Reunion 11
Chapter eight part three
The Knights simply smiled at the Sarmatians and their reactions to Lancelot and Galahad's words. As the fire grew and Tristran skinned and gutted the stag, Tor ambled up to the circle of Knights and asked roughly, "So we're staying here tonight?"
Bors looked up at his younger brother, eyed his oily, shaggy, dirty blond hair and water blue eyes and said in an unconcerned voice, "Yeah, and what of it? As Tristran said, this IS the last place for watering the horses until we get to the Wall."
He watched his younger brother's shoulder slump as he said grudgingly, "Fine…bloody bastards all of you."
Bors stood up and asked threatening, "What was that, Tor?"
Bors eyed Tor with an ill disguised veil of disgust. He couldn't help but shiver in revulsion at what his brother and their tribe had become. What really churned his stomach was the fact that he could have grown up to be exactly like Tor and the others of the Bear Tribe if he had stayed in Sarmatia. He would have grown up to be a prejudicial, pure blooded, blood-thirsty barbaric leader of a Tribe slowly killing itself. He was eternally grateful to his ancestors.
Thanks to them and their oath to serve Rome for fifteen years, he had been able to escape the Bear Tribe's bigotry and learn to love and grow.
Thanks to Rome and Arthur, he had grown up and became a man he could respect. He, if he was honest with himself, pitied Tor and the others. They thought that they were honoring their ancestors, but in truth, they were deplorable people deluding themselves with grandeur of divine blood and godhood.
Tor stared at his older brother and swallowed heavily. He couldn't believe that his own brother was threatening him. Bors had been his biggest idol growing up. He knew his brother was different from his memories of his brother from childhood, but he never thought that his own flesh and blood would be dangerous to him. He hated Arthur for changing his brother from a bloodthirsty, hard, STRONG leader-in-the-making to a peace loving WEAK Briton Lord or should I say, Marquis Bors Chiefton Beran, Lord of the House of Beran, Governor of Kameland City, Lord of Cadbury and Knight of the Round Table.
Arthur gazed at the brothers, sighed, and said as he stood up, "Well, let's just get dinner started and then go to bed. We will be rising early to reach the Wall."
The Knights quickly got out their dining bags filled with iron plates, bowls, spoons, forks, and knives and grabbed whatever they could from the pot of stew Tristran had made. The Sarmatians followed.
Habren watched the group of Knights in awe. Their interactions with one another were something magical to her-especially the relationship between Arthur and her brother. There was something there. She couldn't explain it, but she could see it as clearly as she could see the stars in the sky. Arthur and Lancelot were seated side-by-side and whispering close together. She had to smile as Lancelot threw back his head and laughed at something Arthur had said. She grinned when Arthur laughing threw a punch and landed a hit on Lancelot's upper shoulder. She had to suppress a giggle as her brother acted like he was dying and pleaded with Arthur to save his life. As he sat back down beside Arthur, the two men leaned in close together and started to talk seriously.
She didn't know what they were talking about, but she knew it was serious.
Agrimpasa, who was seated away from the group but still close enough to overhear what they were saying, grimaced as her brothers nudged one another and laughed at the antics of her husband-to-be and their king. She refused to acknowledge the fact that her Lancelot was friends with a blood-awful Roman bastard. She didn't care whatsoever that he chose to stay. All she cared about was getting Lancelot back to Sarmatia and away from his slut of a wife and bastard children. If I have to, I'll join Attila and follow his plan in getting them home because I know he has one!
"Arthur, I think this is going a bit too far. Our people could be hurt if the Sarmatians managed to kill them."
His friend sighed and replied, "I know, but Merlin has them and we have no way to contact them to let them know to let this go."
Lancelot sighed and nodded back-it was true. He could only hope that their subjects were trained well enough to hold out in the fight against the bloodthirsty men of his past.
When dinner was finished, Arthur said as he stretched, "Well, we'd best get some shut eye."
Lancelot stood up and said strongly, "I'll take first watch, Arthur. You get some sleep, okay."
The Sarmatians watched in disbelief as the roman bastard ACTUALLY followed a lowly Sarmatian's orders.
As everyone fell asleep, Attila glanced around and eyed Lancelot. He was facing away from him and the other Sarmatians, so he sat up silently and edged over to Tor and his few remaining supports.
"So what are we going to do?" asked Artur as he rubbed his head and glanced around warily. He wasn't too happy about being here, but he had no choice in the matter. He was antsy about whoever this Lady of the Lake was not to mention the Inish. He feared that they'd come to take him even though he wasn't marked by them. The bottom line was his beliefs mirrored Attila's-he was sunk if the Inish attack.
