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Chapter 18

The Saxons all let out a fierce war cry as they ran through the gate. Suddenly they stopped dead. There were no adversaries for them to fight, they had simply disappeared! Perhaps Arthur really was a God, able to hide him and his own easily. There was a pall of smoke over the battlefield, cast by the small fires that littered the ground.

Walking into the smoke the Saxons became disorientated. Their war cry had petered out and those who had been banging their weapons on their shields did so now only half heartedly. Eventually all sound ceased and a deathly quiet descended on the battlefield.

Morgan stepped out of the woods with the other woads, smiling evilly. She was going to enjoy this, oh how she was going to enjoy this. She was dressed in typical battle costume, and painted with the blue woad that all the other warriors bore in some form or other. Readying her bow she checked the sword and dagger at her side. She was ready for this; she could feel it in the blood running through her veins.

Looking up she smiled evilly at Guinevere, not waiting for the signal to nock arrows. She was flouting Guinevere's command, willing to show her that although Guinevere was in charge it meant nothing for her. The only thing that really mattered now was killing, and any amount of orders weren't going to dissuade her from it.

The woads all readied their arrows. Morgan wasn't even going to wait for Guinevere to show them how the knights fired, she already knew. Tilting her bow upwards she looked to Guinevere, an unspoken challenge between the two. Before this day was out one of the two would realize just how important the other was.

Then there was time for no more thoughts. Sending her arrow on its way Morgan was glad to notice the others did too. The screaming death would rain down on the Saxons today, Morgan thought, pleased with herself. None of the Saxons that had come through their gate would go back through again, with the exception of one to spread fear amongst the ranks. They had been sent to their deaths. Morgan found she didn't really care if that was the real plan or not, she just wanted to kill. She was ready.

The Saxons spun when the first volley of arrows hit them. Everyone was glad to hear a sickening thud and the screams of men as the arrows hit. This was the moment the knights were waiting for. They rode through from behind the Saxon's, tearing through the shield wall as the Saxons span around. Then the arrows hissed down as the knights rode through, killing more.

Eventually it got so the Saxons didn't know which way to turn. A few even tried to loose their crossbow bolts to hit the knights, although none hit. They did hit, but not the people or beast they were meant to. The scream of dying Saxons filtered over the wall. None knew who was dying, as there were no visual aids as to the massacre carrying on over the wall.

Isulet was waiting placed slightly away from the fighting. She was getting restless; wanting to know what was going on. Again her brother had told her she could not help, and placed her behind the lines. She had orders to only come onto the battlefield if someone was injured, and then only if ordered. Tempest reared and kicked out as a wayward Saxon fell through the smoke. His hooves clashed down against the flimsy metal and sent the man on his way to meet the grim reaper. Tempest's muscles bunched underneath Isulet's legs. She could sense the tension of a warhorse beneath her, and realized that her own body was just as tense.

Tempest stamped a few times, tossing his ebony head, his mane flying. He was a proud horse, and he would not suffer being left behind while all his friends got to fight. He had blood on his hooves, and it had awakened him newly to his job, he was a war horse, and in battles he would fight. Isulet was trying to hold back her horse, her knees were pressed in tightly to his flanks, and her hands were white from where they were gripping the reins. There was going to be no way that she could hold Tempest for much longer, she hoped she could hold him until the melee was over.

Tempest had other ideas though. With another toss of his head he charged, charging full pelt into a Saxon warrior, who promptly fell under the weight of a horse and rider crashing into him. Isulet had long ago resigned herself to the fact that her horse was joining the fighting, and had given him free reign to take her where he would. She had loosened her sword from its position at her hip though; she knew her beautiful horse would not be enough to protect her if there were too many Saxons.

Soon enough horse and rider had won their way through to the knights, who were finishing off the last of the Saxons. Gawain looked up puzzled when he saw Isulet, but soon his mind was back on the fighting, worrying over her right now would only get him, and possibly her, killed. Since he wasn't planning on letting that happen he was determined to keep his mind on the fight. It seemed once the fighting was over that Gawain wasn't the only one who had been surprised.

"Isulet, what are you doing here?" Arthur asked, barely able to keep a check on his anger.

