Blind

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or any other character. Don't own!

Chapter 7:

Injuries and weather keep Arthur and his knight's by the creek for four days. The weather was horrible, they couldn't see in front of them, and their horses would have frozen and same with them. Arthur was starting to get very frustrated and impatient, but they couldn't go anywhere. Arthur just had to be patient but how one of his knights was being dragged around, tortured, or worst dead. But Arthur knew better Tristan would be fine he was strong.


The Saxons had made their camp in a little forest waiting for a reply from their scouting party. Credic, Raewald, and Cynric sat around a fire planning battle striate. A man covered in blood stumbled from the forest, gasping for breath. The three men quickly stood and rushed over to the man.

" What happen," Cynric ordered

" We found some soldiers, they killed all of us," the Saxon soldier choked.

" How many were they, were they Roman infantry," Cynric demanded shaking the man slightly as his eyes started to slid shut.

" Their were only 6 of them, they never looked Roman, and were not clad in the Roman colors, they almost looked like pagans," the Saxon soldier spat blood down the front of his armor. The soldier took one last raspy breath and was gone from this world. Cynric dropped the dead soldiers head from his lap and stood up and faced his father.

" What are we going to do, father," asked Cynric.

" We need to find out more about these 6 mysterious soldiers," remarked Credic. Credic snapped his fingers and Lance ran to his side. "You well find out as much as you can about these soldiers," Credic ordered, Lance bowed his head and took off running into the forest. " And we well wait till he returns, I want to know what were up against," Credic said aloud to the rest of the men.

Two days later…

Finally Arthur and the Sarmation knights could move out. They quickly packed up their camp and saddle their horses' and were back on their way to the village. Before they left they figured that the village was another day of hard riding.

" Why did they have to stay so long," Lancelot thoughts rang. Lancelot was worried about Tristan. All the knights were worried about him, just like Tristan would be if one of them went missing. People would never know that Tristan and Lancelot were actually really close. Lancelot was the only person Tristan told about his family and how he found them dead that one cold night after a mission. Lancelot would remember that day until he died.

Lancelot sat in his room with his fire blazing high in the fireplace and he sat and cleaned his weapons. There was a loud knock at his door, Lancelot wondered who it could be at this hour. It pounded again more harder. " Yeah, I'm coming just wait," Lancelot sounded back as he lazily put his swords back into their sheath. The door pounded once again. " Alright, alright," Lancelot hollered at the door, as he put the sword on his chair and walked towards the door and opened his door. To his surprise there stood Tristan leaning against the door frame with his head hung low. Tristan slowly stumbled into Lancelot's room. Lancelot could smell a mixture of whine, blood, and sweat; but the whine was the strongest smell. " Tristan," Lancelot asked curiosity trying to get a look at Tristan's face. Tristan stumbled a little further into Lancelot's room and crumpled onto his floor, Lancelot quickly kneeled by Tristan. As Lancelot got closer to Tristan he realized that blood was dripping off of Tristan and he was sobbing. Tristan was sobbing. Lancelot grabbed Tristan's shoulders and made him look Lancelot straight in the eyes. Tears leaked down Tristan's bloody, muddy face leaving wet, clean trails behind them. " What has happen," Lancelot asked Tristan.

" Their all dead, dead; the bastards killed them," Tristan sobbed loudly.

" Who's dead, who killed them," Lancelot requested in haste. Lancelot was now starting to get worried, who was dead, the other knights.

" Hydria, and Luke are gone, the Roman bastards killed them well I was gone," Tristan sobbed even harder now. Then it hit Lancelot, Tristan's wife and son was dead. The Roman soldier that Tristan pissed of a week ago must have wanted revenge, but this was beyond revenge this was just sick. Lancelot did the only thing he could think of, he pulled Tristan into a tight hug.

" But why are you covered in blood?" questioned Lancelot, rubbing Tristan's back in a circular motion.

" There was blood everywhere, and … and I killed one of the Romans, he was just leaving my house when I caught him," stuttered Tristan. Tristan stayed in Lancelot's room that night, he had fallen asleep about half an hour later. And when Tristan woke up he asked Lancelot to keep this between them. And to this very day he has still kept it a secret.

" Lancelot." Arthur called, Lancelot popped back to the present day when Arthur called his name. Lancelot slowed down and looked at Arthur. "Well you come with me after the other knights are discharged to find Tristan," asked Arthur looking around at the other knights.

" Of course Arthur I'll come with you to find him," Lancelot replied and Arthur nodded in thanks and they pushed their horses to catch up with the other knights. A day of hard riding was still pretty far, but their horses were well rested so they were willing to make the journey. Tristan's horse followed a little behind them, the time they stayed at that one spot did Tristan's horse good, it seems to be healing quite good and soon it would be able to keep up with the other horses. The dapple-gray usually is the fastest and the most playfulness horse for it always had to ride ahead with Tristan. Tristan and his horse shared a special bond; they were very close to one other. Tristan would differently be happy to see his horse is ok and walking.


