A/N: I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to update, life has been hectic to say the least, not that that excuses me. :) I'd also like to thank my reviewers CeffylGwyn and Moon Lantern. Anyway, here's the next chapter.


He held his precious cargo tight against his chest as they raced along the forest path. Lance had become very pale but his forehead burned with fever. Tristan knew infection had taken hold and time was steadily running out. He pressed his mare on harder; he was not going to let Lance die.

Lancelot became aware of movement beneath him; it was the movement of a horse but how if he was lying on the forest floor? He slowly opened his eyes, flinching from the light, to find himself lying on Tristan's mare. His whole body ached and he could feel his stomach churning, he did his best to resist throwing up but the taste of bile was unrelenting and he shifted, trying to alleviate the sickness.

Tristan looked down when he felt Lance stir in his arms and saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed profusely. His normally bright eyes were clouded with pain and he shifted tentatively. Tristan recognised the signs of nausea and stopped, dismounting quickly and pulling Lance with him. Lance moved away to vomit as soon as he touched the floor and continued throwing up his last meal until he could only dry retch. Tristan stepped forward as Lance's eyes rolled back in his head and caught him before he could hit the floor. Mounting them both onto his horse Tristan set off again, pushing his mare on, desperate to get Lance to help. Racing along the track they were soon at the fort where the guards had already opened the gate, having seen the men racing towards them. Tristan barely slowed down as they charged through the streets to the healers. When he arrived Galahad and Jols were waiting for him, they had watched him approach across the fields from the top of the wall. They helped him to dismount and carried Lance inside, placing him carefully on a cot. The rest of the knights soon appeared but fell silent as they saw what the commotion was about. Lance's limp form looked more like a corpse than a living being; his skin was porcelain white, his dark features stark against it. The blood from his wounds had soaked his tunic and breeches, staining the fabric deep crimson. The only sign of life was the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Snatching rolls of bandages from the side Dagonet pushed through the crowd beside the bed before ripping off Lance's tunic and applying pressure to the shoulder and arm wound. Looking up he saw the sea of concerned faces, sending Bors to fetch water and Gwain to get the needle he carefully removed Lance's trousers to access the stab wound on his leg. He tied bandages round the wounds to slow the bleeding and then began to search for any further injuries, other than bruising and small scratches there were no other marks. Bors returned with the fresh water moments later and Dagonet was able to begin cleaning the lacerations and dried blood. Lance murmured and flinched at the fresh waves of pain but remained unconscious.

The knights stood around the bed, looking down at the unmoving form of their brother, Tristan had left to find Arthur, he was the second closest to the commander and he knew that Lance being attacked like this would have wounded Arthur deeply but he also knew that Lance needed his friend now more than ever. Walking along the corridors he remembered the last time Lance was injured, Arthur had not left his side for days and had barely slept or eaten, it was only when Lance had ordered his friend to rest that Arthur had returned to his own room. Striding up to Arthur's room he could hear quiet voices inside, Clara must have heard the news and gone to see Arthur about it herself, she was close to Lance and would need comforting, much like Arthur. Tristan knocked gently on the door before easing it open stepping across the threshold. He knew better than to intrude into private chambers but in times like this the commander had given the knights permission to always come in. As he walked in Clara looked up and Tristan could see the tear tracks running down her cheeks, her eyes rimmed with red. Arthur stood up and moved forwards, panic written across his face.