Camreyn-Not everyone dies, but there are going to be some casualties. I'm updating every two days, so not too long then, I hope? (Also, you each put one hand on the bow and two fingers above the arrow and two below). By the way, please hint, it tells me what you want :-D

Slightly-psychotic-Yeah, I'm not so fond of the romance either. This chapter's my favourite though, because I've sort of found a balance (i.e.; there's action and romantic crap). Plus, what is a Mary-Sue? I'm English.

ChildlikeEmpress-I made it up myself, I like poetry, no-one can tell you its wrong ;-)

MaLooLa-I didn't really warm to Guinevere in the film, but the way I see Aibhilín is the way I think they should have portrayed Guinevere. Aibhilín is said AH-vih-leen, according to the Gaelic names translator I found it on. Personally, I think it's pronounced Abe-hill-in, but go with the flow, whatever feels right to you.

Midnight Conqueror-Thank you! I'm going back to school on the second, which might slow everything down, but I'm still going to try and update every two days.

OK, here is the chapter on the ice, where you finally meet the other two girls. There is some mushy romantic crap in this one, so if you didn't like the last chapter, tough luck. There is some action in it though, so you might like it (I hope...).

IMPORTANT!!!- I'm thinking of killing off one of the original four (Aibhilín, Guinevere, Leofwen or Ealusaid). Who should it be? Cast your vote in your review, and I'll give you the results in the next update.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

Chapter V: Blood on Ice

The drumming grew closer.

"But you are seven against two hundred!" Alecto, the spawn of Honorius protested.

"Nine" Guinevere spoke for the two of them. Aibhilín counted her arrows, and then looked up. She could see some of the knights looked apprehensive. "I never miss" she said reassuringly.

Guinevere smiled as well, and they took up their positions beside the knights. Almost as soon as she did so, the Saxons appeared, tramping across the ice.

"There are a large number of lonely men out there" Lancelot said quietly to Aibhilín. She could sense that he was trying to say more than he could, but before she cold reply, Guinevere cut in.

"Don't worry, I won't let them rape you" A smile played about the ragged features of many of the knights, but Aibhilín shot her younger sister a look that spoke volumes to a sister.

The Saxons rounded their way around the curve of the mountain. Most of them contorted their faces in what passed for a smile when they saw the nine of them. One of them who had a braided beard seemed to be in command. He looked at them calculatingly, and Aibhilín felt a wash of revulsion. He just seemed to be watching them.

"Bors, Tristan?" Arthur said courteously. The two of them raised their bows.

"We are far out of range!" Guinevere exclaimed.

Tristan gave a small smile, and fired; Bors too. They reached the Saxons and buried themselves in the hearts of two of them. Guinevere gave a small and embarrassed blush

At a signal from Arthur, all of them raised their bows.

"Shoot at the outside ranks. Make them cluster!" Arthur ordered. Obediently, they fired, every arrow finding its target. The outside ranks did indeed cluster, and they looked apprehensive. They were still getting closer though, and the knights were almost in their range. More arrows pushed them together, and Aibhilín was reminded of something she had long forgotten.

"The still element that holds all potential" Aibhilín murmured while, as if in slow motion, the ice let out a long and menacing crack. The ice still did not shatter though.

"It's not breaking. Prepare for combat" As they started to pull out swords and daggers, Dagonet started to run across the ice. Ignoring the shouts from behind him, he ran for the centre and started to raise his axe, hacking away at the ice.

"Dag! What are you doing!" Bors shouted. All of them stared as he ran out into the line of fire.

Aibhilín hated this feeling of powerlessness. She was not used to it; it was not in her nature. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure slid down the side of the mountain. On closer inspection, it was two people, one holding a shield and the other a bow. The sword was waved aloft in the air. Aibhilín took her cue. She broke into a run across the ice.

Leofwen took down her sword, and stuck it in its sheath. She whispered to Ealusaid. "She saw"

Ealusaid nodded and began an onslaught of arrows. The Saxons turned away from Dagonet and Aibhilín and towards them. Some started to shoot, but the girls were sliding down fast, and it was hard to hit them. Also, Leofwen was covering them with the shield.

