Title: Forever More

Author: Can you say meeeeeeeeee????????

Author's Note: I think this is the farthest I've ever written for a story. Normally I can't even get past chapter two so cheers to today when I finally start chapter ten. Lucky number I suppose. Although eight is a whole lot better.

Disclaimer: through muffled sobs OKOK! I don't own King Arthur!

Chapter 10: †To Rescue the Marius's†

Lancelot's horse had already been saddled up and geared to go. The stable where he had spoken to Arthur previously now doubled as an armory. With shields, axes, swords, spears, pikes, armor, and halberds among other things hanging upon the walls far away from the horses, the armory was a well equipped place. The room was silent as Lancelot walked in. The rest of the knights were making last refinements to their weapons, although they were by now, spotless. No one raised their head from their work when Lancelot entered. No one really wanted to acknowledge the fact that their freedom was being postponed. They had worked for so long, only to learn that once again, the Romans and their 'holy' father had another secret that they had forgotten to mention. A dark cloud of pessimism hung over their heads as the sun's light first crept into the stables, awakening the sleepy horses.

Lancelot hurriedly clasped his armor on. Slipping into his shirt of chain mail, he then fastened his thick, leather breastplate on. Shoulder plates fell easily beside his neck as he tightened his belt and fixed his arms with metal arm-guards and his shins with metal guards as well. Then snatching his twin swords from off the wall, he with a deft motion, slid them into their scabbards on his back. By the time Arthur walked into the stable, the rest of the knights were beginning to lead their horses from their stalls and out into the little courtyard that was connected outside. No one spoke to him but he understood. They needed time to get over what was actually happening.

Squire Jols had just finished packing all the equipment when Arthur stopped him. Placing a hand on the squire's shoulder, Arthur examined all the excess armor and weapons that had been strapped onto the horses.

"Keep it simple," he said. "We don't want to be weighed down. We travel light and fast. There is no need for full Sarmatian battle gear."

Jols nodded and hurriedly unstrapped all the heavy armor from the nickering horses.

When everything had been packed, Arthur rode out on his snow, white horse. His head was still held high even though the heavy burden of melancholy weighed down on his chest. Then immediately, they broke forth from the courtyard, spurring their horses into action. Nobody looked back as they thundered down the small dirt road towards the gate that was being pulled pen by two heavy draft horses and many more men. Nobody looked back except Lancelot. His eyes wandered across the building that was slowly receding behind him, searching for something. Suddenly he spotted a figure appear at a tall window on the upper level of the building. It was Kera.

The two locked eyes for a split second, as Kera stared hard into his face. Finally, Hadrian's gate was open and Lancelot turned back around to face the wide fields of grass growing before him. The small band of men burst through the opening, their horses' legs snapping at the ground, as slowly, the fort behind them disappeared and the broad plains of uncertainty grew larger. The sight actually moved Lancelot, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Then of course, he secretly loved adventure and couldn't help but look forward to this new challenge.

That night it rained. The storm broke and swept into the chamber through the partially opened windows. The wind raced through the small crack as the clouds were torn apart by writhing serpents of lightening. Rain lashed down against the outside walls as swirls of water danced in the air, undisturbed by the phenomenon hailing around it. The wind rattled the window panes as the flames in the small hearth across the room sputtered out. A loud clap of thunder woke Kera up as the cold whistled in and chilled the room. Sitting up in her bed, she shivered; a small creature against a sky of black. Her ears rang as she slowly got up.

Drawing an oil-slicked cloak over her shoulders and head, she limped silently out into the hall. Galla had bandaged her ankle earlier with cloth. Making sure not to fall down the same flight of steps, she made her way under a covered passageway to the stables. Earlier, after Lancelot and the other knights had left, Galla had put her to work at the loom. Her hands unaccustomed to weaving, managed to tangle the threads several times before Galla had come in and shooed her away. She had wandered aimlessly around the fort, bored out of her mind. What had really caught her attention was the stable. After slipping by the sleeping stable boy, she had watched in secret as a dressed up lady led a dappled gray horse from its stall. She did not ride the horse like the men did, but rather sideways on a saddle that had only one stirrup and a sort of leather hook where she had rested her right leg on above her left. It was an early version of a sidesaddle.

Pushing the stable doors open, she crept inside. The sleeping horses flickered their groggy eyes at the intruder. Whispering frenetically to the horses she tried to calm them down. At the very end of the aisle was a single horse that had not made a noise when she first entered. Merely hanging his regal head over the stall door, he blinked his long white lashes at her. Several stalls separated the horse from the others. Pulling a sidesaddle from off the wall, Kera neared the horse to see that he was really a she. The mare was the only female horse in the entire barn.

Slipping into the stall, Kera placed the sidesaddle onto the mare's back and fastened the girth snugly. Though the saddle itself was very different than the one men rode on, it was nonetheless beautiful. With detailed stitching in the side, the saddle was black with gold threading. Made of sturdy leather, it had been polished to a gleam. Placing a simple bridle over the mare's head, Kera tightened the throatlatch.

Leading the horse from her stall, Kera stepped up onto a railing which bordered the room and, with much difficulty, swung into the saddle. Resting her injured leg on the hook, she placed her left foot into the stirrup and sat back for a moment. A small brass nameplate had been nailed into the wooden post next to the horse's stall. On it carved in neat handwriting was the word i Nonpareil /i . Patting the mare's neck, Kera said to no one in particular, "Odd name."

