Dagonet looked around the half destroyed village, alert to anything that would be suspicious. Arthur talked to one of the village leaders with Lancelot close to his side. One man was bound and kneeling in front of them. Lancelot played with his sword, making sure to every once in a while look at the bandit. Gawain and six Roman soldiers, they had brought with them, were searching the area for the remaining members. Briana hugged her father. It appeared that the little town had been taken over by bandits for a brief time, and it was quite clear to them all that the young woman had known but hadn't said anything. Was her plan to lead them into a trap when they returned her to her village? Why?
Dagonet shook his head. Of all the luck for Tristan to leave on this day. They could use his skills and Rina's hawk form, not to mention the fact that she knew about magic. He winced slightly at the thought. Some of the villagers had insisted that the leader of the bandits was in fact a witch. They said she had used black magic to kill one of their own in front of them, aging him till he died. They had been too afraid to ask for help. What could people do against magic? Was it possible that this was the witch who cursed Myringa?
Arthur had tried to explain to them that there was no such thing, but it they still seemed skeptical. And Dagonet couldn't blame them. After all, he was a witness first hand. He had seen magic. And having someone who knew about it would have made him feel a little safer.
But the two were gone. Dagonet had a feeling he knew why Tristan and Myrina had left together. Tristan was taking her back home. A part of him was happy and relieved that she was finally gone. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. He was afraid for her safety now. Arthur was an honorable man, but one who followed Roman law. There was no telling what he or the other knights would do if they found out what Myrina was. Especially since they were all so close to being free. And, although he knew Tristan well, Dagonet was afraid of what his friend would do if she was ever in danger by any of the knights.
Despite that, Dagonet felt pain for his friend. Although Tristan was a master at hiding his emotions, Dagonet read him too easily. He was taking Myrina back for her safety, he wasn't happy about it. But what else could he do? She was human now, meaning she was in more danger. People would notice the distinct lack of a hawk. It only made sense that they figured out how to break her curse, if she was indeed cursed. She had told him that she was a hawk by day and woman by night. And it made sense. Now she was clearly a woman. So of course Tristan would return her to her people.
Dagonet thought on the young druidess. He couldn't help but wonder how she'd take the news. It was clear to him that she had no idea where Tristan was taking her. Dagonet picked up a burned piece of wood then shook his head. Poor Tristan. He hadn't seen the look in her eyes as the two rode out of the fort. She was looking at him longingly. Dagonet could only hope that Tristan would have the strength to let her go.
He let out a sigh. He didn't have to worry. After all, they still had a contract to complete for the Romans. And Tristan was a man of his word. He would complete his term with his brothers-at-arms. Yes, soon they would be free, but until that time they had to wait and play it safe. If Tristan wanted to join her then he could later, but now the wise thing for him to do is return her to her people and wait till he got his papers.
The villagers shouting brought Dagonet back out of his thoughts. They were the "sane" ones of the group. Apparently they hadn't seen what the others had. Their anger was understandable. Why hadn't the Romans protected them from the bandits? Their village was half destroyed by fire and the main culprits were nowhere to be found.
"What a mess," Bors mumbled as he looked down at his hands. They were dark with charcoal. "They got their injured in there. It stinks."
Dagonet absent-mindedly nodded his head. What a mess. Several homes had been burned completely to the ground and with some people in them. The villagers had said that the fire started unexpectedly and spread faster than they could contain it. And that appeared to be the case.
He sighed and wiped his hands against his tunic and headed toward the home that Bors had indicated, passing by the house that was the first to catch fire. There was little left except for the cinders and parts of some of the beams. He shuddered. Black magic. That's what the villagers said.
The groans of the injured could be heard before even entering the house. Steeling himself for whatever lay before him, Dagonet entered. The injured lay on the ground all sporting various degrees of burns. He spotted the supply of salve, herbs, water and bandages on a table.
There was a woman in the house. She knelt near one of the burned victims, gently giving him something to drink.
"Can I help in any way?" Dagonet asked.
