Discalimer: everyone knows it...
I am so sorry guys it took me this long...I really am. I not making an excuses but this summer has been nothing but a big headache. I am taking a creative writing class. I have moved three times and my parents were going through a divorce the same time my older brother is getting married...and then two weeks ago, my laptop breaks and I have to send it in to Dell and all that BS!
I would have had this chapter up a few weeks ago if it wasn't for that. In fact, if it wasn't for moving I would have had it up a long time ago because we had our Internet shut off, so I have to go to school to get one and everything. It's been a nightmare. I am kind of relieved school is starting soon...
Anyway...I hope this chapter is worth it for the long wait. I know for a fact I won't have the next chapter up next week because my last summer class is on Wen. and I have to get my screenplay up to a certain point. But it will be up not long after that...
Bare with me here...
I will thank you all individually later...I didn't have the time right now, and I'm just so exited to just finally get this chapter done...
Justice Will Rhyne
Chapter Twenty-Nine-Deep Breath Before the Plunge
Rhyne walked down into the armory, below the stables. Generations of armor and weapons from each knight that died in the service of Rome, including her father. Bows, broadswords, short swords, twin swords, spears, shields, daggers, eastern swords like Tristan's, British weapons and plenty of armor suits. The dream house of a warrior.
Drawers lined the walls, with names written on them. Each drawer was selected for a knight of particular bravery and legend. She found the one with her father's name. It was empty, as she expected. She went to close it when she froze, and looked back down inside the drawer. A little hole, just big enough to stick your smallest finger in was in one of the corners. She tilted her head in question.
Rhyne stuck a finger in the hole and slowly pulled up. The flooring of the drawer lifted with her finger. A secret compartment. In it, a small flat box covered in years of dust. She grabbed the box and closed the drawer with her hip. Whatever it was, she only felt safe opening it within the confinement of her room.
She moved that way quickly, acknowledging no one she passed. She closed the locked her door behind her, gently setting the box on her bed. With a slight hesitation, she opened the lid of the box. Two items. Her mouth opened in shock and awe. Rhyne thought these things had been lost or stolen, but someone had hidden them away, for her to one day find.
The first she picked up was a bracelet made of a black stone. A full ring. Engraved on it, a dragon. It was not just any bracelet. It was one worn only by chieftains of her father's tribe. But he had never told her he was Chieftain. She slipped it over her hand quite easily.
The second item left her staring, for a long time. She clinched her eyes shut. Rhyne reached out touch the only pointed peak on the silver crown. No jewels, only an engraving of a Novantaen saying and an emblem of a red raven. The Raven of Power. She felt it through her fingers, and up her arm, to the very core of her soul. She traced the words. Those that wear the Raven of Power, become the messengers of the Goddess.
Rhyne took the crown carefully from the box and stood in front of the mirror. Lifting it up, she gently set it over her head, where it sat just above her brow. It changed her, within those few seconds. She was no longer a lost soul, but a Queen. A messenger. Rhyne slipped off the crown and set it back in the box. As she closed the lid to the box, raised voices came from down below in her window. She slid the box under the furs of her bed and looked out the window. It was Arthur, confronting the Bishop. Rhyne ran out of her room.
Arthur put his sword to the Bishop's throat. "What did he do to deserve death? Everything he ever did was for the glory of Rome."
"Pagans equal with Christians," the Bishop protested. "That is not glory! That is heresy! Blasphemy! Consider yourself lucky that you are in the Popes good graces! You would be killed too! These pagans are below the dirt under our feet!" He said pointing to the arriving knights.
Arthur pushed his sword harder against the Bishop's skin. "Those are my men, and my brothers! Choose your words carefully, Germanus, for they may be your last," Arthur snarled. A small crowd began to gather. Rhyne saw Guinevere push her way forward, along with many of the villagers they had rescued from the estate, and Marius himself, being carried in a chair again. A small smile crept on Rhyne's lips for a moment, before it disappeared and she too began pushing through the crowd.
