A/N: So, this is it for the Britain side of the story. Next we'll be joining Arthur and his knights in Sarmatia for a while! I'm pretty excited for that, TBH. I'm going to keep posting the chapters as I finish them, even if that means I'm posting every day, considering this story has been going for so long. I think it's about time it gets wrapped up. I do have a vague idea for a fourth part, so we'll see if that actually ends up being written!
As always, reviews are definitely welcome, even if they're just to say hi!
Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
.*.*.*.*.*.
Sunlight was just beginning to brighten the horizon when Morgana finally finished her shouting and rejoined Ysbadaddon and Nimue to head for their army.
"It's about time," Bedivere grumbled, rolling his head from side to side to stretch out his neck. "How long was she doing that for? She must be hoarse by now."
"Most likely," Cymbeline laughed.
"What do you think they'll do now?" Dagonet asked.
"Either fire a volley or charge the walls," Cymbeline said. "I don't really foresee them asking for a parlay, especially after that ridiculousness."
"Agreed," said Bedivere.
"Should we prepare to fire?" one of the guards asked nervously.
"Nock an arrow, but don't draw just yet," Cymbeline replied. "Let's wait and see what they do."
The defenders didn't have to wait long. As Ysbadaddon, Nimue, and Morgana vanished into the ranks of their army, a chant began. The defenders couldn't make out the words, but the chant was soon accompanied by the sound of stomping feet and swords and spears striking shields. Cymbeline narrowed her eyes and glared out at the torch-lit host. Soon enough, the front ranks began to march forward, making for the Wall.
"READY!" Cymbeline bellowed, the call echoed down the wall. She checked her own bow, making sure the arrow was nocked properly.
The defenders watched as the army moved closer; now it was clear that the back ranks that had stayed behind were readying their own bows.
"DRAW!" the command was echoed down from the fort. Cymbeline allowed a proud smile for Branwyr to flit across her lips as she raised and drew her bow.
As they watched, the front ranks of the army suddenly stopped and dropped to their knees. Knowing what was coming next, Cymbeline cried out "FIRE!" at the same time as at least two other voices elsewhere on the Wall. All of the defenders' arrows were loosed at once, flying towards the two parts of the army. A greater number of arrows flew towards the archers in the back, many of them finding a mark. The rest of the arrows fell among the forward section of the army, and almost all of these hit home.
The commands for a second volley echoed quickly down the line and the ensuing round of arrows was off in moments. It took a few heartbeats for Cymbeline to realize that the hissing of the arrows was growing louder, rather than quieter. "DOWN!" she screamed, dropping to a crouch and bringing her hands up to cover her head.
Most of the enemy's volley whistled harmlessly over their heads or clattered against the Wall, but Cymbeline heard a thud and a cry of pain as one missile found its mark. Bedivere was at the guard's side in an instant, examining the wound. Fortunately, the arrow had struck in the fleshy part of the man's arm, and Bedivere quickly deemed it nonlethal. He bound the wound quickly and returned to Cymbeline's side.
"Back up!" Cymbeline ordered her troupe, jumping up to her feet and bringing her bow up. "FIRE AT WILL!" she shouted down the line, the call echoed along the Wall. Arrows began to whiz constantly past, fired from dozens of bows along the length of the Wall. They also began to fly towards the defenders, although many of these bounced off the great stones of the Wall. After a few minutes focusing on firing at the archers across the field, Cymbeline noticed that the forward section of the army was moving forward, towards the Wall.
"Watch!" she cautioned her companions, turning her bow towards the creeping battalions.
The others followed suit, quickly beginning to fell the approaching warriors.
"Beds!" Cymbeline called to her cousin. "Do you see any ladders?"
"No!" he called back. "But there are other ways to breach a wall!"
Cymbeline gritted her teeth and refocused herself on firing into the ranks. The others on her section of the wall followed her lead, and soon there was a pile of bodies forming around the great gate.
