Arthur, King of the Britons.
A/N: Sighs I have finally finished this chapter... It was reallly difficult to write the huge battle, not to mention I still haven't decided exactly who will die... In fact I want a democratic vote...
Cause I can't decide!!!!
Chapter VIII: A song of life amidst a symphony of death
Arthur watched the approaching flag with thoughtful eyes. He wondered for a few moments if it could be some sort of trap. He shook off the thought and slammed his great standard into the earth. Turning his great roan stallion churned the earth as he galloped down the hill.
Guinevere looked over at Igraine as they watched the great roan charger. The two women exchanged a glance at the magnificent sight the man made in his praetorian armor. Guinevere lowered her head to one side and looked down the line at her people. The to watched the man, their faces showing their great respect for him. She smiled just barely, for at that same moment Igraine spoke.
"Tonight, many of their wives and mothers, sisters and sons will weep at their loss." Guinevere sighed.
"But life goes on." She replied softly.
"Yes... Life goes on."
The great gates swung open, beyond them mist and smoke curled in a thick grey curtain. A neigh sounded and then the great horse appeared, the figure of a large muscular man upon his back.
The two moved out of the gate's shadow. The Roman rode the horse casually. One hand dangled at his side. He approached the Saxon leader without a hint of fear. The Saxon looked up as the Roman began to circle him.
"Well, well, Arthur, wherever I go on this wrenched island, I hear your name. Always half whispered, as if you were, God. But all I see is flesh, blood. No more God then the creature you're sitting on."
"What are your terms Saxon?" Asked Arthur hi tone cld and haughty
"The Romans have left you... Why are you still here?" He paused at the Roman's arrogant posture and cold eyes. "If you came to beg a settlement you should be on your knees." He said pointedly, his guttural tones harsh to the ear.
"I didn't come here to negotiate." Said Arthur calmly.
"Oh? Then why did you come?" asked the Saxon contemptuously.
"To mark your face so that I may seek you on the battle, and you should mark my face Saxon." He drew his sword, Excalibur flashed in the air. "For the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth." And with that the man wheeled the great steed and left, disappearing into the grey fog beyond the wall once more.
The Saxon paused. "Finally. A man worth killing." His said before turning away. Suddenly he gave out a savage cry and beat his fists upon his chest.
Lancelot was brooding once more. Suddenly the horse beneath him whinnied and snorted, prancing and shuffling beneath him. Lancelot followed the others as their horses pranced away from the caravan.
"Shh." He told the horse, leaning close over the beautiful beast's neck. He rubbed and stroked the dark neck. He looked up to the other knights. The Saxon drums were growing louder in the distance.
He looked towards the other knights. Gawain and Galahad seemed a little sad but resigned. Bors had tears standing in his eyes. While Tristan smiled slightly, Lancelot returned the smile. There was no other option, no other way. He nodded and the others did the same. Tristan lifted his arm to look at his bird.
"Hey. You are free now." He waved his arm, releasing the hawk into the sky, He then turned away as they went to gather their weapons.
Horse hooves resounded as Roshian galloped up the hill, Lancelot's full battle armor shone in the sunlight, his horse head with its pennant snapped in the wind. He reined in the great horse beside Arthur's great grey charger. Arthur turned to look at his friend. Lancelot grinned rakishly as the other knights galloped up the hill behind them. As they stood together in the sunlight, the mist swirling around them as they smiled.
Arthur felt a great weight lift off him at the knights return, though the most selfish part of him wished them safe most f him was glad and proud of their decision. He grinned as over the wall in the distance the Saxons advanced.
He urged his horse forwards and turned him to face the other knights.
Igraine watched as through the smoke the knights raised the effigies to the sky, their cries carrying across the field as Arthur's sword glowed in the air. She closed her eyes in the face of blinding pain. He had broken her promise. She should have expected this, despite everything, despite any flaws he was a brave and selfless man... And after all would she want him to be any less than he was? Sighing in the face of truth she turned to look at Guinevere, the simple patterns of woad on her face highlighted her beauty, the night haired woman nodded. They both fitted arrows to their bows as a cry came across the plain beneath the knights hill.
A large group of Saxons had come into the ground beneath them. Guinevere turned to look up at the hill. Arthur raised his sword and motioned to Tristan. The knight raised his bow. Guinevere and the other woad turned their bows as Igraine lifted her own bow upwards. They adjusted and released two swift volleys into the Saxon ranks. And then they counted, they raised their bows and released another volley, below they saw through the smoke as the knights raced headlong through the ranks of Saxons. Once more they fired.
