Chapter Eight
Sir Gwaine had found his horse (he'd removed it by means of a fist to the face from the gentleman who had procured it) and was now trotting back in the general direction of Camelot. He didn't know why he was going back, he was hardly suited for the life of a knight and had practically nothing tying him to the city. He supposed the friendship and camaraderie he had with his fellows who had also been knighted in Camelot's hour of need was a point in its favour. But then there was the bloke who'd knighted them. King, then Prince, Arthur had seemed like a decent sort back when he'd needed them. But as time had gone on he'd revealed a far more short-tempered and arrogant side; Arthur was now as Gwaine had always known nobles to be. Certainly he went through servants at an obscene rate.
All of which made his horse's direction a little curious. Yet there was at Camelot a very nice young lady by the name of Guinevere, and a very nice alehouse by the name of The Rising Sun. And Gwaine didn't want to disappoint either by vanishing without a trace.
He was passing through the thick woods of Camelot, and just wondering about stopping for a short nap, when he heard the cries. His ears immediately pricked up and he slid off his horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree. Loosening his sword in its scabbard he assumed the sneaking posture and moved towards the fearful sounds.
Crouched behind a cheerfully flowering shrub Sir Gwaine observed as a woman in soft red robes wove withies into a shape resembling a head. She had already completed a pair of arms and legs and a torso, inside which, Gwaine blanched, were three small children. It was they who were making the sounds which Gwaine had heard, crying as they were.
Very slowly Gwaine pulled his sword out, making sure not to make a sound. There was only one time that a knight could attack a woman and that was in defense of children. And somehow Gwaine didn't believe that this was a mother out playing with her beloved sons and daughter.
In one smooth motion he stood up and stepped out from cover. Pointing his weapon directly at her Gwaine commanded, 'Stop what you're doing and identify yourself.'
Glancing up the woman all but ignored the knight, her hands continuing their task as she spoke. 'I am a Priestess of the Old Religion and without your warlock you cannot stop the ancient rites, Sir Knight.'
'If your ancient rite involves harming little kiddies then I'm going to have to,' stated Gwaine, moving in, a frown marring his face at the reference to a warlock.
Now the Priestess stood and faced him, hands loose and back straight. Absently Gwaine noted she wasn't half bad looking, but that was immediately dispelled as she said, 'Begone or face my wrath.'
'Who actually says that?' Gwaine muttered, before telling her, 'Not going to happen.'
'How do you think you shall stop me? I who brought Camelot to its knees, who took the very heart of you all and turned your minds inside out.' The Priestess stood tall and crowed, 'I who stole the memories of Emrys!'
'Who?' Gwaine said, swinging his sword in an arc.
The Priestess smirked, raised her hand and lit the canopied space with a great wall of fire that threw the Knight back. The crackling, burning mass stood seven feet tall, and as Gwaine righted himself up his eyes widened. Clearly there was a great deal in her claim that she wouldn't be stopped.
But though she was a Priestess of the Old Religion he was a good man, and a knight; he would not leave children in harm's way. Gwaine squared his shoulders, took firm hold on his sword and, with a cry, leapt through the wall of fire.
As he emerged on the other side he swung his sword at the unprotected back of the woman, but she had magic on her side. Once again he was thrown from her to go crashing into a tree. Shaking the ringing from his ears, Gwaine stood to see that though the wall of fire had vanished, in its place spat a three-headed snake like beast with venomous fangs and a great slimy body. A forest hydra.
If he had been a lesser man Gwaine would have gulped, as it was he ducked and rolled as a head shot out towards him. He swung his sword wildly and caught it on the side of one of its sinuous necks. The head hissed, spraying venomous spittle over the forest floor. Gwaine danced out of the way, wished he had a shield, then attacked.
He slashed and hacked, doing great damage to the forest hydra, yet the creature didn't slow down or even seem to notice its numerous wounds. As Gwaine charged in again, the sounds of the children's cries in his ears, he began to wonder what he had taken on. He brought his sword down heavily on the left neck, biting deep before the hydra twisted and he was sent backwards. Gwaine paused for a moment, sunshine breaking through the autumning canopy, and that was when he noticed it.
The sun was slanting down, turning muted leaves to dancing colours. Beneath his feet, ever the mimic, lay his shadow. Under the caged children a half-formed man, belly full, wavered darkly. In the centre the hydra hissed thrice, big, green, and vicious. Below it lay... leaves shining in the light. The creature had no shadow.