Suddenly, with a whistle and a thud, Cymbeline felt a searing pain in her shoulder. She cried out and nearly dropped her bow.
"Let me see," Bedivere materialized at her side, hands hovering around the arrow embedded in her right shoulder.
"Cym!" Dagonet called. "Are you alright?"
"I've had worse," Cymbeline replied, gritting her teeth as Bedivere abruptly yanked the arrow out of her flesh.
"It's not deep," Bedivere informed her. "Can you move your arm alright?"
Cymbeline tested her motion and discovered that she could, in fact, move just fine, if she didn't mind the pain. "I'll manage."
"I can't bandage it; it's in too awkward of a spot, but it's not bleeding badly, so you should be alright," Bedivere said.
"I'll manage," Cymbeline repeated.
"If you feel woozy, let me know, and I'll take another look," Bedivere instructed her before returning to his post.
Cymbeline took a moment to lean her back against the battlements and close her eyes, appreciating the cold radiating off of the stone. She turned slightly and raised her head to peer over the crenellations, checking on the state of their attackers. She didn't like what she saw. Reluctantly, Cymbeline rose to her feet and picked up her bow, beginning to fire into the enemy ranks again. She was hindered slightly by the wound in her shoulder, but, thankfully, the adrenaline coursing through her body was able to dull the pain somewhat.
The archers were down to their last few arrows when the first rope flew over the side of the Wall. It was fastened to a heavy iron hook that caught on the crenellations, leaving the rope hanging down for their enemies to climb up.
"Dinadan! Get that off!" Cymbeline shouted to the other knight as a second hook caught in the stonework next to her. She loosed the arrow she had nocked and drew one of the scythes from its sheath on her back. In a single, swift motion, she sheared through the rope, sending the two Woads who had been climbing it crashing to the ground. Neither of them got back up. Cymbeline grabbed the hook and tossed it to the ground behind her. She glanced over the Wall and scowled at the teeming mass of bodies she saw there. "Oil!" she shouted towards the guards who were manning the pots. They released their arrows and grabbed the handles of the suspended pots. With a great heave, the contents of the two massive cauldrons were poured down onto the Woads.
Screams of agony rose from the attackers, and those not immediately killed began to stagger backwards. Before they could get far, a guard from each of the pots had grabbed a burning brand out of the fires burning under their respective cauldrons and pitched them over the side of the wall, successfully igniting the oil. More screams reached the defenders ears as the flames licked at anything that had been doused by the oil. Soon, the flames had spread and ignited the dead grass of the field, rapidly consuming everything in their path. The soldiers withdrew, running away from the fast-moving flames. Cymbeline leaned over the side of the wall to make sure that they hadn't inadvertently set the gate itself on fire; the cauldrons were positioned so that their contents shouldn't splatter onto the gate itself, but there was always a possibility of that happening.
The defenders paused for a moment to survey the field in front of them. The wall of flame was driving their enemies back and leaving smoldering embers as it consumed the grass. The Woads seemed wary of approaching again, and Cymbeline took this opportunity to take stock of the field in front of her. Many of the bodies on the ground had caught fire—or at least their clothes had—and were successfully providing another line of defense for the wall, as the Woads seemed reluctant to trample their burning comrades. Many of the remaining warriors were still in retreat, flames licking at their feet and legs as they ran. A few decided to take their chances with the fire, but soon regretted it as the heat began to singe and burn them.
Cymbeline looked around at the men on the wall around her. "Take a breath. We'll watch for them to come back."
Clearly relieved, the guards and knights settled down to sit on the pathway of the Wall. Bedivere took the opportunity to check on his patients. "How's your arm?" he asked Cymbeline after finishing with the guard.
"Not bad," Cymbeline shrugged as Bedivere pulled the bloody cloth away from her shoulder.
"The bleeding's slowed quite a bit," Bedivere nodded. "You'll live."
