Chapter 6

[Woods—A League Beyond Ealdor's Southern Border]

Despite the morning's passage, the woods remained difficult to traverse. The mists clung stubbornly to the landscape obscuring trees and paths alike. A chill cut through the air. Animal, bird and people alike moved slowly through the murk.

Well most people did. For some, Rejection swept Reason from them. They ran from Pain. They ran to forget…

Gwen ran away from the village center. Tears blurred her eyes. She couldn't think. Instinct propelled her away. She couldn't bear another minute in that place. She couldn't deal with Arthur's ingratitude.

A jagged branch scratched her arm. Its burning touch jarred her back to her senses.

Her hand grasped the injured spot. She shuddered. She huffed several burning breaths. Exhaustion weighed on her legs and hips already. She slumped against a knotted oak tree. She wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. "How could he? I told him it wasn't my fault! I told him!" She ground her teeth.

Fantasy and Romance, it seemed, would deny her that desired happy ending after all…despite everything she'd done. She wouldn't have her home, friends or her heart.

All seemed to turn their backs on her plight. All didn't seem to care….

I should have faith. Princess Mithian and Blancheflor seem to care. So why did they let Arthur do what he did? WHY? I cured him. Our love did that. Yet he still has that stick up his arse. He knows I'm not to blame! Why can't he get over his pride? WHY? Her breathing slowed. The break seemed to help ease her legs' tension. Another few heartbeats would see her ready to press on again.

Then through the mists, Arthur's voice called, "GWEN! GUINEVERE! WHERE ARE YOU?"

She bit her lip. Desire pushed her back toward him. She wanted to believe he was sorry. She wished that he would take her back.

Doubt pushed her onward.

And with that, she bolted like a frightened deer deeper into the pea soup fog.

Not far away, a sturdy carriage eased its way along the path. Two brown horses with white manes and matching tails plodded forward. The wheels carved deep grooves in the damp earth. Curtains drawn over the windows secured something therein. Locks on the carriage's rear wooden boxes protected still more booty of one kind or another.

Sitting on the front seat, a sandy brown haired man held the reins. Turmoil and Experience added muscle to his arms. Under his coat, a dagger waited for use. A sword rested in its scabbard. His brown eyes scanned the fog. "Can't believe this hasn't burned off yet. We need to be in Regelsborough by midday tomorrow."

Beside him a lithe woman with dark blonde hair snorted. Her pony tail hung down her back. Dark leather covered her torso and legs. She also wore a sword at her hip. She snorted. "We'll get there. Best to be cautious. We needed to skirt the main road through Camelot. Remember?"

He frowned. "What the bloody Devil are the Pendragons doing now? As if we need them muddling things up for the common folk further? You heard Reginald. Every day we're late means further penalties on our payment."

She rolled her eyes. "Tristan, it will be all right. At least we have a treasure to be delivered still. Those Southrons are out of place. Whatever are they doing so far north?"

Tristan coughed. Disdain dripped from his words. "They're mercenaries hired by the boy king more than likely. As if he'd understand what it takes to rule fairly?"

She frowned. Yes Tristan was a great smuggler. He fought better than anyone else. She trusted no one with her back or heart for that matter. Despite her own ironclad resolve, she still relaxed at his gentle nature and caring. That being said, Bitterness bit at her ears. "They live in a different world than we. Don't concern yourself or wish for trouble."

"Isolde, you sum up the situation well as always," he conceded. His lips curled into a smile for her benefit. He exhaled a calming breath and patted her shoulder. "I'd travel the world with you if I could."

"We have time for that." Her eyes sparkled back at him. She grinned. "That is if you don't get us into more trouble."

"Me?" He snorted. Memoria prompted recollections of face offs with toll collectors and officials in cities and distant villages alike. Brigands and highwaymen had attempted to waylay them in pursuit of the gold and frankincense locked in their strongbox. More than once, drunken men had assaulted them in some no-name tavern. He recalled facing the challenge with sword raised in hand.

Protecting his back, his companion engaged the others. Her sword struck steel upon steel with the attackers' blades. The sharp edge claimed first blood from them all. Purpose, Mischief and a bit of Mirth all shone in her eyes during these times.

His partner, his companion, his love. His Isolde…..

The Late Antiquity version of Bonnie and Clyde they were. They'd smuggled cartloads of goods across Britannia. At most turns, Fortune guided them past royal officials. They made sport of the bounties on their heads. They baited and then evaded the knights' patrols in several realms.

All for Thrill's high…Euphoria's surge….to float…to fly….

To share with one's love….

Even if she would never let him hear the end of it….

He sighed. "Maybe if you didn't slam some fool against the wall?"

