dagger from his belt and held the handle out toward her. "I know I've done nothing worthwhile to earn your trust. Perhaps this will make you feel a little more comfortable."
Katherine eyed the dagger carefully for a moment. She had given Henry the one she'd stolen when they parted ways in the prison, and while she had no reason to believe Godwin would harm her, there were others out there who would. Reluctantly, she reached out and curled her fingers around the smooth wooden handle. "Thank you."
She took a couple of steps back away from the priest before turning toward the cave and walking inside. They had moved further in once Henry had left to avoid being seen but the torch that had been left with Zizka still offered enough light to guide her way around the corner. It rested on the ground next to him and filled the small chamber with a warm glow that juxtaposed the cool stone he leaned against. It's light made the blood and sweat that covered him, more sticky than wet now, shine dully. It took him longer than it would have otherwise for him to acknowledge her as she approached.
"Kate," he said hoarsely with a forced smile that didn't linger. "Has Henry…?"
"Not yet," she answered and tucked her skirts under her knees as she knelt down next to him.
Zizka made a noise in his throat and shook his head.
"Give him a little more time," she said, echoing both Godwin's words and tone.
"We don't have the luxury of time."
"Hush," Katherine scolded, her eyes becoming sharp as they met his. The one that was visible watched her from under the edge of the bandage that covered the other. It was dirty and bloodstained. His wound had likely been made worse from the stress of the torture he'd endured less than an hour ago. "It needs changing," she commented aloud before she realized she had done so.
"That may be so," he said then paused a moment to stop a cough before it could escape. "But we've no more bandages."
"You've got none with your gear?" She asked, nodding her chin toward the bundle of clothes and weapons that laid next to him that Henry had brought back from the Crone. Zizka shook his head.
Katherine huffed and leaned forward, tugging gently at the knot that held the bandage in place at the back of his head before beginning to unwind the long strip of linen. Slowly but surely the bandage fell away and revealed the gash over Zizka's left eye. The skin around the wound wasn't as red as she had expected it to be and it looked as if it had already begun healing, despite it only being a day or two old. There was some blood that had begun to dry from the wound reopening, but it did not look like it had begun to fester.
"Godwin," Zizka said after noticing Katherine silently raise her eyebrow. "He took a look at it back in Nebakov. He's got a strange set of skills for a priest."
"He's not the only priest with medical knowledge," Katherine said as she sat back on her heels and dropped the dirty bandage aside. She knew Zizka wasn't only eluding to Godwin's healing abilities, but she thought it unwise to speak on him further in case the older gentleman was listening. She gently placed her hand on Zizka's cheek and carefully prodded at the skin around the wound with her thumb. The eye itself didn't seem to be damaged too badly, though it was clearly red and irritated. "Henry really did a number on you, didn't he?"
"I'm just lucky he didn't catch my eye," Zizka grunted and tried to turn his head away from her but Katherine was quicker, placing her other hand against the side of his face to hold him still. With a defeated sigh he relented.
Katherine frowned, both at the feel of Zizka's skin clammy skin beneath her palm and his words. "I don't think luck has anything to do with it. What kind of idiot fights without his helm?"
"You've got me there."
"You were cocky," she continued, shifting to tug her gown out from under her knees and gathering it up over her lap to reveal the chemise beneath. "And overconfident. Perhaps you should lose your eye. It would serve you right."
Zizka made another noise in his throat, though if it was in agreement or not she didn't particularly care. Using the dagger Godwin had given her, she began cutting and tearing away at her chemise, discarding pieces from the edge that were covered in dirt, then cutting a cleaner and longer strip from above that. While she worked at making the makeshift bandage, she could feel Zizka's one, piercing blue eye watching her carefully. His intense gaze had unsettled her when they first met but she'd grown used to it. He looked at her in a way most men didn't. There was no wandering glances, no lust behind it; it was simple admiration and respect.
There was an understanding between them, one that had gone unspoken for years. She cared for him a great deal, just as he cared for her, and he was an attractive man. There was a… tension when they were alone. It wasn't negative but it was thick. Palpable. It kept them apart, like a barrier or a wall. However sometimes, in rare and vulnerable moments, that wall began to crumble. Only neither of them would ever allow it to fall.