"No, Arthur!" Rhyne entered, pushing Excalibur from the bishop's neck. "His blood isn't worth the honor of that sword." The Bishop tried to move away but Rhyne put her own sword point in the same spot that Arthur's recently occupied. "It is too easy. He deserves something much, much worse. And I will be there to see it." Rhyne eyed him with a viciousness she has only shown a few times in her life. The first time since their arrival back to the fort, standing face to face. She could smell his fear.
"What did you think it would accomplish, or did you simply do it just to spite me? Which is it?" she spat.
"What are you talking about, Rhyne?" Arthur stood there confused.
"Sparrow was raped," Lancelot said softly beside him. Arthur shook his head in shame.
"It's not your fault, Arthur, nor is it your God's," Rhyne said without looking away from the Bishop. "Doing it to me is one thing, Bishop, but to her, that is quite another. Did you expect it to break her because you and Marius failed with me?" Rhyne could see him gaining all the strength he could muster.
"Because pagans whores like you, don't deserve to live on this Earth," he said with surprising force.
She took a long deep breath, to stop from killing him right there. "May your God and mine forgive you, for I definitely will not. And I swear to you, before this is over, you will die by my hand, just as Marius will." Rhyne sheathed her sword and turned to walk away, but then changed her mind. She whipped around back to him and punched him square in the face. Gasps ran through the crowd along side many cheers, some from the knights. Germanus landed flat on his back, clutching his now bleeding nose in his hands. "I would pray for forgiveness soon, before your time runs out," Rhyne loomed over him. She looked in the direction of Marius. "Same for you."
The moon was high overhead. Rhyne sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the window. Her stomach was empty, but she couldn't eat. Her eyes were tired, but she couldn't sleep. The battle of her life lay before her. But more than just her life was at stake. In fact, it wasn't about her at all. It was about their existence, and the existence of their children. If they were to lose to the Saxons, their way of life will be gone forever. The Romans have already destroyed it enough. And without Arthur, there was no hope for them. Jamari had told her the knights decided to leave after two days, now, close to only one. And Arthur with them, to Rome, to a dead end path. And everything, all of it relied on her, whether she can get him to realize his true destiny.
Rhyne stood and slung her bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder. She walked with a purpose out to the practice area beside the Knight's stables. 100 feet from the target, she loaded her first arrow, aimed, and fired. A few inches off. She scowled. She fired again. Further off. Rhyne growled low with anger. Taking quick steps toward the target, she loaded and fired arrow after arrow. Closer and closer, until three in a row hit the target and she was 30 feet away.
She lowered her bow with a deep breath. She would need to be better than that. She looked at Hawk who raised his head from his laying position with a whine. "Don't worry Little Brother. I'll be ready. But hopefully not alone." Rhyne heard footsteps behind her. In one swift motion she spun, loaded her bow and released. The arrowhead was imbedded into the post Arthur was leaning on. He jumped a little, stepping away from the post. Hawk growled. Arthur looked at the arrow, then back at her. He showed a shy smile. The first in a week. Rhyne smiled as well. "You know," he shook his head. "There are only two people I know that can do that. You and Tristan."
The smile disappeared off her face, into a stoic mask. "He taught me." They were silent for a moment, looking everywhere but at each other. "I saw you and Guinevere, in the graveyard, before your father's grave. What did she say?"
Arthur stared her straight in the eye. "That we are blessed and cursed by our times. That I am like this country. Britons with a Roman father."
Rhyne nodded. "Rome is father to us all. And we are blessed for the time we are given here. It's a gift. But no matter who it is you worship or believe in or pray for thanks or help, there is only one way to pay them back."
"How's that?"