She slightly jumped, clearly startled. "Yes," she said. "Choose any of them and see what you can do."
He nodded, heading toward one of the villagers who looked like he hadn't been looked at yet. The knight and the woman both attended to injured in silence. Normally, Dagonet wouldn't have minded. The sullenness of the task they were performing made him feel like it was best to keep quiet. The injured would forever be scarred, if they survived. Now and again he heard the woman whisper something. But her voice was always too low for him to fully understand.
Eventually, the two knelt side by side as he attended one victim and she the last.
"I'm sorry we weren't here to help," he finally said, breaking the silence between them.
She appeared worried and couldn't look him in the eyes. In fact, her movements quickened as if she were uncomfortable with talking to him. "I feel it would not have mattered if you were," she gravely replied.
"You believe that a witch did this?" he asked, trying not to sound condescending and failing. He, of all the knights, excluding Tristan, knew there was magic in the world. But this felt like something else. This destruction. He inwardly shivered. Was Myrina capable of this?
She put her hands on her lap and met his eyes. Something drew him in and he felt a shortness of breath. "You may not believe in witches, sir knight," she said softly, slowly turning her eyes away. "But that does not mean they do not exist. What are you… what are you doing?" She pitched her voice higher and went over to him.
Although she was rough with his hands, she somehow gently showed him how to apply the salve.
"Have you been this rough to all the injured?"
He opened his mouth to answer that he hadn't been, but she clearly didn't want an answer as she went to inspect everyone he had treated. He knew he'd been gentle enough with everyone. He was a healer after all. But then doubt entered his mind. He took care of knights, not common folk. And never people as tender as those they were currently helping.
"Dags?" Lancelot said as he entered the house. He half choked on the smell.
Dagonet shot him a look to lower his voice, knowing his friend, he was sure that the knight would say something insensitive.
"What is is Lancelot?" he said, trying not to sound short.
Lancelot looked uneasily around at all the injured. It was hard to tell if any were awake. "We could use Tristan's skills and his silly hawk at this moment," Lancelot said, covering his mouth and nose with a cloth. "I was told he and Myrina left the city earlier this morning. Sweet Myrina. What she sees in our silly scout is beyond me. The bandits are-"
"Please discuss this outside," the young woman snapped. "The injured here need their rest."
"Sorry, mistress," Lancelot said, giving her a small bow.
Dagonet nodded to her statement, then a small frown crossed his forehead. He suddenly realized how quiet and peaceful the room had gotten. The victims were sleeping. The young woman pushed the two men out and closed the door behind her. She fidgeted a little, Lancelot's eyes widened then a slick smile crossed his face as he gave a little bow.
"I hope this tragedy hasn't befallen you or your husband," Lancelot said sounding concerned.
Dagonet glanced at his friend a sharply before looking back at the young woman. Now that they were outside, he got a better look at her. Her long dirt blonde hair was tied behind her. Brown eyes flashed with wariness as well as curiosity. Yet there was an innocence about her. She titled her head to one side in a manner that was familiar to him. It clearly was familiar to Lancelot too. But neither could place it.
"Have we met before?" Lancelot asked, a frown crossing his face.
"I'm sure I would have remembered, sir," she replied, shrinking back into herself. It wasn't from embarrassment though. She hadn't been one of Lancelot's many lovers. It was something else. Noticing the awkward silence, she moved away, a glazed look on her face.
A rider galloped out of the woods.
"Watch it!" Dagonet yelled, grabbing the woman and pulling her into his arms. The rider barely missed the three and would have trampled her had Dagonet not saved her.
Clearly not even paying attention to anyone else, the soldier barely had time to stop his horse from crashing into Arthur. "I spotted the bandits. They had set up camp just north of here near the Wall. I don't think they plan on passing the Wall yet. If we hurry we can reach them before sunset." The young rider glanced at Arthur then around. He spotted Lancelot and Dagonet staring daggers at him and paled, quickly returning his attention back Arthur.
