This was one of my favorite scenes from King Arthur...of course added something :D
Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.
As usual, reviews and critics are much much much appreciated :)
Enjoy :D
After what felt like only a few seconds he opened his eyes again, as the cold wind and the snowflakes tickled his skin. The horse neighed at his side, and he clutched the reins harder, keeping the steed close to him as he carefully walked his way on the iced surface of the lake. Near him, the other knights were doing the same, weighing every step, following their leader towards the other side of the gorge.
Every few steps an ominous creaking could be heard, making him either freeze the motion or back up for it seemed to be coming from right below him, heart hammering in his chest. A few gasps and squeaks were coming from the crowd following them, mostly peasants on foot or with a small cart, slowly advancing despite the slippery surface and the ignorance of the ice's thickness, trusting blindly the brave warriors that were leading them.
Gawain on his right, the blond locks flapping in the wind, usually so talkative was now very silent, him too paying close attention to every step. The knowledge of the Saxons closing up on them and the hazard of the path they were on were both hanging heavily in the chilly air, silencing every unnecessary chatter, leaving only heavy breaths and startled inhales.
Feeling observed, Will lifted his gaze from the ground just in time to see Tristan, who was a few steps ahead, glancing at him above his shoulder, turning around immediately after. Even with the heavy atmosphere hanging around them, he couldn't help feeling self conscious. His skin burned with the memory of the touch of his hands, and he rubbed his arms in a gesture that could pass for an attempt to warm himself up but was really an attempt to cool down. This was certainly not the time to think about the previous night.
Snapping out of it, he saw Arthur lifting a hand, commanding them all to stop. As everyone stilled, as every single horse put down the last hoof, a distant drumming filled their ears. Realizing that the Saxons were even closer than expected put them all on edge as the group resumed its slow advancing.
After only a few step, without a command, their feet stopped again, and the knights exchanged a few resolute glances, knowing too well what they had to do despite being almost on the other end of the icy surface. Arthur probably realized it too since he breathed heavily and turned around, setting his firm stare on them.
"Knights…" he said, that word implying what everyone was thinking.
"Well, I'm tired of running" replied Bors, looking at them, then felt the need to add "and these Saxons are so close behind my ass is hurtin' " as a matter of fact.
"Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway" said Tristan, before doing exactly that, looking at the others before setting his gaze on him. Will could see the edge of his eyes crinkling with amusement, for he knew he had been caught in the act earlier, and found entertainment in knowing that the other got the double meaning of his words.
"Be a pleasure to put an end to this racket" he heard Gawain say from his right.
"And finally get to look at the bastards" Will then added, finally breaking their eye-lock and moving his gaze to their leader.
"Here. Now."
Dagonet's words seemed to close the discussion, if it ever was a discussion since they all agreed on the matter, only Lancelot looking a bit resigned, and as Arthur called their quartermaster, the knights started taking the weapons down from their steeds and placing them in a line, facing the way they've come from and from where the Saxons are to make their entrance. Jols and his men quickly took care of their horses while the rest of the party passed them on wobbly legs and got to safe ground.
As Will was making his way to where he had placed his sword and shield on the left side of the line, carrying his bow and quiver with him, his arm was grabbed and had to stop on his tracks to look at Tristan, who leaned close to him and whispered:
"If everything goes as planned we'll be on our way to join the caravan soon. But if doesn't and the hotheads here start charging, we are the rearguard. We fight from the distance as we do in formation. Join the fight only if they're too close."
"Or if the blood calls."
Tristan smirked at the remark.
"You know me too well" he replied with a smile, both knowing that the scout, despite being one of the best archer of the group and as such assigned to the rearguard with him, couldn't help but need to feel the flesh of his enemies under his sword, to get stained from their blood, the intimacy of the macabre dance that was every duel bringing him exquisite pleasure. A moment later, Will felt the grip on his arm disappear for the other had let him go and had now cast his eyes on his lips.
"I'll see you later in this life" Tristan said, as he flicked his eyes back to the other's, "or in another."
Will gulped a little under his dark gaze, and nodded his goodbye as he spun around and passed the others, going back to his position. As he placed the quiver down he noticed Gawain watching him intently. He lifted his eyebrows, as if asking 'what', but only got a half smile in return before the other went back to checking his equipment.
Not long after Guinevere, the Woad girl they rescued from the household's torture chamber, joined them in line with a spare bow and arrows while Arthur gave instruction to Ganis to lead the party and keep to the coastline to Hadrian's Wall in order to avoid encounters with other Saxons. The pope's pupil too, Alecto, despite the young age proved to be a brave young man, wanting to stay and fight among the knights but was denied the chance, since the mission had taken place to bring him back safely.
As the drums got closer, shaking the very earth, the party finally left, leaving eight brave warriors to face about 200 enemies on an icy ground. They stood there, feet planted, eyes casted at the entrance of the lake, bow and arrow in hand, ready to be drawn and shot.
Will could feel the rhythm of the drums resonating in his chest, echoing beneath the skin and armor, growing as the enemy army came into view at the opposite end of the gorge. Their heavy steps seemed to fall into rhythm with the sound of the drums they were hitting. As they steadily displayed their numbers in a disordered line-up, the sound slowly ceased.