She coughed. "Maybe if you'd be a little quicker to defend my honor, I wouldn't have to." She rolled her eyes at the old chivalry. Granted it endeared him to her. Still she could hold her own in a scrap or two. Just as often, she'd pulled a few louts off of his tail. Then she'd steal an impetuous kiss from his cheek. To top it off, an impish smirk pushed warm waves up his spine.

"Have to remember you are an equal partner in this. Right?" he supposed.

She chuckled at his politically correct response. "Knew there was a reason I kept you around." Her eyes twinkled into his.

"I can think of a few," he gibed back not giving an inch.

"Maybe because you cook, clean and do the manual labor?" she teased.

"Among other things." He kissed the top of her head. "Don't change."

"Don't plan to." Crimson colored her cheeks. She looked about the area once again. Granted her eyes couldn't discern anything other than shadows in the mist. Still she sensed someone else was out there. She heard the birds stir ahead. "Hear that?"

He nodded. "Probably some deer wandering. Best though to be careful."

At that moment, Gwen stumbled out of the mist. She huffed. Her legs quivered threatening to collapse underneath her. Somehow she stopped before ending up in the horses' way.

The animals reared and neighed loudly.

"WHOA! EASY!" he assured them. He pulled back on the reins reminding them of his presence. "She's not going to do you harm! Settle down!" He looked Gwen over. Her dress seemed to indicate a town servant. Still its tears and smudges betrayed Toil's effect on it. Her hair lay askew. Fear and Indignation burned in her eyes. "And what are you doing here?"

Gwen cleared her throat. She didn't want to involve passersby in the situation. Given how they traveled off of the beaten path, she could tell that they didn't really care to be involved in anything. "I'm running away." She summoned up the last of her strength and stood tall.

"Running away, are you?" Isolde supposed. She nodded. "Perfect conditions for it. Which way are you headed?"

"Anywhere but here. I'm sorry. I don't have much but…." Gwen started.

At that moment, Arthur's voice cut through the fog. "GWEN! GWEN, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Tristan coughed. "Well it seems your master is getting close. Now isn't he? We don't give rides for free."

"I'll work. I can cook and clean. I'll earn my way," Gwen offered. She could almost feel Arthur getting closer.

Isolde sighed. While she didn't usually agree with picking up such strays, she could tell that Gwen wasn't going to give them trouble. "Tristan."

"Isolde, we can't! How do we know she won't try anything? She could be one of Cedric's spies! Worse she could be working for Camelot Brat King!"

Gwen somehow kept a straight face. "I can assure you that I am not." She curtseyed. "I have to go if you won't. I…."

Arthur stumbled out of the mist. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His blonde hair went every which way. Desperation and Frustration burned in his eyes. He stiffened. "Who are you? Get away from her."

Gwen shook her head. Granted she didn't want to be near him. Still she wouldn't bear to see him hurt either. "Arthur, please. Just don't do anything rash."

"I'd agree." Isolde looked to Tristan. "Cover me." She slid down off of the wagon seat. Jest twisted her lips into a smile at Arthur's appearance. "You're who she's running from?"

"Look. I need to talk with her. Just go and let us do so," Arthur instructed.

"Well now! A man hiding in a nun's dress here in the middle of nowhere thinks to give orders?" Tristan scoffed. "Aren't we the high and mighty one?" He jumped down off the rig and drew his sword. "We don't take orders from cowards, Boy."

Gwen shook her head. She bit her lip. Don't! Please, Arthur! Just let us go.

"You're avoiding the main road. So are we. One of our companions thought that disguise was the best option. Who would suspect a bunch of Nazarenes heading for their place of worship? " Arthur told them. His eyes kept careful watch of the duo's movements and their weapons.

"And he dressed you as a nun? No wonder she's running from you," Tristan jabbed.

"Yes well…" Arthur frowned. He rubbed the back of his neck. Exasperation flared in his chest. "He is an idiot at times."

"And yet he dressed you like the fool? Seems to me that you're the idiot," Tristan retorted. He laughed at the sight of Arthur. "Perhaps she could dress like a King and make you her confessor?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. Crimson flared across his cheeks.

"We're all running from the new Queen in Camelot. Morgana usurped the throne, Friends," Gwen interjected. She stepped between the two men. "Please. Perhaps we three might be on our way." She shook her head. "Arthur, I love you. Still I won't be treated this way."

"Wait! New ruler?" Isolde considered Gwen. "We just came through Camelot's lands. Men dressed like Southrons swarmed across the countryside."

"Morgana Pendragon and Helios led a Southron army into Camelot. They've conquered the kingdom for themselves. We had no choice but to flee," Gwen explained. "Please!"

"And her goons took everything. Didn't they?" Tristan shook his head. He considered Arthur again. "Even the clothes off of your back." He shook his head. "I've got a good mind to tell you both to rot."

"We can't get involved. We…." Isolde stiffened. Her ears heard twigs snapping. She drew her sword. "Tristan?"

