I know, it's been awhile. Happy New Year.
Kayleigh stepped gingerly across the blue ice, her stomach in knots. Every creak and groan caused her heart to jump into her throat. She glanced at the knights, wondering if they felt the same. Her gaze fell over Dagonet and memories of her dream surface before her- his hand reaching for hers, an unbreakable sheet of ice between them, and the bubbles of air escaping his purple lips as he sank into the depths of the dark water.
"Knights?" Arthur's voice cut through Kayleigh's memories, bringing her back to the present. The Saxons had gained ground, their drums beating painfully louder. Each knight assented, in his own way, to stand and fight.
Kayleigh wanted to protest. Cross the ice first and fight on land. But she was not one of them and had no say. She wondered if it would make a difference. Perhaps the losses on land would be greater. What if this was the best solution?
She shook her head. If one died, it would be one too many. She made a promise to Vanora. They would all come back alive.
"Alright?" She felt Tristan's hands on her cheeks, cupping her face lightly. "Kay?"
"No," she whispered, looking up at him. "But it will be."
"You should go with them, make sure they get to the Wall," he nodded at the departing caravan.
"No," she said more forcefully. "I'm not leaving you, any of you."
She walked past him to Jols and began helping him unload the weapons from the horses, setting each knight's arms in a neat pile on the ice. Before long, they were prepared and stood quietly awaiting the Saxon army.
They stood motionless as the Saxons paraded onto the ice and let loose one lonely arrow that skidded pathetically across the ice before them. At Arthur's command, Bors and Tristan fired a volley of arrows that easily crossed the distance between them and found their home in a handful of Saxon bodies. With nothing left for them to do, the Saxon army advanced, black flags flying grimly overhead.
"Aim for the wings of the ranks," Arthur directed. "Make them cluster."
They fired at the left wing, then the right. The Saxons on the ends moved closer to the middle, creating a large mass of bodies. They stomped closer, the ice thundering in protest under their weight.
The Saxon commander realized what Arthur was doing and roared at his men, but to not much effect. They marched onward and the ice held.
Arthur realized this and knew they were running out of time. "Fall back," he commanded. "Prepare for battle."
The knights dropped their bows and picked up their weapons of choice. Kayleigh had positioned herself between Galahad and Dagonet, and carefully watched the latter pick up his sword. Dagonet glared at the advancing Saxons, dropped his sword, picked up his axe, and ran forward with a battle cry.
"Dag!" Bors yelled.
"No!" Kayleigh cried, pausing long enough to scoop up Galahad's shield and run after him. Shouting erupted behind her but she didn't have the time to look back, Dagonet was already half way across the ice.
The Saxon archers moved forward at a surprisingly fast pace, planting themselves for a steady shot. A volley of arrows darted toward her and she dropped to her knees, skidding across the ice. Beneath her, the ice vibrated as Dagonet's axe bit into it. Kayleigh scrambled the last couple feet to Dagonet, arrows whistling above her as she skidded to a stop between him and the Saxons.
"Kay!" Dagonet shouted, his tone surprised and disapproving at the same time.
"Hurry!" Kayleigh yelled back. An arrow hit the absurdly small shield she was holding, throwing her backward. As she stood, Dagonet's axe came down again, the ice around them shuddering. The knights behind them were still firing, taking Saxons out, but not fast enough.
A biting pain pierced Kayleigh's leg and it gave way, forcing her to drop to one knee. She heard an arrow lodge into Dagonet's armor with a thud and didn't dare turn to look. He gave a mighty cry, the axe ringing as it hit the ice, and it shattered around them.
Kayleigh barely had time to pull her dagger from her boot before the ice slid from under her feet. She thrust the blade into a solid piece of ice and reached up for Dagonet just as he slumped and slid into the freezing water.
"No," she screamed, grasping onto the collar of his armored jacket. He was unmoving, the depths sucking at his massive form. Kayleigh's arms shook with the effort to keep them both above water.
Arthur slid to a stop before the edge. "Take him!" she shouted over the clamor. Men were screaming and arrows continued to fly above them. She didn't know who was alive, who was dead, or who was winning the battle. All she knew was that Dagonet would die if he wasn't attended to soon.
With some effort, Arthur hauled Dagonet out of the water, setting him on the ice, then grasped Kayleigh's wrist and easily pulled her from the freezing water.
"Take him," she yelled again. "Go!"
Kayleigh looked down at her left leg, an arrow protruded from her thigh. She knew she had been hit but couldn't feel it at all now. Grasping the haft, she yanked the arrow out and tossed it into the water.