"To live your life in the best way that you can," Rhyne began stepping closer to him. "And you have done that Arthur, but now you have another choice to make. Will you go to Rome to fight a losing battle and die an old man, meaningless and alone? Or will you stay here, fight in the battle of your life and free an entire country? You are already a hero Arthur. You and your knights." Rhyne took a deep breath and paused for a moment. "And now you have a chance to become a legend. People thousands of years after us will be whispering your name, the things that you and your knights have done. Nothing is greater than that, to never be forgotten is to never die."
Rhyne violently pulls out the arrow from the post beside them and shoves it back into her quiver. "Your destiny is out there waiting for you," she points to the North wall.
Arthur leans his arms on the fence in front of him and sets his face in his hands. "What should I do?"
"I can't tell you what to do Arthur. I've only shown you the door. You are the one who has to decide whether to walk through it." Rhyne lays a comforting hand on his arm. "The Saxons can be beaten. Arthur, you took their will on that ice."
"I did not do it alone," said despairingly.
"With Six knights! Six knights against two hundred Saxons!"
"Now I am close to only having five."
"And what if you had more than five. What if you had hundreds…?" Arthur picked up his head. Rhyne nodded. "Back to your old days of glory. When your table was full and all were young." Rhyne softened her voice. "That can be again, if only you would choose it."
They were silent for a long while. Rhyne walked over and pulled all her arrows out of the target. She discarded the ones that were broken, and put the salvaged ones back into her quiver. "Guinevere tells me you are a Queen," Arthur said.
Rhyne traced her hand along the wood of her bow, checking for cracks or breaks. "Queen to a dead tribe. Merlin says there are very few Novantae left."
"But a Queen nonetheless."
Rhyne checked the flex of the bowstring before leaning both the bow and the quiver against the fence, along with herself. "I have to ask you something, Arthur." He nodded for her to continue. "I'm sorry if I deceived you. Will you forgive me?"
Arthur shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive. You did what you thought was right. You are doing what you must. Any of us would have done the same." He offered her his hand. A hand of friendship. She smiled and took it. Brother and sister once more.
Rhyne was on the practice field again the next morning. She and Guinevere crossed swords again. Rhyne parried Guinevere's backhand slash and gave her own. The morning sun left sweat on their brows and mud on the ground, melting the last few days of snow. They lunged at each other at once, swords in between them. "Where did you sleep last night?" Rhyne asked with teeth clenched. They pushed away from each other.
"In the bed next to Sparrow."
"What," Rhyne smiled. "You couldn't find a warmer one?" She laughed at Guinevere's demoralized face. "Oh come on, I have seen the way he looks at you." Guinevere takes a huge swing at Rhyne who ducks swiftly with a spin. She switches sword hands mid spin, standing and sets her blade on Guinevere's exposed back. "Emotion on the battlefield always left your back open," Rhyne said breathing hard.
Guinevere nodded in defeated agreement. Rhyne took a step back and lowered her weapon. They nodded to each other in respect. "You think we are ready?" the Woad Princess asked gravely.
Rhyne sheathed her sword and took a long breath, looking at the clear sky. She shook her head and wiped her brow on her sleeve. "Not without Arthur."
"Why didn't you tell her everything?" Guinevere asked finally.
"Who?" Rhyne tried to fake it.
"Sparrow, and you knew who I meant. We know each other too well, Rhyne. We could never lie to one another," Guinevere forced.
Rhyne sighed. "I told her what she needed to know. I told her the truth, just not the whole story."
"Don't you do to her what you did to the knights. You have to tell her everything."
"I will," Rhyne snapped. "Just not now. Not when she is pregnant and going to have a child. I don't want her to be like me."
"She's your daughter! You have to tell her or she will be just like you when she was born."
"It's Lance's child, Gwen. Not a rape child. There's a difference."
"Is it?" Guinevere forced. "Would you have acted any differently if you knew it was Conner's child? Would it have been any more disgusting when you knew it was born through their filth?"
Rhyne crossed her arms over her chest. "I hate it when you do this..."