"Save your anger for the Saxons brother. My horse brought me." Isulet answered her voice adopting a dangerous tone that no one had heard before.

"Leave her Arthur, she can fight, and her horse will protect her." Tristan intervened.

"Fine, but Isulet, stay with one of us at all times." Arthur turned to his sister.

"Arthur I am no child." Isulet protested.

"I know, but still, I wish you to be alive at the end of this." Arthur explained, holding out his hand to his sister.

Isulet took his gloved hand in hers. Her hand seemed so small and frail next to her brother's. This was the reason why everyone was fighting today. It was for all that they held dear, be it land, or their home, or their loved ones, and some their children. This day whatever happened it would not be said that anyone on that battlefield was afraid; they were all fighting for a common cause.

"For freedom." Isulet muttered, feeling a breeze ripple her hair.

"For freedom." Arthur nodded.

"For freedom." The knights called.

Soon that one call was echoing across the battlefield. It intimidated some of the Saxons, so unused to the call of women along with the men. Everyone on the battlefield held their weapons aloft, ready to fight and ready to die for this one cause. Gawain steered his horse alongside Isulet's and wiped a few tears that were sliding down her cheek. She turned and nodded at him, and in that moment knew she would gladly lay her life down for this man.

"Back to the smoke," Tristan smiled as he said it blood dripping from the edge of his sword, "they will send more soon."

The knights drew back and the woads waited, Morgan among them. She hadn't even begun the fight, she was thrumming with adrenaline. Every nerve of her body was waiting for the moment when more would come, when the real carnage would begin. At the end of the day there would be food for the crows, though who it would be was uncertain. She so badly wanted it to be the Saxon scum, they had invaded, and they would be the crow food. History would be made that day, forged in the blood of battle.

Isulet took a deep breath as the gates opened for the second time. She knew this was the moment. There would be bloodshed and tears this night. But now she was aware of her blood pumping around her body. She was aware of how frail she was a female warrior. There was no backing down now, though. This was the path her feet had led her, and now she was treading it with trembling feet, but tread it and see it through to the end she would.

Morgan held up her arrow for the fire. There would be fire this battle, along with the bloodshed. The smoke already hung low over the battlefield, like a death shroud. Fitting analogy, Morgan thought, smiling to herself. There would be no turning back from this moment. Thinking of a child, her child, Morgan knew it was her duty to protect her. This was what she was here for. If she died this day then it would prove that she was unable to protect her, and so Ceridwen would pass to someone else who would be able to protect her.

There was an air of waiting. Then the moment was broken. The Saxons came rushing through the gate, like the deep sigh of a breath long held. They stopped dead; the battlefield was quiet and littered with the bodies of the slain, although whether they were to be buried was for the victors to decide. Weapons were drawn, strategies made, an army divided, and the moment had come.

The woads readied their flaming arrows, waiting for the moment. It would soon come, and then there would be an almost impenetrable wall separating the barrier. Only the foolish would attempt to cross it, or one paying no mind to it. The woads fired, and the Saxons screamed. A few arrows hit human flesh, but that was not their target. Soon there was an impassable wall of flames separating one flank of the Saxon army from the other.

Morgan drew her weapon and smiled. It was to begin soon. Guinevere led everyone in a charge. Morgan starting just a few seconds afterwards. It was going to be a bloodbath, but a fun bloodbath, Morgan thought as she flew over the battlefield. Her long legs carried her without a second thought towards the enemy, the urge to kill singing through her veins. This was what she needed now; she did not need to worry.

The two lines clashed with the sound of bodies and shields meeting shields. Then it was everyone for themselves. The line had been breached, and now there was no formation, just the need to kill, of which Morgan was the most indulgent. She was careful where her twin blades fell, but when they did they fell with deadly effect and accuracy, a Saxon falling under her, even as she moved on to another, the last one a dead corpse in her mind, even if they were lying in the final death throws in agony. She was deeper into the line than had first been planed but the Saxon's drew away from her as she danced her greeting to the goddess Moragan, death and crows were her repartee and Morgan knew well why her name was almost the same.