"Fantastic," Cymbeline rolled her eyes. "I was worried I wouldn't make it. What with the severity of the wound and all."
"Is now really the time for sarcasm, Cymbeline?" Bedivere teased.
"You started it," she grinned.
Bedivere glanced towards the fort. "I hope everyone's doing alright on that end of things."
.*.*.*.*.*.
Down at the other end of the wall, Branwyr sat down on the stone path that ran along the wall. She was bleeding from a cut on her cheek—thanks to a near miss from an enemy arrow—and her fingers were raw. She was almost out of arrows in her quiver. Beside her, Tristan and Lucan sunk to the stones, both boys clearly exhausted. All around them, guards and the other knights in training settled down to the cool stones, backs to the battlements behind them.
With the rush of flame that had followed the cascade of boiling oil from the great gate, Ysbadaddon and Morgana's army had retreated, giving the defenders a much-needed respite. Branwyr took a deep breath and wrapped her arm around Tristan's shoulders. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," the boy sighed deeply. "Just tired.
"Lucan?"
"I'm alright," Lucan rested his head against the battlement behind him. His sand-colored hair was dripping with sweat and plastered to his forehead and cheeks. Branwyr doubted she looked any less worn.
"I'm going to check on the others. I'll be back." Branwyr rested a hand on each boy's head briefly before slowly standing, peering over the Wall as she did so to make sure she wasn't leaving herself open to an enemy's lucky arrow. The dozens of other archers and guards on the Wall were also taking the chance to catch their breath, either sitting on the pathway of the Wall or leaning against the battlements that looked out over the northern field. Branwyr picked her way carefully through the unruly tangle of limbs and weapons, searching for the other knights-in-training.
She found Tyra and Sebille seated on either side of Kei, who was bleeding from a wound in his side. "Kei! Are you alright?" Branwyr called, hurrying to his side.
"Lucky shot," Kei grinned sheepishly. "I wasn't paying enough attention and didn't get out of the way fast enough. It's fine."
"You should have a healer look at that," Branwyr pulled the torn cloth of his tunic away to peer at the wound.
"Beds is down at the gate, and I haven't seen any other healers around," Kei argued. "I don't have time to go find one."
Branwyr paused, deliberating. "You're right," she agreed finally. "I'll send Lucan down to look at it; he's been training with Bedivere. He can at least bind it to help stop the bleeding."
Kei nodded wearily as Branwyr turned to her sisters. "Are you both alright?"
"We're fine," Tyra nodded, yawning.
"Just tired," Sebille grinned.
"Good," Branwyr smiled at each of them in turn, then turned back to Kei. "Watch over them, please?"
"I will," Kei nodded. "Even if I weren't terrified of your mother, I would."
Branwyr laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before rising and making her way back to Tristan and Lucan. "Lucan, Kei is injured. Can you go take a look at his wound? I know there isn't much you can do, especially up here with no supplies, but just make sure it won't kill him any time soon."
Lucan nodded and peeled himself away from the stone, then made his way back the way Branwyr had come. "Tristan, I'm going to go find Griflet and Lancelot. Do you want to come along?"
Tristan stood wordlessly and followed his sister along the Wall. They found Griflet bounding up the stairs from the fort, bundles of arrows in his arms. "I thought we might need these," he explained when he saw Branwyr.
"Pass them out to the archers first," Bran nodded. She took a handful of shafts from one of the bundles before sending Griflet on his way.
Ganis and Lancelot were halfway to Cullwch's position, at the end of the line that marked the defenders of the fort itself from Cullwch's troops. "Lancelot!" Branwyr called as they approached, waving to her brother. Lancelot waved back and started to move towards his siblings.
"Ganis," Branwyr greeted the captain of the guard. "How are things going at this end?"
"Well enough," Ganis shrugged. "We had a few of them toss hooks up and try to climb the walls, but we took care of them right quick."