Ealusaid hit the ground running and ran straight into the arms of the Saxons. She stuck her bow on her back and pulled out twin daggers-both wickedly sharp and pointed. She began plunging them into Saxons. At first they merely treated her as a pest, and expected her to die at the hands of one of the two hundred Saxons surrounding her, but when she proved how competent she was, they all started to swamp her. As she had hoped, their attention was turned away from Aibhilín and Dagonet. It gave them a window of chance.

Leofwen waited, pulling her own bow off her back and holding an arrow poised and ready. Her eyes scanned the seven stationary fighters, and she saw Guinevere. She had her own bow raised and was firing rapidly at the Saxons who had their bows trained on her sister. She was firing rapidly, but she still saw Leofwen. Because of that, she was distracted, and one archer who was meant to die did not. His own arrow travelled to Aibhilín and caught her in her ankle as she ran. She fell, but literally dragged herself across the ice. She skidded along until she was just next to Dagonet. Just as another arrow head for Dagonet, she threw up her arm and used her quiver to block it. Dagonet threw down his shield to her, and she hid behind it, protecting the two of them. Dagonet hacked again at the ice, the small spears and chips flying out and wounding Aibhilín's face. She shut her eyes instinctively, and when she opened them again, the first thing she saw was Ealusaid. She was fighting for her life, and her face was set-cold and merciless. Aibhilín looked up at her just as the Saxon leader raise his own bow.

He fired once.

Ealusaid looked down at herself, where an arrow protruded from her stomach, between her hip and her abdomen. She fell, her daggers leaving her grasp involuntarily and landing a metre or two away. She collapsed to her knees.

Guinevere gasped as she saw Ealusaid crumple to the ground. Her hands searched vainly for her daggers, which she clutched in her hands tightly, as if loath to let them go.

The Saxons, believing her to be fatally wounded turned their attention to Aibhilín. The man with the braided beard smiled, and raised his bow again. Aibhilín had let the shield drop as she stared at her dying friend. He took full advantage of the lull and raised another arrow to his bow. He aimed at Aibhilín. She saw him aim the arrow at her head, but she could not move. Even Dagonet seemed to pause. The ice cracked again, but she did not move. She could not move.

Time seemed to stop. As if in slow-motion, Aibhilín saw the bowstring strain and the arrow fly. Suddenly, as the arrow was half-way across the ice, two arrows hit him simultaneously, sticking out at right angles. Aibhilín barely had time to register this when the arrow caught her in the shoulder. She screamed in pain as the arrow dug into her flesh.

Guinevere lowered her bow and watched as her sister fell back wards onto the ice. She could not use the left side of her body because of the arrows in her shoulder and ankle, and yet she still tried to shield Dagonet. She was almost collapsing with the effort. It was clear that she was exhausted, and Guinevere's instinct was telling her that her sister would die soon. Yet somehow, she couldn't move. She could only watch and wait.

Leofwen put down her bow and stared at Guinevere. They had both moved to save Aibhilín, and now they man had two arrows in him, the same as Aibhilín. She watched as the man she was defending took another two arrows. However, he still raised the axe and thudded it into the ice. It cracked and spread as if alive. He fell under, into the hole he had created. Aibhilín kept her balance, moving away from the crack but another arrow thudded into her shield, which she dove behind. That movement caused the ice to fracture again, and she fell straight through as well.

Ealusaid watched through her bed of pain as the ice cracked around her. She waited for the freezing cold waters to engulf her, but instead she felt a throbbing pain just by her shoulder. She looked up and saw Leofwen, standing up on a rock. Wrapped around her wrist was a length of rope. Her eyes travelling down it, she saw that it was attached to the arrow that had just grazed her shoulder. Ealusaid cottoned on and grabbed the arrow. Wincing, she grabbed it and started to crawl along, grasping the arrow in both hands. The ice broke at an alarming rate, and soon she was on the brink of icy cold waters. As she started to fall, she grabbed the arrow. She slid round and into the ice, but her head and arms were free. She started to climb onto the ice, but it broke again, and she was floating in the water. Her legs were going numb and her arms seemed to be frozen in a position above her head.

