"Where are we going?" Lancelot asked Arthur, who was standing right beside him. Lancelot's horse pressed his head into the Sarmatian's hand, looking for another treat. With his other hand, the dark knight held his black stallion by his bridle. "Sorry, boy, no more apples for today," Lancelot said chuckling, playfully tickling the animal's soft nose.

Arthur smiled as he watched the natural interactions between his second in command and his large horse. "We'll be patrolling the wall to the east. Centurion Livius reported yesterday that Woads have been seen there several times. They could be responsible for the raiding of the villages that has been going on."

Lancelot nodded knowingly. "I heard some of the Romans talk about it in the tavern. I'd figured that you would want to go and see for yourself." The curly haired knight looked past the flanks of his stallion, watching how Galahad was trying to keep his mare steady while he threw his saddle bag over her back.

When Galahad's white horse suddenly stepped forwards, Lancelot's mount did as well. "Easy, boy. It's alright," Lancelot spoke to him in a soothing tone. Swiftly he mounted and turned around in the saddle. "Can't handle your woman in the morning, can you, Galahad?"

Laughter rose from the knights all around. Arthur mounted his white stallion with a grin on his face, while Galahad's cheeks flushed slightly pink. His mare started dancing around even more at the sudden noise around them. Jols quickly grabbed her reins before anymore trouble would commence.

Arthur kicked his horse in his flanks and in one long line the Roman and the Sarmatians rode out the gates.

–– 8 ––

Arthur and his knights didn't find the Woads, the Woads found them. Without any warning, arrows suddenly flew past their heads and Woads poured out from behind the treeline. Arthur immediately pulled out Excalibur, Lancelot drew one of his twin swords, the others unsheathed their weapons as well, as they urged their horses forwards.

Lancelot beheaded one of the Woads with a powerful swing of his right arm, while maneuvering his horse with his other hand. He felt how strong hands took hold of his foot. Quickly he brought his sword down on his left side, but the speed of his horse and the force with which the Woad pulled on his leg, unbalanced the dark knight. He fell from his horse, on top of the blue painted warrior that had grabbed his foot.

A scream tore from his throat as Lancelot felt how a knife penetrated his thigh. For a moment a red sheet veiled his vision before he rolled to his side on instinct, away from his attacker. Realizing he had dropped his sword, his hand went up over his head and he drew the second of his twin swords. Immediately a second Woad attacked. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Lancelot sprang to his feet and brought up his blade and plunged it into the man's stomach. Blood sprayed all over him as he pulled out his sword, while the man sank to the ground, gurgling sounds indicating his last breaths.

Hearing a sound behind him, Lancelot twirled around, just in time to block a large spear that had been destined to pierce through his back. Using the leverage of his sword, he pushed the spear down to the ground. With his free hand he grabbed his knife that hung at his side and slit the Woad's throat.

Three more Woads attacked and died at his hands before Lancelot was able to look around and take in the battlefield around him. All around him the fighting was dying down.

Re-sheathing his sword he looked around to find its twin. The pain in his leg suddenly made itself aware again as he took a step forwards. With effort he managed to keep himself upright as his knee threatened to buckle when the hot bolts of pain shot downwards and upwards from where the knife had been embedded and pulled out again. The Sarmatian took one look down at his leg and the blood flowing freely, and cursed out loud. He surveyed the field around him while he stood still, but he wasn't able to spot his second blade. Gingerly he took a step forwards and bent down to push a dead Woad to the side.

Arthur took in the mess around him, dead bodies scattered everywhere. He quickly counted the men still standing and was relieved to see all of his knights alive. Dagonet was tending to a wound to Bors' shoulder. Arthur hurried over to see if the big knight was injured seriously. He knelt down as Gawain and Galahad joined them as well. The Roman looked up questioningly. "Are you two alright?"

"Aye," Gawain answered, and Galahad nodded in agreement. "Bors?"

"A flesh wound," Dagonet answered. "He'll require stitches, but it's not too bad. A clean wound."

Bors' lack of answer seemed to contradict Dagonet's assessment slightly.

Tristan was the next to join the group of knights. He had gathered most of the horses and was holding them by their reins.

Arthur confirmed with a quick glance that his scout had come unharmed out of the fighting as well. He looked around to see where Lancelot was, the only one that hadn't joined them yet. The Roman commander watched in surprised as he saw his second in command limping across the battle field towards a dead Woad and pushing him to the side like he was looking for something. The Sarmatian knight let the body fall back and limped towards yet another body, repeating his ritual.

"What is he doing?" Gawain asked in surprise, following his commander's gaze.

Arthur blinked in surprise as well. "Good question…" He rose to his feet and started to walk towards Lancelot. "Gawain," he added without looking back but the blond Sarmatian was already following.

"Lancelot?" Arthur said out loud as they neared the dark haired man.

Lancelot looked around briefly but then continued to roll yet another Woad over.

"Looking for something?" Arthur asked, uncertain of what was going on. He didn't expect Lancelot to answer affirmative.

"Yes," came the dark knight's brief reply.

Arthur could see how a flash of pain crossed Lancelot's features as he limped on yet again. The Roman placed a hand on the other man's arm and held him back. "You're wounded! How badly?" He looked Lancelot over, but it was hard to determine whether the blood covering him from head to toe was his own or of the men he'd killed.

Involuntarily Lancelot watched down to his thigh where he had been stabbed. His pants were torn slightly and the wound was exposed. Red warm blood was seeping out steadily.

Arthur took one look before he turned around and yelled across the field. "Tristan!" Immediately he turned back to Lancelot once more. "Sit down! We need to tie it off."

Lancelot didn't protest as Gawain and Arthur helped him to sit down. Suddenly Lancelot felt lightheaded when pain seared through him as Arthur tore his pants further to get a good look at the stab wound. His face turned pale.

Tristan knelt down next to the threesome and took bandages out of the saddle bag he had brought with him. "Lie down, this is going to hurt," the scout suggested after one look at Lancelot's face.

Lancelot laid down with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

"What were you looking for?" Arthur asked, distracting Lancelot from Tristan's ministrations.

"One of my swords…" Lancelot answered in a quiet voice. He opened his eyes again to look at Arthur. "I lost one, and I can't find it anywhere."

Surprise registered on Arthur's face. "Where did you lose it? Where did you look?"

"Everywhere…"

Gawain who had been standing next to Arthur looked around him. "We'll find it." He strode off towards where Dagonet and Galahad were helping Bors to his feet.

Tristan bandaged Lancelot's leg as Gawain, Galahad and Dagonet searched the field. Lancelot hissed in pain as the scout pulled the bandages tight to close the wound and stop the bleeding. Carefully, Tristan and Arthur pulled Lancelot upright. Tentatively, Lancelot let his weight rest on his injured leg to test its strength. He gritted his teeth against the pain but he could stand without any help. He looked around to see if any of the others had had any luck in finding his sword. An unsettling feeling nestled in his stomach as he saw that their search came up with the same result as his own had earlier. The sword was nowhere to be found.

Arthur stood up straight. "We have to get back to the fortress." He held up his hands to ward off Lancelot's protests. "Bors needs a healer, you need a healer. We are riding back," Arthur ordered, his voice conveying the finality of his decision.

The Roman helped Lancelot mount his horse, a pained expression lingering on the dark Sarmatian's face. "We'll go back tomorrow to look once more," Arthur promised, speaking softly, realizing the pain came as much from the knife wound as the loss of the sword.