Bran glanced over the Wall at the bodies scattered across the field. Many of them were still smoldering from the flames that had rushed out from the great gate. "We've taken a lot of them down, but we'll have to do a lot better if we want to live to see another sunset," she said grimly.
.*.*.*.*.*.
Bran and Tristan had just returned to their position and sat back down on the Wall when there was a cry from one of the lookouts. Bran jumped to her feet and scowled when she saw that Ysbadaddon's line was beginning to creep towards the Wall again. "On your feet, Tris. They're coming back."
Tristan climbed back up as Lucan raced up beside them, looking positively wild as his overgrown curls settled into a halo around his head in the light of the rising sun. "Kei will be fine," he told Branwyr as he readied his bow.
"Good; thank you," Branwyr readied her own bow and then glanced up and down the line of archers on the Wall. Everyone looked exhausted, and rightfully so—it had been a long night. Branwyr wished she could think of something to say to bring them courage—Arthur or Guinevere or Cymbeline would know what to say, she thought—but settled for setting her gaze out on the advancing army. The Woads were making no attempt to hide their approach now, realizing that they had been spotted.
"Bran, look," Tristan pointed out at the line. "Isn't that the big man who came up last night with the crazy lady who wouldn't stop shouting?"
Bran squinted out at the figure Tristan had indicated. Without a word, she raised her bow and smoothly nocked and drew a single arrow. Aiming carefully, she released the missile. Its fletching tickled her cheek as it flew off, and the bowstring brushed ever so slightly against her left forearm as it released.
.*.*.*.*.*.
Bedivere gaped as Ysbadaddon fell. "Did you see that?"
"Bit hard to miss," Cymbeline didn't take her eyes off of the motionless body.
"Bet it was Bran's shot," Bedivere grinned.
"Bet it was," Cymbeline laughed.
The Woad army had frozen in place when their leader fell. Silence reigned; not even the morning birds were singing. Suddenly, an inhuman shriek rose from the back ranks of the army, and Cymbeline watched as a single figure detached itself from the rows of archers and began to move forwards.
"Nimue," Bedivere guessed.
"Well, I doubt it's Morgana," Cymbeline replied.
"Look," Dinadan pointed out at the ranks.
"They're running," Bedivere observed.
Indeed, as Nimue raced forward to her husband's body, the warriors turned and ran back towards the forest. The ranks of archers turned and ran before the others reached them, and the field was soon empty of the living, with the exception of Nimue, who lay atop her husband's body and continued to wail.
"Well, that was unexpected," Dinadan said after a moment.
"Highly," Cymbeline agreed.
"Cymbeline!" Daniel's voice echoed down the wall as he ran towards them.
"What is it?" Cymbeline called back.
"They've climbed over the wall!" Daniel cried.
"Weapons," Cymbeline snapped, dropping her bow and grabbing the heavy axe she had brought with her earlier. Beside her, Bedivere brandished his spiked flail, Dinadan drew a shining sword, and Dagonet hefted two handaxes, spinning them skillfully.
"Daniel, go back to Cullwch," Cymbeline instructed the boy. "Have him and his men join us. We may need the help."
Reluctantly, Daniel started running again, heading back towards the fort.
"Let us take them first," Cymbeline called over her shoulder to the gate guards. "Pick off anyone that gets through."
"Yes, ma'am!" the guards fell back, clustering behind the knights.
As the first Woad crept into view, Cymbeline uttered a loud cry and raced forward, Dagonet and Bedivere behind her, Dinadan in the rear. Cymbeline raced past the first Woad, ducking under a blow from the man's club, and continued towards the rest of the raiding party. She heard the crash of Bedivere's flail against the Woad's club as she slammed directly into the next attacker with her shoulder, knocking him backwards into the next man. She brought her axe up and around and slammed it with all her strength into the head of the nearest Woad; it smashed into his head so hard that his skull shattered, splattering him, the man behind him, Cymbeline, and Dagonet with blood and brain matter.
