Eight

When night fell, the out post came alive, with ale, singing, small games and a child's laughter. But tonight was mixing different for the knights. The imminent was coming near, and the drums they heard at the iced lake was echoing in their ears. The towns people who barely escaped sat, their tongues to the roof of theirs mouths, and staring into the flashing orange, yellow and red colors of the fire. Those unknown to what may come, would soon learn what might happen.

Lancelot paced in the barn, watching the weapons pinned to the wall shine with the light leaking into the wooden strips. His eyes blacker than the night engulfed his anger, and what he knew Arthur would do. Predicting Arthur was his newly found talent.

Bors drank, just enough for the pain in his soul to dissolve. Vanora couldn't gather a smile from him, neither could Gully, Bors favorite son. He sat, with his bare skull covered and his belly jumping with every drunken hick-up. His eyes, they were no longer is own, Vanora could swear he'd been taken over by an evil spirit, one unwilling to allow the old Bors to return. Vanora rolled her palm over his neck, in hopes to relieve some pain, but with a grouchy call, she huffed and returned to the bar.

Galahad sat at the top of the wall, his knees swinging over the edge, and his eyes lost in the crowd below. The wind tossed his bushy curls around like wispy leaves, and his brown eyes stayed sturdy on the crowd below. Some guards where taking bets on when he'd blink, yet he had not yet.

Tristan slammed his dagger, in and out of the table top, driving it deeper within the grain and yanking it out each time became more difficult. Once he'd managed to run out of daggers to collide with the wood, he stood up, and after a deep breath, he firmly slid his palm under the table top, and with a clean swinging motion, flipped it over, bouncing it onto the dirt below. All awhile the people watched, and nothing was said.

Arthur, laid in his bed, his candles flickered in a strange motion, and when his eyes opened, Guinevere stood, her dress nearly dripping off her shoulders. Arthur stood up, and without any words exchanged, she slipped onto his lap. Slowly pulling her dress up around her, Arthur wrapped his arms around her waist, until their lips touched in the most passionate moment. When her lushes lips ran over his, Arthur's heart nearly bounded out of his chest. Her silky smooth feel, made a warm bubble muster in his stomach, and then released to all different parts of his body. She, on the other hand felt a sleek pricking down her spine as then hair stood on end, her senses where heightened, and each place Arthur touched her, made her need for him grow.

Gawain sat still in his room, the candles in the left corner where about to burn clean, and wax had already been gathering in a stiff pile, building up like small balls of gold. Each gust of wind made his curtains ripple until the breeze exited the room. Leaning his head into his hands, Gawain's hair slid to the side of his face, his lack of concentration lately due to Lana, but loosing Dagonet cracked that small part of Gawain which kept him stable. That piece of him that he was so well known for was losing color, mixing into a dull gray. His was mouth dry, and the boiling night made any attempt to collect a complete thought was ridiculous. His fingers ran over his temples, pressing and rotating in a circle motion, yet nothing helped. Gawain's room was filling with air, and in the ever silence, he heard a voice singing.

Lana held her chin in her hands, while perched up on the window seal, she watched sparks flash in the forest, brightly colored oranges and yellows. But with that was the sound of drums. She forced her eyes shut, refusing to allow herself to cry now. Looking up into the star clustered night sky, she opened her mouth, and tried to breath correctly. She remembered how many times Arthur prayed, and at this exact moment, she felt the urge. "Lord, please save us from this up coming battle. This feeling within my stomach proves that we shall lose more. Dagonet was cherished by many, and he did nothing to deserve death. I ask you bring the man to justice, kill the bastard whom harmed him." Lana pulled her chin from her hands and looked deeper into the black night. "I need you to save Arthur, save him, he has never once faltered from his calling. He is a loyal servant, as is all of the Knights. And please, please keep Galahad, Bors, Tristan, Gawain and Lancelot safe." Lana closed her eyes softly, and spreading her palms over the window seal, she took a deep breath, and began to sing.

"Land of bear, and land of eagle, land that gave us birth and blessing, land that called us ever homeward, we will go home across the mountains. We will go home..." Gawain stood to his feet, and pushing his door open, causing the candles to expel he ran down the hall. Knocking furiously on the door he knew the singing was coming from, he waited, then opened the door. There she was, her palms laced over the window seal, and her face blocking the wind from the window. Closing the door behind himself, Gawain stepped towards him, and standing next to her, he looked at her face. Tears where welled in her eye lashes, and Gawain was still in silence. "We will go home," She said before finally turning to him. He looked at her, stuck as to what to think, her face seemed lost and frightened, and yet her eyes stronger than ever.

"Lana,"

"Whatever comes, swear you won't give up. No matter what." Lana whispered, holding back her tears, Gawain screwed his confusion, he reached over, stern putting his arms around her.

"Yes, of course." Gawain said before looking back down at Lana. "Lana, what is-" Before his sentence was finished, Lana reached up and pressed her lips against his. Her hands traveled over his chest, and tugged until comfortable around his neck. Holding her closer, Gawain tied his arms around her waist, his lips locked on hers with enthusiasm and as soon as he got the right response, her eyes dried, and he knelt her onto her bed. She whispered his name faintly as he kissed her neck gently.

"ARTHUR! Go to the wall now!" A bounding at his door ruined his time with Guinevere, but it sounded incredibly urgent, and Arthur knew the Saxon's where close.