Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.

Author's note: I apologize for it taking so long for me to update. My wonderful husband just got a new pc video game and with only one computer, I have to exercise the virtue of sharing. Not being the virtuous type, this meant that I hovered over his shoulder a lot asking if I could get back online. Since he's going to be at work all night, I get to work on the next chapter overnight for him to read in the morning. Yes, more is coming. I really appreciate the reviews and, as before, responses to your feedback will be at the bottom. Again, thank you, thank you, thank you!

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VISIONS OF DEATH

Chapter Six: The Ice

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The riverbed, dry and icy, served as a makeshift road for the caravan. Inside the carriage, Brigid fingered the silver talisman around her neck, the leather thong rubbing against her neck. She looked to Gueneviere, the Woad woman obviously preparing for a confrontation with the Saxons. Reaching down to the ruined shifts that Fulcina had given her, she began to tear them into strips. The fine linen soon lay in a shredded pile, ready to become bandages.

Brigid pulled open her bag and began the methodical arranging of her healing tools. Touching her jar of honey, she shook her head and sighed. She huffed silently as she thought about the men guiding the caravan.

Gueneviere looked up from lacing her boots. "What is it?"

Brigid looked up, worried grey eyes meeting brown. "The Saxons will catch up with us today," she announced.

Gueneviere nodded. The drums had been closing fast--especially since the caravan was forced to move slowly to accommodate the late Marius Honorious's serfs.

Brigid lifted the honey, the weight of the honey and the earthenware jar comforting. "Depending on the events of today, either none or three will die."

Gueneviere's eyes widened. When she had been given the task of bringing the seer from the western coast, she had not realized that the seer did indeed have the Gift. She had assumed that Brigid, the priestess sent from Ynys Môn, was simply a woman with wisdom. Instead, the garnet-haired woman had surprised her with her visions. And the accuracy was enough to give the Woad woman pause.

"Who?"

Brigid shook her head. For her to tell Gueneviere anything would put too many variables into the equation and the risk of more dying than previously seen could rise exponentially. "I cannot tell you, Gueneviere." She slid the honey back into her satchel and closed the flap over her tools.

Suddenly the cart ground to a halt. The caravan slowly creaked to a stop, only the blowing snow, shifting horses and men's voices carrying in the wind.

Outside in the snow, she could hear Arthur speaking. "Is there any other way?"

Brigid looked to Gueneviere. The Woad was listening also.

A voice came back. "No, we have to cross the ice."

Brigid drew herself straight in her seat, her muscles taut. It had begun. She slung her satchel across her chest, her healing tools resting against her hip.

Arthur paused, then gave the order. "Get them all out of the carriages. Tell them to spread out."

Brigid started to move towards the back of the carriage, not surprised when the flap suddenly opened, Dagonet at the opening with the reins of his horse wrapped around one hand. His blue eyes had darkened and were unreadable. He offered his empty hand and she accepted it, her hand disappearing into his giant paw.

Brigid dropped down to the ice and looked around, her shawl pulled tight against her shoulders as she disengaged her hand from his grip. The pass was what she remembered from her vision. She looked up at Dagonet. His shoulders were straight and his blue eyes were unflinching. The scar that skittered down his forehead to his cheek stood out white against his skin.

"We must spread out to cross the ice," growled Dagonet.

Brigid nodded, turning as Gueneviere dropped to the ice beside her.

No words were spoken as they all headed towards the lake. Brigid watched as Alecto, the late master's son, held his mother, supporting her as they started across the ice. The knights were guiding their horses across the ice, careful to keep a good distance between each other and the wagons.

The creaking ice stopped all in their tracks. Brigid looked to Arthur, willing him to say the words she had heard in her vision.

"Knights…" spoke Arthur.

Bors looked to his commander. "Well I'm tired of running. And these Saxons are so close behind, my arse is hurting."

Dagonet shot a look at Brigid, who simply pulled her bag tighter to her hip and looked ahead, ignoring the giant Sarmatian. Let him believe her or not, it was out of her hands

"Never liked looking over my shoulder," announced Tristan, his face unreadable.

Dagonet smirked. Trust Tristan to keep it simple.

Gawain looked to his commander, blue eyes flashing. "It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket."

Galahad, brown eyes fierce, nodded. "We'll finally get a look at the bastards."

Brigid held her breath as Dagonet started forward, his blue eyes ferocious. "Here. Now."

Damn you, Dagonet, she thought, holding her breath. She agreed with Lancelot, who shook his head disapprovingly. Of all the places to pitch a battle, this might be the worst. No cover. No escape route. And far too many Saxons for comfort. However, no one could hear her internal diatribe as Arthur set Jols to unloading the weaponry and equipment. Arthur was giving orders, sending the civilians to safety. The man named Ganis was arguing with Arthur. She was drawn from her thoughts when she heard Gueneviere speak.

"Eight. You could use another bow," announced Gueneviere.

Brigid's eyes widened as she stared at the Woad. Brigid had ignored Arthur's order to obey Ganis. She had obeyed no man and she was not about to start now. Brigid watched as Dagonet raised his hand in farewell to Lucan.

Looking up at the grey sky with a wry smile Brigid made a silent pledge. My life in service for theirs.

TBC…

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Translations:

Ynys Môn: The island of Anglesey, a welsh island that was the center of Druidic teaching.

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To My Wonderful Reviewers:

BleedingTwilight: Wow, thank you. I'm so glad that you're enjoying this so far. Again, sorry for the short chapters, but hopefully lots of chapters will make up for it. And as for Dagonet not believing her, would you?

homeric: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying and I promise that I'll make it worth the wait. Sorry that this chapter is slow but hopefully the coming chapter will make up for it. And thank you, thank you, thank you for saying that I haven't gone the mary sue route.

UnicornTKD: As requested, here is another chapter. More is coming.

Scottishgal12: I'll do my best to keep the knights safe, sane and sober. Okay, maybe not sober. When I satarted this story, I never thought it would be hard to keep these men from certain death--little did I know!

Blackeri: Thank you. Again, sorry for the short chapters but hopefully lots of short chapters makes up for it. I'm glad that you like the story. As promised, here is the next chapter.

parixs: Yay! I'm so glad that you're enjoying. And thank you for letting me know that it hasn't degerated to a mary sue. I hope that you continue to enjoy.

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