The Woad before Lancelot took a wild swing at him, aiming at the knight's throat.
Lancelot stepped back to avoid the sword, turning sideways slightly. With fierce force the sword came down on his twin swords. He staggered backwards from the impact of the blow. The grass was slippery with blood under his feet and it took him a few seconds before he regained his footing.
Lancelot heard the sword come back up before he saw it. He swiftly twirled his right sword in his hand to push it down into the chest of the Woad attacking him. His arm was halfway down, when a flash of pain erupted at his right side, trailing up across his abdomen and then over his left arm. He screamed out in agony and dropped his left sword. The pain dulled him momentarily and he just stood there. Then he focused all of his energy in bringing down his right sword and finishing off the man in front of him.
With all his weight behind the assault, he was pulled down with the motion when the Woad went down with Lancelot's sword still embedded in his chest. He tried to compensate, but his body seemed to freeze up as the pain spread through his veins. He felt his legs buckle underneath him. Another wave of pain seared through him when he landed on his knees with a thud.
–– 8 ––
With a powerful strike of his arm, Arthur beheaded the man in front of him. Stepping back he looked around and saw that the battle was all but over. A quick survey told him that the remaining Woad rebels had opted to flee. Slowly he sheathed Excalibur.
He saw how Galahad offered a hand to Gawain, and pulled him to his feet. Bors was already making his way towards his commander. Dagonet was walking towards where the horses had gathered. He caught Tristan's eye who was not far from him, who raised his long sword and pointed towards the west behind him. Following Tristan's directions, Arthur suddenly came aware of whom Tristan had been pointing at. Lancelot!
Lancelot was on his knees, leaning on his right sword for support. His left sword abandoned in the grass before him. He pressed his left arm tight against his body.
Setting off in a run towards the curly haired knight, Arthur yelled out. "Lancelot!"
All of the other knights except Tristan looked up upon hearing the scream rolling across the field. Tracing where to Arthur was running as fast as he could, they all saw how Lancelot was on his knees, his head bowed like he was praying.
Arthur reached Lancelot first, and knelt down next to the Sarmatian before he had even come to a complete halt. He saw how blood was trailing down the arm that his knight held close to his body. His face was ashen white under the speckles of blood that coated his skin and hair. Arthur became even more alarmed when Lancelot didn't acknowledge his presence.
"Lancelot?" Arthur cautiously placed his hand on the other man's shoulder.
Lancelot could feel the blood crawling over his abdomen, down his side, down his arm. He felt lightheaded. He hadn't heard how Arthur had ran up to him. He had only felt the hand on his shoulder. Slowly he looked up. He tried to focus his gaze on Arthur but it was like some kind of fog had suddenly descended on the field. He blinked but it didn't clear the fog. Suddenly he could hold him self up on his knees no more. He sat down heavily. The impact with the ground sent up intense pain through his body. He closed his eyes not to scream out. He didn't fight when darkness engulfed him.
Arthur realized Lancelot had passed out before his body had completely gone limp. He caught Lancelot in his arms before he collapsed. Carefully, he lowered his body to the ground.
The other knights had hurried towards their brother-in-arms also, and Gawain quickly assisted Arthur in unbuckling Lancelot chest armour. The full damage became visible then. Blood was flowing freely from a slash across Lancelot's abdomen. An even deeper cut in his right side where the sword had gone straight through the armour seemed to have slowed down bleeding already. The gash on his left upper arm seemed minor compared with the other wounds, but was losing blood copiously.
"Dagonet, get bandages. Galahad, water!" Arthur commanded. "We need to stop the bleeding!"
Dagonet handed the bandages to Tristan who had knelt down on the other side of Lancelot. Arthur took part of them from the scout. While Arthur tended to the wound on Lancelot's arm, Tristan pressed bandages to Lancelot's abdomen and side.
With a startled gasp Lancelot came awake again, his back arching against the intolerable pain. His eyes widened in fear and agony.
Gawain and Galahad quickly moved to kneel next to the dark knight also, and hold him down before he could injure himself any further.
"Lancelot! Don't move!" Arthur tried to get through to the Sarmatian and placed his hand on Lancelot's face.
Slowly, Lancelot moved his head and looked into Arthur's face, his eyes brilliant with pain but lucid. A curse escaped his lips when Tristan changed the blood soaked bandages and pressed down once again.
"I know it hurts like hell, but you have to stay still," Arthur said urgently. "You're bleeding badly and we have to stop it."
Arthur exchanged concerned glances with Tristan, as he began to dress the wound on Lancelot's arm. It was the one on his abdomen that was worrying both of them. It looked like it needed extensive stitching, and it was at least a two hour ride back to the wall.
Arthur stayed with Lancelot while Tristan tried his best to stop the bleeding. The Roman knew that Lancelot was still conscious but was staring at the sky blankly to try not to scream out with every change in pressure that the scout applied. "Dagonet, Bors, check whether there are any living amongst the dead. Galahad, we're going to need more bandages."
Quickly his knights spread out to follow their commander's orders.