All too soon the field was still and silent. She saw a Saxon fleeing the battle, She raised her bow and with a cold precision aimed. He fell and stumbled the last few paces to the gate. She paused a moment and waited. Within moments the booming of the Saxons war march. She watched as the gates opened once more, for a moment she turned her head, high above Lancelot's steel covered head with the great horse hair crest turned to look at her. She drew her sword and raised it, in response Lancelot raised his bloody one. She smiled. Behind her the other Woads cried a chant, a strong breeze blew across the vale where the Saxons now milled. After a minute Guinevere raised her bow, an arrow with a rag soaked in oil upon it. She drew the bow back as a large group of Saxons crossed a gully filled with pitch.
The other Saxons raised their own bows, at a signal from Arthur their arrows were lit. They pulled back and burning rain flew through the air.
Merlin stepped upon the hill, his people followed him. The knights in front of him had started down the hill. He watched as his people flooded past him to stand with the knights while others brought the great machines into place, he watched as the balls of fire slammed into the front ranks of the enemy, but at that moment he cared not. The future of his people seemed a distant thing for he was lost in memory.The small boy had the marks of hard travel upon him, in his arms lay a small and sickly babe, with large unusual eyes. Merlin looked down on the child and realised the coloring was known to him. He looked up at the boy. A handsome lad he was, and the child in his arms was familiar in a way Merlin had never thought possible.
"Igraine." He said the word softly, as though to speak louder was a sin. The youth looked up at him, his handsome features clouded.
"What does that mean?" he asked, a note of fear in his voice.
"It means," began Merlin as he ran a finger over the babe's cheek. "Sorrow... unending." The boy let out a choked laugh.
"More you should call her betrayal." The words seemed to echo through his mind, through his spirit.
He turned his head to see the distant figure raise her sword, she and Guinevere, warriors both. Then they were charging down the hillside, and the smoke that drifting over the field hid the golden hair from sight. He knew her parentage he knew the price the child of such a union would pay, he had always known... He turned his thoughts and eyes away. He could not help her this day.
Igraine rolled away from a downward stroke and rose up, her sword slashed through her opponent's neck. She turned as she heard Guinevere's shout, Guinevere had struck the ground, a huge black bearded Saxon stood over her, Igraine leapt Guinevere and blocked the huge man's sword stroke that would have taken the older woman's life. She spun, her hair glinting in the sunlight as she parried his return stroke. Guinevere crawled away as Igraine twirled her blade and dagger striking the Saxon's sword. Guinevere stood and grabbed and axe. She swung it into the face of another Saxon and paused.
She saw the Saxon leader from the lake kill two of her people and her rage boiled over. Leaping a Saxon body she grabbed a sword and engaged the man.
Lancelot took the blow and rolled from his horse. Hitting the ground he came up and slashed open a Saxon throat. He turned and slammed his other sword into another Saxon's chest pulling both swords out he danced backwards, his swords singing their deadly song. He turned and hacked through a Saxon standing over a Woad. The woad stood and gave him a nod. Lancelot returned the nod and turned to face another who approached him from behind.
Tristan sliced through his opponent, his sword dancing in a sudden beam of sunlight. He took a step forwards and a slight smile touched his features as he approached the blonde Saxon leader. They circled each other warily, then the blows came, fast and hard, they spun away from each other only to join with a ringing of metal again. Tristan knew that his first mistake would likely be his last with an opponent such as this. And then it happened. The Saxon's sword cut him and his sword went from his fingers.
He waited for an opportunity, the dagger from his breastplate seemed small in his hand. But the Saxon gave him back his sword. But he knew he was done for, he felt the pain in his limbs, then he was down again. He felt a jerk and knew the end had come... High above a hawk let out a cry...
Arthur turned to see Tristan fall. And felt a tremor run through him as time stood still a moment. Then he was slashing and cutting his way towards the barbarian who had taken his knights life, pain and anger warring inside him as warm blood was spat on his face as he opened an artery.
Lancelot felt the breeze even amidst the press of bodies on the battlefield.
He turned his head to see if he could spy his friend, and there he was, His praetorian armor glinting in the sun, his helmet lost. Then Lancelot was slashing and killing he turned again and saw two women with blue paint and blood on their skin battling together against their opponent's.
His feelings warred within him, and then as he glanced back towards the women he saw one of them stumble, her golden hair glinting even on the battlefield, his heart leapt even though he saw her rise up but a moment later. His mind was now made up.