Across the other side of the battlefield Isulet was fighting and watching for any wounded. She knew she would be able to save at least a few lives this day, payment for all the lives she was about to take. She blocked a sword that was coming towards Tempest's side; if her horse went down she would be in trouble. She was nowhere near another knight, although she had said she would be. She knew she would have to win her way through to one. She saw Galahad fighting nearest the wall, and looking like he was about to be overwhelmed. She steered Tempest and let him go, knowing that he would keep her away from any trouble.

Reaching Galahad's side she extended a hand. She knew had only a few moments, as was proved when a Saxon swung at her hand. Galahad seemed to have got the idea by now and grabbed the hand that was extended to him. Isulet slid Galahad behind her in the saddle. She then steered Tempest towards the small group of villagers. Once she got there she lowered Galahad down, before dispatching a Saxon. As she turned to ride off Galahad grabbed her reins and stopped her.

"You're supposed to stay with one of us." He shouted above the din.

"I'll be fine, I can hold my own." Isulet steered Tempest.

"Isulet." Galahad caught Tempest's reins.

"What?" Isulet snapped around.

"Be careful, and find one of us as soon as you can, please." Galahad asked.

Isulet nodded, before steering Tempest back into the fray. She was fighting, and her sword was bloodied, and she had no idea of why. She was looking for one of the other knights; she didn't really want to disobey her brother's orders for too long. She looked around, and noticed she was the only person on horseback. She couldn't see anyone, turning to find Galahad she saw he had been swept away from her. Taking a steadying breath she killed the Saxon that came near her.

One jumped on her back and took her down. Tempest whinnied frantically; he dared not rear in case he hurt his mistress. Instead he struck out, and hit the Saxon who was strangling Isulet over the head. There was a dull thudding sound, and Isulet threw the unconscious body off her, before stabbing him with her sword. She span and clashed swords with Gawain as he grabbed her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I'm fine." Isulet nodded.

"Why did you not stay with Galahad?" Gawain asked.

"I got swept away." Isulet answered.

Isulet looked to Gawain and saw blood oozing out of his shoulder. She was tempted to reach out, but knew now was not the time to heal. Now was the time to kill. A sudden trill of panic ripped through her as she thought that Gawain might not be alive at the end of the battle. She shook it away, and yet it refused to leave her completely. She was just going to have to fight it, and stay with Gawain to make sure he didn't die, or try to protect him.

Morgan was looking for Tristan. She saw him fighting the Saxon leader and she cursed him for having all the fun. Although it didn't look like Tristan was having fun, it looked like he was being beaten pretty savagely. She grinned widely and came to a stop in front of the wall of fire. Three Saxon's laughed at her and pointed cross bows at her and she kept her smile on her face.

"We're gonna have some fun tonight lads."

"When the fires out we'll get to her." Another intoned. She pointed her blade at them.

"How about I come to you?" she asked gleefully. No sooner had she finished the sentence but she raced through the flames gutting the first one that tried to fire at her.

After finishing off the other remaining Saxons she began to run to Tristan's side, cutting down all who had stood in her path. She knew that if she was too late then Tristan would be dead, and she realized somewhere in her little stony heart that that would be bad, very bad. She saw in Tristan something she saw in herself, and she liked it. She knew somehow that she was falling for him, in a different way to her first husband, but still this romance was more fun in that it was unexpected. She wanted to see where it would lead, and follow it to the end.

Reaching a distance of a few feet Morgan stopped to watch the fight, absentmindedly skewering a Saxon that had got too near, and defended herself from the swing of another Saxon, before decapitating him. She was waiting for the opportune moment to jump into the current fight, and there it was. The Saxon leader went to attack Tristan when he was getting up, and Morgan caught his sword on her twin blades. The Saxon sneered down at her.

"They send a woman to protect him." The Saxon jeered.

"Actually I came of my own free will to see you dead." Morgan stated calmly, before launching an attack.

"Morgan this is my fight." Arthur came up to her.

Morgan glared at Arthur for a while, but then nodded. The Saxon laughed, and made some comment about men not being able to control their women. Morgan stuck her finger up at him as she made her way over to Tristan. He knew it was her, his eyes were watching her every move. She checked him over for wounds, scanning quickly. She saw a horrible gash on his side, and knew that this would be beyond her skills. She knew one who would be able to deal with it.

