Suddenly Tristan stood completely still, his hand in mid air on its way to grab his mare's reins. "Arthur!"
Arthur spun around at Tristan's whispered exclamation, Excalibur in his hand even before he had completely turned around. The other knights were not far behind in unsheathing their weapons.
When Arthur stepped forwards, he saw Merlin stepping onto the path from between the dark trees. Right behind him were two blue painted archers, their bows ready but not aimed.
Arthur stepped forwards, in front of Tristan, and raised Excalibur to keep Merlin at a distance. "Where is Lancelot?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger. "Why did you take my knight? Why didn't you just kill us?"
Merlin raised his hands like in surrender. He looked with sympathy at the Roman leader in front of him. He recognized the pain in Arthur's eyes and voice. "I did not capture your knight. I came here to tell you where you can find him."
"How can you know where he is, if you didn't take him?" Arthur shouted enraged.
"Please, calm down." Merlin answered in a soothing tone, while taking a step closer. His throat was almost level with the tip of the big sword in Arthur's hands. Arthur was aware that Gawain and Dagonet appeared on either side of him, their swords ready.
Arthur studied the man in front of him. He had met Merlin before, but never so close up. His eyes seemed friendly, showing something close to pity.
"Speak up!" The Roman's voice sounded more steady, authoritative, commanding.
"Your knight was taken captive by one of my men. His son was killed in a battle near the village of Lytchett almost three weeks ago. He assembled a dozen men around him and went off to revenge the dead of his only son. He believes one of your knights killed him." Arthur could hear the genuine tone in Merlin's voice.
"You don't approve." It was more a statement than a question.
"No, this is not how we fight or what we fight for." Merlin looked around him. This land, these woods, that was what they were fighting for.
Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Then why not just kill Lancelot?"
"He wants to make him suffer like his son did. He died a week after the battle. He wants to make all of you suffer while you watch how your friend dies."
Arthur gripped Lancelot's pendant even tighter with his left hand. A cold shiver ran through his body. "Where are they?"
"They are heading towards Lytchett."
Arthur studied Merlin once more, wondering if he could trust him. "The village where we fought three weeks ago."
"Yes. You will have to hurry. Your knight doesn't have long to live anymore."
Before Arthur could say or ask anything else, Merlin turned around and disappeared into the dense woods, the two archers following silently. Arthur stared after them until Dagonet's voice reached him.
"Can we trust him?" Dagonet sounded doubtful.
Arthur turned around to face his knights. "We don't really have a choice, do we? We have no idea where Lancelot is, except for what Merlin just told us."
"He didn't have to come to us," Gawain said but his voice betrayed his uncertainty at his own words.
"He could be sending us in the wrong direction to make sure they get away with Lancelot!" Galahad sounded angry.
Tristan shook his head. "I don't think so. They haven't tried to cover up their tracks so far, because they wanted us to follow. Why then send us in the wrong direction all of a sudden?" For a moment the scout looked up at the sky, and the path they had been riding. "And Lytchett is in a straight line from where we've come."
"Let's go then! Let's kill those bastards and get our Lancelot back!" Bors didn't wait for an answer and strode over to his black horse.
–– 8 ––
With the blindfold before his eyes Lancelot couldn't see where he was going and neither could he see and avoid the branches hanging down from trees. He had been swaying between consciousness and unconsciousness for hours. The pain in his back was relentless. He wanted the torture to stop, to succumb to the sweet embrace of nothingness, but white hot flashes of pain when another branch hit him, swept him right back into wakefulness.
His body felt on fire one moment with sweat pouring down his skin, while he was shaking with cold the next. He couldn't think anymore. All that existed for him at that moment was the knowledge that he had to stay on the horse. His fingers held the manes in such a tight hold that they had cramped up completely and he wasn't sure if he could let go even if he wanted to.
When his horse stopped it just took too much effort to keep himself up any longer. He fell sideways, falling to the ground. His fingers glided through the manes, burning his hands. His fall was broken somewhat when the rope around his feet was pulled tight. His legs were held upwards at an awkward angle. The startled horse tried to escape the burden around her neck and stepped forwards. Lancelot was pulled with her, his back scraping over the ground. He didn't remember if he screamed out in pain as soon blackness claimed him and he swam into oblivion gratefully.
–– 8 ––
Arthur and the Sarmatian knights rode as hard and fast as they could in the direction of Lytchett. Tristan rode in front, leading the way, always keeping an eye on the tracks on the ground.
It had been nearly two days since Lancelot had been captured, some of the longest days Arthur had ever experienced. Merlin's words had only raised his fear for his best friend's life. Not only did the Woads that were holding him captive want to kill the dark knight, but they also intended to make him suffer. Arthur realized that even if they found Lancelot before he was killed, that he would be in bad shape. His capturers would not have taken care of the arrow wound, and the Roman didn't need his imagination to picture the sight of infected wounds before his eyes as he had seen more than he could count in reality. He spurred his white stallion on to even more speed.
They had been riding for more than an hour when Tristan's mare suddenly skidded to a halt, rearing on her hind legs. The scout soothed her by stroking her neck, murmuring words in Sarmatian.
Arthur's stallion almost ran in to the grey horse but avoided her at the last possible moment. Immediately the Roman saw what had spooked his scout's horse. He cursed loudly.
Gawain and Galahad came to a halt next to their commander and gasped at the gruesome sight before them.
Hanging from a branch, with a rope around its neck, a rabbit was struggling to escape. Its abdomen was carved open, the knife still embedded in the wound. Its blood and life was slowly seeping out.
Dagonet was the first to dismount. He walked over to the frightened animal, pulling out his own knife. With a swift motion, he killed it fast. With another fast move, he cut through the rope. After removing the knife from the rabbit, he threw it between the trees. "Inish!" he growled angrily.
"A warning…" Gawain said quietly.
Arthur looked at the blond knight and nodded. "A warning of what is going to happen to Lancelot." He tried to suppress his feelings of fear for Lancelot's fate, focusing on the ride ahead. "We need to hurry! Who knows what they've already done to him!"
–– 8 ––
Consciousness returned to Lancelot when his hands were roughly pulled behind his back, his muscles straining against the movement, his back burning in agony. The blindfold was gone and his eyes widened in surprise when he realized what was being done to him. He ground his teeth together to keep from groaning in pain. He felt warm blood flowing freely down his back. His vision was blurred when he heard how one of his capturers addressed him. "It's almost time for your final hour, boy, and for me to revenge my son!"
A/N: Since some historians believe that Badon Hill is actually Badbury in Dorset, I used Lytchett as the name of the village where Arthur and his knights were involved in another battle, since Lytchett is also in Dorset and relatively close. I think… Geography was never my strong suit LOL
A/N 2: A big thank you to all my lovely reviewers!
