Disclaimer: See other chapters. Also…there is a character present that another writer blessedly allowed me to use—thanks ModestySparrow9. Full acknowledgement for that is in the A/N at the end of the story.

Chapter 10: The Will of a Goddess

Arthur has no idea who he's rescued, Dayn thought with a slight smile, glancing at the female Woad in the wagon out of the corner of his eye. He momentarily considered telling Arthur, but just as quickly disregarded the idea. No, I don't know how he would react if I were to tell him. Better that he know nothing of her true identity.

"Dayn, that's Guenevere," Orainne whispered.

"Yes, I know," he replied back to her, thinking how silly it was to whisper when no one besides Niamh could understand them anyway.

"What is she doing here, though?" Orainne asked, looking towards the wagon in confusion.

"That, I do not know. But I think it best we not appear too familiar with her. For now, just act as though you know her not. There will be time for questions later." I hope. He would love to know how Guenevere had come to be in that prison, but he had to use caution when approaching her lest the others grow suspicious. He had managed to speak with her for a moment earlier, and how enlightening the conversation was, he recalled with a shake of his head.

"I know you." Dayn turned to see the female Woad that Arthur had saved staring at him from the shadows of the wagon that rolled alongside Dayn's horse. He slowed Brina down a little, urging her closer to the wagon.

"It's good to see you again, Guenevere. It's been a long time."

"Yes, too long, Dayn. Long has it been since I came to Illbrech's village. How is Orainne? Is she well?"

"She walks beside Niamh," he said, nodding towards the two who were playfully swinging a little girl between them.

"Have you told Arthur who I am?"

"No. I thought it best to use discretion."

"You must not tell him, Dayn. The time will come when he will know, but that time is not now."

"You know, you're just like your father, always giving puzzling answers that don't tell anyone anything of use." Annoyed with the cryptic bullshit, he rode up to ride beside Cei, wanting to ride with someone who would never speak to him in riddles. Cei didn't understand most riddles, and thus Dayn was assured that he would get nothing but straightforward conversation.

Dayn left the warmth of the fire as he headed for the wagon where Orainne was helping Dagonet care for the feverish boy and Guenevere. Arthur had called a halt, sensing how close the serfs were to collapse. Now, fires were lit and the frightened people were settling down for the night.

As he neared the wagon, he glanced at the fire where Honorius sat with his remaining mercenaries. I should have killed them when I had the chance. Dayn eyed them suspiciously, halting in his tracks for a moment before continuing on toward the wagon.

"Dayn." He winced at the sound of Arthur's voice, knowing that the time had come for his 'talk' with Arthur. He slowly turned to face Arthur, meeting Arthur's gaze squarely.

"I don't suppose this could wait?" he asked, knowing that it was a futile request even as he asked it.

"I want answers, Dayn," Arthur said resolutely, walking forward to stand in front of Dayn.

"About what?" Dayn asked, playing innocent.

"An explanation for your recent behavior would be a good start. You're beginning to lose complete control over yourself, and I fear that one day, you're going to kill an innocent."

"I haven't killed anyone who didn't deserve death."

"Dayn, I understand why you killed the soldiers at Bremenium, but today you killed those mercenaries without provocation."

"What, you think them innocent men? Arthur, you're blind! Those men weren't innocent--they knew what was going on inside that prison and did nothing. That makes them just as guilty, and if it were in my power to kill them all, don't doubt for a moment that I would!"

"It is not our place to condemn others, Dayn."

"No, we just kill whoever the Roman Empire tells us to."

"We are soldiers, Dayn. As servants of Rome, we are called on to do our duty."

"Is that all, Arthur?" Dayn asked impatiently. "I'm not up for a debate on the politics of the Roman Empire."

"No. We're not finished here. I'm still waiting for an explanation."

"What would you like me to say, Arthur? That I'm sorry for killing those Romans? I'm not. I'm not sorry for them, or any of the others."

"Others?" Arthur asked. Dayn looked at Arthur, humor glinting in his eyes.

"Did you honestly think them the first Romans I've ever killed," he said with laughter in his voice. "Arthur, you know me--do you think I could be on this island for as long as I have without killing those who oppress others? I've been killing Romans from the moment I came to these lands."

