~29~ Into the Darkling Woods

Gwaine rode hard into the woods, following Sophia Silverblood closely. Leon, Elyan, and Percival were on their heels, all on the same mission. Their horses' pace lagged considerably but they kept at it with their riders' urging.

"How do you plan to track them in the dark?" the knight demanded over the rumbling hooves, ducking beneath a branch he didn't see until it was three feet from his face.

"Impossible to miss the tracks," she called back over her shoulder, and it took a while for Gwaine to realize what she meant. The torn foliage and scratched tree trunks revealed a lot. But they may just as well be following a wild boar.

"All three of them?"

"No, just one."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Well, that's helpful, Gwaine thought ruefully. "We still need to slow! We'll kill a horse at this rate, if we don't behead ourselves on a branch first!"

Sophia begrudgingly agreed and slowed her horse, which snorted deeply with relief. The others were quick to follow suit.

The trees grew ever more dense as they pressed on, the moon and stars outlining broken branches, crushed bushes and flattened grass where one of the werewolves had charged through.

"Who do you think it is?" asked Leon quietly, just loud enough for Sophia to hear.

The Silverblood had the Heart ready on her lap, and she was stroking it gently. "I really can't say. This one retained its course after leaving Camelot, while the others had split off. I'm guessing Rowan turned to chase either the servant or the king at that point. Our best guess would have to be that the servant annoyed Rowan enough to make him chase him instead of Arthur. I think we're following the king."

"Think isn't the same as know," Gwaine said flatly, but recognized her logic. Not for the first time, duty collided with friendship as his thoughts continued to roil. "I hope Merlin's okay."

"It was strange," Percival muttered. "When he fought Arthur, he seemed almost...I don't know. Like he was—"

"Thinking?" interjected Leon.

"Yeah. It sounds crazy, but I could have sworn he fought a little less like a stupid killer and more like a—"

"Smart killer?" said Gwaine, twisting in his saddle to view his companion. "You can't be thinking that Merlin had control over the werewolf blood."

"Is that possible?" asked Leon, aiming at Sophia, who shrugged.

"I have never heard of anything like that," she said simply.

"You said he'd been cured. Had he?" Gwaine demanded suddenly.

The Silverblood looked away. "If that was the case, it no longer matters. Merlin was bitten again."

"But..." Percival ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "It took them both two weeks to turn for the first time. How would Merlin be able to change so early, if he had indeed been cured?"

Sophia had no answer to this.

They left the horses when the forest became too dense to ride in. Swords drawn, they crept in single file along the destructive werewolf's path, eyes wide for anything amiss. Once they heard a howl, and they bunched together, back to back in a defensive position. Then silence fell and they continued on their way, albeit even more cautiously.

Gwaine's mouth was dry. He cleared his throat, and at the same time, a branch rustled to the right. For a moment, the thought he'd imagined it, but Sophia was facing that direction, silver-bladed sword at the ready.

More motion sounded, to the left this time, and everyone knew it now.

"Wolves?" whispered Leon, pivoting on his uninjured leg. His arrow wound slowed him, slowed them all, tremendously, despite his determination to hold a quick pace.

"Pheasants," replied Percival tersely. "Keep going."

Further rustling and the distinctive thud of footsteps on hardened mud. It wasn't pheasants stalking them.

Gwaine stepped forward. "By order of the king's men, show yourselves!"

Leaves rustled, more footsteps, dark shapes dashing through the foliage. Definitely not pheasants. Or wolves for that matter. The knights and Sophia stood back to back in a defensive circle, eyes scanning everything outlined by the silvery moonlight.

Suddenly, Sophia blurted something coarse and angry in a foreign language, sounding like a challenge. The stalkers in the woods stopped all at once, throwing a blanket of silence over their little section of woodland.

Gwaine held his breath, then tensed as someone emerged from the bushes. In the dim light, he managed to make out a well dressed man, who padded up to the knights like a self-satisfied lynx. Gwaine recognized him from that fateful day two weeks ago, when the knights and soldiers of Camelot set an ambush for the Blackhand cult. He recognized him as the man they had sought to capture, only for his brother, Jonathan Vane, to interfere and be arrested in his stead. Smiling like a shark, the man bowed, but Gwaine figured that it was out of mockery, not respect.