"Knights!" Arthur called out. Within minutes Arthur and his knights were mounted and riding out of the village. They couldn't let the culprits get away with what they had done. They were heading toward the Wall.
Dagonet glanced at the young woman who was helping the injured. Her sharp eyes were watching them as they prepared to leave. She looked at odds with the rest of the villagers, as if she weren't a part of them. Arthur gave his horse a kick, galloping out of the village with the rest of them behind him. Dagonet didn't have more time to reflect. It was time for battle. Whoever she was, he wouldn't be seeing her again.
Dagonet, Lancelot and a Roman soldier lay flat on the ground, waiting patiently as the small group of bandits meandered around their camp. The information they had gotten from their prisoner earlier said there were at least thirty-five men in the bandit group. They'd found and attacked the main group a few hours ago. They didn't even give the men time to situated themselves. The battle was short with little casualties on their end. Out of the twenty-nine men, fifteen were taken prisoner. And only one confirmed that six men had broken off from the main group, going in a different direction. Needing most of his knights, and not wanting the rest of the men to escape, Arthur had Dagonet, Lancelot and one Roman soldier chase after the splinter group.
Dagonet quickly counted again. There were six men in the group, meandering about. There was no woman in the camp. There wasn't a woman in the main group either. In fact, none of the bandits mentioned a woman. Which made him wonder what happened to the mysterious witch.
A rumbling overhead caught his attention and he looked up. The sun had long ago disappeared in the grey clouds that had invaded the sky just after noon. It had drizzled off and on during their search for the camp. A fact that should have hindered them, but no one wanted to travel in the rain. They found the bandits shortly after. The small crew had found a cave and set up camp. Stupid idiots, was all Dagonet could think. They were so close to crossing the Wall. If they had then they would have been safe, or maybe not. The Roman soldiers believed the bandits to be Woads, but they lacked the distinctive markings. Woads or not, there was going to be bloodshed this night.
The Roman soldier shifted uneasily, not used to being away from his squad. Dagonet would have prefered another knight, Gawain, with them, but he couldn't question Arthur. The man had his ways. Dagonet couldn't help but think that Myrina and Tristan would have made matters easier. Not to mention, she could have confirmed if there indeed was a witch around.
Lancelot quietly grumbled and rested his head on his arms. They were just waiting for the right moment. The men clearly weren't worried as they talked loudly to one another and made a fire. Dagonet looked up at the sky. The light drizzle was uncomfortable, but at least the trees and bushes were helping to keep them as dry as possible. And best of all it wasn't pouring rain yet.
A loud shriek caused both knights to cover their ears in pain. As abrupt as it started it ended. An arrow landed between them, barely missing Dagonet's hand. The two rolled away from each other, dodging more arrows.
Lancelot withdrew his swords, running at the two bandits who ran at him. Dagonet took the other two while the Roman soldier took on the final two. Both knights kept light on their feet keeping aware of the archers.
Lancelot easily jabbed one of his swords into one opponent while slicing his other sword across the other man's leg. The man cried out and dropped down to one knee. Lancelot took his opportunity and killed the man.
Dagonet rammed his opponent, hitting the man in the shoulder and sending him flying toward his comrade. It gave him enough time to take in what the archers were doing. One man aimed his bow at Lancelot while the other aimed at the Roman soldier. The world seemed to slow as Dagonet yelled at Lancelot to get down. It was too late for the soldier, who received an arrow in the eye.
Lancelot's eyes widened as he tried to dodge an attack from his other opponent while at the same time get away from the arrow. An arrow flew through the air, hitting the archer in the chest, killing him instantly. His body automatically reflexed, jerking his arms in the air. The arrow still launched, hitting Lancelot in the side, but it wasn't a death shot. Lancelot didn't have time to pull the arrow out of his body as his opponent lunged at him. Meanwhile, Dagonet still had two men to deal with.
Neither had time to see their rescuer. Dagonet swung his axe in a wide arc, feeling it graze one of the men. A smile crossed his lips. Tristan, he thought for a brief moment. He waited to hear the familiar sounds of an angry hawk and see her swoop down to distract the archer. But no hawk came.