Guinevere eased. "Good. Cause I'm the only one who can make you wrong." She looked behind her sister and froze. "Rhyne," she motioned with her sword.
Rhyne turned and was taken aback with the vision of her daughter walking towards them. Wearing trousers and a tunic and her hair wavy free behind her in the gentle breeze with her swords strapped at her back. Her eyes like stone. People she passed looked her up and down, at her cuts and bruises that had gotten no better. But she paid no attention. Sparrow reached them. "Good morning, Mother. Guinevere." Her voice was strong.
Rhyne smiled impressed. "I didn't expect you to be on your feet so soon."
"Well, I am a Princess. I should act like one, right?" Sparrow remarked.
Rhyne put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you're ready to face the world?" she asked gently.
Sparrow looked her straight in the eye. "I really don't have a choice, do I?"
Rhyne hugged her daughter tightly. Sparrow stiffened and winced. Rhyne released her immediately. "I'm sorry." Sparrow nodded her acceptance and unsheathed one of her swords. Rhyne raised her brow. "Are you ready for that?" Sparrow eyed her. Rhyne and Guinevere smile.
Sparrow gets into her ready position. "Do not hold back."
Sparrow was knocked to the ground for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I do believe daughter, that you need a break." Sparrow swiped away dirt beneath her in anger and got up with a huff. "Perhaps if you ate something?" Rhyne suggested.
Sparrow wiped sweat from her brow and sheathed her swords. "I'm going to take a bath," and she walked away.
Sparrow climbed the stairs and saw Vanora coming her direction with Eleven in her arms, Three and Four behind her heels. The infant was screaming and struggling in her arms. "Are you positive you want a child dear? It's a wonderful thought until they are actually here."
Sparrow smiled thoughtfully. "Do you think Vanora you can-"
"There is already a bath ready in there for you, dear."
"Thank you, Vanora. You are an angel." Sparrow entered her room. She could smell he lavender oil in the hot water instantly. She set down her swords and lifted off her tunic. Sparrow sat down on the edge of her bed to untie her boots when the form of a person standing in the corner behind the door caught her attention. She jumped backwards. "By the Gods! Lance! Did you have to scare me like that?"
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Sparrow stared at him a moment before finishing untying her boots. Dirt sprinkled onto the floor. She felt his eyes on her every move. She was still sore and in extreme pain, especially after the work out this afternoon. But she needed to find a way to block it all out for the battle in the morning, or she wouldn't be standing in the end.
"How far along were you?" he asked suddenly. His voice was cold.
"You mean am I...I don't know. Four weeks. Maybe six." She tossed her boots underneath a small table across the room.
"So, you may-"
"Still have it?" Sparrow finished. "Yes. I may. It depends on how much damage was done. The birth will be difficult, if I even live for that long." She began taking her hair out of the braid.
"I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize," Sparrow interrupted turning towards him. "It wasn't your fault. Don't make it your fault."
"I'm sorry for yelling before." He looked her in the eye. "It didn't help things."
Sparrow turned away from him again. "It's alright."
"No it's not."
"You were shocked and angry, Lance. It's alright." She put two hands on the table, leaning against it.
"Will you still not tell me-"
"No!" she said like a hammer and hitting the table with her fist. "You will not take my revenge for me." She rotated around to him again, more violently. "You don't understand, that's what is keeping me on my feet, or else I would still be huddled in that room." Sparrow collapsed down on the edge of the bed. She stared at the floor.
"Were you going to tell me?"
She nodded. "When you came back," her voice shook. He knew that voice. She was crying, but her hair shielded her face. Her short breaths were followed with hisses of pain. Sparrow closed her eyes and laid back, and inhaled in, then out slowly. A hand gently touched her stomach.
Sparrow flinched and opened her eyes. Lancelot was sitting next to her. His eyes were no longer hard and cold. They were warm again. The eyes she fell in love with. But her body still began to shake. His touch made her alert. And it made her scared. Her body wanted to push him away. Her emotions her winning, but she fought them for as long as she could.
Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she jolted away from him, to the other side of the bed. Sobs returned. "I'm sorry..." her voice was ladened with moans of desperation and shame. "I'm so sorry..."
"Shh..." Lancelot knelt in front of her. "It's alright." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Let me help you...sit up." She did, limply.
With a single finger he tucked her hair behind her ears. He used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe away the tears on her face. "Lay back." She did. Her breathing began to ease. He undid her belt and loosened the tied on her trousers. She was too exhausted and in too much pain to care any longer. Lancelot slipped off her pants and laid them on the bed.
He pulled her up into a sitting position again. "Arms up." He gently pulled the breast band over her head, careful not to rub or scrap over any cuts or bruises. He took her in his arms. Sparrow wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against her shoulder. Lancelot stepped into the wash room and lowered her into the steaming water. Sparrow held her breath, letting the heat sink into her skin. She released a long sigh.
Lancelot took the silk cloth hanging on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the water. Wringing out the cloth, he wiped the dirt from her face. Sparrow sat there blankly as she let him cleanse her. For the first time, he truly saw all the damage that was done. Her face may have been horrid, but what one couldn't see, things easier to hide, those were the worst. No olive skin could be seen inside her thighs. The skin was rubbed raw and bruised. Even with the gentleness of his hands, scabs fell off as he passed over them. Blood began to seep in the water.
It took all of his strength not to let his anger take him over. But it was a strange thing. While he wiped away the dirt over her neck and chest, he paused, watching her face. He had never seen this look. She seemed lost, staring into nothing. Like her soul was completely gone, and only her body remained. Whens he finally blinked and moved her eyes in his direction to gaze at him, he couldn't help but gave the littlest of smiles. Perhaps in the worst condition he will ever see her, and she couldn't be more beautiful.
Leaning over, he pressed a light kiss on her forehead. It was by far, the strangest, best, and scariest feeling he has ever had in his life. He really loved her, with everything he had, and he would never love anyone else ever again.
As he finished, he wrung out the cloth, and hung it back over the side. "Sparrow..." She glanced over. "I need you to stand up." She nodded, and he helped her stand.
After getting her dry and dressed into a simple gown, he took the tortoise shell comb and slid it easily through her hair. Leaving her hair down, he carried her back to the bed. When setting her down,. Lancelot heard her stomach growl. "I'll get you something to eat. I'll be back." He kissed her forehead again and headed for the door.
"Lancelot..." The commander looked past his friend to see Sparrow, her back to the door, scrunched in a ball. "How is she?" he asked low.
"I've never seen her like this. But considering some other rape victims we have come across, much better than them." He glanced over his shoulder. "I think she'll be okay, eventually."
"The pain?" Arthur wondered in shame.
"She still hurts...everywhere. If you could see all the damage..." He jaw and fists clenched. He looked back at her again. "Come here..." he pushed Arthur into the hall, closing the door. "I..uh-"
Arthur suddenly looked concerned. "What? What is it?"
Lancelot leaned against the railing. "A, uh, strange feeling came over me in there." He just didn't quite know how to say it. "I love her, Arthur. I mean, really, truly...love her." A grin slowly crept onto Arthur's face. "I, uh, I just...she's it. No one else. Forever."
Arthur clapped a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. The dark knight did the same. After a quick embrace they parted. "Do you want to see her?"
Arthur shook his head. "If I do, I don't think I would be able to trust myself not to kill the Bishop this very moment. Rhyne would be very disappointed," he mused.
"Have you seen Tristan?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, not since last night. Rhyne did a real number on him."
"She did one on all of us...He needs to see her. It might help. But...I have to get her some food. It sounds like she hasn't eaten in days." They parted in different directions.
As the sun set, Sparrow sat on the window ledge. "Mother says they will be here tonight," she commented softly.