"Is that how you came to be involved with a Woad?"

"That is a long story."

"I've got time," Arthur replied. For a split second, Dayn considered whether he really wanted to go into it, but with a mental shrug, he thought, sure why the hell not.

"It was three years ago…like Tristan said." He could still remember how angry he was that day…

Once again, he was being left behind. Another mission where Dayn was too young to come along. He was sixteen years old, but that wasn't good enough for Arthur. And Lancelot, stupid Lancelot, was always quick to point out Dayn's failings to Arthur. It was Lancelot's fault he was being left behind.

As he watched the other knights ride out of the gates of Hadrian's Wall, he felt anger well up inside, raging hot in its intensity. If Arthur won't take me with him, I'll find a mission of my own. He hurried for the armory, taking up his sword and an extra dagger. In his anger, he really didn't have a specific destination in mind, but he wasn't about to miss all of the action because he'd been left behind. With any luck, he'd come across a Roman patrol that he could attack outside the garrison. Inside the garrison, he knew, was too risky. He'd almost gotten caught killing a Roman inside the walls that way, and he wasn't too eager to repeat that particular mistake.

Leaving the garrison behind, Dayn ran for the trees, heedless of the risk he was exposing himself to. The escape from Roman control that the forest offered was too good to pass up. He just wanted to leave it all behind--the pain, the helplessness, and the rage. Each day was an ongoing struggle to contain the fury that was a constant part of him. The forest offered him some reprieve from the Romans and all that they represented. I wish you were here, brother, he thought, feeling the familiar ache that filled his heart whenever he thought of Orren. It was the same wish that he made every day, especially when things got to be too much for him to handle. It was Orren who had steadied him, kept his anger from exploding. But now he was gone, and Dayn had lost the only control he had. Though it had been years, he still felt his twin's absence like a knife in his gut. If only I'd had my skills with a blade then, I could have killed those Romans before they killed Orren.

Reaching the trees, Dayn pushed the brush aside, ignoring the brambles that pulled at him. Finding a tree to his liking, he quickly scaled the lower limbs until he found a niche in the vee of the limbs to sit. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and slowly felt his body begin to relax as the tension began to leave his body. The mist that typically engulfed much of the island was pleasantly absent, allowing the sun to penetrate the cloud cover to shine on his face. A sense of peace stole through him for the first time in a very long time. He took a moment to consider if this was how Tristan felt when he looked into the eyes of his hawk.

Girlish laughter reached his ears, shattering the stillness of the air. He opened his eyes and silently slid forward, perching carefully on a large branch. Three girls, two about his own age and one slightly younger, stepped out of the brush, laughing and talking playfully. They were followed by a slightly older boy who looked none too happy about having to trail the three girls. Woads. Dayn watched them pass through narrowed eyes, angry that they'd ruined his peace of mind. They stepped out of the treeline and settled down on the grass, the girls still giggling as the boy grumbled to himself.

It was too late for Dayn to find a new tree--they'd hear him--so he stretched out along the branch to wait for them to leave. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until a scream jerked him out of a sound slumber. Hearing the unmistakable sound of steel clashing against steel, he scrambled along the length of the branch he'd slept on, emerging from the shrouded trees to overlook the clearing where the four Woads had been enjoying the peace and quiet. But that peace was shattered by the arrival of a small Roman cavalry unit of about five Roman soldiers.

The boy who'd been with the three girls now lay on the ground with blood pouring from his side, while the youngest girl tried desperately to staunch the blood flow. Two Romans were holding one of the girls down, while the other girl attempted to fight off the remaining three who were surrounding her. Dayn pulled his sword from the scabbard slung across his back and dropped out of the tree, coming up in a crouch.

"Let's even the odds a bit, shall we?" he asked with a cold smile. He stepped forward and with a vicious swing, eliminated one of the soldiers who held the Woad girl down. As the second soldier turned to face him, Dayn thrust his sword into the gap in the side of the Roman's armor. The Roman fell with an agonized scream, finally garnering the attention of the others. Dayn's eyes narrowed as the remaining three soldiers left the other Woad girl, coming to surround him.

Deciding not to wait for one of them to make the first move, he lunged forward, his sword catching the sunlight as he brought the flat of the blade down on the head of the Roman in front of him. The Roman fell without a sound.

