Authors Note: This is my first fanfic. I'm not going to say 'be nice', rather 'I welcome constructive criticism'. The character of the dark rider (who shall, for the purposes of the story remain nameless for now) belongs to me. All else belongs to the makers of King Arthur, I just like to play with them every now and then.
Chapter 1 - Cloak and Dagger.
The day was cool and clear, fresh from recent rain as Arthur and his Knights rode light and fast to meet the Bishop and his entourage.
The men halted their horses on a hill. Along the tree line the Bishop's carriage made its way through the evergreen valley, escorted by the usual Roman Cavalry.
"As promised – the Bishop's carriage" announced Gawain.
Galahad smiled. "Our freedom, Bors'".
"Mmm… I can almost taste it" chuckled Bors.
"And your passage to Rome, Arthur" added Dagonet.
The Knights regarded the carriage and the Roman horsemen. They had been waiting for this day. Waiting for almost fifteen years. They were boys then, and now they were men. Time had passed like quicksand. Sometimes slow and heart wrenching, and other times it had passed quickly. The quicksand of time has also claimed the lives of their friends, and now only six Knights remained.
A sharp cry echoing through the clearing snapped them out of their daze. It was a sound they knew all too well. The sound of an attack.
"Woads!" yelled Tristan as the commander and his Knights lunged into action.
The attackers wasted no time. Suddenly the valley was filled with wild men in blue war paint, heading for the carriage. Romans were struck down from their horses by arrows, expertly aimed from the forest or dragged from their mounts by Woad warriors.
Arthur and his Knights charged into battle and within seconds had weapons drawn and adrenaline pumping.
Swords were wielded and flung, spears thrusted, arrows impaled and knives drawn – each knight a specialist in their chosen weapon. They felled the onslaught of Woads swiftly with brutal, precise force.
As blood seeped into the soil and the last screams faded, Lancelot wiped his fighting knives on the grass.
Unexpectedly a black arrow flew past Lancelot's ear, piercing a Woad in the neck, killing him. A woad with a knife that had been stealthily coming up behind him.
Lancelot spun to see who had come to his aid. Up on the hill was a cloaked rider on a black horse.
"Arthur" called Lancelot, gaining the attention of his commander.
Arthur looked towards Lancelot, following his gaze to the figure on the hill.
"He's been tracking us for three days" said Tristan, mounting his horse. "and he's good. Quiet. Stays downwind."
"Skilled with a bow too" stated Lancelot. "He hit his mark from the hill".
Each of the Knights considered the distance from the hill to the Woad. The marksman was indeed accomplished.
Arthur watched as the rider slipped behind the hill and then turned to Tristan.
"Tristan, ride ahead and make sure the road is clear".
"I don't kill for pleasure" leered Galahad. "Unlike some".
Tristan appeared next to the young Knight. "You should try it someday. You might get a taste for it".
Bors and Gawain snickered. As the others discussed what they were going to do after receiving their papers, Tristan dropped back to join Dagonet.
"Is the rider still following us?" muttered Dagonet.
"No" replied Tristan, shifting in his saddle. "He's in front".
Dagonet looked to Tristan with a confused expression.
Tristan motioned towards Hadrian's wall. "He's already here. The tracks lead inside".
The air smelled of strong wine and smoke. Small fires cast a yellow light onto drunken men. Romans and Knights always got on well when mixed with ale. Gawain had challenged his cousin to a game of target practice. Laughter rang out as Gawain hit the target.
"I told you I could get it!" he said, louder than was necessary.
"Now, little cousin! See if you can hit the mark!" said Gawain as he sat back down, his drink in one hand and his knife in the other.
Galahad threw his knife. His shot fared poorer than the benchmark and Gawain blew a raspberry. Tristan quietly threw his blade, hitting the end of Galahad's knife.
"Tristan, how do you do that?" asked Gawain.
"I aim for the middle" replied Tristan, pointing calmly towards the target.
At that moment a black dagger flew past Galahad's shoulder, embedding itself in the end of Tristan's knife.
Galahad and Gawain spun around, instantly sober and drawing their weapons, as Tristan pulled the black dagger from his.
Gawain spoke first in an slow voice. "Who are you? And why have you been following us?"
Dagonet, Bors and Lancelot had stopped at the commotion. Their spare hands held concealed knives, at the ready.
The stranger removed the thick black cloak and stepped into the light.
Authors Note: I know it's a little short, but I just wanted to establish the timeline. Constructive criticism is openly welcomed and would be appreciated.