Lancelot listened from where he sat at the edge of the bed. "Sparrow...I want you to come with me."
She turned her head and gazed at him. "Come with you?"
"Yes, to Sarmatia." She was speechless. "You can have our child there."
It took her a moment to recover. "Lance...I can't just leave. This is my home. These are my people."
"They won't be by tomorrow afternoon. Every single one of them is going to be dead."
"I'm a British Princess, Lance. I can't leave them."
"Yes you can."
"It's not that easy. No I can't."
"You may die tomorrow."
"I would rather die tomorrow than leave and never come back."
"You have a child to think for now."
"Don't you dare try and pull that on me. These are dangerous times. Right now, our lives matter more than this child."
"You already almost lost it once, and you are going to ride into battle tomorrow."
"My fate lies here, Lance. I am not going to run from it like the rest of you." she stood and left him in the room.
Sparrow opened the door to Rhyne's room. "Mother..." She was lying on the bed, petting the head of Hawk who lie next to her.
"Come in," she waved her daughter over. Sparrow crawled into the bed next to her, and laid her head on Rhyne's lap. The mother gently stroked her daughter's hair.
"Will they be here soon?"
Rhyne nodded. "In a few hours."
"And Arthur?"
"I don't know my darling. We will soon see what he decides."
Rhyne and Sparrow were woken by footsteps and voices outside both the window and the door. A knock startled them. "Rhyne." It was Jol's voice. "Come to the Wall now."
The two of them instinctively grabbed their swords and were out of the room at once, running and weaving through the crowd. The guards at the steps to the battlements allowed them to pass and they took two steps at a time. An orange glow shown through the crenelated wall, and on the other side, thousands of fires.
All the knights were there, minus Dagonet, looking on the fires with desperation and gloom. Rhyne's mouth was pressed into a firm line. This was it. Now it had begun. She glanced in the knights' direction. Each had their eyes on her. She was almost smiling. Her fate had arrived.
"What the hell are you smiling about?" Gawain growled.
"The time has come," she stared over to the wall. More footsteps came up the stairs. Arthur followed very closely by Guinevere.
The Woad Princess eyed the Roman knight for a long moment. All eyes were set on Arthur. He looked at the three women standing beside one another. The three women who made it their duty to lead him to his fate. He turned fully to the helpless villagers below. They would not leave with the Romans. This was their home, and most would stay and fight for it. And lastly, he turned to his knights. Men who were his brothers.
"Knights," he sighed. "My journey must end with you here." Rhyne had to fight off a grin. She instead raised her head proudly, The knights were in absolute shock. What their commander was saying is unthinkable. "May God go with you." He descended back down the stairs. Lancelot, full of pure anger eyed each woman standing across from him than went to catch up with Arthur.
Rhyne gazed at Tristan's stoic face for a moment and made her way down the stairs as well, Guinevere and Sparrow at her heels.
Arthur and Lancelot's argument floated to their ears. "This is not your fight Arthur. This is not our fight!" Arthur continued to stride away, as his closest friend kept pursuing him."All these long years we have been together...the lives we have taken the blood we have shed," he spat. "What was it all for, if not for the reward of freedom?" Arthur stayed silent. "And now when are so close, when it is finally within our grasp, LOOK AT ME!" Lancelot grabbed his shoulder, forcing his commander, friend and brother to face him. "Has it all been for nothing?"
Arthur stared stoically. "You would ask me that? You who know me best of all?"
The words planted Lancelot in place for a long moment, letting Arthur get all most out of reach again. "Then do not do this Arthur, I beg you! As your friend I'm begging you!"
Arthur stepped towards putting a grasping hand on his cheek. "You would be my friend now and not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned, I cannot follow you, Lancelot! I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken, have led me to this moment." Lancelot, after a long silence, nodded in dread. Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked away. The dark knight set a hand over his commander's until it slipped out of his grasp.