Pressing her heel into the red horse's side, Kera held on tightly to the reins as Nonpareil lifted onto her hind legs for a split second. Then falling back to the ground, she sprung forward into an immediate gallop. Racing along the edge of Hadrian's Wall for about a mile, she encountered an area where the wall had crumbled and had been forgotten. Leaning forward, the two of them cleared the pile of rubble and charged off into the darkness and rain.

Even within the safety, if it could be called that, of the trees, the rain still managed to find its way through the canopy and drench the knights and their horses thoroughly. An eerie silence suspended through the trees and even the men were concerned but remained quiet to their fears. Bors looked up, squinting his eyes as water sprinkled over his face. The rain did not seem like it would stop anytime soon.

"If they are out there, why don't they attack?" Galahad asked, aware he was speaking in a whisper.

Gawain put a finger to his lips. "Ssshh…" he said as he turned his head from left to right, trying to distinguish the murky shapes in the forest.

Arthur rode at the head of the group, steering his horse around protruding rocks in the ground. His unshaven chin was scattered with drops of rain. For now, Tristran's scouting skills were not required and he dropped to the back of the group. Coming to a clearing, Arthur halted his men with the raise of his hand. His eyes skirted the trees with mistrust. There was something unnatural about the way they seemed to sway in unison as if dancing to the nonexistent breeze.

Tristran rode forward and said to Arthur in a low voice, "Woads."

Tristran was correct, for unseen by the knights, the trees were swarming with the blue creatures. They stood perched on the high branches, out of view and completely camouflaged with their surroundings. As the knights moved forward, so did the Woads, always parallel to them to stay hidden. Arthur cautiously pulled out Excalibur as he sweeping his horse around.

Suddenly the trees stilled from their sway and silence rang loud. Sidestepping, Arthur's horse tossed its head several times and stumbled. Immediately the cries of the Woads filled the air. The loud cacophony screeched as Arthur righted his horse.

"This way!" he yelled, sheathing Excalibur and wheeling his horse to the right. The knights followed him, their heads ducked low as arrows whistled over them.

Cutting in and out of the trees, Arthur led his men deeper into the forest. They rode hard, using as much of their leg as they could to urge their mounts on. Tristran gripped tightly with his knees and pulled his bow off his shoulder. Turning to the sides he fired arrows into the overhanging branches. Arthur reined in his steed as a number of arrows flew in front of their faces and thudded into the ground. Connected to the end of the arrows was a chain of spiked wire. Soon, they had formed a net of wire preventing them from going any farther.

Yanking the reins to his left, Arthur veered off in a different direction but came to a scrambling halt as a wall of sharpened wooden posts sprang up from the ground.

Deeper in the forest, as the sounds of Arthur calling out commands to his knights drifted in, a ragged Woad warrior quickly ran up to the hidden area where Merlin sat. Thrusting a dagger into the ground before him, he took a step back. Merlin pulled the dagger from the ground and ran his weathered fingers over the intricate symbols carved into the blade.

"Saxon," the Woad scout panted in Gaelic.

He had found the dagger in a British village he had passed through. All the houses had been burned to the ground, everyone killed. Not even a rat lived to tell the tale.

Immediately, Merlin's advisors began whispering among themselves worriedly, aware that this information made a change in the war they thought they were engaged in. After a moment of hurried whispering, they turned towards Merlin.

"It is time," Merlin said. "I believe there might be a purpose for this Artorius and his knights."

The war council was shocked but Merlin remained calm.

"Sound a ceasefire," he commanded. "End the attack now."

Back in the clearing, the knights and Arthur killed as many Woads as they could but it was useless for they were outnumbered greatly. Then, from deep in the forest, they heard a distant horn sounding. The Woads instantly froze and retreated back into the trees where they promptly disappeared. Arthur and his men were clearly puzzled as they looked around, their swords still ready incase the Woads surprised them again.

Wordlessly, they rode on, still confused about why the Woads had stopped fighting but were grateful. The next morning, the rain was still pouring down relentlessly. When informed that they were almost at their destination, the men's' hearts lifted and everyone continued their journey with a bit less burden on them. The trees suddenly cleared and they were left with a tall hill before them. The horses struggled up the slope, their heads inches from the ground as they strained against the weight they had to bear. Their hooves dug into the soft earth as they climbed up the hill slowly but surely. Arthur reached the top first. As the others approached, he raised his hands. The drained knights gladly stopped side by side and looked down onto the lowlands beneath them. Near the bottom of the hill lay a mansion completely surrounded by a white wall. On the outskirts of the wall were small huts. Even in the rain, small figures of people could be seen plowing their oxen through the damp fields.

"Is that it?" Lancelot asked.

Arthur nodded.

"That is the estate of Marius and his family who we are sent to rescue."

Bors patted his tired horse's neck fondly and said, "I hope they appreciate it."

They all exchanged smiles as they made their way slowly down the hill towards the house.

Author's Note: Done with chapter ten. Sucky ending but my brain hurts. Now…… on to eleven.

- for all you people that don't know what nonpareil means, it is an individual of unequaled excellence or a paragon. I just thought Paragon didn't sound as cool. It's pronounced something like non-pah-rell. Kinda weird but the world will live.