Here's chapter three. I've been working a lot today on chapter four and I might finish it by tonight so I'll post three for you in the mean time. Wow, I didn't really expect that sort of reaction for chapter 2...wow. That's a very high compliment though from my wonderful reviewers, thank you. I hope you enjoy chapter three and don't forget to review! Thanks.
Chapter 3 – Strength of a Legend
The knight's camp was almost silent. An occasional snort from one of the horses or the sound of the rain, or some woodland animal stirring about in the trees broke the quiet state. Every noise woke Lancelot; he could find no peace that night. He looked down at Arthur, absently stroking back his dark hair with one hand, his other held his friend's hand. The cold rain showed no signs of letting up and the tree they were under provided some shelter, but not much. Arthur suddenly shivered. A look of concern crossed Lancelot's face and he leaned forward, briefly letting go of Arthur's hand to unfasten his cloak and lay it over his friend.
Awakened by Lancelot's movement, Arthur's grey eyes slowly opened to look up at his first knight.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Lancelot said softly, "Go back to sleep."
Arthur looked up at him. "It was not your fault, Lancelot," he whispered hoarsely.
The Sarmation's dark eyes looked away, filled again with pain. "Go back to sleep," Lancelot took up Arthur's hand again, watching the other knights sleep.
Arthur squeezed Lancelot's hand but winced suddenly as his side throbbed. It would need to be stitched as soon as they returned to the fort. For now, the bandages would do.
Lancelot looked down at him again. "Go to sleep," he said putting his hand on Arthur's forehead.
In the small amount of time awake, Arthur felt his energy drained. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Lancelot sighed once Arthur was asleep. "It was my fault," the knight whispered to himself, "I hurt you. It's all my fault."
Silence once again ruled over the camp. Tristan watched from under another tree. He had listened to Lancelot's quiet murmurings to his wounded captain. It was hard to know exactly what was going on in battle, they all know that. It was even harder at times to distinguish friend from foe. Tristan shifted under his cloak at the thought of what had happened that day. Lancelot blaming himself was understandable, but none of the knights would have ever accused him of purposely hurting any of them, least of all Arthur.
Perched in the tree above the man in thought sat the hawk. Her eyes carefully roamed the woods surrounding them. She watched over Bors snoring softly under a tree across the clearing and Dagonet nearby; Gawain under the next tree with Galahad next to him, his head leaning on his friend's shoulder. Lastly, she watched over Lancelot, Arthur's head resting in his lap.
The movement was so slight that Tristan's eyes missed it in the darkness; but the hawk's didn't. She flapped her wings in the rain, rustling the tree. Below, Tristan didn't look up, but glanced quickly into the woods, searching for movement. The waters had been startled by the bird and moved from their positions. There it was, blue motion amidst the darkness.
"Woads!" Tristan jumped up; bow in hand and arrow ready.
The blue warriors charged at the camp, but they were met by armed knights, ready for a fight at any moment.
"Ya haven't had enough, huh?" Bors shouted wielding his knuckle-blades, "You want some more Bors? I'll take you all on!"
Beside him, Dagonet spun his sword in his hand. How could they have been so foolish to think that the Woads wouldn't attack when their captain was wounded. Out of the corner of his eye, Dagonet saw Lancelot on his feet, Arthur still behind him, under the treet. All of the knights would watch out for not only Arthur, but also the impulsive Lancelot. The spark was in the man's dark eyes; guilt, doubt, anger...revenge. They could cause a mistake, make a man vulnerable.
In an instant every weapon was a blur in the hands of his owner. Gawain and Galahad fought side-by-side as Lancelot and Arthur had in the battle previous. They lead off each other's movements, acting as one. Many of the knights before had done this; two warriors together could watch each other's backs. Dagonet and Bors fought together. Tristan could watch his own back; the lone wolf. But this scrap found Lancelot on his own. He was far from defenseless, with two swords whirling around him. Rain fell on his face, blurring his vision and making his dark curls stick to his forehead.
A single Woad snuck around behind the knights, his determined eyes on Lancelot; on the most vulnerable man. He glanced over at his comrades creating the distraction again. The moment arose. The Woad gripped his weapon and ran out from behind his hiding place. It was Gawain this time who saw the movement out of the corner of his eye.
"Lancelot!" he cried, "Behind you!"
Lancelot turned just as the Woad who thought his plan was perfect was cut down, a look of confusion crossing his face as he fell. Arthur stumbled slightly from the overpowering weight of Excalibur, but he still had the strength to wield it. Lancelot's eyes widened in surprise; Arthur had saved his life again.
The other Woads saw their leader cut down by the man they had wounded earlier that day. That was enough to convince them that they could not win this round. They quickly retreated back into the woods, leaving the Sarmation knights standing in a circle in the small clearing.
Dagonet inwardly let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the others just in time to see their commander collapse.
Lancelot caught Arthur and lowered him onto the ground. The Roman grabbed his side for a moment, when he removed his hand the palm was covered in blood; the rain slowly washed it away.
The knights ran over, but left room for Tristan to get closer. He looked up at Lancelot, "You need to take him to the fort."
For once, Lancelot opened his mouth and nothing came out. Why me? Everything I have done has made things worse!
"Now," Tristan added, motioning to Gawain to get Arthur's horse.
Taking a deep breath, Lancelot nodded and looked down at Arthur again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It repeated over and over in his head. Arthur's eyes were squeezed shut, his face even paler than before.
Gawain brought the white horse over and Lancelot didn't hesitate to jump up on her back, there was not a moment to loose, it would be a long ride in the rain, but it could not wait. He had to do this, he had to.
Once Dagonet and Bors had lifted Arthur up again on the horse, Lancelot wrapped his cloak around him; it was already soaking wet, but it was better than nothing.
Dagonet looked up at the younger knight, "We'll stay here tonight, meet you at the fort tomorrow."
"We'll see you there," Lancelot replied, calmer than he was inside, and then nudged the horse forward with his heels. She started out slow, but extended her gait smoothly into a gallop, sensing the urgency of their nighttime departure from the others.
Arthur's head rested against Lancelot's shoulder, the knight's arm across his chest again, holding him secure. "I will bring you home," Lancelot whispered, almost as if he was reassuring himself as they rode through the rainy woods.