It was a middle of a field, Tristan and the other knights lined up and were viewing their enemies, who charging towards them on horses. " Well lets make this one quick, I want to get back to the wall and drink," Bors inquired.

" Yes, knights lets end this quick and watch each others back," replied Arthur. Arthur pushed his horse forward and unsheathed Excalibur and raised it high in the air. " Draw arrows," commanded Arthur. They all drew their bows and placed three to five arrows to the string. " Fire," Arthur said thrusting his sword forward. The knights released their arrows and watched them rain down upon their enemies; the enemy had no chance of survival with a shower of arrows on horseback. The enemy started to drop of like flies, but there were still plenty of them left. They had come to close for arrows, Arthur raised his sword again and let lose a mighty war cry and kicked his horse forward and the other knights followed suit, kicking and whistling their horses into action. The knight's swords gleamed in the setting sun as they swung them above their heads into battle. The two armies clashed with a sound of clashing metal, fierce war cries, and screams of pain and dead. Within seconds the Sarmation had made an impact of the number of Woads remaining.

Tristan moved with such sped and grace it was an amazing and deadly show. Tristan's curved sword whirled and cleaved its way through the enemy. Tristan always felt so alive in battle, the sound of clashing metal and the smell and taste of blood, the only other time Tristan felt this alive is during battle and while scouting. A familiar shout not far from Tristan's right reached his ears, he quickly killed the Woad he was fighting and glanced to his right and Lancelot must had lost his footing and slipped, giving the woad he was fighting the avenged he needed. Tristan pushed and slashed his way towards Lancelot, when he reached Lancelot the woad was just bring his sword down to end what he started. Tristan trusted his sword into the woad's stomach, the woad gasped and looked down at Tristan with shocked eyes, blood slowly trickled down the woad's face form his mouth. The woad's body went limp, causing it to slid farther on Tristan's sword, Tristan kick the limp body from his sword. Tristan turned and faced Lancelot, who just rolled from the ground; Lancelot nodded his head in thanks at Tristan, and continued on fighting. There was a loud cry from behind Tristan and he turned around; a woad was bringing his sword down on Tristan, and Tristan closed his eyes and welcomed death.

Tristan jumped awake, his stomach and many other body parts cried out in protest of his quick movements. It had only been a dream and nothing more; Tristan's tense muscles tried to relax, but failed for he was in the small cell once again. His last beating was horrible; there were bruises and cuts lining his body, he was so close to yellow fields and his family, but something stopped him. Oh god did he miss his family, he would give anything to kiss his wife's sweet honeysuckle lips again, and be able to teach his son to use a sword and bow and to ride a horse; Tristan and still remember telling his son to keep his heels down when he rode, and to tell him all the great stories of knights and their great steeds. It had only be recently that Tristan opened up to other women's touch, after 3 years of grieving. But there wasn't a passing second he didn't think of her and him, he knew one day he would meet them in heaven. Tristan tried to stretch his arm out, but a stinging pain shoot up his arm, he let a hiss escape between his lips. The sound of approaching footsteps broke Tristan's thoughts. The priest, two guards, and the plum man in white stood in front of Tristan's cell.

"So has he said anything yet," questioned the plum man glancing in the cell at Tristan.

"Not a single word, sir," bowed the priest also peering into the cell.

" Why should they always be so difficult?" roared the white clad man. " Fine increase his torture," the plum man said as he walked away waving his hand.

" Yes sir," the priest bowed even lower. The white round man waddled up the stairs, the priest watch with a sickening grin on his face. Once the man was gone the priest turned the sickening grin on Tristan. " Strap him to the table," he ordered the two guards. The two guards grabbed Tristan from his hellhole of a cell and strapped him to the metal table. Tristan rolled his head to his left and to his horror there was a brand sitting in the fire. " Remove his shirt," the priest crocked. The guard drawn a dagger and sliced open his shirt and they were very careful, they had cut him twice, one by his collarbone and the other just above his bellybutton. The priest grabbed the brander and held the red hot metal by Tristan's face. " Know it doesn't matter if you do convert to our savior, you well still hold his brand; tell me if this hurts," the priest sniggered as he slammed the burning brand into Tristan's skin on his chest. Tristan couldn't hold back the scream that had escaped his lips. The old priest let out a sickening laugh at the sound of the scouts pain.

Author notes: Well I guess I was lying this wasn't a short chapter it was a really long one. Poor Tristan, I decided that I was going to make him have a family and they died. Actually I'm getting the idea off of gladiator I guess in a way. I ALSO LOVE GLADIATOR! BYE BYE FOR KNOW!