"Let that be a lesson to you. Never take off your helm." As Dayn turned to face the other two, he grinned maliciously as he watched one of the female Woads pick up a fallen sword and move up silently behind the soldiers who had mistakenly turned their backs on her. Dayn gave the soldier a mocking salute as the girl thrust her sword upward with a grunt as she drove it deep into the man's back. Dayn leapt forward, dispatching the last Roman with a strong sweep that cleanly separated the man's head from his shoulders.

As the last body fell, Dayn met the Woad girl's eyes as she stared at him with mistrustful eyes. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he stepped back and stopped near the Roman that he'd knocked unconscious. Without taking his eyes off the girl, he stabbed downward, striking a deathblow that would ensure that the Roman wouldn't live to tell the tale of what he'd seen.

A small hand on his gauntlet shifted Dayn's attention to the youngest girl, who pulled him toward the Woad boy with a pleading look on her face. She knelt back down beside the boy, gazing up at Dayn with helpless eyes. Tears ran down her face as she looked down at the boy who lay unmoving on the bloodstained grass. Taking pity on her, he knelt down beside her, and with one look, he knew that the Woad boy would not survive. He gave her a pitying look and shook his head. She lunged at him, burying her head in his shoulder, and he patted her back awkwardly. The girl who'd killed one of the Romans knelt by the other girl, helping her to sit up as she looked with concern at the large cut on the girl's temple. Leaving the girl sitting against a tree, she walked towards Dayn cautiously, a manner that Dayn shared.

"Adima," she said pointing to herself. "Guenevere," she said pointing to the girl against the tree. "Orainne," she finished, nodding at the girl in Dayn's arms.

"Dayn," he said, answering her unspoken question.

"Why?" she asked him in her native tongue. Having lived among Britons for years, he had picked up enough of it to understand what she asked, but he didn't know how to give her an answer, so he just shrugged and looked down at the girl in his arms. She stepped back, her eyes still wet with unshed tears. She lifted a hand to wipe them away, but her hands were still red with blood from the boy's wounds, prompting Dayn to stop her. Lifting the edge of his cape, he wiped the tears from her face, smiling sadly at her as he stepped back.

"Help us carry Laeg?" Adima asked him. Dayn weighed his options, not sure if he should go with them or not. But it was painstakingly clear that the girls couldn't carry him back alone. Orainne looked too small to do much of anything, and it was obvious that Adima would have to help Guenevere who was none too steady on her feet after taking a blow to the head. With a sigh, Dayn nodded and knelt to lift the boy, Laeg. Orainne slipped the torc off her neck, and placed it around Dayn's.

"For safe passage," she said, though whether or not he understood her, she wasn't sure. He just nodded and hefted Laeg up, heaving him up and over his shoulder to carry him more easily. With a deep breath, he followed the three girls into the forest, hoping that he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

"That's it, Arthur. After I met them, I went with them to Orainne's village, and I've been going there ever since."

"What about the other two girls? You didn't go to their village?"

"Guenevere and Adima are from one of the more northern tribes. They were only visiting with Orainne's tribe. Guenevere was kin to someone in Orainne's village."

"So, the Guenevere in the wagon there…"

"Is the same Guenevere I met those three years ago," Dayn answered, finishing Arthur's sentence.

"And the Romans you killed? What did you do with the bodies?"

"I left them where they fell, of course. What else would I do with them?"

"You just left them there to be fed on by scavengers, and it didn't bother you?"

"Well, Arthur, I can hardly waste the time to bury every Roman I killed. And they were hardly the first Romans I've ever killed, so it's not as though I felt any different about them then any other."

"You mean those weren't the first?"

"Gods, Arthur, no, of course not. I told you before--I've been killing Romans almost from the moment I set foot on this island."

"When was the first?"

"Honestly, I can't remember." Arthur shook his head at Dayn's answer, unsure of what to do about this revelation. He couldn't, in good conscience let Dayn continue to kill Roman soldiers, but neither could he bear to have Dayn arrested and executed for treason.

"You place me in a difficult situation, Dayn. Do you realize that?" Dayn looked down, feeling uncharacteristically guilty.