"Hold until I give the command" he heard Arthur say, brow set.
In the distance resounded the Saxons' commands that stopped the army's stomping, and he saw the bald bearded guy the soldiers seemed to refer to call for an archer that quickly drew his longbow and shoot an arrow in the air. The whistling sound of it riving through came to an end long before their feet, not worrying any of knights at his sides.
"I believe they're waiting for an invitation. Bors, Tristan" Arthur called, them being the ones at the far ends of the line.
"They're far out of range" Guinevere argued, based on the Saxons' shot, while Tristan drew multiple arrows at once. Upon release they pierced through the air, quick and lethal, taking down multiple soldiers on the far right of their formation, while Bors' one took care of a man that had made the mistake of stepping too far from the rest of the army, singling himself out as a perfect target. They took the enemies by surprise if the astonished "oof" of the ones that fell and angry expressions of those still standing were anything to go by. Soon after they shouted a command and started advancing towards the eight, not paying much attention to their heavy steps, dark banners and flags flapping in the cold wind.
"Aim for the wings of the ranks, make them cluster" instructed their leader.
Will shot arrow after arrow along with the others, his fingers quickly drawing and releasing like it's all he has ever done, efficiently taking down lots of enemy soldiers while these, not wanting to stand out as easy targets and be the next ones to fall, kept converging to the middle while their leader shouted angrily to keep their ranks. Despite their arrows blacking out the sun so many were being shot, the Saxons kept on advancing, the heavy stomping of their boots effectively causing the ice to slightly crack under their weight but not break, till they were too close for comfort.
"It's not gonna break. Back!" Arthur stood up from his crouching as he was feeling the ice with his hands, and motioned for them to step back. "Fall back! Prepare for combat."
They all drew back, Will keeping the bow while the others left theirs on the ground to take their weapon of choice: axes, swords and shields, daggers. After a few tense seconds, right on his left he saw Dagonet drop the sword and pick up his axe, just before changing towards the enemy while shouting at the top of his lungs. Bors screamed his name, knowing that it was a suicide to get into their archers' range, while Arthur told them to cover him, all of them going back to their bows.
As soon as Dagonet stopped right between them and the Saxons army, as soon as he lifted the axe to smash the ice, Will drew an arrow and shot, for the enemies were calling for their archers and crossbowers to take him down.
The dull sound of the axe hitting the ice, the whistling of theirs and the enemy's arrows piercing through the air, their shouts and commands, all blurred in the chaos of those moments. Too soon, a resounding crack echoed in the gorge.
"The ice is breaking!"
The distant shout barely audible in his ears, Will kept on shooting arrows in an adrenaline-fueled rush, kept going like he had fire in his veins, not feeling the pain of his frost-bitten fingers, not even aware if any of the others had been hit or not. He kept going till he saw Dagonet stumble and fall, arrows now sticking out from his torso.
"Dag!" Bors screamed, while Arthur dropped his weapon and rushed towards him.
A chill in his chest, Will started shooting again fueled by fear, pain, and anger, while Dagonet picked himself up and resumed his ice-breaking motion with a pained scream. Before Arthur reached him, his axe descended on the lake's iced surface, the impact of the last hit spreading a web of cracks towards the Saxons, them providing the greater weight in the area.
As the ice broke into countless floating pieces, making the enemy soldiers run back while most of them were being swallowed by the lake, he saw Dagonet fall face first into the icy water. Arthur finally got at his side, he immediately plunged his hand in and grabbed him by the collar, trying to pull him out as fast as he could before it was too late. Screaming his name, Bors hastily grabbed a shield and ran towards them meeting them halfway, protecting them from the rain of arrows. They couldn't move quickly, their friend's soaked clothes and heavy armor slowed them down, and to their horror the cracks in the ice had started running in their direction.
"Pull back! Arthur!" came Lancelot's scream.
The ground started shaking under his feet as he was again drawing his bow, making Will falter in his stance and look at the ice below him: he could see tiny cracks just below the surface. Bors and Arthur were still dragging Dagonet back, out of the enemy archers' range as these kept shooting arrows at them despite their numbers getting decimated by the frozen ground.
"Help us!"
Gawain and Tristan ran to help them, leaving only three to cover. Will took down as many as he could, shooting and screaming with wrath. As soon as they got their companion back to them, Bors kneeling over him, Will heard his hoarse plea.
"Dagonet! Stay with me!" He repeated the same words over and over, trying to wake his friends from his motionless sleep, his lips now purple, lifeless.
Riding his rage Will bent down to grab another arrow, his hand touching the icy ground, and as he blinked, he was now immersing it in a fresh coat of snow.
Have you guys noticed that Galahad and Tristan are the ones who use the bow the most? And that they usually stay behind the others, like they're guarding the rear? For reference, see both when they charge the Woads attacking Bishop Germanus' carriage (Galahad closed one wing of the V formation, never leaves the horse and keeps using bow and arrow, while Tristan, who closed the other wing, at some point gets down to duel) and at the roman estate when the knights break into the torture chamber...guess who stays behind on horse, guarding the entrance? :D
EDIT: My bad!the white horses got me! in the V formation we got Gawain on one end and Galahad on the other, with Tristan right before him...which is even better tbh :D