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Chapter 2

Arthur studied the man riding a little ahead of him with increasing puzzlement. The farther they had ridden from Camelot, the more loutish and vulgar became his behavior. The man Arthur knew as Prince Edmund went from a boisterous good fellow to a loud, obnoxious drunk. He and his four companions were drinking heavily and belching loudly as they careened noisily through the forest on horseback. Arthur had had enough but some little pocket of caution, not normally a quality that the prince possessed in abundance, told him that he stood in deadly peril.

Too late he realized his mistake in leaving the knights of Camelot behind. And Merlin... Merlin had begged to come. Arthur's hand went up to touch the amulet around his neck. He wished desperately for Merlin's company. He realized how much he valued the dark-haired young man's friendship. Not usually one to second-guess himself, Arthur reflected bitterly on his arrogance and rashness and hoped he lived to profit from it.

Knowing himself to be badly outnumbered, Arthur set his mind to reducing the odds. He studied the situation. Three men rode in front of him and two behind. Was it by accident or design? Now that he was paying closer attention, he could see the sinister implications. How drunk were these men? Could they be only pretending to be drunk? Arthur thought not. They had been drinking heavily since morning. A point in his favor. Arthur had been drinking only water. He studied the horses. His he knew to be fast. The other five horses were not from the Camelot stables. He studied the three animals he could see. They looked to be good horses but tired. Casually he turned in his saddle to eye the two men and their mounts behind him. One of the men returned his look, a brutish leer on his face. Okay, he had had enough. Arthur, not patient at the best of times, had reached his limit.

"Gaius?" Lancelot entered the room. He saw Merlin with a large bowl. "I left Gwaine with the horses. The others have gone ahead."

Gaius made a shushing motion with his hand and waved Lancelot further into the room. "Merlin needs to concentrate," Gaius whispered. The knight nodded his understanding and walked quietly over to Merlin and his scrying bowl while Gaius stood guard at the door.

Merlin spoke a few words in the old language. The water rippled and stirred and Lancelot could see trees and horses and Arthur fighting for his life.

Arthur had taken advantage of the element of surprise and pulled one of the drunken riders off his horse. The man had fallen heavily with an oath. The prince had then plunged his tired horse in the midst of the other riders, his drawn sword in his hand. The imposter, Rufus, swearing loudly, yelled to his men, "Take him alive if you can! If not, then kill him! King Cenred and Morgause will pay up either way."

Arthur, cornered with no chance of help, was a dangerous man. He fought like seven devils, his sword a blur of motion. A second man fell from his horse, blood spurting from his neck.

One rider, suddenly cautious, rode out of range of Arthur's lethal sword. The two remaining riders rushed him from either side. Regrettably, the prince had not worn his armor this day. He felt a sharp pain in his side and blood soaking his clothes. His horse panicked, rearing and sidestepping wildly. Fighting a wave of dizziness, Arthur summoned the last reserves of his strength and, kicking his horse, plunged through the men and rode into the forest at a dead run.

Several hours later, weakened from blood loss and parched with thirst, the golden-haired young man slipped from his horse and would have fallen if the horse had not been there. He leaned weakly against the animal, burying his face in its mane.

"Merlin," he said in a low raspy voice, "I'm so thirsty." He put his hand up and fumbled for the little bag of crystals that Merlin had given him. He deeply regretted forcing Merlin to stay at the castle. "Please find me." He reached for the reins and pulled them down from the pommel. Walking slowly, he stumbled down an overgrown trail deeper into the woods, his horse occasionally nudging him in the back.

A half hour later, after several failed attempts to remount his horse, Arthur was still stumbling along, held up by sheer will and the stubbornness (pigheadedness?) that Merlin found so annoying. The horse, thirsty also, had pushed ahead of him, Arthur having long since dropped the reins. Scenting water, the horse jerked up his head and nickered. Kicking up his heels, he plunged headlong down the trail, the prince lurching after.

Arthur fell awkwardly onto his hands and knees beside the bubbling stream, bruising and cutting his hands on the small rocks. He drank thirstily beside the horse. Then weak and drowsy, he lay beside the stream, his right hand and arm dangling in the water. Oddly comforted by the motion of the flowing water, Arthur closed his eyes and slept.

"Looks like we've lost him." Battered and bruised, the four surviving brigands paused to rest their horses.

"Nay," replied Rufus, "You saw how I cut him. He can't have made it much further, and there's no one to help him."

"If he's still alive, he'll have to rest his horse." The others all nodded in agreement.

"We'll collect our bounty from Morgause and Cenred yet." Rufus reached for his flask of ale and shook it. It was empty. He swore heavily.

Elsewhere Sir Leon, accompanied by Percival, Elyan, and five other men flew through the forest. They were heavily armed and spoiling for a fight.

"Halt!" Sir Leon yelled. His men had nearly ridden past a sprawled body.

Both Percival and Elyan jumped from their horses. The man's body was lying on its side, a pool of dried blood beneath it. Percival's booted foot kicked him over on his back. The man's matted hair and shirt were black with blood.

Elyan studied the man's face. "He's one of them."

"Offhand, I would say Arthur has been this way," said Sir Leon. Several of the men laughed grimly.