Kenrith Returns to HoldfastIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | HoldfastGameLogs | Kenrith Returns To Holdfast The first shock [for Kenrith and his men] was when they came within sight of the tournament field. It looked as though a massacre had taken place there (which, of course, in a way it had). A few of the corpses wore Hardy livery, or were townsfolk - but it was clear that the vast majority of the slain were Boltons. Ser Anders appeared to be directing clean-up operations. Kenrith motioned for the Hardy men to hold up with their captives while he jogged closer to Ser Anders. He could see that the other man was busy, so waited two paces away and waited for a few moments. But Ser Anders broke off what he was doing as soon as he saw Kenrith, and came striding across to him, his face grim. "Evan Tamm unseated your uncle through an underhand trick and then rode him down," he said. "Ser Herys ordered his men to kill Evan Tamm - there was a riot. The Boltons have been killed. My sister was struck by Ser Herys - I fear for her life." Kenrith nodded crisply after Anders finished reporting. He could feel the weight of his armor, and his duty, weighing heavy on his shoulders but he forced himself to stand up straighter. For the time being, he was the de facto Lord Hardy. "The Riverwolf's men proved true, as I suspect you've seen for yourself. Can we spare the men to serve as turnkeys for these nine, or should we gag and hobble them in the yard? The rest of our family is well? Do we yet know the casualty numbers?" Kenrith asked slowly with a steady voice and a lord's face. He strove to make the questions sound those of a Lord, and banished his worries somewhere deep down. "Not many on our side," said Ser Anders. "Most of the Boltons are dead - your brother is working on Ser Herys in the dungeon. Somehow I doubt he'll last long. The Knives here stood aloof - my concern is that they're fit and fresh and could probably take the castle themselves if the Riverwolf decided to increase his estates." "We need not worry about wildings for the time being, but if an old woman comes bearing my cloak she is to be admitted with guestright... I'll explain that later." Kenrith nodded crisply again. Ser Anders looked at him, frowning, but then gave a curt nod. "I can see to things here if you wish to see for yourself what's happening with your kin." "Our kin, and I will... but one more question. What became of the other son... Eryk?" Kenrith asked, after a moment of grasping for the name. Ser Anders frowned. "I've not seen him since ... before the tournament. But my attention was with my own men, preparing for an attack. He might be among the dead - I'll have someone search for him." "I'll speak with Ser Corryn as well. It may be he'll be taking his men to search for his daughter," Kenrith said. Ser Anders nodded. "Well," he said shortly, "that would relieve one of my worries." Kenrith nodded one final time to Ser Anders, and headed back the way he had come. "Ser Anders will have orders for you," Kenrith said to the Hardy men, "and Corryn may have need of you ten soon as well. You can leave the confiscated weapons and gear with whomever he indicates, grab something to eat if you want... but the Riverwolf may wish to leave in haste if he has not already done so. If so... good luck, and my thanks." Syndra left the ward and made her way down the corridor toward her own room. A part of her wanted to hurry, to finish her business quickly and hustle back to the ward to be near her father. A larger part, however, wanted never to return to that room again. That part urged her to run, to fly away from this place, from Holdfast, and never return. Never even look back. She remembered that feeling. It had been the same seven years ago. She hadn't run then, either. She contented herself with taking the long way, through some of the servants' corridors in the back. It was quieter there. All the activity was out front now as people ran out to help the injured. Rhys would need her back in the ward soon to tend them all. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but it was her duty. She had the knowledge and ability to help, therefore she must do so. Ser Godfrey's only heir would not shirk her duty. Once in her room, Syndra filled the basin and stripped. In the maester's tower she had cleaned only her face, hands and hair, using the maester's robe she found hanging on the peg to merely cover up the rest of the grime. Now she took off even the shift, stained and torn as it was with dirt and blood. She threw it into the fireplace, though no fire was lit at this time of day. It could be burned later. She wanted never to see it again. Once she had washed thoroughly, she selected another dress from her wardrobe. This time it was a simple grey woolen one, something that she had almost outgrown. The sleeves rose past her wrists and it was a