Chapter Eight

Lancelot concentrated on the host of Irish, his horse pawing the ground as it anticipated the coming charge. They were all awaiting Arthur's signal – even Lindon seemed content to let the Roman choose the moment. But then, Lindon had never been rumoured as a battle leader. His presence had at first caused the knights some confusion, but who were they to question the ways of the Britons? Lancelot pushed his thoughts aside. He could theorise later.

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Auria looked across to Ganal, who met her gaze. Her eyes flicked to Lindon and back again, and Ganal nodded. He was to watch out for their leader.

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Arthur raised his sword, and a battle cry went up from the knights. It echoed across the valley, and was joined by that of the nine Britons as the group spurred their horses, galloping towards the enemy without fear or hesitation. They moved as one, but every single man or woman concentrated on their own target – picked out their first victim, and flew as if on wings to hasten Irish deaths.

The Irish crouched, stakes pointing upwards from a hastily-erected shield wall to defend against the charge but Lancelot's horse, well-trained to the point of being almost telepathic, leaped the barrier and trampled those too slow to dive out of the way. Razor-sharp iron connected with armour and unprotected limbs, and a swathe was cut through the front lines of the enemy.

Wheeling around, the knights divided in an attempt to scatter the opposing army. Auria pressed forwards into the thick of the Irish, sword cutting downwards as her horse reared and kicked out at anyone who got too close. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her men doing the same, Lindon hanging onto his reins with one hand to keep his balance. Along with the adrenaline, a rush of worry engulfed her, but she forced herself to concentrate on her own condition when an arrow whizzed past her ear.

As the Irish swarmed around the knights, the Roman foot-soldiers began their march down the hill. Irish horsemen, riding smaller beasts, were dispatched to meet them, and Bors urged his own stallion after them, screaming;

"You're mine, you bastards! Get those tiny horses back here!"

Lancelot grinned and slashed at another man who had grabbed hold of his saddle. Roman soldiers were finally meeting with Irish, but they were still greatly outnumbered. As the Irish pressed forwards he jumped from his horse, both swords drawn, and entered the fray on the ground.

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Auria took a man's head from his shoulders, then looked up as she heard her name being shouted. Lindon...he was being dragged from his horse as Ganal looked on, unable to reach him because of the number of Irish swarming about his horse. Lindon had to be saved – it was time for her people to protect their land.

She stood up in her saddle and raised her sword, holding it up as long as she could, grimacing as another arrow crossed within a hair's breadth of her chest. Irish hands reached up and pulled her to the ground, but the signal was given. Britons began to pour from the woods, on foot and in chariots, and the entire north flank of the Irish looked on in horror as painted hordes stampeded towards them.

Auria kicked out at an enemy, disarming him, then stabbed him in the neck with a dagger she'd grabbed from the sheath on her ankle. She jumped to her feet and pulled her other sword out, revelling in the feel of both blades' weight in her hands. Because she was in the middle of the battle, the Irish were many, and determined. Men pressed at her from all sides wielding swords and axes, and no matter how much she thrust and parried, it was all she could do to hold them off.

Being forced backwards by a huge Irishman, she slipped and stumbled, one hand flying out for balance and leaving her side unprotected. An axe swung towards her even as she looked on in horror, seeing the end of her battle – if not her life.

A blood-covered blade met the axe with a ring of iron and deflected it, another blade swinging in to cleave the Irishman in two. Auria looked up at met Lancelot's mirthful gaze.

He'd just saved her life and he knew it.

She grinned wolfishly back and blocked a blow she'd heard more than seen coming. He wielded his swords with such ease and grace, she felt she could watch him all day. Her own faults seemed magnified as she fought alongside him. Unfortunately, she thought, getting tips at the moment wasn't quite an option. A large bearded man seemed intent on killing her, and even though she'd just lopped off his arm, he wasn't giving up.

Lancelot, seeing her difficulty, distracted the man with a feint to his head, allowing Auria to run him through. She couldn't keep letting him help her like that – he was the first man ever to assume such a role, and she hated the fact that she enjoyed it. Spinning round to the knight's other side, she hacked into the men who were pressing against him, resolving to repay him somewhat for his protection of her. If only to make herself feel better...

Lancelot fought with a grin on his face. It looked as if the woman could handle her blades after all. She was taking care of his blind-side, showing not only skill but also respect for him as a battle partner. Once again he thought back to how he'd spoken to her both times they'd met – mocking her...testing her.

He glanced at her face – blood-spattered, determined, but still beautiful. She had certainly passed all his tests.

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Arthur knew, as the Britons joined the fray, that he'd made the right decision. They fought like demons...like people who had everything to lose. Romans couldn't inspire the same fear into the Irish as the natives could. Roman soldiers were too regimented, too predictable. The natives seemed possessed.

And the woman – Auria. She was handling her weapons like a skilled warrior should...as were all her men. Her horsemen had impressed his own knights, he knew. Their courage and skill were not lost upon the Sarmatians...Arthur thought that they had all gained a new respect for the Britons that day.

He looked for the Welsh leader. Out of all of the warriors, he sat least comfortably upon his horse. Auria seemed concerned for him – a barely perceptible uneasy glance spoke more than words ever could. Lindon, however, was nowhere to be seen in the fray. Bodies, dirt and blood were too thick to make out faces. Arthur hoped the man had survived thus far.