As Cymbeline worked her axe free, Dagonet rushed past her, swinging one of his handaxes up to catch his opponent's blade and the other into the man's stomach. The Woad staggered backwards, and Dag pressed forward, swinging his axes into the man's neck and torso. Dinadan pushed past the struggling pair and ran the next attacker through with his sword, shoving the body off of the Wall as he moved past.
Cymbeline finally gave up on her axe and drew her sickles, darting around the scuffling men to find an unengaged opponent. When she did, she ducked past him, as though making for the man following him, then turned and slashed both of her sickles across the first man's hamstrings, crippling him. When he fell, she brought one sickle around his neck and cut his throat, bringing the other up to catch the next man's sword. The impact was so hard that it sent a shockwave through her arm and into her injured shoulder, and she dropped the sickle with a cry of pain. She dodged the next swing barely, ducking so that it crashed into the Wall.
Before Cymbeline could stand, she heard a cry of pain from the Woad and looked up to find one of Dagonet's axes buried in his shoulder. She grabbed her sickle from the stones at her feet and swung it upwards, slashing it across his stomach. The cut split nearly all the way across his stomach, and his innards began to tumble out onto the stones. The man groaned and fell to his knees, using the last of his strength on a wild swing of his sword. The tip of the weapon cut across Cymbeline's face, cutting the skin from the middle of her forehead to the tip of her right eyebrow. She cried out and doubled forward, dropping a sickle to reach for the wound. Dully, she saw a hand lying on the stones next to her, but something seemed odd about it. Wiping the blood away from her eyes, she realized what it was: the hand was attached to nothing.
Cymbeline looked up to find Dagonet staring down in shock at his right arm, which now ended roughly halfway down the forearm.
"Dag!" Cymbeline shouted as the teenager fell to his knees, blood painting the stones beneath them. "Bedivere!" Cymbeline screamed for the healer, reaching out to grab Dag and keep him from falling over the Wall.
Another Woad went flying off of the Wall, Bedivere's flail separating from the man's head as he fell. "Dag!" Bedivere caught the boy and lowered him to the pathway. "Dinadan, I need a belt!" he called over his shoulder as he checked Dag's wound. He spared a glance for Cymbeline and paused briefly. "Cym?"
"I'm fine," she gasped. "Worry about Dag."
"Here, Bedivere," Dinadan offered a belt, stripped from one of the dead Woads, to the healer, who cinched it tightly around Dagonet's severed arm, just below the elbow.
"The Woads," Cymbeline stammered as Dinadan lifted her up and over the bodies blocking their way.
"Two left; they both ran. We'll find them eventually." Dinadan replied, setting Cymbeline on the pathway and looking at the bleeding gash on her head. "Doesn't look too bad, but I'm no healer."
"Dinadan, I need help," Bedivere called, wrapping Dagonet's injured arm over his shoulder. "Get him up."
Dinadan left Cymbeline to help Bedivere. Cymbeline pressed herself back against the wall to allow the men to pass, then staggered after them. She dimly noticed the guards they had left over the gate rushing to help Dinadan and Bedivere with their burden as Cullwch and his men ran up behind them.
"What happened?" Cullwch demanded, moving to help Bedivere.
"Help Cymbeline," Bedivere ordered, pushing past Cullwch and the men behind him.
Cullwch hurried to Cymbeline's side and caught her as she began to fall, her head swimming. "Easy there," Cullwch said, supporting her and guiding her towards the fort.
"You men," Cymbeline stopped, forcing Cullwch to stop as well. "Stay here. Guard the gate, and watch for any more raiding parties or evidence the army is returning. If you see anything, blow the horn immediately."
She barely heard the affirmatives from the guards as Cullwch began pulling her again towards the fort. She stumbled along beside him, hardly able to see through the blood still running down her face.