Leofwen tugged on the rope, and Ealusaid drifted easily towards the mountainside. She was certainly very still, and all of the blood was draining out of her face. The arrow must have gone in very deep. Leofwen's heart leapt into her mouth when she saw the water around her getting bloodstained; the movement must have been damaging the wound further.

Leofwen leapt down to the lakeside and pulled Ealusaid out. Her stomach was bleeding fast, staining the pure white snow around it. Leofwen pried the arrow out of her hand, and fitted it to her bow again. She looked over to Guinevere, and let her bow drop.

"Oh no" she breathed. "Oh no"

Cold water, rushing around, swirling between her hair. The cold bit into her eyes and drained the blood from her face, tightening the skin, stretching and manipulating it. She had been in water like this before. She and Leofwen had gone down to the water near their tribe and tried to swim to the other side. She had walked, enjoying the slow, gradually increasing motion of the water as it climbed up her sides. Suddenly, the mud has disappeared from beneath her feet and she had fallen. She couldn't find her feet again and it was lucky that she had been pulled out by Leofwen. She had felt so scared at first, but she had conquered it-or so she thought. The sun-warmed lake that had shone green and blue was nothing compared to the ice white storm grey salt sharpness of this frozen loch.

Sinking by her was Dagonet. He stared at her once, and she saw gratefulness shine out of his eyes. He didn't blame Aibhilín for any of this. She could see the peaceful expression on his face. His hand drifted closer to Aibhilín, and she grabbed it, willing him to hold on and live, as if her touch out give him life. But he did not seem able to hold onto her hand, and all that was left in her hand was a ring that he always wore. She clasped her hand around, and resolved herself to watch as he sank into an icy blackness. She felt unbidden tears mingle with the salt water of the lake. Suddenly something grabbed her, and she was propelled upwards. She watched as Dagonet disappeared, his axe drifting free from his hand. Aibhilín watched as that too, left its owner for the first time, never to be reclaimed again. She opened her mouth the scream, but only water flooded in. She had never felt so much emotional and physical torture.

That's when she stopped breathing. It was just easier.

Guinevere felt ice splinter her heart as she watched her sister fall through. All that she could see was her sister's huge green eyes, staring at her just as they closed and she slipped.

Suddenly, she ran. She ran across the ice so fast that she felt completely detached from her legs. Behind her she could hear other people running-two of them. They were keeping up with her well, but at least one of them was running as urgently as her. Regardless of the breaking ice, she threw herself down and she peered into the dark depths of the water. Lancelot and Bors were behind her. They both knelt next to her and scanned the waters with their eyes. They saw nothing, but just as they were on the point of desperation, they saw Dagonet's axe floating past.

Guinevere cast a glance at Bors, whose tough, battle-scarred face crumpled. She felt truly sorry for him, and wished that she knew the right thing to say, but her throat and brain did not seem to be linked any more. Instead, she turned her face back to the water. She leaned in even more, until her nose was almost touching the water. Suddenly, she plunged her hand in.

Lancelot looked at her, where her hand was searching the water. It looked like she was diving blindly; but then, he saw a wave of black hair swaying with the water. She looked deceptively close, but Guinevere could not reach her.

Suddenly, Lancelot made a snap decision. He dug his own dagger into the ice. It was shorter than the depth of the ice, and only caused a small split. It would not break up too soon. He placed his sword by that, and, grabbing the dagger with his left hand, slid in.

It was agony-the water was so cold, it froze his entire skin. His leather tunic and metal mail did nothing to prepare him for the cold. And also, the chain-mail was weighing him down. It was helping him descend faster, but he was fighting against his desire for breath and his desire to close his eyes. He focused only on Aibhilín. She wasn't even trying to swim anymore, and she was sinking into the depths.