"I don't think I can do much more than this," Tristan spoke up. "If we bandage it with wads of bandages underneath, it should keep some pressure on the wounds. We need to get him back to the fort as soon as possible. The wounds aren't life threatening, at least if we can get them closed before he bleeds out."
Arthur nodded. "Gawain, if you help him sit up on his right side, I'll take this side." Gawain nodded in compliance.
"Lancelot? Can you hear me?" Arthur turned to his fallen knight. He was relieved to see that Lancelot was still responding to him. If he were to lose consciousness, he would have to ride with one of the others, which would slow them down considerably. Although Arthur felt doubtful whether Lancelot would be able to ride by himself even if he were conscious when he saw the paleness of the Sarmatian's face. "We are going to sit you up now, so Tristan can bandage your wounds. Don't do anything, don't try to help, let us do all the work, okay?"
Lancelot nodded slowly.
Carefully Arthur and Gawain placed their hands on Lancelot's shoulders and pulled him up. Lancelot couldn't suppress a load pained groan when his abdomen suddenly seemed to be on fire.
Tristan swiftly bandaged Lancelot's abdomen and side, noticing worriedly how blood was already seeping through the bandages before he was finished. He could hear how Lancelot was panting, and he could feel how his body had started shivering in response to the pain. He quickly signaled to Arthur and Gawain to lay Lancelot back down.
Arthur watched with great concern how Lancelot closed his eyes. He too had felt it when the Sarmatian's body had started trembling minutely. Once more he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Rest now. We will soon ride back to the wall, where you can get all the rest that you need…"
Lancelot didn't respond as Arthur straightened up. The Roman looked around and saw Dagonet walking towards him. With one last glance at Lancelot, he walked to meet him halfway.
"They're all dead," Dagonet confirmed. He raised his arm and showed Arthur the sword he was holding in it. "I found this close to one of the bodies. It's not from Woad origin. It's much smaller and longer." Turning it over, he added, "And it has markings like nothing that the Woads have."
Arthur took the sword out of Dagonet's hands, and inspected it closely. It felt surprisingly light in his hands. Dagonet was right, this was not a Woad sword. "We'll take it with us. We're going to have to leave soon if we want to return before it gets dark. I just hope Lancelot is able to make the ride…"
–– 8 ––
Arthur had never before been so glad to see the wall doom up in front of them. They had been riding for three hours already, and sunset was near.
Arthur and Galahad were both riding very closely next to Lancelot's black stallion, each on a different side. During the first hour of their ride back, the curly haired knight had been able to endure the pain and they had been able to move at a reasonable speed. Lancelot had held his left arm against his body, while holding the reins in his right. But not long after, Arthur had suddenly noticed how he was hanging his head further and further, and he had been just in time to grab him by a shoulder before he would have tumbled off of his horse. Barely conscious, he had helped Lancelot dismount and they had taken half an hour rest to allow Lancelot some respite from the pain and recover some strength. But after they had mounted again, it had become clear fast that the hurt knight was not going to make it if they were going to continue in a slow gallop. Arthur had slowed everyone down to step. Lancelot had managed to stay conscious since then but was swaying dangerously in the saddle, which was why Arthur and Galahad were now riding close to him, to keep him in the saddle.
Finally they rode through the gates of the fort. Arthur answered Jols' questioning look with a nod towards the stables. The doors to the stable where the knights' horses were stalled was just broad enough to allow the three horses to pass through while still riding alongside each other.
Arthur grabbed the reins of Lancelot's horse out of his limp hand, and pulled the black stallion to a halt in the middle of the large stable. He waited until Galahad had put a hand on Lancelot's arm before dismounting himself, not trusting Lancelot to keep himself upright for much longer. Quickly rounding his own horse, the Roman came up next to the nearly unconscious knight. Dagonet was already there. The large knight gently lifted Lancelot of his horse. When Lancelot's feet touched the floor, Arthur was ready to hold him up. Lancelot sagged against the taller man, but didn't completely collapse. Arthur draped his arm over his shoulder, and Gawain did the same on the other side.
"Can you walk?" Arthur asked tentatively.
In answer, Lancelot nodded. He tried to take a first step, but his vision darkened when pain shot through him. Arthur scooped him up in his arms before he could hit the floor, and ran more than walked to the healer's ward.
Arthur watched in concern when Lancelot never woke up during the healer's examination and also not when the healer cleaned the wounds with alcohol and stitched all three of them up.
"It was to be expected, Arthur," the healer told the Roman commander in a fatherly tone of voice. "The wounds are grave, but mostly painful. The blood loss is extensive, but not fatal. The ride back will have drained him of his energy. And I like to think it's more merciful from our God to let him sleep through such sewing work," the tiny man smiled. "Let him sleep through the night and he should be feeling a whole lot better already." The medicus draped a blanket over Lancelot's naked upper torso. "And having dealt with his stubbornness many times before, too many times even, I suggest you take him to his own room!" he added, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "If he needs me, tonight or tomorrow morning, then you know where to find me." With that said the healer left Arthur alone in the room with Lancelot.