"You were never supposed to know, Arthur, I'm sorry. I tried to keep it from you."

"Go now, and do nothing more. I have to think on this." Dayn nodded, and turned to walk away.

"Arthur," he called back. "If you find yourself without options, I can disappear without difficulty."

"Dayn, if you did that, you would never be free to go home."

"Yes, well, little awaits me there. My mother died a long time ago, and the Romans took everyone else from me. My home is here now."

"Very well. I shall think on it. Goodnight, Dayn." Dayn nodded, and headed to the wagon to collect Orainne. Well, that went better than expected. Of course, given time, it may sink in a bit, and Arthur could still wind up being furious. Oh well. Never one to dwell on what may or may not occur, Dayn pushed it from his mind as he climbed into the wagon.

Niamh shivered as she left her spot close to the fire to spread out Tristan's bedroll a little ways from the flames. With the exception of Dayn who'd just left, Dagonet who tended the injured, and Arthur, the other knights were settling down around the fire, grateful for the brief respite from the trials of the day. There was a chill in the air, and Niamh suspected there would be more snow by morning. But she rather liked the snow, for it gave the ugliness of the world some semblance of beauty.

"Niamh, how did you come to be near the forest the day we found you?" Niamh froze in her task of spreading out Tristan's bedroll at Cei's innocent question. A tremor in her hands betrayed her, and she slowly dropped them into her lap, clenching her fists tightly.

"Cei, leave it," Tristan said quietly, his focus never wavering from the curved sword he was sharpening. From his place at the periphery of the fire, the flames cast shadows across him, masking his face as thoroughly as he masked his emotions. He, too, wished to know what events had transpired to result in Niamh being chained, but he knew instinctively that she was not ready to speak of it. And since Niamh wasn't ready to talk, he would discover what had happened through other sources. If he had to threaten or kill every last person at Hadrian's Wall to find out the truth, then so be it. The truth would keep, however, and Tristan was a patient man. He could wait until their return to the Wall.

Niamh slowly stood and walked away from the warmth of the fire, pulling the cloak Tristan had given her tighter around her shoulders. Finding a fallen log a considerable distance away from the others, she sat down upon it, burying her face in her arms as her eyes filled with tears.

Footsteps crunched in the snow, coming to stop beside her. Looking up through tear-filled lashes, she beheld Orainne looking down at her with concern. Orainne said nothing as she sat down beside her, putting a comforting arm around her. Wracked with sobs, Niamh could do nothing more than lay her head on Orainne's shoulder, grateful for the friendship that Orainne offered. Finally, her crying spent, she straightened, smiling bravely at Orainne who gently smiled back.

"Dayn will be looking for you," Niamh said, breaking the silence.

"He can wait. Are you alright?"

Niamh shrugged, turning her gaze upward to look distantly at the sky.

"I shall pray to the gods for vengeance upon the one who hurt me. Then…perhaps then all will be as it was before." Orainne nodded, casting a meaningful look at Tristan in the distance. She had a strong feeling that Tristan would be the tool through which the gods would answer Niamh's prayer.

"Will you tell him?" Orainne asked. Niamh followed her gaze to Tristan's form by the fire, watching silently as the sword in his hands caught the reflection of the flames.

"I don't know how," she said helplessly.

"When the time is right, you will find the words," Orainne replied softly. She rose to her feet, smoothing down the folds of her dress before holding out her hand to help Niamh up. "Come. It grows cold here, away from the fire, and it does no good to dwell on unpleasant things."

Niamh smiled and took the proffered hand, coming to her feet feeling better than she had before. Perhaps Orainne was right, and she would find a way to tell Tristan one day, but until then, she wasn't going to dwell on it.

She returned to the fire, letting Caderyn and Orainne attempt to teach her the dice game that they favored. They played until Dayn came for Orainne, looking annoyed that he hadn't found her in the wagon where she had been before. Caderyn turned to his own bedroll shortly after Dayn and Orainne retired, and Niamh looked around for Tristan, her eyes lighting upon his still form lying on his bedroll. She tiptoed toward him, uncertain if he was awake or not. But as she approached, his eyes opened and he stared at her, unblinking. Niamh hesitated for a moment before she made up her mind and lay down beside him. When he didn't object, she relaxed and slid up against him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. A second later, his arm came up around her, and she toyed with one of his braids, before falling into a peaceful sleep.

