Okay this is my first Fanfic so try not to be too harsh…and ofcourse I'm sure you all know that none of the characters are really mine except Valkyn…and the mysterious noble. Anyway I hope you enjoy the story, please R&R.

Chapter 2

It was no mere chance that Valkyn was on a hill overlooking the road that day. He dismounted and tied Arion to a bush and settled down to watch. The morning air was cool and the mist rose from the ground in shrouds, tendrils push about by the breeze. So it was that he saw the woads set up their ambush, the carriage and its guards approaching on the road, and the seven riders that watched it.

He guessed that the man on the gray at the center was Arthur, as he was the only one wearing any Roman garb. The other six men were his Sarmatian knights. My kin, Valkyn thought suddenly but quickly shook off the idea. He had no kin, no friends, and he wanted none. Attachments were a form of weakness, a way your enemies could hurt you, and Valkyn could not afford them. He had Arion and that was enough.

That Arthur and his knights did know the woads were there was clear. They were too at easy to know there was trouble nearby. Valkyn could also surmise that the woads were unaware of the knights, for they were too focused on the approaching caravan.

All of a sudden an arrow came out of the trees and lodged itself in a Roman's chest. Then the woads charged, and Valkyn saw that they far outnumbered the Romans. Arthur and his knights charged down from the knoll to engage the woads. Just what Valkyn had been waiting for. He walked over to Arion and pulled out his bow and arrows from their scabbard on the saddle. Then he walked back to his position on the forward crest of the hill. He chose his arrow carefully, gauging it for balance. He wanted to be sure it flew true. Then he drew the arrow across the bow and pulled back the string. And with his right hand locked against his ear he sighted down the shaft.

His eagle eyes picked out a mark on Arthur at the base of his neck and then he let fly. His aim was true…unfortunately Arthur chose that moment to leap from his horse onto two woads. The arrow thudded into the chest of a woad sneaking up on Arthur's back.

Valkyn stared a moment, his bland expression unchanged, then shrugged and smiled coldly. How ironic that the man sent to kill him was by a twist of fate protecting him.

"Well, there never was much I enjoyed about killing from a distance anyway," Valkyn said to himself. And so he settled back to watch the battle. He soon noticed another woad sneaking up on Arthur who was preoccupied by several others. Picking up his bow, Valkyn put an well-aimed bolt through the woad's throat. Then he proceeded to even out the odds for the knights a little bit since they were so horribly outnumbered. He was just beginning to enjoy himself when the woads suddenly stopped fighting and retreated into the forest.

Sighing with regret, Valkyn put away his bow. He was looking forward to meeting this Arthur; he fought well. Another one of the knights had also caught his interest; a dark-haired one that seemed to be quite the swordsman with his curved blade. It would be an interesting fight, thought Valkyn as he mounted Arion. He had not had an interesting fight in a long time, a very long time.

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After the woads retreated, Arthur looked over at Tristan, who was wiping the blood from his curved blade on the wet grass.

"Thanks for watching my back, Tristan." Arthur called to the dark knight. Tristan looked up in surprise at his words.

"What do you mean, Arthur?" he asked.

"Didn't you shoot those woads that were sneaking up on me?" Arthur asked, gesturing towards the bodies with Excalibur. Tristan did not say anything for a moment, and then he walked over a close look at the shaft protruding from one of the dead woads' chest.

"That's not my arrow, Arthur. None of them are," Tristan replied quietly, gesturing widely with one hand. It was then that Arthur noticed how many woads had been slain by the same type of arrow. Whoever this mysterious archer was, he was very skilled. Arthur thought with a slight twinge. Arthur walked over and pulled the arrow out of the body and looked closely at it, then handed it to Tristan.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Strange, very strange," said Tristan, gazing intently at the arrow. Then he scanned the horizon, looking for something but not sure what.

"What's strange about it, Tristan? Other than it didn't come from us or the woads?" Arthur inquired again.

"It's of Sarmatian make. The design isn't traditional but it was definitely made by a Sarmatian hand. What really has me confused is the fletching…" Tristan replied, still intently scanning the forest.

"What about it?"

"It's black…Sarmatians don't use black fletching. It's like this arrow is some sort of message or …calling card." Tristan said.

"And you're sure it's Sarmatian?" Arthur asked in slight disbelief.

"I am sure." Tristan said firmly, annoyed at Arthur's lack of trust in his knowledge, though he didn't show it.

"Then where did it come from?" Arthur wondered aloud as he started off in the direction of the carriage.

"I wish I knew," said Tristan, softly as he gazed at the surrounding forest and hills. "I wish I knew."

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