The Borderlands The Memoirs Of Lord Tristan

Part 5-Chapter I

To the most attentive of listeners, the following is in accordance with Princess Genevah Avonmora's records, Eva Caesarea's records, Cassim Anscombe's records, and—of course—my own. Written for the Queen and King of Cascata, and Aaliyah, also dedicated to Genevah and Aaliyah. I shall begin on the first night after the battle.

...oOo...

The sun had already set and the stars were beginning to peek out. I was sticking my head out of the hole and into the cool night air. The heat of the day had only recently receded. I held Genevah's ring, which was still on a cord around my neck.
I sighed. I was trying to suppress my sorrow, but if one's heart breaks it's hard to ignore. The loss of an old mentor, who had been immortal in my mind, hurt. Over the past few weeks I had cried every night, like a child afraid of the dark. I had even convinced Eva once that I had Hay Fever, not wanting her to see how truly weak and unstable I was.
I had stood strong for Eva, for the King and Queen and for His Majesty's Army. But I was ready to break, even though my mission had not yet been fulfilled. Where was the princess? I only had one idea of where she could be, and it was risky.
She could be up in the mountains, maybe the Raiders had already captured her. But that wouldn't really make any sense, why would the Raiders foolishly attack if they had such a valuable someone to bargain with? But then again, they only saw 8,000 of us. So perhaps they just thought they would crush us and bargain for bigger fish.
It was all speculation though, one couldn't really know unless one went and looked around, and I was going to do that. The next morning I would go up into the mountains alone, leaving Eva with Cassim. I knew that he liked her, and in no time at all she would like him too. I knew that her love for me had been changing, she knew I was too hurt to love again, but Cassim wasn't, and she was young. I felt like the outsider, like I didn't belong, and that was why I was planning to carry out my plan alone.
I descended back into the catacombs, to wait for the morning.

The next day I told one of the Captains that I was going to go out for the day. I didn't want them to worry when they couldn't find me.
I wrote a note to Eva and hid it under her pillow. She would find it when she went to bed.

Dear Eva,
When you read this, I will likely be in the mountains. I'm going to find the King and Queen's daughter. Don't be surprised if you never hear or see me again. This might be the last thing I do. I don't think I'll be able to live with myself anymore. Please say goodbye to Cassim for me.
With love, Tristan

I got dressed appropriately for the cold. I wore a dark fur cloak over my armour and sword, I put on heavy, thick boots and wore a scarf over my mouth and nose. I hiked up into the mountains using a different path due to the muddy plain. A blizzard was blowing in, but I didn't care, my own hope had long since left. I couldn't even see a reason to live anymore. My memories were a daily torture, and my scars, a daily reminder of my failure.

The trek was exerting and I was sweating by the time I arrived at the Raiders' camp. It looked desolate with the black clouds swirling behind it. I shuddered, remembering the last time I was there. I looked for the spot where I had been imprisoned. After about fifteen minutes of searching, I found one of the caves. There were large footprints in the thin layer of snow. I drew my sword quietly and slipped into the cave.
At first, I couldn't see a single thing. I waited for my eyes to a adjust. After several seconds I could see the rough outline of the cave. It wasn't smoothed out at all. It was very rough, and hurt to lay any exposed skin on. At the back of the cave many people were shackled to the walls, all of which were malnourished. They were all staring at me in fear. I pulled down the scarf that hid my face from view and put my finger to my lips. Right as I was deciding what to do I heard the approach of a Raider. He was whistling a tune casually as he entered the cave, and he was holding a large club in his right hand.
"Shut up!" he said, gruffly in his own tongue, though no one had uttered a sound. Before anyone could say anything I flew at him. He barely had time to recognise my face before he fell to the ground, dead.
I went to each person tapping the pins out of each of their manacles. All the used-to-be prisoners began thanking me profusely.
"Are there any other Raiders?" I asked, in a hushed voice.
"We haven't see any others since yesterday," said one woman, who was shaking uncontrollably from the cold.
"Good," I replied, taking my cloak off and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Take anything you need from him," I said directing them to the dead Raider. Some people might find stealing from a dead man degrading, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I slipped back outside.
"Are there anymore prisoners?" I asked.
"Yes, they took my daughter," said a woman, her emotion betraying that she feared the worst.
I plodded ahead of the group. The used-to-be prisoners followed me. I tracked the same pair of large footprints to another cave. It was difficult work as the tracks were barely visible in the icy snow, and the caves were well hidden.
The next cave also held prisoners. I took a small hammer that was hanging on the cave wall and began to tap out the pins in their manacles. These prisoners looked healthier. Through the exclamations of joy and relief I heard the soft crunch of snow.
"Shhh, quiet!" I said, urgently, in a whisper.
They obeyed immediately. I drew my sword again. I moved toward the opening and positioned myself so that I could peer out of the cave without being seen. There was a Raider walking toward the cave. I signalled to the prisoners to hide in the darkest corner. They obeyed without a sound. The Raider had a crossbow in his hand. I wondered what he was doing with it. There was nothing to shoot around here, besides prisoners. My grip tightened on my sword. When he was a foot away from the cave's entrance I sprung at him. He loosed an arrow, but I was not in the direct line of fire. I felt the arrow brush my hair as it whizzed past. There was little he could do, within the minute he was dead. The relief from the prisoners was monumental and infectious