Arthur reached the Sarmatian first. Lancelot showed no signs of being aware that anyone was near him. Almost afraid, Arthur hesistantly stretched out his hand to touch his knight's cheek. "Lancelot?"
The sound reached Lancelot's ears as he briefly turned his eyes upwards. The dull look in the usually vibrant eyes scared the Roman beyond anything else he had experienced. "Lancelot?" Arthur repeated.
Arthur watched as Lancelot's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his head and body went completely limp.
The Roman immediately stepped forwards, holding up Lancelot's body to keep it from hanging in the ropes. "Dagonet, cut the ropes!" he commanded. Both Dagonet and Galahad had pulled out their knives already and with a couple of swift cuts, Lancelot was freed. Arthur felt Lancelot's entire weight falling against his chest and caught him before he could collapse to the ground. Quickly and gently the Roman laid the knight down, kneeling down next to him.
Lancelot's face was ashen white with bloody scrapes, lined by angry red skin. Both of his lips were split and swollen. His arms showed the same cuts and scrapes as his face. His hands were covered with dried blood that had spilled from several long scrapes on the inside of his fingers. Despite his dark clothes, it was obvious that they were soaked with blood both in the front as in the back, as became evident when Tristan gently turned Lancelot around, with Arthur's help.
Even the scout felt his breath hitch in his throat as he saw the arrow wound at Lancelot's back when he pulled up the knight's tunic. The gruesome wound was still open even if it was sustained two days ago, and blood was steadily flowing out of it, mixed with white pus indicating that infection had set in. Tristan brought his hand to Lancelot's forehead and wasn't surprised to find it searing hot with fever.
"He's burning up. We have to clean the wound," Tristan didn't waste time with explanations. "Dag, Gawain, we need bandages, water and wine." No one questioned Tristan's commands and hurried off to do whatever it took to pull their brother-in-arms through this. Arthur remained knelt down next to his second in command.
"He's dying, Arthur," Tristan whispered, his voice trembling.
Arthur didn't look up, but just stared at Lancelot. "We need to get him back to the Wall."
"It's too far, he won't make it!" Tristan's voice was suddenly laced with anger. Arthur didn't object, neither to the tone as he knew it wasn't directed at him, nor at the words as he knew that Tristan spoke the truth.
"What about Lytchett?" the scout asked, nodding towards the village close by, without taking his eyes off the gravely wounded knight in front of him.
His commander shook his head. "We just killed a dozen of their warriors. I doubt they would greet us with open arms."
Dagonet knelt down next to Tristan and handed the bandages and wine sack to the scout. He swallowed heavily when he saw the pus running out of the arrow wound. "Is he going to live?" he asked softly. When neither of the men answered, Dagonet knew enough.
Tristan quickly proceeded to first clean the dried blood out of the wound before he poured the wine over Lancelot's back and in the arrow wound. Arthur had placed his hands on Lancelot's shoulders to hold him down if he were to wake up, but nothing more than a pain-filled groan came from the dark haired knight's lips.
Arthur dropped his head in despair. He felt a hand briefly clasping down on his shoulder in support and watched how Gawain dropped down on his knees next to him. The blond knight's face betrayed his sorrow, and when he spoke his voice was tinged with fear. "Tristan, what can we do to help?" he asked as he watched the scout pouring more wine over Lancelot's back.
"We'll need water to clean the rest of his wounds. And blankets to keep him warm."
Gawain nodded. "Are you going to cauterize the wound? He has lost a lot of blood already…"
"No," the scout answered. "The infection has settled deep. It will spread through his insides if we close the wound. Hopefully we can keep the blood loss to a minimum if he's lying down."
Gawain rose to his feet once again, and after one last look at Lancelot, went to gather the things Tristan needed to care for the knight.
Arthur wordlessly took the clothes and water when Gawain returned, and proceeded to clean Lancelot's many cuts and scrapes.