He turned away and saw his faithful horse nearby. He smiled now and ran swiftly to the great roan horse. He returned one of his swords to it's scabbard as he raced across the field, Roshian cleared a path before him, and he used his sword while they ran and then they were arching through hot flames. And the body underneath him did not flinch once.
Igraine rolled away from a heavy downward blow from the black bearded Saxon, and came up next to Guinevere. They gave each other a glance and quick grin before turning back to their opponent's Igraine could feel the tiredness beginning to ebb into her limbs. She pulled a Dagger as she backed away from the huge man, carelessly she threw it at him and as he ducked she rammed her sword through his stomach. She ran forwards and leapt on the back of anther Saxon, her last dagger slicing into his neck.
Jumping away as he crumpled she grabbed a Saxon sword from the ground and swung at another Saxon, her only thoughts on surviving a few more hours.
Guinevere crawled backwards as the Saxon approached her, the slash on his forehead from Igraine's arrow lending him an even more sinister appearance as he prepared to kill her, and then as his blade descended a pair of crossed blades intercepted his blade with a loud clang. Swiftly she rolled away as her rescuer kicked the Saxon in the stomach. The two men exchanged a flurry of blows as Guinevere turned away and saw Igraine in a knot of Saxons. She was whirling and striking, but blood was trickling down her right arm, and Guinevere saw with horror that an arrow was ldged near her shoulder.
With a cry Guinevere lashed out at two of those nearest to Igraine. The other woman never even broke rhythm; she just killed another of the Saxons, her arms blurring and her eyes hard. Guinevere stepped close to her back, without a word the two began defending each other and themselves.
Arthur thrust and hacked, but the Saxon was good damn him. He was thrown around, his balance lost as a slash opened the armor and allowed the blood to flow from his back.
Lancelot threw the Saxon leader to the ground. He turned at the sound of a scream, he knew that voice. His face blanched as he looked across the field at the screaming woman, her sword ringing out as she fought to stay on her feet. Fear rise up inside her.
He began to run when suddenly something hit him in the shoulder, his eyes fastened on the figure of the blonde Saxon leering from where he held the spent Crossbow. Lancelot didn't remember drawing back his arm but he felt the sword fly from his fingers. Then he was falling, his feet no longer supporting him, as he crumpled.
Igraine saw the sword coming but was just too slow, she screamed as pain ripped through her, she slashed out with her sword, catching the one who'd wounded her in the side. Her eyes were wild and she seemed almost possessed as she swung her sword and hit another of the Saxons hard. The sword stuck between his ribs and so she punched the next Saxon who came at her. His nose crumpled and she grabbed his sword from his hands and slammed it into his stomach before kicking him off it. She spun away as she realised two Wad had attacked her other opponent's. She paused at the sight that she beheld. He was n his knees, his dark eyes filled with surprise and confusion.
She felt a terrible fear rising up in her as stumbled away from Guinevere, she tripped on a body and began to crawl. He fell down onto his side, his eyes were looking at her. He seemed to try to ask a question as she pulled closer. She spat blood from her mouth, a stray thought telling her she should not have blood in her mouth.
She leaned over him as he shifted onto his back. Silently she touched the arrow, blood pulsed weakly around it...
She simply lay next to him as a terrible certainty filled her. He pulled her close to his side with a tenderness that made her sob.
"Igraine I..." his words were slurred with pain.
"I'm here..." she murmured, her heart breaking into tiny pieces as she saw the blood flecking his lips.
"I love you." A single tear fell from her eye as she laid her head next to his.
Guinevere turned at a cry from Igraine and saw her crawling over the blood soaked earth towards a figure in metal armor, he fell onto his back and then they lay next to each other. Guinevere felt tears in her eyes as she fought another Saxon, desperate to reach Igraine's side.
Arthur fell to his knees. Suddenly in his mind's eye he saw his father. The hair of sandy blonde shining in the sunlight as he carried his son on his shoulders. His father picking pale blue flowers, his mother weeping when his father left on a mission, her tears through the days he was away, her screams as she died. His fingers tightened on his sword. He slammed it backwards. He felt rather than saw or heard the Saxon falling. He turned and gripped the man's hair. The man said something, but in that moment he cared not, for memories had taken him.
"Arthur, I would die for you." She had come to him, slender and small in the gloom of the Hall of the Round Table, like a shade Merlin had followed her, blue tattoo's on one side of his face giving him even more the appearance of one of the dead. He had sat open mouthed as the two figures one old and bent as he held his spear, on small and slender, young but bent under pain and responsibility had told him things he refused to believe.
They were true.
Now hw to finish it. Tell me how you want it to end...