Attila smirked evilly and said, "Simple, we wait until we get to the Wall and hogtie them all to our horses and drag their sorry asses back home where they belong. If they object, we'll threaten to kill their families, and make them watch as we murder their friend and king."
The other nodded. They weren't to sure about Attila's plan, but he had been one of their people's greatest leaders. Even though he had been dismissed as Leader by Prince Tarkan, Attila was still a master of their tribes.
Lancelot sighed as he walked along the lake's edge. He knew that the Picts would be acting like attackers, or more importantly the Inish, but he couldn't help but think that they were taking this a little too far.
As he arrived back at the campsite, he spied his siblings, brother-n-law, and childhood friend waiting up for him.
When he sat down, Habren smiled at him and said, "This place is beautiful Lancelot! I've never seen such a place!"
He nodded and said with a satisfied sigh, "Yeah, this place is pretty beautiful place. Emmy and I had our honeymoon here. This is where my precious twins, Erlina and Enid, were conceived."
Habren tilted her head curiously and asked eagerly because she was sincerely interested in her brother's life, "They were? That's wonderful! This place truly is a magical place."
She continued, "How did you and Lady Emogen meet, Lancelot?"
She watched with envy and a hint of jealousy as her eldest brother's eyes blurred inward with love, desire, and absolute trust and he answered in a happy dazed tone, "We met on our last mission for Rome. We had to rescue a Roman family that lived far north of the wall, deep in Woad territory. You see, Saxons were invading Briton from the highlands and the Roman family was important to Rome and to the Pope. I met her when Arthur demanded that the Roman mercenaries open a locked, dirty, hastily built shack. Once there, we found horrors beyond anything I've ever seen before. The people were dead yet still they hung there-their bodies were nothing but skin and bones. But still the priests prayed over their dead and decaying bodies. We also found newly dead bodies still bleeding out and some that were crawling with bugs and other vulgar things."
He continued in the same tone, "It was there that I found Emmy still alive in a small three by four cell. She had dislocated hips, fingers, and she hadn't eaten in nearly a week, but she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. We also recovered two more people from that hell hole: Guinevere, Emmy's cousin, and Dagonet's adopted son, Lucus, whom went by the name Lucan at the time. On the way back to the wall, we became close. When the Saxons attacked and I was fatally wounded, Emmy got her friend, Gawain's wife, Alma, to heal me. By the time I was healed enough to travel, I didn't want to leave her. I love her."
Melean frowned and ignored Lancelot's story as he pointed out tersely, "You stayed HERE for your honeymoon. What about the Inish?"
Melean growled as his brother-n-law laughed in his face and said, "I do not have anything to fear from the Inish or the Lady of the Lake, Melean. I have lived here for twenty years. I have learned how to live in peace with Britannia, and I am also married to a child of Briton's royal line. Britannia will never hurt me."
He smirked and ended roughly as Agrimpasa slithered up to him and placed a hand on his forearm, "Plus, my children are the heirs of Britannia herself."
He pushed Agrimpasa's hand off his arm and said, "Lady Agrimpasa, I am a happily married man, I do not accept your advances nor do I like them. Do NOT try again."
Tarkan glanced to his sister and nodded. He cleared his throat and asked again, "So brother, why didn't you come home?"
He watched as his brother took a deep breath and answered yet again with an exasperate sigh, for he felt like he had answered this question more than enough times before, "I didn't go home because I was fatally injured during a battle against invading Saxons five years ago. Plus, I fell in love with Emogen. She, at the time, was one of the Three Ladies of Power. She couldn't leave her people, and I loved her enough to stay. And then, Arthur got married. I stayed. Then, I proposed. I got married. Then, I became Marquise Lancelot Shieldguard Lyon, Lord of the House of Lyon, Lord of Badbury, Knight Commander, King Protectorate, and the First Knight of the Round Table. When Emmy was nine moons into her birthing, Arthur did bid me to go home once. I didn't go because she was so late into her pregnancy. I wouldn't, couldn't go when she needed me here at home. I couldn't leave. And then, when the twins were old enough to travel, Emmy gave birth to Cadman."
He shrugged and ended, "Circumstances just didn't allow me to leave Briton. I'm sorry that you suffered, but I don't regret staying. My family is here now; in Briton…I'm sorry."