little tight across the bust, but that was good. It wouldn't matter if this one got stained because she'd never wear it again anyway. No sense ruining one of her good gowns down in the ward. The last thing Syndra did before she returned to the ward was attack her hair. Now that she had a looking glass, she could see up close the hack-job she had given herself in haste. She brushed it out and used her knife to trim up as much as she could see. Septa Annice or Edlyn would have to help her with the rest. Evening things out meant it was even shorter now than before, but it was just hair. It would grow back. As she was turning to leave her room, Syndra heard a shout from the courtyard: "Kenrith!" Godwyn! Syndra hadn't seen him since he disappeared in the debacle on the tournament field. She bolted to the window, whipping open the pane so quickly that she almost shattered it against the wall. She had almost missed them. They were nearly out of sight around the corner. She leaned out the window and called to get their attention. "Kenrith! Godwyn!" It was not hard for Kenrith to learn where Celia and Godfrey had been taken, and Anders had told him where to find Herys and Godwyn. He decided to call on Celia first, so headed across the courtyard towards the door of the appropriate tower. Godwyn, having just given the guards their orders regarding the prisoners, entered the courtyard and saw Kenrith heading towards the tower. "Kenrith!" he called out, hurrying over towards his brother. He looked bruised and battered, and he was covered in blood, but he moved as swiftly and easily as ever, showing no signs of serious injury. Kenrith closed half the distance to Godwyn, and gave him a firm hug. He was mindful that he was still dressed in leather and mail, and that his brother was hurt... but one arm could only do so much harm under the circumstances. "It is good to see you, brother. Tell me... what has happened?" Godwyn began to answer, when... From above and behind them, the brothers heard a shout. "Kenrith! Godwyn!" The voice was unmistakably Syndra's. Godwyn turned and stared up. "Syndra!" he called. He waved to her, then turned back to his brother. "Evan is really Eryk Bolton. He slew uncle Godfrey's horse, then ran him down and trampled him. Had his horse trample him, I mean. I don't know if he's still alive or not. Uncle, that is. I think Eryk, the real Eryk, rode off. The b@stard, the one who called himself Eryk, he's the one that took Limosa. I haven't told Corryn that yet. Herys is down in the cells. He hit Lady Celia. Might have hurt her really bad." He thought for a second. "We killed all Bolton's men," he added. "I think we did, anyway." "The Boltons who went with me are disarmed and secured, and probably destined for the wall. They claimed to know nothing of Limosa's kidnapping... probably they were telling the truth. Actually, I killed one for suggesting we rape the 'wildings'- I ruled they weren't wildings, for reasons I'll explain later. If I wind up dead, ask Sewell... he thought it was impossible. For now, the woods should be safe-- from wildings. Do you want to go with Corryn to get her back?" Kenrith replied. Syndra smiled down at them from the window. Her relief at the fact that both her cousins were safe brightened her expression. She appeared to be unharmed as well, except that for some reason, her hair was now suddenly short. She listened politely through Godwyn's rapid-fire explanation and Kenrith's response, but at the end she interrupted. "So Corryn's all right too then?" she asked, adding him to the mental tally of the status of those she loved. Without waiting for confirmation, she continued, "Father's in the ward with Rhys. Rhys thinks he'll live, but the recovery's going to be slow and painful. He broke a hip and some ribs." Her smile faded. Both men knew the dangers of such injuries - internal bleeding, the wounds going bad, the breaks not healing properly. She didn't need to explain her concern. "He's sleeping now. I need to go back there." Kenrith gave her his crisp nod. Godwyn sighed and sagged with relief. "I was afraid he was dead," he confessed. He looked at Kenrith, duty warring with desire on his face. "Do you think I should stay here?" he asked his brother. "My first duty is to Holdfast...." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm glad you want to go. I mean to send you, and soon. Let us see if Celia is alright. She was stolen from underneath our roof-- Hardy's honor is at stake," he said before moving to open the door. Godwyn nodded, his gratitude evident on his face. "Godwyn," Syndra called hastily. "Come see me before you leave. I might have more information for you. Bring Corryn too. I'll be in the ward." And with that, she closed her window and was gone. "Aye!" Godwyn called up at the closed window, then turned to follow his brother. [Continued in Broken Bones, Shattered Hearts ] |