"Healer, I need a healer." Morgan called.

Isulet's head snapped around at that call. She was a healer, and she knew that she was needed. She ran towards where the sound was coming from, and dropped to her knees when she saw Tristan. She was dimly aware of her brother fighting the Saxon leader, but she couldn't pay any attention to him yet. She turned to her friend, and pointed at the shirt of a dead Saxon. Morgan nodded and retrieved the item, which Isulet used to staunch Tristan's blood flow.

"Cover me Morgan; I can't do anything until I'm able to sew him up." Isulet ordered.

Morgan nodded, and went and stood at her friend's side. Isulet was now able to watch her brother fight, and her heart was in her mouth. Every move was a dangerous dance, and it was hard to tear your eyes away from it once you started to watch. Isulet couldn't help herself, but cried out as her brother went down with a wound to his side. Arthur looked to his sister, and his eyes spoke reassurance, even as he took Excalibur and pushed it back into the Saxon leader's stomach. She gasped as blood welled up along the cut and Arthur dragged his blade from the wound with a practiced skill. Arthur stood and delivered the killing blow, holding the Saxon's head until he was dead.

The battle was soon over. The woads and Sarmatians stood victorious on the field of battle, but at what cost? There would be many wounded and injured, not to mention the deaths. Tristan was lying almost at death's door. His life was now lying in Isulet's hands, and her actions in this moment. She knew she would have to clean the wound before she stitched it, but she didn't know how. She came to a decision quickly and ordered Morgan to help her move him quickly nearer to a fire, before Morgan was sent to retrieve Tempest.

Whilst she was waiting for her horse Isulet stripped Tristan down to his breeches and boots to allow her to look at his other wounds. There were other smaller ones, of which only a few would need stitching, and yet all would need cleaning. At this point Isulet was able to get the things she needed from Tempest. She took a water bottle, clean cloths, bandages and a clean knife. The knife she handed to Morgan and told her to hold in the fire away from the pitch.

Isulet gently swabbed the wounds down before taking the red hot knife. Taking a deep breath and holding it Isulet held the knife to the wound. Tristan had thankfully passed out long ago. The smell of burnt flesh was sickening, and accompanied with the sound of sizzling flesh made anyone who came near at that moment want to be sick. Isulet brought herself through the urge, and quickly got to stitch the wounds. Once she had finished with all the wounds that needed stitching she let Tristan gently be lifted to the infirmary.

She let Tempest be led away by Jols, telling him firmly that he had to be good, as she had work to attend to. She followed quickly to the infirmary, where Merlin had ordered everyone with at least a basic skill of healing to go and help. Isulet looked puzzled as she saw Lancelot lying in the bed next to Tristan's. She moved to his side, and felt for his pulse. Not finding one she nodded, he had been brought here to be laid out. Isulet would help with that later, but now it was time to worry about the living.

She turned to see a long line of people, some lying on cots, some having their wounds quickly attended to. Isulet threw herself into the work, determined to save as many lives as she could. After a while she finished, all those who needed tending had been tended. She turned to see her brother having his wound tended to. She nodded at her brother and then saw all the knights at least being tended for minor wounds, whilst Gawain stood waiting patiently for a free healer.

Isulet smiled and called to him. She recognized the arrow wound from earlier, and drew in a breath. Gawain had stripped down to his shirt, and Isulet asked him to take that off so she could better look at the wound. It looked clean, as she had guessed the bolt had been pulled earlier. So she cleaned it gently with a cloth and warm water. Then she took a needle and thread, before looking to Gawain.

"This may hurt." She said puncturing the skin.

Gawain didn't answer, he knew it would. Instead he looked at Isulet, trying hard to avoid the temptation to cry out. Isulet tried to be as quick as she could, but found her hands were trembling. She hated to hurt those she loved, and here was her future husband, waiting for her to finish. She finished quickly and glanced up around her. There where wounded who would never be healed and it saddened her heart to look at them. "Someone should put them out of their misery." She stated softly.

"I believe that is going to be sorted out soon." Gawain replied as he pointed to her childhood friend.