Darkness had fallen, and silence reigned as Dayn slept, and dreamed.

The darkness took form, and mist parted to reveal a shaded place. A beautiful woman stood there, her long black hair cascading down her back in thick waves as she gazed at him with a calculating look. It was her eyes, however that caught Dayn's attention, their hellish, red orbs boring into him as though looking straight through him to his soul. Something, some inner instinct for survival, forced him to kneel before her as she came forward to stand in front of him.

"Who are you?" he asked, staring up at her in confusion.

"Really, Dayn, all our battles together, and still you know me not. Tsk, tsk," she said shaking her head at him. Suddenly, Dayn was bombarded with memories of all of his battles--the blood, the killing, and the frenzy.

"Nemhain," he murmured, looking into her eyes.

"Yes."

"I'm dreaming. This can't be real."

"Of course you're dreaming. But who can say what is real and what is not? I come to you on this plane because it is easiest for both of us."

"Why?"

"You came to these shores many years ago, Dayn of Sarmatia, and your anger was a great force. We share an enemy, and because of the power of your rage, I decided to use you to fight the Roman trespassers. Alone you are powerful, but with my aid you are truly to be feared."

"All of those times when I lost control, when I killed without knowledge or remorse…that was you?"

"The anger was yours alone. I merely unleashed it, giving the rage you carry free rein to act."

"What would you have of me? For what purpose do you show yourself to me?"

"The time is fast approaching when the fate of my followers will be decided. You must aid Merlin and Guenevere in enlisting Arthur's aid, for my people have need of him."

"But Arthur hates the Woads. How can I convince him to save them?"

"You will find a way, for the answer lies before you." She seemed to glide back, slipping away from him as though she had never been, and Dayn called out. But she was gone, and nothing remained but the darkness and the mist.

Dayn's eyes shot open, and he gazed around in alarm, the darkness having not yet given way to dawn. A dense fog was rolling in, blanketing the still-sleeping forms of the others who were scattered around dying fires. Disentangling himself from Orainne, he sat up, silently picking up his sword from where it lay beside him. He stood, slowly walking deeper into the trees, his mind filled with a confusing jumble of images consisting of fallen enemies mixed in with those of a beautiful but deadly woman.

He could hear someone moving in the trees ahead of him, and as he pushed through the brush, he heard the sound of steel sliding against a scabbard, causing him to quicken his pace.

"You betrayed me," he heard Arthur exclaim furiously.

"He means you no harm," a second voice responded. Guenevere. He started to step out into the clearing when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning, he spotted Lancelot coming toward him, a worried expression on his face, sword in hand.

"No, Lance," Dayn said, moving to stand between Lancelot and the clearing where Arthur was now engaged in angry conversation with Merlin.

"Dayn, get out of the way!"

"No. Arthur's in no danger--Merlin wishes only to speak with him. You must let this happen, my friend. Without interference."

"Why?"

"Because things are happening, Lancelot, things we can't stop. These people, here, on this island, need Arthur, for only he can help them now."

"Well, it's nice to know where your loyalties lie," Lancelot said with a sneer.

"I've always been loyal to Arthur! Never question that!"

"Why shouldn't I question it? You've been secretly aiding the Woads for years, betraying us for years!"

"I've betrayed no one! The Woads have always known that were I forced to choose between them and my brothers, I would choose my own. Lancelot, don't you see? The Woads are my allies, but you and the others are my family. I would never risk losing you and the knights, for you are all I have left. I help them sometimes, yes, because we share a common enemy. That's all." Lancelot's face softened as he saw the sincerity on Dayn's face.

"And I suppose that girl of yours has nothing to do with it, eh?" he added with a smirk. Dayn grinned back at him, shrugging helplessly.

"What can I say, Lance? I'm an easy target for a pretty face, and my woman certainly has that."

"Yes, that's true. But she's a little young for my taste. In a few years though, well, she might decide she finds me far more attractive than you, my friend…"

"Won't happen," Dayn said confidently. "She's terrified of you," he said with a smirk of his own.

