Fealty
By Cerasi
Chapter 4: Mordred
The battle that ensued was bloody, to say the very least. Arthur and his men rode forth and, once recovered from their initial shock at a sound they would later come to associate with imminent death, the Woads fought back hard.
Tristan and Bors quickly formed the wings of a formation they had trained for. The dragon flew towards the Woads with fury and deftly picked off all stragglers on the outer edges. Using their horses in a manner the Woads and Romans were unfamiliar with, the Sarmatians went amongst their supposed enemies and used their freed hands to slice at any flesh they could reach.
Galahad had anticipated this moment, the moment when his blade would take life. The moment he would take life. It never seemed the same, though, in training. From the tales of other men, and his own imagination, he had expected bloodcurdling cries, and a fierce hand-to-hand fight before a man's life fell before him.
It was not like that.
A parry and a thrust of his sword and the man fell. Galahad stared for a moment, astounded by the ease of it but horrified just the same. It was only when Tristan's arm landed on his own that he moved. A brief look made him understand the importance of this time and he rode on.
Gareth was much the same in his reaction, but his man did not fall with such swiftness. He fought and fought, unfairly matched against a man of easily twice his age, and tall enough to be a challenge to the mounted boy. Eventually his sword managed a slash across the other man's throat, and blood spilled forth, shooting at Gareth's face from the opened arteries. Gareth darted backwards and stared in disgust. It was only when Lancelot stopped a blow from being dealt to Gareth's head that Gareth began to move again.
Bors and Dagonet fought well, as was to be expected. Their style was what some of the Roman's would have expected in a tavern brawl, not on the battlefield. Of course, death had never been romanticized as pretty and honourable in Sarmatia.
Gaheris and Gawain fought side by side, always with their horses nearby. The younger had an eye constantly on his brothers and Galahad, while Gaheris' gaze seemed to assess Mordred as often as not. Their fighting technique was remarkably similar, given Gawain's use of an axe and Gaheris a sword. They seemed not to notice the blood of their enemies. It was simpler to them, kill or be killed. There were no pretences to taking life.
Arthur turned about and about, killing Woads as he surveyed his men. The Romans were beginning their run now, but the Woads were closing in. Soon it would be the Sarmatians and Arthur in a circle of blue warriors; surrounded by death.
Bedivere, Percival, Kay and Lamorak took as many of the tougher fights as they could, but everyone was getting more and more hampered in their efforts to stay together and fight their way out at the same time. Worry took Arthur's heart as he saw Mordred desperately swinging a blade he had never before used. Then the worry turned to anger; the boy should not have been there in the first place, and Arthur would be certain that Mordred would never be placed in that position again.
He heard a shout as the Roman's broke through to the Sarmatian position. Nodded a brief greeting to a young captain, and then turned to his men.
"Mordred." He called. Mordred turned, hideously unaware of the battle that threatened him at all times. "Ride back, immediately."
The young man nodded but paused. He was thankful of the offer, but also aware that his commander considered him unable to fight. If he had taken that chance straight away he may have lived.
Mordred swung his horse around, disregarding the Woads that pushed in. He spurred his horse forward, but he was blocked. He slashed at those in his way but they were too many. His hopeless efforts drew the attention of both Woad and Knight. Lamorak and Bedivere pushed their way through the sea of blue men, desperate to reach Mordred. The Woads forced their way between the Knights and their object of focus, throwing themselves at both in an effort to bring down what they could.
Mordred began sweating and puffing from the effort, and his wild distress made him lose control of his horse for a moment, the one moment that pulled him further away from the knights.
The Woad numbers were depleting, but they seemed concentrated between these two parties now, desperate to claim more than Romans that day. The knights were all pressing towards Mordred, backed by Romans as they went. Each pushed his horse as hard as he could, killing where it was possible.
"To me, Mordred!" Arthur called desperately. "To me!"
The young man drove his horse straight through the Woad crowd. Momentarily he lost his grip on his sword and he overbalanced to catch it, scrabbling for the reigns as he did so.
The Knights watched in horror as Mordred was gripped by the forearm and dragged to the ground, eyes wild and desperate as he fell. They could only wince as they heard one last fraught, choked cry before a mighty thud and the most sickening crunch any of them had ever heard.
Arthur visibly started in his saddle, and Gaheris yelled in fury as he cut away at everything blue in sight. Lamorak and Kay exchanged glances and began blocking the youngest boys from the Woads, pressing them back to the Roman defence. Percival took a breath and glared at the Woads who surrounded him, daring them to fight him.
Gawain was dragged away from his fuming brother by a push of the masses, but Bedivere seemed able to force his way through to the older boy. He slashed at a few more Woads and reached out to Gaheris. Gaheris swung an angry glare at Bedivere, and it only lessened slightly when he saw who had touched him. Then it swung back to the Woads and his blade pushed through one man's skull, then out and across another man's throat.
The Woads were spread now, their numbers having diminished severely. A few still crowded around where Mordred had fallen, seemingly defending their prize. Gaheris seemed determined to reach them, and they seemed just as determined to stand their ground.
At last there was enough room for Gaheris to dismount, and he grabbed his shield as he did so. Turning to the Woads he dealt them with a stare that could have withered weaker men. Instead they stepped aside, parting to allow Gaheris his chance to face the true enemy.