Lancelot swam down quickly and was close, so close. He could almost touch Aibhilín now...and he suddenly was propelled forward as the dagger came loose and he was left with it in his hand. Whilst he had the chance, he grabbed Aibhilín by the waist, pulling her into him and starting to move upwards with his free hand. It was not easy, and he was dying for a breath. He swam upwards, fighting the cold, the lack of air, the way his muscles were screaming out for a rest. He just focused on Aibhilín, and saving her.

His head broke the surface, and he could honestly say that that was the most relieved he had ever been in his whole life. Guinevere said nothing, but nearly fell in herself trying to pull Aibhilín out. Bors hauled Lancelot out, and he shivered in the cold air. His part was done...or so he thought.

Guinevere bent over her sister's body. As she did so, an arrow flew through the air, skidding across the snow and nearly falling into the lake where many Saxon bodies were floating. Gawain picked it up.

"It has runes or markings on it" he declared, his face rumpled. Guinevere looked up, and snatched the arrow away. She stared intently at the arrow, engraved with the Laguz rune, the Hagalaz rune, and the Sowilo rune with a slash through it. She stared at the mountainside, and suddenly waved the arrow in the air. The knights looked on bemusedly, and she turned to them.

"Leofwen and Ealusaid, my friends are coming down the mountain. Ealusaid is wounded" She turned to Arthur. "Can we not help them?"

Arthur did not question how this she knew this, and instead looked up the mountain. There were two people there, one of which was practically dragging the other. "Yes" he nodded. "Tristan, Bors?" he asked. Tristan started to ride willingly, but Bors hung back, waiting by the lake in which floated the body of Dagonet. Arthur did not press it, but looked at Galahad, who rode off and up the mountainside. Guinevere did not look anymore, but instead concentrated on Aibhilín. She ran her hands over her limbs in an effort to get the circulation flowing again.

Lancelot looked at her. She was even paler than usual, and her clothes were bloodstained. Some of the arrow shafts had broken off, but they were deep and getting the heads out would not be easy. There were no signs of breathing from her. To Lancelot she looked dead.

He bent down and ran one hand down the side of her face. He still thought that she looked beautiful, unnervingly so. Not caring that Bors and Guinevere were there, to say nothing of the other knights, he covered her mouth with his and breathed his spirit into her.

Live, he willed her. Live for me. Please.

He pulled away, looking at her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took in a heaving breath. Then she sat up, coughing.

Guinevere and Lancelot breathed in identical sighs of relief. Aibhilín twisted over, towards Bors and held out her hand. She pressed something into his palm and then collapsed again with the effort. "Cold" she whispered. "Very cold"

Guinevere put her own cloak over her, but Aibhilín was already slipping back into sleep. Guinevere slapped her face to keep her awake, but she stopped as she saw Tristan and Galahad return with two girls. One of them was blond, with pale curls falling about her face. She never took her eyes off of her companion, who was lying over Galahad's horse. She looked relaxed, as if in sleep, but she was bleeding heavily from the abdomen and already the blood was spilling over the bandage and tunic she wore, spotting the snow with her blood.

Leofwen, the blond one, leapt off of Tristan's horse and ran to Guinevere. She embraced her old friend and turned to Aibhilín. She pressed her hand to one of Aibhilín's numerous wounds and let the blood mingle with hers and Ealusaid's. She grinned at Guinevere.

"Blood of friends, death and life. Battle and conflict, war and strife" She placed a bloody handprint on the snow and turned to Guinevere. "This is our reunion. Death and pain"

Guinevere said nothing but embraced her friend again. "Is Ealusaid...?"

"Not yet, but..." Both of them turned to her. She looked serene and natural, even as the blood of life was drained from her, drop by drop. The two girls said nothing else, but turned to each other for comfort, as one ray of hope in a dark time.

I really hate myself...oh well. Next chapter up soon, but I'm trying to get a Charmed fic off of the ground right now.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

P.S Reviews make my fingers type faster (hint hint!)