Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. (Hell if they were mine I'd have better things to do than write fan fiction lol)
The burly knight's words had an instant effect on both the villagers and his companions. Racing into the barn, men and women scrambled into the hiding place, children grabbed and swung into the protective embrace of their mothers, teenaged boys hesitating as though they wished to fight before being dragged into safety by their fathers. Tom ran to the trapdoor and flung it open, reaching out to help the older people down the slope, Lark barking anxiously at his heels. Llynya jumped off the gate she had been sitting on and let Charlotte tug her towards the sanctuary, looking around wildly for Gawain. She met his eyes briefly and felt the push of his fingers guiding her towards the barn as he raced past her towards his horse, and nodded at his muttered "Go". Stumbling down the steep incline, her hand clenched tight in Charlotte's, Llynya hugged the other girl and prayed for the safety of the blond knight and his companions. As the last of the people scrabbled down the dirt slope, she found herself almost knocked into Balan. His eyes were sorrowful, his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth as though he were struggling not to cry out. A moment later the trapdoor slammed down and everything was lost to darkness.
The knights were mounted in moments, swords unsheathed and eyes narrowed, they galloped towards the meadow. Their prey might be unusual, but foe was foe and battle was battle, and this was a dance that they knew all too well. Thundering through the main street, they veered around the tavern and onto the smaller track that led to the forest and the land before it. Pulling up sharply, Arthur motioned for his men to halt. Barely holding his plunging gelding, Galahad looked around warily.
"Where the bloody hell is it?"
No-one answered for a moment. In the mild morning light the long grass rippled and swayed in the faint breeze, wildflowers bright within its depths. The sun had gilded the trees and illuminated the forest - it was a beautiful place, and not one that held any promise of malevolent beasts.
"We move on." Arthur's eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the scene. "Tristan, Dagonet; swing left but pull up before you reach the forest. Bors, Gawain; swing right. Lancelot, Galahad spread out beside me. Whatever it is could be waiting to ambush us in the grass. Be alert and be careful. If you see anything unusual then you call out. Understood?" He looked back at his men, his green eyes flashing, and nodded at the murmured assent of the knights. "Then we ride." Kicking his grey stallion into a canter, Lancelot and Galahad urged their mounts either side of him, the other knights sweeping out towards the further corners of the meadow.
Gawain pushed his mount forward, nodding at Bors and keeping his horse level with the older knight's bay. The grass was almost knee deep and his gelding struggled a little, unused to such dense foliage. Out the corner of his eye Gawain could see his brothers and commander racing through the meadow, their weapons glinting in the sunlight and their expressions grim. He scanned the surroundings, his fingers tight upon the axe in his hand, but saw nothing. They were nearly at the edge of the forest, andglancing at the dark trees ahead he pulled his horse up, Bors following suit beside him.
"Bloody wild goose chase," the big knight muttered, "the sooner the better we get out of this place the better. Tiger, my arse."
Gawain shrugged, his eyes roving over the land around them. "If you've got a better explanation for…"
His words were cut off abruptly by a sharp cry, and looking around both knights saw an eruption of flailing horse legs and orange fur struggling in the grass at the far end of the meadow. Tristan and Dagonet were already racing towards the fallen mount, Arthur's sword swinging down, only to miss it's mark when his horse leapt away in alarm at the beast bounding towards it. Galahad fired an arrow, but obviously failed to hit his target, both hands having to abandon the bow in order to hold his terrified mount. Tristan loosed his bow, his sharp eyes allowing him to aim despite the distance, and was rewarded by a harsh snarling cry as his arrow hit the animal in the shoulder. Whirling around, the beast bared it's teeth, and prepared to pounce as Tristan readied another arrow. Thundering across the ground, Gawain flipped his axe into his hand and kicked his feet out of the stirrups, readying himself to roll to the ground. He slid to the side and let himself fall onto the long grass, barely noticing the mis-aimed arrow that ruffled his hair as it thudded into the ground beside him. For a brief moment the dazed thought flashed through his mind : Tristan missed? Tristan never misses…. Before he managed to scramble to his feet he saw the scout slumped in the saddle, an arrow protruding from his shoulder and his left arm useless. Before him crouched the beast: eyes like wild fire, it's muscles bunched and rippling, it's tail whipping back and forth. Death is beautiful, he thought dimly, raising his axe. The sudden whistle that cut through the melee, caused both the beast and Gawain to hesitate. Bors thudded to the ground beside him, blades flashing, but before either he or Gawain had a chance to attack the tiger it turned tail and fled. Racing through the grass like a comet, it had vanished into the forest before either Galahad or Dagonet had a chance to catch up with it. Both knights pulled up their horses before they reached the trees; there were too many opportunities for an ambush and no telling if there would be any back-up if there were. Turning their horses they cantered back to their comrades, glancing behind them at the silent forest that rustled and whispered and seemed utterly innocent as to the evil it concealed.
Gawain and Bors scrambled over to Lancelot, both afraid of what they might find. The black horse was obviously dying; it's neck was slick with blood, it's legs twitching feebly. Lancelot was trapped beneath it, his eyes closed and face pale. Muttering a prayer to the gods, Gawain swiftly put the horse out of it's misery and with Bors's help dragged the limp knight from beneath it's broken body.
"Lancelot?" The dark knight did not stir, his eyes remained stubbornly closed, his face slack. Bending down, Gawain felt the faint whisper of his breath upon his cheek and looked up at Bors and Arthur who had abandoned their mounts and fallen to their knees beside the fallen knight.
"He's still alive."