A man stood up from where he had been looting Mordred's body. Without having seen the death, though, there would have been no telling the young man's face, for it was crushed well into his scull, and near featureless once combined with the profuse amount of bleeding from the brain. The boy had watched the blow fall.
The apparent killer of Mordred stood and faced down his would-be opponent. Gaheris stood his ground but a ripple of fear tainted his face. The man before him was huge, as tall as Kay and as broad, easily, as Lamorak. There was something in his face, however, that undermined all of this. There was a lack of comprehension beyond death dealing that suggested that this man lacked intelligence.
Of little comfort was that to Gaheris.
"Turn around, boy." Bedivere whispered. "They will not fairly challenge you, they merely wait for an opportunity to strike."
The man called something in Gaelic and those around him laughed. He had obviously made jest of Mordred's death, as the hefted a huge war hammer towards the dead boy's body. Gaheris stepped forward. The weapon was coated in blood, and it was the same size as the thing that had apparently crushed Mordred's skull. The sickening crunch became clear now. Gaheris felt ill.
Then the man charged.
Gaheris had barely enough time to duck out of the way of the huge wooden hammer before it did a similar job to his own skull as it had to Mordred's. He swung his sword towards the man, but his reach was not enough. He knew this was dangerous, because it meant he had to get closer.
He ducked in as far as he dared, and sent the blade forth again. This time it nearly scraped but the man pulled back again. Gaheris was mildly aware of Bedivere standing behind him, perched with his one good hand on the hilt of his sword.
Several more times Gaheris jumped in and pulled back, narrowly missing the war hammer just as many times. He could see the other Woads edging in, but they made no show of wishing to end this display.
Soon he felt himself getting tired. His limbs began to weaken and fail. He was short of breath and shorter, yet, of time. The war hammer was coming down from above once more, aimed straight at his skull.
Now Gaheris saw his opportunity.
The huge beast of a man had brought both powerful arms up to grip the hammer, and it occupied all his strength and concentration to do so. Gaheris stepped forward under the man's arms and his sword plunged into the other man's gut even as the huge hammer hit soil where Gaheris had previously stood.
The look of shock on the other man's face was nearly equal to Gaheris' that he had succeeded. He pulled the sword back as quickly as he could, tripping over the hammer as he backed away. He landed on his back, still staring at the man who now gripped his stomach in a futile effort to hold his blood and life in through the gaping hole.
The Woads paused, deathly silent, and then attacked with a ferocity that they had kept pent while they watched. Now the six of them that remained leapt forward with all weapons aimed at Gaheris.
A moment before Gaheris was aware of it, Bedivere had leapt over the boy, sword raised and ready. He landed between Gaheris and the now prone body of the other warrior. The failing sunlight reflected off his sword, which gleamed with the freshly spilled blood of his fallen enemies.
He swung twice, throwing back three of his opponents. Another slash and one of them was dead. With his stump wrist he dealt blows that a fist would struggle to compete with. His sword then danced in and eliminated life wherever it fell. A second person fell, then a third and now the first three had returned to challenge again.
Bedivere raised his sword in a challenging salute and danced forward, his blade killing two of the warriors in one movement. The last looked at the sword, then the man, and then the fallen, and made a foolish decision to try his luck once more. His death was not so swift. His throat was cut only part way, and his gut opened for the world. He lay writhing on the grass even as Bedivere sheathed his sword and turned back to Gaheris.
"Are you alright?" He asked and offered the boy a hand.
Gaheris could not answer but stared as he took the man's hand and pulled himself up. He looked dumfounded and the most he could manage was to pull his eyes away so as to not seem rude. The man was the finest warrior he had ever seen, and he had but one hand. He felt that hand on his shoulder and looked up to meet the man's eyes.
"Are you alright?" Bedivere repeated.
"Six men." Gaheris muttered, staring as the last of them finally gave up his struggle. It was all he could manage to get out a few words. "And Mordred."
They both made the foolish mistake of glancing over at the boy's body. Gaheris felt instantly ill again and turned away, taking a few deep breaths as he did. Bedivere steeled himself, as only a tried and true warrior could, and stepped over to where Mordred lay. Bedivere took Mordred's horse and steadied her. The tall mare had not wandered far from her owner, remembering her duty well.
After pulling off the saddle and dumping it on the ground Bedivere took the saddle-blanket and wrapped the boy's body in it, lifting it and placing it on the horse's back once more. He took the lead rope in one hand and gripped Gaheris' shoulder in the other, leading them both back to the rest of the knights.
Once they were close Lamorak finally released Gawain, whom he had been holding back from the fight, and the boy took off like an arrow. Gawain ran to his brother and gripped him by both shoulders staring wildly and intently into his eyes. He recognized the plea that was in Gaheris' eyes: no words.
Gawain roughly embraced his brother, only parting when Gareth came and began fretting about them both. The young boy took Gaheris' hand and stared worriedly up into his brother's eyes. He had tears in his own, though he made an effort to hide them. Gaheris half-smiled, and bent down to hug the young lad.
"I was so scared." Gareth whispered, fearful and astounded. "He was huge."
"I'm alright." Gaheris promised. "Let's go back, now."
