"HOLD BACK!"
Every horse whinnied in fear, backing up so fast that several riders fell from their saddles and onto the ground.
Lancelot barely breathed.
It was only his second time that he had been at this end of a sword before. And it was the first that he was virtually unarmed. His dagger was in his pack, which was strung round his saddle; out of reach.
He sat as still as he could, keeping his neck and head even. Daring to look onto the face of the owner of the sword, Lancelot met the wild eyes of a man who obviously did not want to kill Lancelot.
Lancelot frowned, but could not seem to meet the man's eyes again.
Suddenly a wild cry rose up around the Sarmatians and officers, sending a flock of geese from somewhere in the woods to rise up, screeching in annoyance.
Lancelot—not being able to move his head—could not see nearly as much as he wished that he could. But his hearing had not been limited.
He took in the sound of sword on sword, the grunts and groans of the fighters, and the screams of those surprised.
An arrow whistled past Lancelot's ear, hitting the chest of the man Lancelot had looked upon moments before. The man fell with a grunt; and now Lancelot could move.
He grasped his dagger, and quickly ran over to where Gawain stood, trying to hold off another.
"Who are they?" Lancelot shouted above the noise, meaning the men.
"Dunno, did they get anyone of us?" Gawain answered between gasps of breath as he continued to block the man's path.
Lancelot shook his head; he had no idea.
A horse and its rider rode up behind the man Gawain had been blocking, a long sword quickly severing his head.
Gawain gulped in air as he stepped back.
Slowly the sounds ceased to only the sound of metal and heavy breathes.
"Ah! So at last you have arrived!"
The speaker rode up on a spotless white horse to one of Lancelot's two officers. He was dressed as they were; red flowing cape, gold and silver armor.
The officers rode up to him. "Is this custom now, here?" One of them questioned, motioning to the bodies of the men. "Tell me, who are these men?"
The speaker waved his hand as if it were of no importance. "Rebels from the north. They've been attacking routinely all month."
"And nothing has been done about it?"
The speaker laughed. "Well, what do you suggest, officer?"
The officer shook his head, managing a small smile.
Upset and tired, the young Sarmatian mounted their horses again, returning their weapons to their proper places.
Suddenly the speaker seemed to notice them, and he smiled even wider.
"Finally you have brought them. The...commander...is very anxious to meet them. We have, so you see, quick need of them. Or rather, Rome has need."
The second officer spoke up. "And how is young Artorius?"
The speaker smiled. "Curious. He wishes to meet his new knights. He knows not that they are his same age, save a years few."
The officers chuckled. "We will come into the city now, before the sun sets."
The speaker nodded. "You were lucky last night that you were not attacked. These rebels strike often, but their strength never wanes."
"All the better that we've got some new knights, then, eh?"
"All the better, yes."
And so it was such that Lancelot and his fellow Sarmatians were led into the city for the first time.
"Can you believe that welcome?" Galahad muttered to Lancelot when they were riding again. He gripped his reins hard, as if angry.
"I can believe that we'll be seeing more 'welcomes' as that." Lancelot replied bitterly, urging his horse forward.
They were greeted with large white structures, rising up to gallant roof tops and candles strung across like spider webs. Everywhere laughter and singing from the taverns could be heard, as well as the sounds of bickering, conversing, and horses. Despite the sun almost being down completely, the sounds grew louder.
"Ah! And here is our young Artorius!" The first speaker announced.
Lancelot recognized the boy at once, as the one he had seen a day and half ago at the river. But Artorius was not wearing the same curious and content look. Instead, it had been replaced by a look of utter, and sheer terror.
"The rebels!" He gasped, voice high with fear. "They've attacked the other part of the city! My mother-"
But the officers wasted no time, quickly galloping past the distraught boy, swords held high, and gleaming in the candlelight.
Artorius was left alone with the thirty seven Sarmatian knights. Boys he did not know now, but would eventually.
Tears streamed down the Roman's face openly, as his shoulders racked with sobs. "They killed her! They trapped her i-in the h-h-house! And now..."
His words elapsed into sobs again.
Lancelot sat awkwardly on his horse, staring at the boy. Nobody else seemed to be moving, nor did they seem to know what to do.
"What of your father?" Bors asked hesitantly.
Artorius shook his head tearfully. "He's dead too!"
Lancelot looked down. The initial outrage he had felt at being informed that their new commander was his own age had all but disappeared, leaving pity and confusion in its place.
Lancelot could see Tristan looking like he wanted to leave the boy to his peace, and Gawain and Galahad looking awkward and embarrassed to not be crying. Bors just looked guilty, having asked a question that had perhaps caused more sorrow for the Roman.
But nobody was moving, and the young Roman looked lost and extremely distraught. Sighing, Lancelot dismounted, and slowly walked towards Artorius. He had little to no experience in comforting someone. In his tribe, that was always left to a family member, or good friend.
But nonetheless, Lancelot came to a stop before Artorius. Years later he still did not know why he did what he did. But whatever it was that made Lancelot hold out his hand, was perhaps the same force that also made Artorius.
"I-I am sorry..." Lancelot began quietly. "For your...er, loss."
Artorius sniffed. "She wanted to go." He murmured, so only Lancelot could hear. "She wanted to die ever since father died." And Lancelot only frowned. "I-I went to his-his grave. I pulled out the sword, and..." It was then that the Sarmatian noticed the long, heavy-looking sword at the Roman's side.
"But I didn't get there in time." Artorius whispered, grief staining his voice. But no more tears fell, instead, the sword fell from its grasp, and clattered to the ground, echoing.
"I am Lancelot." He said, looking at the boy intently.
"My name is Arthur." Said Artorius. "You are a knight?"
And for the first time since leaving Sarmatia, Lancelot finally began to understand truly his new life. "Yes." He said.
And Arthur smiled the tiniest smile, which was matched by Lancelot. Flames licked the night air, swords clanging disrupted the stillness.
And then suddenly, a Sarmatian night fell from his horse.
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A/N: I'm SO sorry for the wait! Real life got in the way as it so often does... doesn't have a response system to reply to my reviews, so I've decided to reply at the end of each chapter, as a thank you!
Sooo...
Camlann- Thank you, I'm glad you like the story so far! And there are 37 boys. )
Camreyn- I agree with what you said about Lancelot and Tristan. And I will explain the Galahad question you had soon )! Thanks for reviewing!
Raine- I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thanks! )
The Voice Within- Thanks, I'm glad you liked the scenery descriptions! )
Lilyofthevalley4- I'm glad you're interested! Thanks for reviewing! )
0-0-0-More coming soon-0-0-0-