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Slowly but surely, the Irish fell, but Roman and native casualties rose almost as high. Towards the end of the battle, Tristan stood outside the circle of fighting, picking off men with his bow and arrow. His keen eyes picked out the man who had ridden next to him into the fray. He stood over a body, his stance betraying his anger and despair.

Lindon had fallen, and Ganal uselessly defended his corpse.

Tristan sighed inwardly – it was not good news for the Britons. The Romans were now taking control of the field – slaying the last remaining Irish. Some soldiers even began to move amongst the bodies, killing anyone still alive, and some stood around with little to do but get their breath back.

Auria and Lancelot had fought together, making an unassailable obstacle to anyone who challenged them. There was no-one left to take up their offer, however, and Tristan watched as Auria sheathed one of her swords. She pushed back her hair with her free hand and glanced about, checking up on her men. Her eyes alighted on the man Tristan had been watching previously, and she tensed.

Lancelot looked down at her curiously, and as she began to walk away from him, he followed her with his gaze. She broke into a run, and he called her name.

Ignoring him, she crossed the battlefield. Tristan covered her with his bow in case someone should impede her – a woman with her courage should not die in the last moments of conflict just because a greater concern than her own life had entered into her head.

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Gasping for breath but finding none, Auria made it to Ganal and knelt beside him, looking looked down on Lindon, whose eyes were fixed on the sky. He had died looking to the heavens, at least...

She stood and met Arthur's gaze across the battlefield. Something was building within her – it had started the moment she'd spied Lindon's body...a kind of despair...rage...helplessness against greater forces than her own. She wanted to scream, but was too tired. Arthur's eyes were impenetrable...but for the briefest of moments he inclined his head. An acknowledgement of her sacrifice. The sacrifice of her people.

She wiped at the blood dripping past her eyes, covering her hand in fresh red, and looked to her right, to Ganal. A few others were coming over – shock, horror, despair all written on their faces. They were looking to her for some kind of statement...some kind of explanation. She had to remain strong, for their sakes. Lindon was not the only one who had died that day.

"Take his body back to the settlement" Auria instructed two of the men. "Ganal – those who can must help the wounded. Post a guard over the bodies of our fallen – we will return for them once those still alive have been tended." Her eyes scanned the valley – over half of the warriors who had run into battle were dead, it seemed. She hoped there would be enough left alive to deal with them as was the custom of their people. All that, however, could be taken care of later.

After the two men had left, bearing Lindon's corpse, Ganal placed a hand on Auria's shoulder.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"He was dragged from his horse...I couldn't reach him"

"I should have been nearer"

"It wasn't your fault – he insisted on riding into battle"

"I should have stopped him" Auria said.

"He was our leader...it was his own choice and none of us could have stood in his way."

"But look what good it's done us. Who is our leader now?"

Ganal stood silent for a moment, then said;

"You?"

Auria barked a bitter laugh. "I cannot lead – my skills are in conflict, not in peace!"

"The people look up to you"

"They fear me. I am not one of you, Ganal, no matter how long I've lived with you...no matter what services I've done you. Everyone knows I wasn't born in this land...I cannot lead you"

"Us, Auria. You are one of us"

Auria shook her head and sighed. "I don't know. Perhaps you should lead us. Them."

Ganal knew how much Auria blamed herself. It wasn't she who agreed to side with the Romans, or who put Lindon's life in danger – Lindon had done all that himself. Auria was simply left to pick up the pieces. It was something no-one should be asked to do. He knew he must comfort her if she were to get them through this dark time.

"We have until the next full moon" he said. "We must concentrate on healing...rebuilding...this battle has been won, Auria. We are still a free people"

"Yes..." Auria agreed. "The battle has been won...but what of the war?"

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Lancelot watched the Britons make their slow way towards the woods, carrying their wounded and fallen, ignoring the Romans they walked amongst. It seemed that now the battle was over, they just wanted to return to their own world. He didn't blame them.

Auria wandered by herself in the midst of the field, nudging an occasional body with her foot to see its face. She was covered in blood and dirt, but still retained a grace of movement which even exhaustion couldn't take away. He started to move towards her, but a strong hand on his shoulder stayed him. He turned to face Arthur.

"Leave her, Lancelot"

Lancelot looked to the woman again, with half a mind to disobey his leader's command. Arthur sighed audibly.

"Lindon is dead – you cannot help her"

"She looks as if she has the world on her shoulders" Lancelot observed. The way she was keeping apart from the rest of her people – waiting until they had all left the battlefield before leaving herself. Arthur nodded.

"She may have to lead her people now"

A thought suddenly occurred to Lancelot.

"What of the full moon?"

"That is when our truce ends"

Lancelot studied Arthur. He knew that was the agreement, but...

"Will you honour that part of the contract?"

Arthur gave Lancelot a look which brooked no argument.

"Tolimus will honour it if I do not"

Arthur knew he spoke the truth. The Britons, by the number of their dead, had been decimated. A Roman attack would surely finish them for good, and after their actions that day he railed against such a fate. It was better that he and his knights launch the first offensive after the truce, than Tolimus with the whole Roman army descend upon Auria and her people. Tolimus would not show mercy.

The knights turned from watching the woman. Nothing could be done – their purpose together had been served. Lancelot knew he would see her again though, for better or for worse.