"Aye. I heard that!" Tristan's eyes narrowed. "What did all of your yelling bring down on us? We don't want attention!" He brandished his sword. Curtly he motioned with his head toward the wagon. "Get behind it!"

Isolde stood beside her lover. "What do you suppose they brought down on us?"

"Her? I think she's showing sense in getting away. Him?" Tristan snorted. "That imbecile did something!"

"Me?" Arthur protested. "Maybe if she would talk, I…."

"Arthur, unless you apologize and pardon me, there's nothing more to say," Gwen asserted. She grabbed a good sized bough from the ground. "Not exactly a staff but it'll have to do."

By now, torches could be seen dancing in the fog like a swarm of fireflies on a summer evening. Voices called out to each other.

Arthur grabbed Gwen's arm. "Go! Gwen, they want me not you! GO!"

"You?" Tristan exchanged looks with Isolde. "Why would…?" He stared at the exiled King. "You? You're him?" He spat on the ground. "You're Pendragon!"

"I am." Arthur frowned. He surveyed the area. "We need to move now!" He grabbed for Gwen's hand. "That wagon won't outrun the pursuit. Grab your weapons! Let's go!"

"Abandon the wagon? We can't! Why should we trust you?" Tristan demanded. He rushed over to the wagon. He opened the side door. He tossed a couple of swords onto the ground. "I shouldn't do this but…."

"We don't have a choice," Isolde insisted. "You two take a sword apiece. Just don't disappoint us." Her eyes flashed fire at the two refugees. "Don't disappoint us!"

"I don't abandon friends or allies," Arthur disagreed. He picked up one of the swords. He handed one to Gwen. "Gwen, get ready."

Gwen sucked in a deep breath. "I can't believe this is happening. I…." She held the sword ready. Despite her pain, Love shone in her eyes for him. Her breath caught in her throat. Urgency yanked at her. "We need to move!"

"You've left us with little choice. Come on!" Tristan barked. Turning in a complete circle, he saw the torches completely cutting off any means of escape. "Bloody hell!"

"They chased you over the border?" Isolde pressed.

"Morgana wants you dead, Arthur. I shouldn't have to tell you that!" Gwen snapped. "We can't…."

At that moment, several Southron soldiers closed in on their position. In a concentric circle, they pushed in on the trapped quartet. Their numbers filled in any gaps. A sea of torches buzzed in closer and closer through the mists.

"Fine mess you got us into!" Tristan groused. He narrowed his eyes. "Be careful!"

Isolde arched an eyebrow. "We're surrounded. You want me to be careful?" She tensed. Her sword waved through the air prepared for a first clash.

For several heartbeats, the torches hovered just out of sight in the mists. They hung back waiting for a cue of some sort.

Morgana marched out of the covering fog. Triumph and Satisfaction glinted in her eye. She rubbed her hands together. "Well now! I never would have thought to look for you here." Sarcasm seeped from her lips. "You're coming with us, Arthur. And you too, Gwen. We have so much to catch up on." She considered Tristan and Isolde. "And you have made two new friends no less? Have they learned about your stupidity, Dear Brother?"

"You don't let anyone just walk away, Morgana," Gwen disagreed. She moved closer to the others.

"We are in Cedric's lands, Gwen. He knows we're here. Does he know about you both? How about your friends? Imagine what could happen to Merlin's mother and the village? What about the incident for Nemeth? We do know dear sweet Mithian transgressed on these lands and mine."

"The throne is mine! Not yours!" Arthur protested.

Morgana coughed. "Believe what you wish. Would you be responsible for more deaths?" She shrugged. "You and Gwen come with me now. I'll let the others go. Cedric asked that we not make a mess." She waved her fingers. "Cadal!" Her eyes glinted at the quartet.

"What is she…? She has magic!" Tristan realized. His eyelids sagged. His brain numbed. "Get away, Isolde. I wouldn't…." He staggered.

"Pendragon, take her and go. We'll…." Isolde struggled to hold her sword up. Her arms caved under its weight. She slumped to the ground.

Arthur stood his ground. He could see Gwen already slumbering under the spell's influence. His feet tripped over the dark fabric.

"Such grace, Arthur! Really?" Morgana dismissed. Her eyes glowed again.

Arthur flew backward. He slammed up against the wagon. He slid down the paled wood and hit the ground. The sleeping spell took hold of him.

"So much for his resistance." Morgana sniffed. She turned to the soldier next to himself. "Take the wagon. Let them learn what it means to befriend Arthur." She grabbed handfuls of Arthur's and Gwen's respective clothes. With another glow of the eyes, she teleported them away.

Her troops followed her command. Two of them climbed up on the seat. One took the reins and drove them back over the border into Camelot. The others formed a supportive cluster around and behind the transport.

Trouble, it seemed, never took a holiday….