"Argus Vane, my lords and lady, at your service." When the cult master straightened, Gwaine noticed that his eyes kept flickering at Sophia's hand, which was slightly behind her, holding the Silver Heart. "And what are you lovely folks doing out here on this fine evening?"

Gwaine had seen gold teeth less false than this Vane. He glowered and stepped forward, sword raised.

"You have transgressions to answer to, Argus Vane."

The cult master smiled wider. "Of course, of course, and what—?" He paused as a sound emerged from somewhere behind him. They all paused. Something was coming.

"Make ready," Leon hissed, balancing on his good leg as he crouched in a ready position.

Ready for what? Gwaine asked inwardly, which he thought odd, seeing as he knew perfectly well what. Those were snarls they had heard. Snarls, and now a long, drawn out howl.

Arthur was near.

The Blackhands looked around in confusion, even Vane, while the knights and Sophia retained their ring of defence, swords outward and leaving no flank unprotected.

"Bring me the Silver Heart!" Vane barked, and several Blackhands lurched for Sophia. But Elyan intervened, stepping between them and warning the cultists off with his sword. "Seize them!"

Vane himself retreated, away from Elyan's blade, and suddenly the knights were swarmed with Blackhands.

They fought valiantly, but there were simply too many. Three with a net entangled Percival and subdued him quickly, while another clubbed Leon on the head, knocking him out. Gwaine and Elyan were both disarmed and pinned down, leaving Sophia alone to fight Argus Vane herself. However, without the knights' help, she was swiftly overwhelmed by the wave of Blackhands. She continued to struggle even as they bound her hands, as did Gwaine when someone roped his feet.

"Shit," he growled.

Ͻ Ϫ Ͻ

Arthur, gone. Merlin, gone. The knights, gone as well. Gwenevere shook her head morosely, watching as the mob of angry citizens lit torches and hoisted their makeshift weapons—pitchforks, spades, rakes, clubs—in preparation for the dawn. It was the classic beast hunt, and Gwen knew what the beast was. Or rather, beasts.

She could bar the gates, order the quarantine of the city, but a furious rabble of armed men could only be held for so long. They would resist, escape, and then hunt the creature that they had no idea was their king. They couldn't know. If they found out that it was indeed Arthur who had slaughtered so many, the city would tear itself apart in panic and confusion.

Gwen didn't know what to do. She didn't even know if she could trust her own handmaiden to hold her tongue should the queen explain the predicament to her. She was alone.

I can't just sit here, she thought, tearing herself away from the window and striding purposefully down the corridor. She knew she had to do something, quickly, but she could not do it alone.

"Have Captain Baldwin brought to the council chambers," she ordered a page, who nodded and hurried off to do her bidding without question.

She waited alone in said chambers anxiously, pacing before the two thrones as she struggled to form a plan. Not much was coming to mind. Ten minutes later, the double doors opened to admit the Silverblood captain.

"Her majesty has need of me?" said Baldwin coolly, and Gwen's eyes narrowed. She still didn't fully trust the man, but he was the only one she felt wouldn't go spreading the predicament around. He would have by now otherwise.

Personal issues must be set aside, she told herself, for the sake of Arthur.

She glanced around to make sure none of the guards had remained inside the chambers, then lowered her voice and had Baldwin approach.

"Arthur has turned again, and escaped the city," she said flatly, keeping her gaze level with the Silverblood's. "The same with Merlin."

Baldwin smirked. "I could hear them from the tower, m'lady."

"And did you know that a third werewolf answered their calls?" Gwen's eyebrow twitched, but she kept her face otherwise impassive when Baldwin blanched.

"Rowan is here?"

"Was here. All three have fled into the woods." She had never seen Baldwin loose his nerve so quickly before.

"B-but, my lady! We must go after him! We must—"

"To what end, captain?" Gwen demanded, reminding herself to keep her voice somewhat soft. "How can one trap and subdue a werewolf? Three werewolves?"

"With the Silver Heart."

The queen bit her lip and heaved a breath. There was that Heart thing again. "Gwaine had it last, but I do not know where he is."

Baldwin took a step forward. "Then we must find him."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Gwen snapped impatiently. "He could be anywhere in the Darkling Woods by now. It's a race against a swarm of angry civilians, captain, and they've gotten a head start."

Baldwin's hands rose to the sides in question. "Then what are we waiting for, my lady?"


"Ride hard. Don't look back." ~ Aragorn (The Lord of the Rings)

Happy Holidays, mates :)