Chapter 9: The Quest Begins

We left the house soon enough. Lancelot had insisted that I wear the pants, and I begrudgingly put them on, but not after protesting. As we walked through town, I looked around at the villagers. They looked at me with distaste, and I frowned. The manacles around my hands and feet were still on, and I sighed in irritation as they clinked while I walked. The pain and limp in my right leg was getting worse also.

Galahad looked at me. "Art thou okay?"

I shrugged and winced in pain, then shook my head. "No, I'm not. This darn leg is killing me." He looked at me, shocked, and I sighed. "It's an expression."

The knight nodded and looked at his father. "How long until we reach Avalon?"

"A week and a half, at the most," Lancelot replied. "Tis a few days' journey to the ocean, and from there, we must go to the island."

Galahad nodded and sighed, fingering something in his satchel. I looked at him. "What do you have there?"

"I'll tell you later," he said, smiling secretly.

I shrugged, and we walked on. Once we had left town, there was nothing but open country for miles. A smile came to my face, and I sighed. Lancelot looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What art thou smiling about?" He asked.

"Just happy to be out of the house," I said.

A frown came to his face. "If thou art thinking that thine duties as a slave have been postponed for this journey, think again. Thou shalt be working and helping us. That's the only reason I allowed thee to come." He thew his bag to be and I caught it. "Carry this, slave. There are valuable items in there, and thou shalt not drop it."

"Why?" I asked, looking at him. This bag was pretty heavy. "I don't think I can carry this much weight, especially with my wounded leg."

He glared at me before frowning even more. "Do not question me, slave. The supplies for our journey art in there, as well as my son's extra weapons. Doest thou understand?"

My ears folded back. "Fine," I said.

Lancelot nodded, and I grumbled under my breath. Of course that was the only reason he wanted me to come! The bastard. I glared at Lancelot angrily before turning away and walking behind him. I had to do something. Perhaps I could start standing up to him. I nodded; that was a good idea. I had been in Camelot for almost a month, and I hated it already. Granted, the reason was mostly me being a slave. Galahad looked at me, seeing that I was troubled.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm sure things wilt get better."

"Yeah, right," I said, looking at him. "Your father treats me like crap sometimes!"

Galahad shrugged. "I'm sure he has his reasons. But he has a short temper, so don't make him angry. Just do thy job, and thou shalt be fine."

"What do you think of this slave business?"

"To be honest, I have no problem with it. Slavery hast always been a law in Camelot."

I frowned and shook my head, sighing. Of course Galahad would be okay with it. The knight in armor smiled at me, and ran up beside his father. I slung the heavy bag around my back and trudged on.

It was night before we made camp. Lancelot had chosen the campsite at an old stone ruin, and started a fire. I set the bag down and groaned; my leg hurt much worse that it had before, and my back was starting to give out as well. Lancelot paid no attention to me as he and Galahad started to talk to each other. I huffed and looked around, wondering where we were. It didn't seem like anywhere special. I yawned as my eyes started to close; I was getting tired. Suddenly, a slap on the face jolted me awake, and I looked at Lancelot.

"What was that for?" I yelled.

"Thou shalt be night watch," he said.

"But I..."

"Now!"

I grumbled and stood up. Lancelot turned away and went back to sitting by the fire. Suddenly, and idea came to me and I smiled, then walked off to explore. The ruin was pretty large, and before I knew it, I had stumbled down into a cavern. Groaning, I stood up, wincing as my leg protested. As I did, my eyes set themselves on the wall, and I saw writing on it. Cautiously, I walked up and read it.

"When a king is dying, a great evil shalt rise. Thou shalt set its sights on Camelot, attacking the kingdom when those who aim to protect it are away. A hero shalt rise, hedgehog in species, and royal by birth. Thy hour is near when the heir shalt be revealed, and Camelot wilt be saved."

An expression of curiosity came over my face. What did that mean? Was it some sort of prophecy? I shrugged and turned around to leave when I heard a voice.

"What art thou doing down there?"

I looked up to see Galahad, relieved that it wasn't Lancelot. The white hedgehog climbed down and looked at me. Sighing, I decided to tell him.

"I went to explore when I stumbled down this cavern and found this," I said, showing him the writing on the wall.

He looked at it. "Tis a prophecy," the knight said.

"That's what I thought."

Galahad sighed. "Father is wondering where thou are. Come; let us return."

He jumped up on the ledge and offered me a hand. I climbed back up and smiled at him. As we were walking, I looked at him. "You going to tell me what you have in that pouch of yours?"

The knight looked at me. "Can thou keep a secret?" I nodded, and he pulled out a potion. "The King gave it to me. It's a potion that will transform me into a dragon. I plan to use it to fly us to Avalon once we get to the ocean."

"Impressive. Will the transformation be permanent?"

Galahad shrugged, and put the potion away. Just as we got to the campsite, Lancelot looked at me angrily. "Where hast thou been?" He shouted. "Thine was supposed to be watching for enemies."

I looked at him and shouted back. "Look, Master, I have one thing to say. I have been working my tail off ever since this morning, carrying that stupid bag of yours! My leg hurts, as well as my back! Can't I just take a bloody break?"

Lancelot slapped me. "Do not speak to me like that, slave! Do thy duties I asked of thee, or thou shalt be punished."

"Father..." Galahad said.

The slave owner stormed away. I looked at Galahad. "What's his problem?"

Galahad shrugged and ran after his father. I was about to follow when a searing pain erupted in my wounded leg and I fell to the ground. My eyes widened as I saw an arrow lodged deeply in. I hesitated, then grabbed the arrow and tore it out of my leg, screaming in pain before tossing it to the ground. Whimpering, I looked at my leg. The flesh had torn off and bone could be seen underneath as red blood streamed from the wound. The last think I saw before I passed out was Galahad and Lancelot running to me, and some people attacking. Then all went black.