When she had a strip long and clean enough, she leaned forward to begin wrapping the new bandage around his head. Other men might have taken the opportunity to let their eyes travel down the low, swooped neckline of her dress, while Zizka simply closed his eye instead.
When she'd opened the door in the prison, it was immediately obvious that Zizka had taken the brunt of the torture. He had some serious bruising around his ribs and torn flesh at his side that she'd noticed had already begun to bleed through the bandages. The raspy edge to his voice made her wonder if he'd taken a hit to the throat or if he was dehydrated. It was all worrying. She tried to push it from her mind and focus on what she could do about it instead of what she couldn't, but she'd never seen him like this before.
"There," she said with a somewhat satisfied smile once the bandage was tied and as she moved to settle her weight back on her heels again, Zizka reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. It took Katherine by surprise and her hand instinctively went for the dagger she'd placed on the ground next to her, but stopped short of grabbing it. Zizka knew she disliked being touched, let alone grabbed — especially by men — and she couldn't recall a time he'd ever touched her in such a way. Zizka had reached over the wall between them and she could feel the foundation begin to crack.
After a beat, she found the muscles in her arm under his grasp were relaxing and her fingertips touched cool stone instead of the carved wood of the dagger's hilt. Her face was close to his, close enough to see the light of the torch reflected in his eye when it opened. His moustache twitched, as if he was about to speak, yet no words came. Instead, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he let out a heavy, hot breath that she could feel against her cheek.
Katherine's eyes flickered down to the Captain's lips. Dried blood lingered in the corners of his mouth and disappeared beneath his moustache. She wanted to reach up and wipe it away but she held still. There were some lines that she could not, would not cross, and she knew that it was highly likely that Zizka was suffering far more than he let on. She was not about to take advantage of his situation, nor risk making it worse.
"Stay," he said, his voice low and raspy. There was a waver to it, just at the end, but he wasn't asking or pleading. It was a command, one that made Katherine's eyebrows push together.
Zizka was always sending her away, an order she was more often than not all too eager to follow. The company he kept were not always the easiest to deal with. Not that the men were much better in the places she would end up, but at least they were men she could handle on her own. There were times, however, where Katherine wondered if he had other reasons for sending her away.
When she gave a small, single nod of her head, the corner of his mouth twitched into something almost resembling a smile and he let go of her arm, his hand falling heavily into his lap. With the freedom to move, she finally rested her weight back onto her heels, grateful to no longer have the small pebbles beneath her knees digging into them. The wall between them remained, a sentiment that Katherine found comforting. It was better that way. For the both of them.
Footsteps echoed off the cave's wall behind her. Katherine turned her head over her shoulder and Zizka dropped his grip on her arm so she could rise to her feet, quickly scooping the dagger up as she did. Her fingers curled tightly around the hilt and she kept it close to her side, concealed in the folds of her skirt. When Godwin appeared around the corner, her grip on the wooden handle loosened.
"Someone's coming," he said in a low voice, rushing to Zizka's side. "Quickly now. We should move further back."
Before Katherine could move to assist the older men, she heard someone calling her name from the tunnel's entrance. "Wait," she whispered, holding a hand up. The three of them held their breath until Katherine's name was called again. It wasn't loud, like a shout, but urgent and familiar.
"Mika," she said as she let out a breath. "He was with the wagon."
"I didn't hear a wagon," said Godwin.
"Something's happened. Go. Ask him for the password, it's the same as I told Henry. 'Falcon'."
It was indeed Young Mika. He explained what had happened, how he'd been captured by soldiers and rescued by Henry, how they had to leave the wagon to the south and Henry had gone on ahead to find the others to tell them where to bring the wagon. It wasn't the news Katherine wanted to hear, but it at least gave an explanation for why Henry had been taking so long — an explanation that still offered some hope instead of dashing it against the stones of Apollonia.
If there was one thing she knew about Henry, it was that he would not leave them. Not if he could help it. He would keep to his word and bring the wagon. And even if something happened, Katherine would ensure Zizka got the help he needed, one way or another. She would not lose him.