A woman ran passed them, bow and arrow in hand. She took her focus temporarily off the archer to launch an arrow at one of Dagonet's enemies, hitting the man in the knee. Dagonet shook his head, returning his attention back to his enemies. She was clearly on his side. He caught the injured man with his axe, slamming it into the man's leg. The man screamed, falling to the ground while Dagonet pulled his axe out. The man's partner ferociously stabbed at the knight with his short sword. Dagonet jumped back, swinging his axe and catching the blade of the sword at just the right moment. He put all of his strength into his push and forced the sword out of his opponent's hands.
The man yelped as he lunged for his sword, only to find Dagonet's axe in his sternum.
Dagonet looked up, spotting the woman. She and the archer were fighting each other. Her bow gone. In her hands were two knives. She spun, blocking the archer's sword with one knife, and trying to reach the man's flesh with the other. He swung his body, putting all his strength and speed in his attack. She barely had time to drop on the ground and roll away.
Getting back on her feet, she placed one hand on her right shoulder. Blood seeped through her clothes, revealing he'd hurt her. Dagonet rushed to attack the man then felt a sharp pain along his leg. Automatically, he raised his axe and brought it down on his attacker. The man whose leg he'd practically severed cried out as the axe buried into his back.
The woman let out a warcry and jumped at her opponent, tackling him to the ground. Dagonet rose to his full height to help her, only to collapse onto one knee as the world around him whirled. He shook his head, trying clear it. Beside him, Lancelot finally disposed of the man he was fighting. He looked at the last bandit alive and wobbled.
The archer chuckled, despite having the woman's knife to his throat. "And so end the bane of this land. Arthur and his precious knights," the archer snarled.
Dagonet met the woman's eyes, his own growing larger at the realization that she was the same woman who was helping the villagers earlier.
"What have you done?" she snapped, pressing the knife deeper.
"Think she didn't know. She made a poison. All the weapons have been dipped in it. All of you will die." He laughed at his words.
"Whoever she is she'll have to do better than that," Lancelot scoffed, raising both swords and positioning himself casually.
The bandit opened his mouth to say something else but the words didn't leave his mouth as the woman punched him hard, using a rock to help her knock him out. Looking at Lancelot, she jumped to her feet and was in front of him just as his arms dropped to his side and he fell over. She caught him and cried out, sliding back at his full weight rested on her. As gently as possible, she set him on the ground.
Dagonet couldn't move from his position, as awkward as he was. He was afraid that if he did he too would lose consciousness. And that wouldn't be good. He watched, unable to protest out loud, as the woman gave Lancelot a quick inspection before she turned her attention to him.
"Are you injured?" Dagonet asked her. His question surprised both him and her.
"I will be well," she replied, reaching her hand out to him.
Instinctively, he jerked back, nearly falling. She grabbed his tunic and helped him to stabilize. "Your friend is worse than you are," she commented, glancing at the wound on his leg. She looked up then back at Dagonet. "It'll be night soon. The others may not come for you, especially now. The cave is the safest place to be. I will need your help to move your comrade."
"Why will a Woad help us?" he asked. Oddly enough, he wasn't suspicious of her. In fact, for some unknown reason he trusted her. At least, he trusted her enough to let her help them. She wanted something and until she got it he knew she would be a temporary ally.
She watched him, waiting for something. "For now we have a common enemy," she replied, resting her hand on his shoulder. Although the air was cool, he felt her touch, a cold tingling sensation that went through his shoulder and seemingly into his body. A renewed strength entered him. She pulled away, shaking her hand a little while he stood up. "I have a horse with supplies down a little ways. I will return," she said.
He watched her warily, but nodded. Why help fight with them if to bring more of her people and kill them? Plus, she was in the village, helping the wounded all alone. No, he had a feeling that whatever she was doing, she was alone.
