Authors notes: Thanks again for the reviews. Having a crap day today as I work for a temp agency at the moment and they double booked the place I was meant to be so I was sent home. Brilliant! Anyways rant over with. Enjoy the story because it shall soon be over… :-)
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Lancelot groaned and woke up. He fully expected to have Dagonet's axe protruding from his head but after some tentative feeling of his skull there proved to be nothing apart from a large bump.
Opening his eyes slowly he saw the battle was over and no one was around apart from the dead. Barely an arms width away from him was a dead woad his eyes wide open. Lancelot scrambled backwards memories of his torture vivid. He quickly tried to calm his breathing and slow his racing heart.
Looking around all he could see were dead people. Now in a battle deaths were inevitable but in the aftermath there were usually those with terrible injuries who were moaning and screaming in pain. There was nothing of the sort just an abnormal and eerie silence. He pushed himself to his feet and scanned the ground for his swords and knife. They hadn't moved too far from where he had fallen and he picked them up swaying as he bent down. Then without warning he threw up. When he eventually stopped he wanted no more than to curl up and sleep but it was not to be so.
Back on his feet he wandered, slightly dazed, among the bodies sometimes tripping over one as his vision became blurry for a few seconds. So far all he had seen were dead Romans and woads, no knights and his heart beat lighter. Now all he had to do was figure out where they had gone. They wouldn't have left him there even if they thought he was dead. The woads must have overwhelmed all of them and taken them away leaving him behind as dead.
Standing tall he sighed deeply.
'Right tracks' he thought scanning the mud around the battlefield. They were easy to spot despite the woads natural ability to become invisible because of the prisoners they were moving. He followed the tracks sometimes weaving off the path to clutch a tree as his balance and vision rolled like a ship.
It was getting darker but Lancelot plodded on determined to find his friends. He gave no thought to the fact that he wouldn't be able to do much of anything when and if he found them. Luckily for him the woads hadn't moved far and it took him only a few minutes…hours…umm he hadn't really an idea of how long he had been walking. He was actually frankly surprised that he hadn't been shot with an arrow considering how much attention he had been paying to his surroundings. Putting one foot in front of another was occupying most of his time.
The woads had placed their prisoners in the centre surrounded by a guard. There would be no hope of him creeping in and somehow releasing them all, he would need a distraction. Luckily causing problems was something he excelled at. Fire was always a good one but they were in a forest and huge raging inferno would be a disaster probably burning them all alive.
On the far side of camp the woads had tied a few horses, the knights own. These animals caused havoc on a daily basis so he hoped he could turn that to his benefit.
Walking was becoming an increasing problem as his head injury was worse than he expected therefore he crawled. As soon as he was close enough he clucked his tongue softly watching as a familiar stallion lifted his head and pricked his ears. Scimitar sighted him almost immediately and seconds after that he could tell that his master was injured. With a sharp whinny Scimitar began to pull at the rope securing him to the tree. His increasing agitation resulted in the others acting up as well. Lancelot allowed himself a small grin as he slid back into the trees.
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Tristan was the first who realised something was going on. He was the most coherent at the present time as the woads had not been gentle with them. Galahad, who had failed to make it far, and Dagonet were unconscious. Gawain blinked owlishly and didn't seem to know where he was whereas Bors was grouchy which was mostly normal. The Romans were also sporting a number of pains and injuries. Unfortunately for them Marcellus was still alive and glaring at them as if it were all their fault.
Lancelot. Tristan was sure the man was still alive when he had fallen but he had seen the woads move across the battlefield and kill all those who couldn't walk. He hoped that they had somehow missed the knight. His hopes increased dramatically when he heard the almost silent clucking noise. He had only heard that from one person. Lancelot. He was always making that funny noise around Scimitar. When the horses began to act up he knew it was the knight. How he had managed to follow them considering how hard he had been hit over the head was quite startling. That man was extremely stubborn and that stubbornness could result in the most extraordinary acts and feats which he often demonstrated although he would always play them down.
The horses were doing their jobs well and several woads had headed over there to investigate. Scimitar kicked out at several of them and then managed to pull free. The woads now had to deal with a wild horse desperate to find its master and several other animals fired up at seeing one of them free and distressed. As more went to investigate the others became more alert fearful of an attack. They watched the trees more closely the way they had come but they did not expect or see the lone figure crawling out of the trees behind them.
Tristan felt something at his wrists and looked down to see Lancelot slicing through the rope. The man quickly moved on as the rope fell slack. Trying not to move fast and therefore alert the woads that he was free he reached for the small knife he always had in his boot. The woads hadn't searched him well.
Soon almost half of them of them were free. The horses were still causing their distraction quite well and Scimitar had a number of woads on the ground clutching various body parts.
"What's the plan?" Bors whispered.
"Umm kill them all?" Lancelot whispered back.
"Great."
"Where are our weapons?" Bors asked looking around. Lancelot shrugged.
"Well this is a crap plan." Marcellus snarled.
"Tell you what I will tie you up again and leave you here. Feel free to come up with a better plan." Lancelot responded staring straight at him radiating a quiet hatred that halted the man's comments.
"That's what I thought."
They were all free but the problem of no weapons and an army of alert woads was a major one. Lancelot moved back into the trees and Tristan wondered what he would do next. He watched the horses that were still playing up and more now had gotten free. Scimitar suddenly reared up and galloped into the trees, Lancelot had called him.
What was he planning? It had better not be what he thought it would be!
Just as he had thought Tristan caught movement and then a horse and rider burst into the clearing.
Lancelot.
The man looked like a wild savage even wilder than the woads. Scimitar reared up and then slammed down again. Tristan caught the wince of pain that flashed across Lancelot's features. He was paying for this.
"Where is Merlin?" he cried.
"He's going to get himself killed." Bors exclaimed.
"If they wanted that he would already be dead." Tristan pointed out.
"So what?"
Tristan shrugged. "Let's not debate the finer points of his action and find some way to get some weapons and get out of here."
Bors nodded and set about bringing Gawain and Dagonet to full awareness. It was time for action.
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