A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews :)
Tristan spurred his grey mare on for more speed as the rising sun cast a deep orange light through the trees. Their travel through the woods had been slow going with the moon only providing minimal light enabling the scout to track the traces that the Woads had left. After only an hour, the Woads seemed to have left the trail that the knights had followed earlier, and ridden deep into the dense forest.
Deep concern and fear for their brother-in-arms had kept Arthur and his other knights up and alert for the entire night. Arthur had been thinking about the attack ever since they had gone after the Woads, and it had left him with a strange feeling, like something was amiss.
Arthur immediately noticed the change in posture of his scout when he sat up rigidly, staring ahead. Arthur's hand went to Excalibur, uncertain of what had alerted Tristan. No sound, no movement had caught his attention. When Tristan signaled to him to stop, he realized that the knight was focused on something on the ground.
Quickly Arthur signaled to the other knights behind him to stop as well, before he swiftly dismounted and joined Tristan who had picked up something. An arrow covered with blood from its tip to almost the end of the shaft.
Tristan wordlessly handed it to his commander. The other knights gathered around, staring at the arrow, not doubting whose blood was coating its length.
Gawain was the first to speak up. "Arthur…" He looked straight at the arrow in the Roman's hand. "Why did they leave us the arrow?"
Arthur nodded, knowing what the blond Sarmatian was getting at. "I know. Something strange is going on."
"The attack…" Tristan added. "They could have easily taken down more of us. It was too brief, like they got what they wanted…"
"Lancelot." Arthur's voice betrayed how afraid he was for his knight's life. He stood for a minute, before he straightened himself. "Knights! We can't lose any more time!" he ordered.
–– 8 ––
Lancelot's eyelids fluttered open, the sunlight attacking his eyes. Red spot danced before his eyes. He tried blinking them away, but he couldn't get rid off the fog clouding his vision. Slowly his awareness crept back, and he realized that he was lying over a horse, his head down. He felt lightheaded, nauseous. He shook his head, but it only increased the pounding in his head. Streaks of pain shot through his back with every movement of the horse he was slung over.
Slowly he started to become aware of his surroundings. He had no idea how long he had been out, or how long he had been lying on top of the horse. He couldn't see where they were going, only the ground that was moving past below his head.
He could heard voices around him. He distinguished at least three different voices, but he couldn't see anyone. He could make out some of the things that were being said.
"They are following," he heard someone close by saying.
Laughter followed. "Good!" a bass voice thundered.
Lancelot's eyes closed involuntarily for a moment, the pain in his back overwhelming. He realized he must have blacked out again, when the voices returned to his ears as the horse he was lying on came to a halt.
"Make sure he doesn't bleed out! We need him alive, other than that I don't care what happens to him." The same bass voice again, Lancelot knew. The leader, he thought.
A hand roughly grabbed him by his leg, and started to pull him down from the horse. His back was ablaze with fire. His stomach scraped over the horse, making him realize that he was stripped off his armour. With a hard jerk, he slid off the horse completely. When his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell backwards. Agony worse than his imagination seared through him, but only for a second. Oblivion overtook him as soon as his body hit the ground.
–– 8 ––
Arthur picked up on the smell of a camp fire at the same time as Tristan did. The scout turned around in the saddle and saw his commander already riding up to him.
"Scout ahead, see if they are still there," Arthur ordered. He slowed his own horse down, not wanting to alert the Woads who had captured Lancelot to their presence if they were still at the camp site.
Tristan returned only minutes later. He shook his head. "Deserted. The fire has cooled down almost completely. They must have left hours ago, but left the fire smoldering…"
"… for us to find…" Gawain finished, anger evident in his voice.
"Arthur," Tristan sounded hesitant, which was most unusual.
Arthur looked up sharply, dreading what the scout had to say.
"There's something you have to see." Tristan turned his mare around and led the other knights towards the clearing in the forest where the Woads had set up camp earlier that day.
Gawain and Galahad looked at each other while they followed the scout, a feeling of trepidation descending over the knights.
Arthur's gaze immediately went to what Tristan had been referring to, lying next to the fire, very conspicuously. He dismounted slowly, almost afraid to take a closer look.
The Roman knelt down next to Lancelot's armour, and picked it up carefully. He could feel his hands slipping on the blood that was coating the backside of the leather piece.
Gawain moved to stand next to him, studying the armour. The arrow hole was hard to miss. His breath caught in his throat. "He was shot in his back…"
"What's going on here?" Arthur almost shouted, sounding furious and frightened at the same time. "It doesn't make sense to keep him alive! When have we last known the Woads to take captives? It must have been years ago! And they leave us all these hints to make it easier on us to follow them. Something is seriously wrong…"
"We don't even know if he's still alive, do we?" Galahad sounded scared, scared for the life of his friend, his fellow knight.
Gawain shook his head slightly. "No, we don't, but I think we would have found his body by now if he were. As another present most likely…"
"I've spotted drops of blood all along the way. He's still alive." Tristan stated quietly. But for how long? A question that echoed through the minds of all the knights.
Bors cursed out loud. "Who the hell took our Lancelot?"
"Merlin?" Galahad answered uncertainly, looking at Arthur.
The Roman commander shook his head slowly. "It could be. Or not. I don't know what's going on here. I do know that it's been nearly a day since they took Lancelot and we have no idea where they are heading."
Arthur looked around the circle of knights. They all looked weary. He was certain he must look the same way. Not surprisingly as they had been riding for a day and a half without any sleep. "We'll stop here for some rest. We all need it." He held up his hand as protests reached him from all sides. "We have been at it for more than a day. Believe me, I want nothing more than to continue, but we won't be worth anything to Lancelot if we don't rest now!"
The protests died down soon as the Sarmatian knights realized their commander was right. Silently they dispersed and set out to gather wood for the fire, and food and water for a meal. Soon after they all laid down for sleep, except for Galahad who had first watch.
Gawain became aware that Arthur was asleep no more than he was himself when he noticed him tossing and turning in an attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
"I don't think they intend to kill him," he whispered, trying to sound reassuring, but not really succeeding.
He heard Arthur sigh deeply. "It's killing me not knowing how he's doing, Gawain. Maybe they don't intend to kill him, but he's leaving a trail of blood, which means that his wounds have not been treated either." A brief pause. "I should have noticed something when he was shot! He was only closely behind me, for God's sake!"
Gawain pushed himself up on one elbow. He was able to see Arthur's face in the light of the dancing flames. "Arthur, you can't blame yourself for this! If there had been anything that you could have done different, you would have!" he tried to defuse his commander's feelings of guilt. Gawain sighed as well when he laid down on his back again, staring up to the clear sky. "I keep wishing that he's unconscious through it all, so he doesn't suffer too much," he confessed. "And you know how his mouth runs off with him..."
Arthur shuddered. He didn't want to consider the possibilities or the consequences.