Gwaine had come across this phenomenon before.
In the years prior to meeting Arthur he had wandered across the five kingdoms and seen many things. In a marketplace far to the east there had been a man with a curious snake who had apparently responded to the sound of a flute. Bets had been placed until one man had pointed out the snake had no skotos - no shadow. Pandemonium had erupted and the serpent revealed to be an illusion conjured by magic.
If this hydra was the same then it was just a matter of mindset, of believing that it was an illusion. Closing his eyes for a fraction of a second Gwaine steadied himself and focused. Then he lowered his sword and walked forwards. The hydra snapped around him but he paid it no mind. Its fangs were within a hair's breadth of him and then -
The tiny clearing was quiet, the three children looking on with wide, amazed eyes. The Priestess snarled, an expression which soured her natural beauty; and Gwaine blinked. His determination of thought had belief in the truth had vanquished the hydra; gone as if it had never been.
'Give up lady,' he said quietly, slowly raising his sword.
'Never!' she hissed, fireball springing from her hands.
Hurriedly Gwaine ducked and went to cut into her midriff. But when his sword got within an inch of the priestess it stopped, as if it had hit something impermeable. He tried again, this time aiming for her head, but with the same result. She had conjured some form of shield. Gwaine wasn't one to give up easily, however. Even the best made shields had a weak point, and if there was one here he would find it.
All the while, as the Knight of Camelot attacked, his foe was hurling fireballs at him. The thought once crossed his mind that these, like the hydra, might not be real. A thought which was quickly extinguished by the heat and pain as one hit him square in the shoulder. Behind him Gwaine could hear the screams of the children and they spurred him on. His sword moved faster, seeking a way to end the battle.
The Priestess, finally bored of throwing fireball, suddenly drew a dagger from somewhere within her robes and stabbed out. Gwaine twisted, avoiding the glistening blade. As he did so he saw why the children were screaming so. Intent on the fight Gwaine hadn't bothered about where the fireballs he avoided were going. Perhaps if he had done the children's wicker cage would not now be aflame.
Unfortunately the Priestess wasn't about to let him set the victims of her rite free, and Gwaine was quickly forced back into defending himself. But though many would view Gwaine as nothing more than a rough tough guy who succeeded best at outdrinking anyone, he did have a brain. Slowly he retreated from the gleeful Priestess's onslaught, seeming to unwillingly give ground. Then, when he was within a sword's blow of the smoky, burning cage, he turned and with one swing sliced straight through the burning wicker.
The Priestess gave a great cry and threw herself at him, scratching and clawing, and managing to inflict a few deep wounds with her dagger. Unused to mad women launching themselves at him when he was sober, Gwaine struggled to dislodge her. When he finally did they were both gasping for breath.
Before the furious Priestess had time to collect herself she gave out an unladylike yelp and clutched her ankle. Something blue shimmered about her body and Gwaine lost no time. With a firm grip on his sword he struck, running her through with one clean strike. She collapsed, dead, as he removed his blade, and then things got a little confusing.
Afterwards Gwaine said it was like someone had put his head through a meat mincer, taken the remnants and stuffed it full of sparks from a forge. When he was able to see straight again the three children, slightly singed, were standing over him, with a very smug look on the girl's face.
'Are you alright?' asked the eldest of the boys.
'I-' started Gwaine, then he stopped.
What had he been thinking? Running out of Camelot like that, barely telling anyone. He knew that Arthur had been more of a pain than usual but it wasn't like him to abandon his friends. And now this - Gwaine sat up and looked around the space. There was a burnt line among the dead leaves, scuffles everywhere, a still burning wicker construction, and a very dead woman. It was a good thing he was confident otherwise this could have been a disaster. Of course Merlin would call it knightly stupidity, and then go on to comment that being a knight meant you had to be stupid when it came to dangerous situations. Normal people ran away.
'I'm fine,' Gwaine said, standing from where he'd fallen.
'Did you see what I did?' questioned the smug young girl.
'What did you do?' Gwaine asked, cleaning his sword before putting it away.
'I kicked her in the ankle, silly,' the girl pouted, 'I saved your life.'
'That you did,' Gwaine said absently, trying to get his bearing back to his horse. 'Now let's get you home.'