Dagonet pulled Tristan from his saddle, his big hands surprisingly gentle as he examined his wounded friend. The arrow had plunged deep but was not life-threatening, the scout's eyes still bright with both pain and anger. Whoever had shot the arrow had done so from the trees, and hoisting Tristan into a sitting position, he looked warily at the forest behind them. Not daring to remove the arrow while they were in such a vulnerable position, he draped Tristan over the pommel of his saddle, inwardly apologising for his lack of care and wincing himself at the scout's sharp intake of breath and muttered curse.
"We should go," he said quietly, his stern features sharpened by worry. "Arthur?"
Tearing his eyes away from the limp body of his second in command and confidant, Arthur nodded. Two of his knights were injured, the horses were threatening to bolt and their prey was long since gone. Inwardly he cursed himself. To ride against a tiger - of course the horses would have been terrified. Their riders had weapons and understanding - the horses had nothing but the scent of an utterly alien animal, it was no wonder that they had panicked. Two men down, two of his few remaining knights, and by God he would not lose them to his stupidity.
"Bors, Galahad, stay at the edge of the meadow. Keep watch and signal if there is any sign of trouble." Noting the fierce expressions on the knight's faces, he emphasised his last words. "We attack together or not at all."
Both men nodded, tempering their anger and worry with the well practiced mask of duty. Gawain helped shift Lancelot's limp body onto Arthur's saddle and swung up onto his own horse. Nodding at Bors and Galahad, he kicked his horse into a gallop and followed Arthur and Dagonet as they raced back to the village.
Huddled and frightened in the darkness, the villagers waited for either the return of the knights or the re-appearance of the beast. No-one spoke, indeed no-one seemed to dare to breathe - even the babes in arms seemed to realise the danger and hushed their usual squalling. Squashed against Charlotte, Llynya could feel the younger girl trembling and squeezed her fingers in reassurance. Had it been minutes or hours since they had scrambled to safety? How was there any way to tell?
"Horses!" A male voice from somewhere at the front shouted in excitement, only to be quieted swiftly, but it was true, Llynya realised. The sound of hoof beats was of more than one horse, but other than that she could not tell. No-one seemed eager to leave their grubby sanctuary, and suddenly determined she tried to push through the crowd to the trapdoor, her heart pounding. It must be the knights. Had they caught the beast? were they unhurt? was Gawain safe?
Tom shoved open the heavy door before she got very far, and she was forced to close her eyes with a wince as the sudden light slashed through the darkness. Blinking, she shoved her way through the crowd of people, muttering apologies, Charlotte following close behind. Tom grabbed her arm before she reached the slope however, and prevented her from going any further.
"Best wait lass," he murmured, "let's see what's what first."
Glancing down at the sinuous feel of his lurcher brushing against her leg, Llynya noticed that Tom held his hunting knife in his hand, and that the normally friendly dog was tense and obviously awaiting a command from her master.
"Do you think…" Her voice trailed off as Arthur's silhouette loomed above them. His face was grim and his voice harsh. With a flicker of fear Llynya noticed the glimmering wetness that streaked his breastplate. Was that blood?
"The beast is gone for the moment, you need not hide. However it still roams free - stay close to one another." The beast was alive? Llynya's mind raced at this pronouncement and her heart plummeted at his next words. "We are in need of a healer and medical supplies. Those who have knowledge of such things should come to the tavern as soon as possible." With that he was gone, leaving a murmuring, confused crowd behind him.
Her chest tight and her limbs leaden with panic, Llynya scrambled up the slope, followed closely by Tom and Charlotte. Lark bounded past her, and she followed the dog who was obviously eager to find the knights. Holding up her skirts and stumbling in the mud, she ran towards the tavern, hair unravelling from it's tidy bun, her eyes bright with fear. Arthur's stallion snorted as she passed and she noticed with a prickle of relief that Gawain's horse was tethered beside him. If his horse was here then that meant he had been able to ride back didn't it? Didn't that mean that he was safe? Careering into the tavern she ran straight into Dagonet's very solid bulk and would have fallen over had he not grabbed her arm.
"Easy there," he said in his familiar rumbling voice, "Gawain's fine."
Llynya gave a shaky laugh, half in relief and half in embarrassment that her motives should be so transparent. She had little time to blush however, for she was grabbed almost instantly from behind, the familiar long hair brushing her cheek and muscular arms pressing her to him tightly.
"Are you alright," she asked, finally pulling away from him and running her eyes over him worriedly. "Are you…" pulling her hand from his chest she found it sticky with blood and looked at him with wide eyes.
"It's not mine," Gawain hastened to reassure her, "it's.."
"Lancelot," breathed Charlotte from behind them. Turning her head, Llynya suddenly noticed the two limp forms laid out upon the tavern tables, their eyes closed and bare chests stained with blood. Letting go of Gawain she took a step towards them before glancing at Dagonet.
"Can I help?" The big knight nodded and looked at Charlotte. "Do you have clean cloth? Sheets, rags anything that can be used for bandages?"
Charlotte looked dumbstruck, her sharp tongue for once silent. Dragging her eyes from Lancelot's prone form she nodded once and backed towards the doorway. "I will, I'll get…" turning tail she fled towards the house she shared with her father.
"They're going to be alright aren't they? I mean…" Llynya felt her words coming out clumsily and lapsed into silence. Beside her neither Dagonet or Gawain answered as they went to tend their injured comrades.
A/N: Oh dear slinks back into King Arthur fanfic shamefaced. For the people who have been waiting for an update I apologise for the delay. I've just moved house and haven't been inspired to write at all. Don't you just hate it when you lose your muse? Back on track now I hope, assuming anyone still remembers this: ) Thanks for getting me going again Nilmelwen, and thanks Carrie for looking this over and pointing out I'd spelt horses "hoses" several times. Sorry it's a bit short - I'm updating as soon as I've got anything down and checked as my computer has been playing up at the moment - more in the next couple of days, I know there are a lot of questions that need to be answered lol!