Temporarily pushing his thoughts back, Dagonet quickly tied up the surviving bandit before picking up his injured friend and moved him into the cave. There were a few mats laid out by the bandits. He examined the area, making sure that there wasn't hidden poison or knives or anything that would harm Lancelot before setting the injured man down. He heard before he saw her exit the woods with both her horse and theirs. She tied them near a tree, making a temporary shelter around them and just on time. The moment she entered the cave it began to pour.
She held two packs in her hands and set it down next to Lancelot. There was determination in her eyes. She wanted to save Lancelot's life. She handed Dagonet the pack she had gotten from his horse. It contained his supplies. He took them out, quickly making a salve. While she set out her own set of herbs and items, most of which he recognized.
"I will take the arrow out of him," she said. Dagonet nodded.
Lancelot murmured something as he opened his eyes.
"Do not move, sir knight," she commanded.
Dagonet put his hands on Lancelot, firmly holding his down. "Do it now," he ordered.
She snapped the arrow and snapped it in half, quickly taking it out before Lancelot started to struggle.
"Horses! They ride tonight. Death, she waits for me," Lancelot cried out, arching his back. His eyes were wide and glazed.
The woman put one hand on Lancelot's wound while placing the other hand on his face. "Death will wait for you," she said softly. "No need to rush into her arms."
Lancelot relaxed, looking at the woman. "Arthur speaks of a God and angels. Truly, you are one," he said, coughing a little, wincing.
Her eyes lightened and she chuckled. "Rest, sir knight," she said. He nodded in compliance, much to Dagonet's surprise. The woman waited on Dagonet who tended to his friend's injuries. The arrow was the big one, there were a few cuts, but nothing life threatening. Once he finished he sat back. Lancelot was fast asleep.
The woman put another log into the fire, making him realize just how dark it had gotten. After making sure there was nothing else to do for Lancelot, Dagonet moved closer toward the woman and the fire.
She gave him a wary look.
"You need not fear me. I will not harm you," he said softly, feeling exhausted. He fought the feeling. He had to stay vigilante. Moving Lancelot now was a bad idea, and he couldn't exactly trust her to keep watch over them. That was his job. "You have saved our lives."
She nodded her head.
The two were quiet, letting the crackling of the fire. He looked out of the cave, the bodies of the bandits and their Roman comrade lay out there. At some point she'd moved their prisoner into the cave. He was still unconscious, tied tightly and lying on his side.
Dagonet got up, knowing there was a job for him to do. His body felt sore but he had to clean up. He didn't want to wake to see them there. As if feeling the same way he did, or maybe she truly wished to help, the woman worked with Dagonet, silently moving the weapons making a pile and helping him lift the bodies. The bandits they put to one side, moving them from view. Meanwhile, the Roman soldier she helped him tightly bind with the remaining mats. He placed the body near the horses then surveyed the land. He was beginning to think that it would be best to ride and find Arthur when thunder roared and it began to rain.
Placing a hand over his head, Dagonet hurried back into the cave, stopping momentarily to notice that Lancelot was covered in a pelt to keep him warm. The woman sat by the fire. Opposite her was some food that she must have found.
"Are you sure this is safe to eat?" he asked, her, sitting down where she'd placed the food.
She took a bit out of the meat and chewed for a moment before giving him his answer. "Freshly killed," she said. "Why would they poison their food if they believed they would win?"
She had a point.
"I am Dagonet," he said, realizing that she had yet to introduce herself.
"I know," she replied, watching the rain.
"And you are?" he asked. It was clear she didn't want to get to familiar. But since she saved him she currently had nothing to fear.
She looked at him. Her eyes critically studied his face. "Nola," she finally replied.
"What were you doing past the Wall without guards?" He winced the moment he finished his question as she glared at him. Then, to his surprise, she sighed and stared at the ground, defeated.
"Rumors," she said, glancing at their prisoner.
"He will be punished, lady," Dagonet said softly.
Nola's eyes narrowed as she cocked her head, looking at him curiously again. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted.
"You are fools," the bandit chucked and winced in pain.
Both Dagonet and Nola stood up.