Arthur stood there a few minutes considering the healer's words and then went outside where his other knights were waiting for news about their brother-in-arms.
–– 8 ––
A knock on the door to his room the next morning awoke Lancelot from a deep sleep. Groggily he watched as Gawain entered his room.
"If you are up to it, Arthur has called a meeting in the main hall," Gawain said, studying Lancelot carefully. The dark haired man looked a bit on the pale side, maybe slightly flushed, but no worse for wear otherwise.
Lancelot tried to remember why he would not be up to going to the main hall while he started to throw his blankets off of himself with his left arm. A loud scream ensued as he became aware of his injuries.
Gawain winced in sympathy as he witnessed how Lancelot went rigid, sucking in his breath, trying to get the upper hand over the pain.
Gawain moved forward with concern written all over his face. "Lancelot?"
Lancelot let out a long shaky breath before he forced himself to relax his taut muscles. He cursed profusely in his native tongue. When he heard Gawain chuckling, he cast him an evil glare. "I'll be there," he said tersely.
"Take your time." Gawain hurriedly left the room, knowing full well the temper that was sometimes unleashed in the knight he now left behind.
–– 8 ––
Lancelot slowly walked towards the main hall of the fortress. It had taken him at least half an hour to dress and he still hadn't found a movement he could make without having bolts of pain shooting through his entire frame. He was in a foul mood and he had no intention of hiding it from anyone who crossed his path today. One of Bors' bastards had taken notice of his pain-stricken face as he tried to descend a two steps stairs without hurting himself any further, and he had practically bitten off her head when she asked if she could help. He wasn't feeling too proud about that one, though.
When he neared the fortress' hall, he could make out several voices of the knights that had already assembled there. Dagonet's deep sounding voice drifted farthest. Arthur's voice he could distinguish easily also.
He was glad the doors to the hall were open and he could just walk in. He hadn't looked forward to the prospect of having to push open the heavy doors.
When he walked in he noticed Arthur sitting in his chair with Dagonet and Gawain standing at either side bent over a map that was obviously the topic of their conversation. Galahad stood in the back of the room holding a goblet of wine while talking to Tristan and Bors. None of them seemed to have noticed his entry.
Eager to sit down, he continued on to his usual chair passing behind Arthur's. As he walked past, his eyes were drawn to the sword that was lying on the round table to Arthur's left. Suddenly he felt like the air had been knocked out of him. "Vepkhia," he whispered as he gasped for air. His legs were going weak as spots appeared in his vision, and he reached out his right arm to find support which was not there.
Arthur turned around when he heard Lancelot's voice. "Lancelot, how…" He shot out of his chair when he saw Lancelot looking white as a sheet, with one hand outstretched, and ready to collapse. "Lancelot!"
Careful of Lancelot's wounds and bandages, Arthur grabbed his friend by his shoulders. Immediately he felt how Lancelot's weight was resting on his arms. Swiftly the Roman positioned himself on Lancelot's right side and threw his arm over his shoulders, while sliding his own left arm around Lancelot's back. He more or less carried Lancelot to the nearest chair, and gently sat him down.
No sound had left Lancelot's lips. Arthur was not quite certain whether the Sarmatian was even conscious. His eyes were open but he wasn't showing any signs of awareness of the other's presence.
"Lancelot?" he asked urgently.
The other knights had gathered around their commander and his second in command, and were watching with growing concern.
Arthur heard how rapidly the other man was drawing in breaths, near the point of wheezing. "Lancelot?" he tried again.
When he didn't get any response, he cupped Lancelot's chin and forced him to look up into his face. Lancelot's eyes were dull, non-seeing and piercing through his commander at the same time. Fear was building in Arthur. He waved his hand in front of the knight's eyes, but they didn't even blink.
"Galahad?" Arthur didn't turn around to address his youngest knight.
Already sensing what his commander wanted, Galahad turned towards the open door of the hall, and started running. "I'll get the healer!" he shouted back.
Arthur gathered Lancelot up in his arms gently, watchful of his injuries, even though Lancelot didn't even seem to register that he was being carried. "Let Galahad know that I've taken him to my quarters." He could feel the body against his trembling and Lancelot's heart was racing under his hands. As fast as he dared he carried Lancelot to his own rooms.
The healer arrived only moments after Arthur had deposited Lancelot on his bed. Galahad had already informed him of the occurrence in the main hall, and the elderly man moved to examine the knight immediately without stopping for questions. He shook his head several times, uttering phrases in Latin, with concern etched on his face. The stubborn Sarmatian knight had long ago found a precious place in his heart.
The healer pulled up the blanket to cover Lancelot's trembling body, and stood back. He shook his head. "I'm just as baffled as all of you are. I have no idea what might have caused this… this… dreamlike state. I think it's best if we let him sleep. I'll give him something that will allow him to sleep. And then we wait until he wakes up again."
Only minutes after the healer had administered a brown liquid to Lancelot, his eyes slipped close. Arthur and his other knights watched in uncertainty.