Agrimpasa clenched her teeth together as Lancelot continued to talk on and on about his family and kids. Agrimpasa shook her head and ignored Lancelot's warning looks. She knew Lancelot. He may hate her advances, but he'd never do anything to hurt her; Once a gentleman, always a gentleman.
Lancelot gritted his teeth as Pappy said as he crossed his arms, "You HAVE to let us stay, Lancelot! We've already promised to kill those who harm your children! What more do you want from us?"
Lancelot ignored Pappy's question as a small cooing noise came softly from the lake. He looked up and saw the waters bubbling and yelled out in warning as an arrow sailed over his head, "INISH! The Lady is here too!"
The Knights jumped to their feet as two dozen blue and black costumed Picts, young teenagers, popped out of the lake with a beautiful blue blond hared oceanic eyed woman dressed in a pure, silky, white, fluttering dress.
Screams came from everywhere and Galahad knew that the Picts acting like Inish were not only before him but all around the campsite. He saw the Sarmatians pick up their weapons ready for battle. Most of them had never fought in a climate similar to Briton, and he knew that they'd quickly become disoriented by the fog and windy weather. Galahad saw their fear and it gave him a perverse pleasure to watch as his once loved people were brought to their knees. It was a passion he would be able to test out at once for he quickly found himself bombarded with enemies, all rushing forward to engage and (act-like) kill him. Clearly he wasn't the main target of their attack, but he was ready for a fight.
The front men in the line did not stand a chance against his sudden rage, blood was spilled and non-fatal wounds were cast on their bodies. Galahad groaned as he watched how easily they were being nicked. It looked like his trainees would be in for even more training when they got back to the castle. Galahad fought off each strike they sent flying at him, and promised himself that he'd be there for them in the future for anything they needed. It was a testament to him and his trainees' loyalty to him. He was honored to see just how loyal to him and the other Knights their people were. They were toying with him, and he was toying back, but the important part was-the Sarmatians didn't know. He only prayed that none of the subjects were killed during this scrimmage-attack.
He smiled slightly as three of the Inish disguised Picts surrounded Attila and as the two in front of the old man held his attention, the third, and his own second-n-command actually, Roderik, bashed Attila ruthlessly on the head. It seemed very quick to him, but he knew more than an hour had passed when Attila, Artur, and Tor were thrown over the Inish's shoulders. Seconds later, the Inish vanished into the mists of the Lake, as the Lady of the Lake raised her arms to command the mists to hide her precious children, in the general direction of the forest, never to be seen again once they vanished into the thick, moist, webby mists.
When the sounds of battle dwindled to nothing, Galahad heard Arthur count off, as was normal for him ever since they lost Sir Percival to the mists nineteen years ago, "Arthur! Clean!"
He sheathed his sword as Lancelot echoed, "Lancelot! Clean!"
He started walking towards the last place he saw the campsite when Bors and Dagonet added, "Bors! Small cut to the arm!" "Dagonet! A few bruises to the legs!"
He reached his bedroll as Gawain appeared through the mists and said, "Gawain! Clean!"
He nodded at his brother, slightly relieved that he was unhurt; even though he knew the Picts wouldn't hurt them seriously and echoed, 'Galahad! Clean!"
He sat down as the mists vanished leaving Tristran and his sister, Ilona, right in front of him, "Tristran! Clean!"
Galahad nodded to them both and said, "And you Ilona? How are you fairing?"
He watched the young woman nod and smiled at her. He liked her very much if only for the fact that she was Tristran's baby sister and she opposed Attila.
Habren heaved a sigh and sat down next to Lancelot as Pappy exclaimed happily, "They didn't take me! They didn't take me! I'm ALIVE!"
She cocked her head to the side and asked with wide disbelieving eyes, "How is that possible! I thought you said that they took all those who they marked for death?"
She watched as her brother's eyes twinkled in laughter as he answered, "No, I said they will take them or they won't. I SAID it was a game of chance that they will play with those whom they've marked. Obviously Pappy beat those Inish, at their own game, and Artur and Attila didn't."
Attila, Tor, and Artur groaned in pain as they attempted to return to the land of consciousness. As his old eyes attempted to focus above him, Attila felt all his blood drain from the very veins in his face; for above him was a luminous woman with otherworldly, oddly blank yet actively-full, oceanic blue eyes.
Her face was pale and sickly white. He tried to crawl closer to Tor or Artur as her voice echoed throughout his head making his already voluminous headache expand to his neck and eyes, "You will be judged mortal. So mote it be!"
Sorry that this took so long! But, since work has started again, the chapters will be slower in coming. Plus, what with my other stories this will be updated once a week.