I'm baaa-aaack!
~5~ Ambush!
The weather was against the warlock that day. It was calm and comfortingly warm, and it gently coaxed him to sleep more than once. He managed to jerk awake before anyone noticed, at least until the last time, when Lancelot turned at the right moment to see him slump against Balinor's neck. The knight fell back beside him.
"You did help us last night, didn't you, Merlin." It wasn't a question.
"I don't think I had much choice. We can't all go around half dead."
"It was nice, I admit. If it wasn't for the heat of the day, we probably would still be sleeping." Lancelot paused. "But it would be best if you didn't do it again."
"What? Why?"
"I did see you in my nightmare, Merlin. Just like the others, it was as if you pulled me out of it and left nothing to fear. I appreciate what you did, but if we all saw you, then it's too risky."
"But I—can't imagine why you'd be interested in wolfsbane, but it's very poisonous..." Merlin lowered his voice again as Arthur continued his conversation with Gwaine. "I can't let us all be too exhausted to defend ourselves. Who knows whether Morgana's spell will actually wear off."
"Perhaps it would be better if you don't—"
"No. I won't do it every night, how's that? Not every night, and not everyone."
"Pick up the pace, men," called Arthur over his shoulder, and kneed his horse into a trot.
Merlin fell in behind Lancelot as the surrounding foliage ate at the path, making it too narrow for two to walk abreast. After a while of this, the path widened again, and Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. As he slowed Balinor to a walk, the warlock scanned the trees.
Lancelot noticed that Merlin had fallen behind. "What's wrong?"
The servant had now stopped entirely. He slowly looked to his right—
"Bandits!"
A crossbow bolt just missed his ear, but two more thudded into Balinor's neck and chest. The beast shrieked, wheeling around. Merlin screamed, too, as the horse then fell onto his side and crushed the warlock's leg beneath his great body.
The screech of swords raked the air, followed by the howls of thieving brigands.
Merlin saw nothing in his pain, only heard Arthur's bellowed orders. Then the clash of swords on swords and screams of agony bombarded his ears. His vision cleared just in time for him to see Balinor's head sag to the dust, never to rise again. Shoving his grief to the side to feel later, he tried to wriggle his way out from beneath the horse's body, but he was pinned. Nothing was broken, yet he had already lost the feeling in most of his leg.
The bandits were many, but the knights and their prince fought valiantly. If they hadn't gotten any real sleep—
But valiance wasn't enough. As the battle thickened, the tide grew ever more dire.
Lancelot's steed panicked, kicking out violently and preventing its rider from being of any use. Gwaine's black squealed and reared before a bandit drove his sword up to the hilt into its chest. The beast died standing, and the knight jumped from the saddle. An archer near the trees levelled a crossbow at Gwaine, a triumphant expression on his face. Arthur's sword got caught in the body of a bandit, leaving his left side unguarded, and a fresh renegade was charging in to take the advantage.
Do something! Merlin screamed at himself, and he focused on the archer targeting Gwaine. The bandit could not have been more surprised to find his crossbow suddenly jerking towards Arthur's attacker and firing. The prince, too, was astonished as the thug's sword missed him by inches and the man fell dead, a bolt in his neck. The shocked archer was slain from behind by another, who clearly thought him a traitor.
Merlin couldn't help but nod grimly at the chaos he'd caused, as yet another bandit killed the other who believed that the archer had gone turncoat. No one blamed the trapped, useless servant on the side of the road.
Even so, the disorder only lasted so long. In a wave of battle cries, the bandits swarmed around the knights. Several reached up and dragged Arthur from the saddle. The Pendragon prince vanished into the howling mob.
"Arthur!" Merlin roared.
"Yaaaaarg!"
Gwaine, the strongest of them all, charged headlong into the confusion. Bandits were knocked flying like pins, those not hit by the raging knight tripping over the flailing legs of others. And then there were the men suddenly and inexplicably falling on their faces as their feet were torn from under them by invisible ropes. Others still were kicked in the head and chest by Lancelot's crazy horse. The melee was a ball of disarray, and not likely how the bandits had planned.
Thought dead or just not a threat, Merlin was ignored by the renegades. The knights were too preoccupied with keeping alive for two more minutes to notice him. The warlock made a decision. He had to use magic to free himself from beneath his horse, to get to Arthur. He looked at the dead beast, opened his mouth—
A yowl from an attacking thug halted the words on his lips. The bandit was swinging a blade over his head, running straight for the pinned manservant. He lifted the sword, point down for a stabbing kill—
"Merlin!"
Arthur blurred into the scene and slammed into the offender. As the bandit crashed into the dirt, the prince thrust his sword into his chest.
"To kill a trapped man: pathetic," hissed Arthur, yanking his blade free. The thug grunted one last time and slumped lifelessly.
Merlin continued struggling to free himself. "Watch out!" The prince whirled around to parry a sneak attack from another brigand.
As four more bandits charged Arthur at once, Lancelot, back in control, rode down two from horseback, and Gwaine shot another from an abandoned crossbow. The fourth slid to a halt, looked at each knight in turn, and bolted into the trees. His remaining kin did the same, shrieking in fear. Then, at last, all fell still.
Arthur whirled his sword a few times before sheathing it. "You all right?" he asked his knights, who nodded in confirmation.
"Oh, yeah, I'm good, too. Just sorta stuck under my horse, here," said Merlin casually.
The combined strength of three powerful men wasn't enough to free him, so Lancelot suggested they remove the saddle, and at the same time, Merlin's leg will gradually come free.
The two knights unbuckled the straps and prepared to slide the saddle off while Arthur grabbed Merlin's arms, and braced to pull.
"One, two, heave!"
Merlin grunted and bit his tongue as his flesh sliced open against the road. The knights worked gradually, and then with one final tug, his leg came free. Circulation returned to the limb, and he clutched it as he received the worst case of pins and needles in history.
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and pulled away his hands to inspected the wounds. He just managed to rein in a grimace. "Not too shabby. Needs to be cleaned up though."
Merlin wasn't listening. He was petting the cooling neck of Balinor, blank faced. The beast had been as noble and faithful as any friend. Sighing, the warlock went to stand, but his leg throbbed, and he nearly fell over. Arthur caught his arm and straightened him. "Don't move," he said, yet Merlin pulled away roughly anyway. He assessed the outcome of the fight. Gwaine's dead horse and several bandit corpses littered the road, already attracting flies. Smokie was standing calmly by the side of the road, grazing.
"We should go," said Lancelot. "They may be back with reinforcements."
Stuck with just two horses that had only small, one-rider saddles, the company started to walk the remaining five miles to the nearest village, where, hopefully, they would be able to barter for two new steeds. Arthur's money pouch only had enough for one decent one, he estimated, but that's where Gwaine came in.
"Few can beat me at a game of Black Jack," he said, chest puffing out.
"Then let's hope those few aren't playing."
Merlin declined the offer to ride several times, despite his leg injury. He walked with a limp, and blood seeped lightly from beneath the bandages.
"Don't force me to make it an order," said Arthur when the warlock again refused to get on a horse.
"I've walked with worse," Merlin insisted.
"...No you haven't!"
Merlin ignored him.
"Merlin, I order you to ride that horse."
"To hell with your orders."
"Merlin!"
"Two miles," said Gwaine, reading a milestone.
Ow. Leg injuries suck.
Feel free to criticize me black and blue!