"She watches over everything. You can't stop her. No one can." The bandit just smiled. "They are coming. You, your precious commander, everyone you care for will die. Nothing can stop them as long as she is with them."
"And yet she's afraid," Nola said. "Otherwise, why not be in a camp with the rest of her followers? She left all of you to your fate." Dagonet kept his face passive, not wanting the bandit to read his surprise by the young woman's words.
"You know nothing," the bandit snapped.
"I know plenty," she replied. "I know she was with your group until fairly recently. She will be punished for the crimes she's committed. She will rue the day she decided to harm my family."
The bandit's eyes widened in surprise. The rope snapped and he lunged at her, dagger in hand. Dagonet felt the dagger dig into his chest as he protected the woman, pushing her away from harm. He roared in anger, feeling the blade go into his skin. Not giving the bandit a moment to think, he headbutted the man. The bandit yelped, dropped to the ground, covering his face. Dagonet didn't wait. He pulled the knife from his chest and stabbed his enemy, putting all of his weight on the man and waited till he didn't hear another breath leave the body.
Finally, he moved away and tried to get up, only to have the world move around him. He felt her arms wrap around him to keep him up.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, collapsing to his knees.
She shook her head. "We're enemies," she whispered. "You know what I am. Why rescue me?"
"I had to," he said, his voice barely coming out.
She touched his shoulder, eyes searching his face while he tried to breath. He was surprised he was still kneeling. She helped lean him back so that his back was against the wall.
"My bag," he said, pointing to his pack. He doubted there was much hope. The poison on the knife was already making its way through his blood.
She looked at the pack then back at him.
They both knew it was hopeless. "Tell, Lancelot-" he coughed, unable to go on.
She put her hand on his chest. Her brown eyes met his. A familiarity to them. Her mouth set with determination. "I will trust you with my life, sir knight," she said softly. "Please, do not betray it."
He couldn't speak, although he was saddened. She was trusting a dead man. He felt her hand on his chest as she pressed harder. She murmured something. A coolness swept through his body. It wasn't the coldness of death, but a refreshing coolness. Like he'd taken a dip in a cool spring on a hot day. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling.
It was odd, how it seemed like his body was repairing itself. The dizziness felt like a thing of the past, and it was easier for him to breathe. He opened his eyes and looked at her. There was a light glow coming from her. Then she pulled her hand away, opening her eyes a little.
She let out a breath then collapsed. He barely had a chance to catch her before she hit the ground. His reflexes surprised him. In fact, his whole body felt refreshed, anew.
Her eyes fluttered and her breathing deepened as if she were in a deep sleep. He gently laid her down and then examined his wound. It was all but gone. Magic. She'd healed him. He looked over at her. A witch? It was possible. But not the witch the villagers were talking about. Couldn't be. If she were then her actions were indeed confusing. Sure, she could have pretended to help heal the injured villagers, but why heal him? That made no sense.
"I swear I will protect you with my life and keep you safe while you are under my care," he stated, placing his hand on his heart. He owed her a life debt now.
She couldn't acknowledge his pledge and he knew that, but it made him feel better. He gulped. Was this how Tristan felt when he met Myrina? Did he automatically know that she was a friend? Did he feel an overwhelming urge to protect her? Dagonet wasn't sure. But what he did know was if she were not awake in the morning he would have to go back to the fort with her. He didn't like the idea of bringing her deeper into enemy territory. But once Tristan came back then they'd figure out a way to get her back to her people.
He placed another log onto the fire. He had a lot to think about.
A/N: Oh my goodness. Has it really been that long? First thanks so much to MischievousAngel0923. It's been like a year since I messaged her. But her suggestions stuck with me. Finally, after so long I was able to get this chapter out and be happy with the way it turned out. I've thought about this chapter constantly, trying to figure out how to best write it. Thanks for sticking with me despite my slowness. Hopefully it won't be that long in between updating now. This chapter was that one big hurdle to pass. There seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel! You guys are all amazing for sticking with me.