"Terrified of me? Why?"

"Lance, you sit at the fire and glare daggers at her. What's she supposed to think? She burrows up against me every night, scared that you're going to kill her in her sleep."

"And you told her I wouldn't, right?"

"Of course I did! But you know women, right? How often do they listen?" A look of annoyance flashed on Lancelot's face, as he acceded that Dayn was right.

"I'll try to stop glaring at her, then. Will that help?"

"It might. Although, now that I think on it, it might be a better idea if she remains afraid of you. Then I won't have to worry about you trying to steal my girl, will I?" With a grin, he turned and came face-to-face with Arthur.

"What are you two doing out here?" Arthur asked sternly, his conversation with Merlin having sapped the last reserves of his patience. The two knights looked at each other guiltily before they both started speaking at once, each one trying to give an acceptable excuse for being outside the camp. "Nevermind," Arthur said irritably. "Just get back to the camp and stay there. You ought to get some sleep—we start early tomorrow.

Arthur brushed past them with a brusque nod, leaving them to follow him back. I should wake Tristan, send him ahead to scout out the trail. He hated to wake the scout, for Tristan was surely exhausted from the continually riding ahead to scout for Arthur. But there was no alternative—they had to be sure that the Saxons weren't going to overtake them before morning. Spotting Tristan's bedroll, he strode past the sleeping forms of some of the other knights and knelt down beside Tristan.

"Tristan." The scout's eyes opened and he nodded at Arthur without a word. Arthur stepped back as Tristan slid out of his bedroll, careful not to wake Niamh.

"Look after her," he said gruffly as he picked up his sword. Arthur watched him saddle his horse before he turned back and sat down with his back to a tree. Having given up his bedroll for one of the serf's two young children, the tree would have to do. He was tired, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep, blissfully free of having to think about the serfs, the Woads, or Merlin. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he closed his eyes, and the last thing he heard before sleep claimed him were the soft sounds of Dayn and Lancelot returning to camp.

Orainne opened her eyes, not sure what had woken her, but instinctively knowing that something was not as it should be. It was just after dawn, she figured, and no one else seemed to be stirring yet, but there was just some feeling that something was wrong. She shivered, fear beginning to take hold as an eerie feeling swept over her. Sliding out from beneath Dayn's arm, she grabbed a dagger from beside Dayn's sword, and slowly stood. She began to walk towards the wagons, pulled as though by some unseen hand against her will.

As she stepped around the corner of the wagon, her eyes widened in alarm as she saw Dagonet attempting to hold off three mercenaries. The Roman man held the little boy tightly in his arms, a knife at his throat. Knowing that she was of little use in a fight, and that she was incapable of saving the boy herself, she looked around in panic, desperately trying to figure out what to do. Dagonet—if I can help him, he can save Lucan. She darted forward and crawled underneath the wagon, emerging in a crouch behind one of the mercenaries. Please Dagda, I know I'm no warrior, but I must not fail, she prayed silently, her hands trembling as she gripped the dagger nervously. Knowing she'd run out of time, she lunged and stabbed the dagger deep into the back of the man's thigh, her goal not to kill him, only to slow him down. With a fierce roar, the mercenary turned with a murderous glare in his eye and backhanded her viciously, sending her sprawling to the ground. Her head impacted painfully with the bottom edge of the wagon, and she went limp as she fell into unconsciousness.

Panicked shouts pulled Dayn out of sleep, and he quickly grabbed at his sword, coming to his feet instantly. Where's Orainne? Pushing the worry aside for the moment he hurried to the source of the shouts on the other side of the wagons that separated the camp. As he rounded the last wagon, Guenevere was slowly lowering her bow and Arthur was stepping over the body of Marius Honorius with Lancelot, Caderyn, and Bors backing him up. The mercenaries stood in a loose semicircle around Dagonet, one of them bleeding from his thigh.

"You can help, or you can die." Dayn smirked as he watched the lead mercenary realize that he really didn't have any options. Stupid Roman bastard. Too bad he's going to give in…otherwise, Arthur could kill him. But if I move closer, then I might have a chance to kill one of them if they do make the decision to fight, he thought with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Arthur glanced over at Dayn, and his eyes widened with alarm. If Dayn sees Orainne lying there, we're going to have a slaughter on our hands, he thought worriedly. He motioned frantically at Gawain and Cei, desperately signaling to them to get Dayn's attention on something else. Just as the two knights were moving to intercept Dayn, the young knight's eyes fell on Orainne's still form.