Morgan walked towards her with a grim smile on her face. None of her wounds had been seen too but she had a more important job to do. Isulet watched as Merlin called out to those who would never recover. He told those who would never recover to rise and go outside. Here they would be absolved of their sins and sent on to another life. Morgan nodded to her friend before walking outside. Those who could not follow were carried by others.

"The lady will accept your sin of dying." Merlin's low voice filtered through the hall.

"This is wrong, these men have suffered enough." Arthur stood.

"It would be cruel to let them live and suffer." Isulet held out a placating hand, as she stood.

"Only God can decide when men live and die." Arthur turned to his sister.

"How do you know God isn't acting through Morgan?" Isulet asked, smiling slightly.

Arthur saw the joke, and smiled himself. He knew he was beaten, as well as any other man did. All he could do was to make sure that the men received a proper burial. Isulet was aware of the fact that she had been caught by a blade. She knew it was just a scratch, something that she could attend to. So she drew up her sleeve and realized that perhaps the sword went deeper than she had imagined. Gawain took hold of her arm and examined it, before looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"It's just a scratch." She said looking all innocent.

"Just a scratch?" Gawain asked, before shaking his head as Isulet nodded, "I'll help you bandage it." He added after a while.

Isulet smiled at him as he reached for a bandage. She felt the cloth drag across her skin as it was wound around her arm with deft fingers. Most of the knights knew how to wrap bandages well, especially after years of helping each other through wounds and other such times. Isulet felt an unbearable urge to shift around, like when she was little and her mother would tend to a scrape on her knee or arm. Gawain almost read her mind, as he fastened it securely and looked at Isulet.

"There we are." He patted her arm which made her wince slightly.

"Be careful, I'm an invalid." Isulet joked.

"Hey you two, stop it with the slushy stuff." Morgan walked back in, "And if anyone's the invalid, I am, I haven't had my wounds seen to." Morgan sat down on one of the cots.

Isulet looked to Gawain, smiling, as she moved to Morgan's side, tending her wounds quickly and easily. Afterwards everyone was going to the tavern to have a drink and to celebrate that they were still alive, and to celebrate the life of Lancelot, who had unfortunately not survived the battle. Gawain stopped suddenly, and Isulet turned as she was pulled back by him. She smiled as she was enveloped in a hug.

"I'm glad you didn't die." Gawain spoke into her hair.

"So am I." Isulet smiled.

"It could so easily have been one of us who died." Gawain sighed.

"But it wasn't." Isulet reassured him.

"Come on Lads and Lasses," Morgan intoned draping herself across the twos shoulders, "I need a drink and one of you is going to buy." And as she dragged them off she added, "And stop it with the slushy stuff again."

Isulet looked at Gawain over Morgan's shoulder and smiled. He smiled back, seemingly unable to stay serious, especially with Morgan around. Really right now Isulet wished Morgan wasn't being so persistent in keeping her and Gawain apart today, she really wanted some time alone with him. Although really, you couldn't grudge her some company, she couldn't annoy Tristan, he was laid up in bed grumbling that he would get no alcohol. So Morgan was looking to talk with someone, and Isulet just happened to be the closet person.

Later on, at the tavern Isulet had managed to drag Gawain away just to talk quietly. Morgan had disappeared, to take Tristan some alcohol and see to her daughter probably. Isulet smiled at something someone had said, and found herself looking to Gawain. The look that was in his eyes caught her completely, she just stayed captivated, her hand holding her wine cup. Gently Gawain took the cup and placed it on the table. Then he gently drew her to him and kissed her.

At that moment Isulet forgot everything around her. She was just aware of Gawain. Then she dimly heard cheering and broke away. She saw that everyone was cheering and catcalling, and it seemed that Morgan was at the centre of it. As Isulet looked at her Morgan shrugged innocently, and took a sip from her wine cup. Isulet seemed to look thoughtful, before turning to Gawain.

"Get me out of here." She murmured in his ear.

"Gladly." He answered swinging her up into his arms to more cheers.

Author's note: Well, here we are after ages. I promise this will be over soon. I hope you like this, it took me long enough to write.