Not being able to bear watching Arthur disappear to what would surly be his death, he turned back to the wall, which caused him only more pain. Three women stood staring at him. Rhyne in front, Sparrow and Guinevere just behind each shoulder. He marched toward them, stopping a few feet away. "This is your fault!" he pointed at Rhyne. Hawk growled at him from next to Sparrow. The young warrior sat a hand on his head, calming the wolf.
"Everything is my fault it seems," she mused.
"This isn't funny, Rhyne! He is going to die for a cause that isn't his! For a home that isn't his!"
"You're wrong," she said easily. "You will realize soon just as he did...this is your home. These are your people...as they are ours." She held her arms out to the two women beside her.
"Lies!" he screamed. He grasped Sparrow's face gently in his hands. "Please, Sparrow! Don't do this! Come with me. Please come with me!" he whispered fiercely.
Sparrow set her hands on his and slowly peeled them away from her. "This is my home. I was born here...through pain and suffering." She paused. "I will die in the same way. Even if it is with this child growing inside me."
His head fell defeated. The women, moved passed. The crowd split for them like the Red Sea.
Arthur knelt before his father's grave for the second time since his return from the North. A few days ago he was a different man. A Roman Commander. And now...Now he was a Briton. A child to a Roman, yes...but a Briton.
He had believed in the message of Rome. But that seemed like ages ago. Life times ago. And then again, perhaps it was. Not everyone has the chance to see the truth as he has. After all the lies he had been told, and believed down to his soul.
But God had sent him a miracle. Two miracles. In the form of two women. The most unlikely saviors of his soul. Of his life. Rhyne, an old friend, his sister, had come for him just in time. And as he learned, that was all part of the plan. And she had been right all along. After all these years, this place had become his home without him knowing it. And these had become his people. He was of their blood after all.
He knelt there and thought on for longer than he perhaps realized. He felt the presence of him before he actually saw Merlin appear from the gloom of the trees. Three warriors backed him. They were in gowns. He saviors, and Guinevere. He had almost forgotten about her. She had credit as well in the plan.
It was after all, most likely her feelings for him that made him realize in the end. Their debates and arguments were not as heated as they were with Rhyne. But them having no history together made it easier. Rhyne had been there before. In one of the cages in that dungeon. And that was the thought that made him go speak with her last night. He had finally realized where she was coming from, and what she went through. And Sparrow now too. All three women had felt the true cause of Rome, and all suffered for it.
It made him Hate Rome even more, and hate himself. Arthur rose before them. Excalibur shimmered on the moonlight. He lifted the blade in front of him. "Each night, my father would me stories of this sword. How is was made. I had known the Gods were pagan, but little else." He traced the sharpness of the blade with a single finger. "The Gods of my forefathers..."
Merlin shook his head. "They are not your father's Gods, Arthur. They are your mother's Gods. Our Gods." The four smiled.
Arthur turned the hilt in his hand so that they could see it. A medallion of the Christian savior. "But this is the God whom I love." He stared at it intently for a moment before sheathing it at his hip. He brought his eyes to the four in front of them. His gaze clearly showed the decision he has made.
Merlin nodded, slowly. Making it seem more like a bow. The three warriors beside him did the same. Arthur raised his brow in suspicion. "Tell me Merlin," Arthur began. "Where will you be when the swords crack and the dying scream?"
Merlin took a few steps out into the night, waving his arms all around him. "Everywhere..." and his disappeared once again into the trees.
Rhyne approached Arthur. "I believe we have a battle to plan."
The Briton nodded. "Aye, we do."
Special thanks to the author of the novelized version of King Arthur for the last bit here. It's straight from the book. I loved it so much I didn't want to leave it out.
Alright, so sorry again for being so late guys. I can't necessarily promise the next chapter won't a while, but not as long as this one took.
I only have a few chapters left, so bare with me. They are all planned, I just have to write them. Once the next one is out the last few will be a breeze coming out. You know how it is with battle chapters...