Dayn's face contorted with agony and horror, hot rage washed over him in an overwhelming wave and with a bloodthirsty roar, he started forward, his sword upraised. Gawain and Cei lunged forward, grabbing Dayn's arms, but he fought them, his mind filled with a killing fury that would not be abated. The two knights struggled to hold him, for Dayn's strength was a force to be reckoned with when he was enraged. Bors galloped up on his horse, having come to investigate, and quickly saw the developing problem. Leaping out of the saddle, he joined Cei and Gawain, wrestling Dayn's sword from his hand.

Acting quickly, Niamh ran toward Orainne's still form. If I can get Orainne sitting up, then perhaps Dayn can be calmed, for then he will know that she lives. Niamh was basing this plan on the assumption that Orainne was still alive, for if she wasn't, then the mercenaries had no chance of surviving Dayn's wrath.

"Orainne, wake up," she pleaded, gently shaking Orainne's shoulder. "Please wake up!" She grabbed a fistful of snow and placed it on Orainne's neck, hoping that the cold would shock Orainne into waking.

"Niamh," Orainne whispered, her eyes fluttering. "Niamh, you have to stop them…the little boy and Dagonet…they'll be hurt," she murmured, her hand going to the gash on her forehead. She winced, tears filling her eyes at the painful cut and the pounding in her head.

"Orainne, come, you must sit up."

"Why," she groaned, as Niamh helped her into a sitting position against one of the wheels of the wagon.

"Because Dayn is going to kill someone if you don't."

"What?" Orainne exclaimed, wincing as her head exploded with pain from the outburst.

"He thinks you're dead, Orainne. You need to sit up, so he can see that you're not!" Leaving Orainne sitting slumped against the wheel, she hurried to where the knights were struggling to subdue Dayn, while Lancelot looked calculatingly at the mercenaries.

"Arthur, why not just save us all the trouble and let Dayn have a go at them," he suggested with a smile. Arthur didn't share his amusement, and he began to think that the only way to calm Dayn would be to give him a knock to the head. Just then Niamh ran forward, straight at the knights who held Dayn.

"Dayn! Orainne's alive, she's fine!" Dayn, so caught up in his fury, didn't appear to hear her, and she bit her lip anxiously. Just then, Orainne walked shakily over to the group, holding her head and none too steady.

"Dayn," she murmured. And like a switch being turned, Dayn stilled, his eyes going straight to Orainne. The other knights looked to Arthur for permission to let him go, and Arthur nodded. They stepped back, releasing Dayn to go to Orainne. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, relief pouring through him. He spared a glare at the mercenaries, his eyes promising retaliation.

The mercenaries dropped their weapons at their leader's command, and Arthur, seeing the expression in Dayn's eyes, motioned for them to move out of Dayn's sight. As they disappeared behind the wagons, Dayn stepped forward as though to follow.

"Dayn, stay away from them. That's an order." Dayn turned his blistering gaze on his commander, and Orainne looked up at him nervously, not sure what her lover would do.

"They deserve to die."

"Dayn, I will not say it again. I don't want you near them, and if that is too difficult for you to manage, then I will tie you to your horse where you will remain until we reach Hadrian's Wall. Is that understood?"

Dayn was silent, trying to gauge how serious Arthur was. Surely he wouldn't really tie me to the saddle, not for killing a mere Roman mercenary. Mercenaries are swine—no one will miss them. But the look on Arthur's face denoted his sincerity, and Dayn decided he must really mean what he said. I'll just wait until we're back at the wall. I'll kill him there, when Arthur's not watching. His mind made up, Dayn nodded, and turned his attention to the cut on Orainne's forehead that still oozed blood.

"You will tell me which one of them did this," he whispered in her ear. Looking up at him, she nodded.

"Yes. But later. I think I should like to ride in the wagon today, Dayn. I'm far too dizzy to ride." He nodded, helping her to the wagon and lifting her up inside. Dagonet, already inside the wagon, took her hand after Dayn lifted her up, and helped her lie down.