"Merlin…" Arthur spoke up all of a sudden, almost startling Gawain and Dagonet. Tristan just looked up briefly to glance at his commander, never halting his ministrations to Lancelot.
"What about Merlin?" Gawain asked confused.
"He is said to have great knowledge of the use of herbs…" Arthur answered, sounding insecure himself.
"He is also said to be a dark magician," Dagonet stated, sounding hesitant as well.
Arthur sighed deeply. "Right now I'd settle for dark magic if it would save Lancelot's life!" Despair was pouring out in his words. A silence lingered between the men while they contemplated their choices.
Arthur's face took on a determined look. "Dagonet take Bors, Gawain take Galahad. Split up and find Merlin! Go in the direction where we last saw him. Tristan and I will follow you with Lancelot as soon as we're done here."
Both Gawain and Dagonet nodded in agreement before getting up. "Tristan?" Gawain said softly. "Keep him alive…" he continued when his gaze met the scout's.
Soon the four knights rode off as fast and hard as they dared, in a hurry to find Merlin, scared never to see their friend alive again.
"Arthur, help me sit him up. I'm going to bandage the arrow wound. Hopefully it will stop the bleeding some."
Gently, Arthur pulled Lancelot up into his arms, not wanting to hurt him any further. He could feel Lancelot's heart beating weakly under his hands, which did nothing to soothe his fears.
"I'm ready," Tristan said after a few minutes. "You can lay him back down again."
Slowly the Roman laid Lancelot down on the ground. A low moan escaped from the Sarmatian's lips. Tristan had rolled out one of the blankets that Gawain had put next to him and placed it under Lancelot's body. He reached over the knight and pulled it around him to keep him warm.
"Tristan…" The scout instantly recognized the slight sliver of hope in Arthur's voice and immediately looked up to see what was happening.
Lancelot's eyelids fluttered open ever so slowly. His brown eyes had sunken deep within their sockets. Arthur watched as the dazed eyes turned to his. Lancelot's lips parted a little, but no sound came forwards. It took too much of Lancelot's efforts to stay awake longer and he faded into darkness once more.
"We have to get going!" Arthur knew he had to get the Sarmatian to help soon and even then it might be too late already. "Stay with him. I'll get the horses." The Roman turned around and strode with hasty steps towards the white stallion and grey mare. He swiftly mounted his horse and rode to where Lancelot was lying, the reins of Tristan's horse in his hand. "Can you lift him up to me?"
Tristan nodded and with little effort scooped Lancelot up in his arms, the blanket still tucked around him. Arthur reached down for his knight and easily lifted him in front of him into the saddle. Lancelot gave no reaction at all. Arthur folded his arm around the Sarmatian's chest and hugged him close to his body. He immediately became aware of the heat of Lancelot's feverish body against his own, despite the extra layer of a blanket separating them. He spurred his big horse on and galloped off fast, Tristan right behind him.
"Hang on, Lancelot. Just hang on!" Arthur whispered.
Tristan passed him and he led them in the direction they had come from. Sunset had come and passed, making their journey even harder, but the clear summer nights allowed them to ride on in the light of the moon.
They had been riding for less than an hour, when Arthur suddenly yelled out to Tristan. "Tristan! We have to stop!" Without waiting for his scout, the commander brought his stallion to a halt. His hand had been lying over Lancelot's heart, and he had felt it getting fainter and weaker until he could hardly feel it at all. He realized if he didn't stop right now that Lancelot would die in his arms.
Tristan turned his horse around immediately, hearing the urgency and alarm in Arthur's voice. He jumped off his horse before it had come to a halt, ready to take Lancelot from Arthur. He lowered the dark knight to the ground, while his commander dismounted as well.
"He is fading!" Arthur explained as he took Lancelot in his arms. Tristan looked on in shared despair. They could do no more than wait for one of the others to return with Merlin, and pray to their own gods that he would be in time.
