a/n: Okay, so here we go again. There are certain characters you don't see in this chapter, but don't worry—we'll see them soon enough. Please review! I really appreciate all the encouragement and feedback I'm getting, and they act as nice reminders for me to move along on this story.

A Plan of Action

Tristan followed quickly after Bors as they rode to the knight's estate. Smoke was in the air, and they were near now—Tristan could see the remnants of flames.

Bors yelled out his war cry as he came down the path to the house. It evolved to a cry of desperation!

"Eight! Seven!" he called out. He dismounted and drew his sword. The rest of them dismounted as well, but Tristan stayed atop his horse and didn't draw any weapon. The attackers weren't here anymore.

The knights and Britons spread out, Arthur and Guinevere as well. They seemed to focus on how to enter the smoldering house, and judging by the horror in their eyes, they assumed the children were in there.

Tristan heard whimpering, but not from the house.

"Bors," he called out. The bald knight turned quickly, ready for anything. Tristan nodded at the stables. Bors ran faster than he had for any battle and threw open the stable doors.

The children spilled out, hugging one another and clutching to their father. Guinevere and a few of the soldiers cared for them, but Tristan's mind was elsewhere.

He focused on the trees. Turning his horse, he galloped away from the estate and to the treeline.

"Tristan!" Arthur called after him. Tristan kept going.

Beyond the walls of the estate, he could feel it. That unease that every villager had complained about. That chill that started at Tristan's neck and tingled down to the hairs on his arm.

They were out there.

Horse hooves galloped against the ground behind him. A glance over his shoulder showed it was Arthur.

"Tristan, what is it?" he asked, trying to catch his breath. Tristan faced the trees, and with one fluid movement, unsheathed his sword.

"They're watching."

Tristan's horse reared up, eager to enter the forest. Tristan nudged him forward. Arthur suddenly cut him off, blocking his path with his own horse.

"No," he said with that commanding voice that Tristan hated sometimes. The scout's eyes flashed angrily, but Arthur held his ground. "Not now. We have to think this through. And we should wait for daylight."

Tristan rolled his eyes, but Arthur didn't see it under the scout's bangs and in the darkness.

"They'll get away," the scout reasoned.

"You can catch up with them again," Arthur said. It was final, and they both knew it—but if Tristan could actually see them, he wouldn't stop.

Tristan followed the king back into Bors' estate. There was much to be done.

-0-0-

The children were fine, albeit frightened. Between Bors' roaring and desire to kill anything in his path, and the general restlessness among the knights and soldiers, the whole fort was frightened.

The part that frightened Tristan was the message that all the children relayed:

"Don't follow."

This, of course, sent Bors into another fit that had his own kids shrinking away. Tristan stayed away from him for now, and found some reason and calm from Gawain. The two knights stood side by side, watching the growing council Arthur gathered. It was late into the night now, and despite his own weariness after scouting, Tristan was wide awake.

"They only took the women," Tristan observed. Gawain grunted.

"There were some girls left."

"I said women," Tristan reemphasized. Gawain paused and looked to the scout.

"Jaelynn and Vanora," he said. "The only two who appeared old enough for . . ." Gawain's face reddened as he considered the conclusion Tristan had already reached. The knight cleared his throat. "Do you think they've harmed them? Bors will kill them all—"

"Not yet," Tristan said. "They'll move fast. No time for anything more." That did little to settle Gawain. In truth, it hardly settled Tristan. It only gave him a short window to find the women. Now more than ever, he hated that Jaelynn was actually a woman. He wished she were only 13 again, and too short to catch any man's eye. Better yet, he wished he'd killed the strangers as soon as he came across them, regardless if he was only supposed to scout.

"Knights, Britons," Arthur called. The gathering quieted and settled in. "These marauders must be found, and quickly. We must bring back Vanora and Jaelynn. I am in need of your council in how to do this, considering the threat that they've made."

Immediately an uproar arose; man after man voiced his opinion, more anger than intelligence, and Tristan found himself sighing. He already knew the plan to adopt. From across the room, he stared at Arthur.

It took two minutes until Arthur noticed with all the noise. The king looked back at the knight, confused at first. Slowly, Tristan offered a cold smile. It was enough, because Arthur started to shake his head.

"No." He must have said it, but Tristan only saw the king's lips move from across the room. "Quiet!" His shout shut up the entire room. "We will accomplish nothing like this."

Rumbles of discontent moved through the men, Bors especially.

Tristan called out.

"Arthur."

All eyes were on him now.

"No, Tristan," Arthur said. He turned to all the men, ignoring the scout. "Whatever we do must be quiet. I'm asking—"

"Arthur," Tristan said again. "It's the best way. You know it."

"What?" Bors asked, his interest piqued. "What's your plan, Tristan?" The scout flickered a glance to Arthur, fully expecting some objection. He was right.

"His plan is not an option," Arthur interjected.

"My wife is out there, Arthur," Bors said, rising to his feet along with his temper. "Any option sounds good to me. We're all pissing away her life, talking here instead of hunting those bastards down!" He pounded his fists on his chest. "I'm going now, with or without a plan!"

"Bors—" Arthur tried.

"No." The word came from Tristan, and it spun Bors around wildly. The bald knight looked like he would run Tristan through. "You're not going."

"Yes I am—"

"You have a whole brood of kids who need you," Arthur spoke up. "I won't allow them to be orphans if things turn for the worst."

Bors turned so red, the others stepped back. Tristan crossed to his side and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.

"I'll find her," he vowed quietly. Turning to Arthur, he pressed his case. "Send me and Galahad. Any more would alert them."

Galahad was surprised when he heard his name, but he nodded solemnly at Bors and Arthur.

"I'll go," he pledged. Tristan turned to Arthur, and grinned when the assenting nod was given.

"But Tristan," Arthur said, and for a brief moment, made Tristan halt, "come back quickly, and in one piece." His eyes bore into the scout, and Tristan knew what his king was asking.

Arthur didn't want any repeat of his disappearance in Rome.

-0-0-

"I have to admit, I'm surprised Arthur would let just the two of us go," Galahad said loudly as they rode through the first edges of the forest. Tristan rolled his eyes, annoyed already.

"He expected me to want to go alone," Tristan said.

"Oh. Well, then I'm really surprised you chose me to come with you," Galahad continued. "Two is good though—watch each other's backs."

Tristan pulled up suddenly on his reigns and looked intently into the trees and brush. Galahad shut up quickly and stopped as well. The scout dismounted.

"Get down," he whispered. Galahad obeyed, his hand on his sword.

"What is it?" the younger knight asked. Tristan kept his eyes ahead. He frowned, grim.

"I need you to return to Arthur." Galahad balked at that. "He'll know why."

"What? But why—"

Tristan whirled around to the knight, withdrawing his dagger as he moved. He brought the butt of the knife down hard on Galahad's head. Galahad crumbled, his eyes fluttering with a faint look of betrayal before he lost consciousness altogether.

"Sorry, Galahad," Tristan said. "Two is too many." He tied the knight's horse to a low branch of the nearest tree, mounted his own horse, and took off into the woods.