Bors had reached Arthur and glanced back at Kayleigh. "I'm alright," she assured him. He nodded and helped Arthur pull an unmoving Dagonet back toward the knights. The ice shifted and cracked, and Kayleigh scrambled backward. The Saxon army had withdrawn far enough that she could walk back without worrying about getting an arrow in the back.
Tristan ran to meet her. "You alright?" he asked, grasping her shoulders to steady her on her feet.
She nodded. "Dagonet—"
"He's alive," Tristan answered. He caught her as her knees buckled. "You're hurt!"
"My legs are numb, from the water," she explained. Tristan narrowed his eyes skeptically.
"Take shelter in the trees," Arthur commanded. "Gawain, build a fire."
Tristan scooped Kayleigh up in his arms, carrying her steadily until they reached solid ground. He set her down gently on the snow.
"Is she hurt?" Lancelot asked. Tristan shook his head.
"She is right here," Kayleigh stated, annoyed. "Freezing, but fine."
"I have a blanket in my pack," Tristan said, turned to retrieve it.
Kayleigh got sight of Dagonet lying on the snow a ways away from her. "We must help-" she began to rise.
Lancelot pushed her back down. "There is enough help." It was true. Arthur and the other knights were bustling about him. Even the Pict girl looked like she was making herself useful.
"How bad is it?" she asked, resting her back against a tree.
"I don't know if he'll make it," Lancelot replied honestly. "We need to get him back to the wall."
Tristan returned with the blanket and laid it over her.
"Bring back the caravan," Kayleigh said, grasping his arm desperately.
"Jols can go," Tristan replied.
"It's been snowing. Their tracks could be covered by now. Besides, you're the fastest rider," Kayleigh reasoned. "If Dagonet is to have a chance…"
"She's right," Arthur agreed, overhearing. "Dagonet can't ride. By the time we construct a litter, you could be back with the cart."
Tristan nodded. He turned to Lancelot. "Build a fire, make sure she gets warm."
"Oh, I will. By any means necessary," Lancelot winked at Kayleigh. A muscle in Tristan's jaw twitched. "Alright," Lancelot threw up his hands. "Not by any means."
Tristan grunted and turned, whistling for Ayn. The hawk flew overhead with a shriek and Tristan mounted, riding after her.
Lancelot went about making a fire as Kayleigh shivered.
He dropped a pile of twigs at her feet. "You know, the quickest way to warm you up would be-"
"Shut up, Lancelot."
"I just think if you at least take off your wet clothes-"
"Not going to happen," Kayleigh replied.
Lancelot built the little fire up until it was roaring and Kayleigh could feel the heat on her face. She drew in a breath, hissing between her teeth.
"What is it?" Lancelot asked, concerned.
"My legs," she cried. "The numbness is gone." Kayleigh bit her lip to keep herself from screaming in agony at the pins and needles sensation.
Lancelot rushed over and pulled the blanket back. They looked normal beside the stain of blood on her left pant leg and the pool of red snow beneath her. "You are hurt!"
"It's nothing," she replied, covering the wound with her hand.
Lancelot pulled out his dagger, pushed Kayleigh's hand away and cut the length of her pant leg.
"Lancelot, no!" Kayleigh cried, attempting to cover herself with the blanket.
"Look," Lancelot pointed the dagger at her, "you can either let me tend to your wound, or I can call Gawain and Galahad over here to hold you down while I tend to your wound."
Kayleigh swallowed and sat back against the tree. This was not going to end well.
Lancelot pulled the fabric, sticky with blood, away from the wound and inspected it carefully. "Looks deep," he told her. "You're lucky it didn't break the bone."
"Yes, I suppose," she replied through clenched teeth. She glanced over at Dagonet, still unmoving on the ground. Bors and Gawain were working over him.
"I need some supplies," he told her, standing up. He returned with two wine skins, a roll of bandages, and thread and needle. "Drink this," he handed her one of the skins.
She took a sip. "Wine?" she laughed bitterly. "This isn't nearly strong enough." A hiss escaped her lips as Lancelot poured wine from the other skin into her wound.
"You'll need stitches," Lancelot told her once the blood was washed away. "What's this?" he asked of the strange scar on her thigh.
"Nothing," she replied, swiping up his knife from the snow beside her. "Stitches? It will take ages for my leg to heal," she protested, leaning over to put the blade into the fire.
"This mark," Lancelot went on, ignoring her complaint, "I've seen something like it before."
Kayleigh was mesmerized by the reflection of the flames on the blade of steel. "Don't say it." The look of shock and devastation on his face was unbearable. She lifted the red hot dagger from the coals. "I'm sorry," she said before pressing the blade to her wound. This time she couldn't hold it back. She screamed and the world turned black.