"I'll see to that cut," he said quietly. With a soft thank you, she closed her eyes, not opening them when he began to wash the cut. Sleep soon claimed her, and the pain of her headache faded to a dull ache.

Outside, everyone prepared to move out. Tristan had just ridden up, and his news had not been good. The Saxons were close, and there was no time left. Guenevere climbed back in the wagon to sit with Orainne, while Lucan begged to ride with Dagonet on horseback.

Dagonet is such a kindhearted man, Niamh thought with a smile as she watched Dagonet lift Lucan into the saddle. She waited in the saddle behind Tristan, her arms loosely around his waist as everyone prepared to ride. As much as he loathed to admit it to himself, Tristan liked having Niamh with him. Having the warmth of her at his back was a welcome change from the cold aloofness he was so used to. He didn't even fully understand it, and it bothered him that he couldn't figure it out. Tristan had never been one to allow his emotions reign over him, but he had a bad feeling that Niamh's presence was going to reduce his control to nothing.

In short order, the caravan was moving once again. The other knights rode in a loose circle around Dayn, wary that he may try to move against the mercenaries despite Arthur's warning to the contrary.

A few hours later, Dayn could hear Guenevere and Orainne giggling together, and he was reminded of that first day he met them, the sound of their laughter surprisingly similar to what it had been those years ago. Dagonet rode up beside him, Lucan sitting happily in front of him, oblivious to the danger they were all in. The boy deserves to be happy after what the Romans did to him. Let him be ignorant of the Saxon threat for awhile. Sitting there on Dagonet's horse, a proud smile on his face, it was the first time Dayn had seen the boy smile.

"Dayn." Dagonet's voice shifted Dayn's attention away from Lucan, and he looked at Dagonet questioningly. "You should be proud of her," he said, nodding toward the wagon that held Orainne.

"Oh? Why?"

"The reason she was hurt…she was trying to help me. She stabbed one of them in the leg with a dagger—one of yours, I presume. He hit her then, and she fell. That's when she hit her head on the wagon, when she fell."

"I didn't know," Dayn said, suddenly understanding why one of his daggers had been missing this morning. "That explains where my dagger went."

"I'll buy you a new one when we get back to the wall."

"You don't have to do that, Dag. If my dagger helped save you, then it was well worth it. You owe me nothing."

"No. I said I will buy you a replacement, and I will." Dayn knew better than to argue with Dagonet when he used that tone, so he shrugged and conceded to Dagonet. "Your girl, she knew she would get hurt when she came to my aid. She stabbed his leg when she could so easily have stabbed him someplace fatal. She didn't want to kill him, though."

"Orainne isn't a fighter like us, Dag. She doesn't like to kill." Dayn thought about it for a minute before he grinned at Dagonet. "Besides I kill enough for the both of us."

"That's true," Dagonet said, ruefully shaking his head at Dayn's well-known thirst for blood. He was quiet for a moment, and Dayn knew that the normally stoic knight had something on his mind. Dayn remained silent, wanting to give Dagonet time to think on what he wanted to say.

"Listen, Dayn…if it should come to a fight with the Saxons that are following us, you protect your woman. The rest of us can take care of ourselves, but she can't." Dayn nodded, hoping that it wouldn't come to that. It would kill a part of him if he was forced to choose between his love and his brothers.

Nemhain, if you care even a little about my well-being, don't let that happen. Dayn wasn't one to put his trust in unseen beings, but just this once, he wanted to believe, he needed to believe. Because he couldn't bear it if his worst nightmare were to come to pass.

A/N: First of all, I have to thank ModestySparrow9 for the use of Adima, which for those of you who have been reading Heart of the Hawk, will find quite familiar. So, thanks Modesty! For anyone who is curious, Dagda is a Celtic god who encompasses many different qualities, which basically equates him to a god who can be counted on for the general prayer that Orainne is making. Also, I know some of you are still wondering what happened to Niamh, and I know you expected to get some answers, but it wasn't right for this chapter. BUT, I do have a plan for it, now, and I know exactly where I'm going with it (for once) so please be patient. You'll have to wait until the return to the wall to find out—just like Tristan.