~24~ One Step Forward...

The horse was grunting in protest, its pace lagging considerably as the king pushed it onwards. He was reluctant to do so, but there was little choice as dusk approached and Saint Peter's Abbey was still three miles away.

The horse, owned by a Silverblood, was noble and strong, but every creature has its limits, and Arthur had driven it far past its own.

I'm sorry, he thought as he forced the poor beast back into a gallop. So sorry. If you could only understand that...

"Arthur! We must stop!" It was Leon, calling from several strides back over the thunder of hooves on the grassy hillside. "The horses can't take anymore!"

"Just a bit further!" Arthur called back over his shoulder.

"My lord!" It was Baldwin this time. "It will be pointless to reach the abbey today if we run the horses to the ground. We won't be able to get back to Camelot in decent time!"

Arthur grumbled, but acknowledged the Silverblood captain's logic, wishing that he had thought of it himself. Gently easing the exhausted horse to a canter and then a trot, he let it choose when to slow to a walk, which it wasted no time in doing. The king's company followed suit, and the loud huffing of laboured panting filled the air. Arthur brushed the neck of his grey in approval, but the beast ignored him as it heaved for breath.

"Dismount!" the king called. "We'll walk from here." Stepping down from the stirrups, Arthur took the reins in his hands and led the grey up the rest of the hill. His knees trembled slightly and his backside ached from the long journey in the saddle. He tried not to move like a goose as he marched to the crest of the hill and scanned the surrounding landscape. To his left rose a mountain range, eternal mists shrouding their peaks. To his right, the hill fell away into grassy plains and woodland, glowing golden in the setting sun. Before him, the ground bowed into a shallow vale before rising to a second hill, which was crowned with birches.

"Saint Peter's Abbey is just passed that hill," said Percival, coming up behind the king. "We could make it there before nightfall, but it'll be tight."

"Perhaps it would be wise if we wait until dawn to approach it," put out Elyan, also nearing Arthur, his horse's head drooping in fatigue. "It might look like we are trying to raid them in the dark otherwise."

"There's no time," retorted Arthur, though listening to the knight would be the most logical course of action. "I won't have us left in the open, especially if I turn and you have nowhere to defend yourselves. If we can get to the abbey fast enough, you would be safe there."

"Baldwin said you have a week until you turn again."

"No, Elyan, he said I have between a week and a day until I turn again. It's a risk I'm not willing to take. Let's go."

"You worry too much, your royal hiney," scoffed Gwaine, falling abreast with the king and throwing an arm around his shoulders. "You just need to relaaax. Enjoy the world and its mead! Don't worry about growing fur and simply pause to reflect on life and all its flowery freshness—!"

Arthur sniffed, and grimaced. "Damn, Gwaine! When's the last time you've had a bath? 'Flowery freshness,' my ass."

The knight blinked, then raised an arm and smelled himself. Shrugging, he said, "What?"

As the king pulled away, he glared in disgust at him, and at the rest as well. "You all smell like you've been swimming in onions and salt. Does hygiene mean anything to you?" Then he glanced at the steeds. "I don't remember horses smelling so overwhelming, either."

He seemed oblivious to the estranged and incredulous looks he was receiving from his men. Baldwin seemed to be the only one unfazed by the accusations, however.

"Your senses have evolved a little slower than expected," the Silverblood said calmly. "But they're here now."

"What do you mean, captain?"

"Your men are bewildered because they cannot smell each other, at least, not so intensely as you. I admit that they do remind me of an onion field on a hot summer day—" He got many glares for that. "—But that's beside the point. You now have the ability to smell things that would be otherwise hidden from you. It's a...side affect of the werewolf venom."

Gwaine grunted, impressed. "Wow. A human bloodhound. Handy."

Arthur ignored the knight and fell into a harried, contemplative silence. He was becoming more and more like the beast he fought so desperately against every passing moment.

Now that their pace was considerably slower, Arthur grew restless as the sun inched towards its bed on the western horizon. He felt like a prisoner waiting upon the hour he would walk to the headman's block. He was trapped in an hourglass and the sands of time were pouring atop him, suffocating him and weighing him down. He had never felt so helpless before.

They descended into the shallow canyon betwixt the two hills cautiously, which ate even more time. Their legs burned on the way back up the other side, but it was the shortest route and they suffered it without complaint. Arthur called for a rest once they crested the hill at last, and they recovered what strength remained in their limbs in the grove of birch trees there.

"Is it much further?" asked the king of Percival, and the knight shook his head.

"You can just see the old steeple from here," he said, pointing.

Within the hour, when the sun had sunk and the sky was filling with stars, the large abbey was before them. It was standing pretty well, regarding how old it was, but the short wall around it had crumbled to ruin and the front door was clearly a makeshift. The windows had been bordered up to prevent wind from entering and chilling the inhabitants. More details were too difficult to detect, as it was dark.

"They will have archer watchmen," warned Baldwin, coming up beside Arthur. "We must approach cautiously—"

The twang of an arrow shot free of a bow shattered the night silence, and Leon howled as the quarrel buried itself in his thigh. Alarm stilled Arthur and the knights for only a heartbeat, then they drew their swords and circled Leon protectively, shields up. A second arrow thudded into the ground near Gwaine's foot, but he did not flinch.

"Cease fire!" Baldwin roared at the abbey. "It is I, Baldwin Silverblood! Cease your fire, damn it!"

The third and forth arrows fortunately missed their mark, though Arthur stiffened as one zipped close his ear; he'd felt the wind as it passed by.

When all that could be heard were the crickets and frogs, Baldwin led the way to the ruins, glaring fire at the dark spaces where archers were apt to be hiding in. Before they reached the gate—or where the gate should have been—a Silverblood pulled open the front door of the building and stepped out, a torch in hand. He looked suspicious, but when he saw that it was indeed Baldwin approaching, he saluted.

"Captain Baldwin," he said formally.

"Delius. Control your archers, why don't you."

Even in the yellow light of the torch, it was obvious that the Silverblood was blushing at the chastisement. As Baldwin continued to speak with him, Arthur turned to see Leon gritting his teeth as he tried to pull the arrow free of his leg, sweat beading his forehead. Without a word, the king instead helped the man stand, supporting him. He tried not to let the alluring scent of fresh blood affect him.

"Leave it. We don't want you bleeding to death. We'll get you inside first, then deal with it."

The knight nodded tersely, biting the inside of his cheek and breathing heavily through his nose.

Elyan took Leon's other arm, and together, he and the king aided the knight up to the abbey door, where Delius Silverblood saw them, and grew tense.

"Captain, are you all right?"

"Of course I am!" Baldwin snapped. "They're with me. Now let us in. Where is Remus?"

Delius stepped aside and allowed the party to enter the large hall filled with old pews and a weathered statue at the far end. "Right where we left him. We haven't let him see the light of day, as you ordered."

"We need to speak to him. Excuse us."

Though he still looked confused, Delius stood at attention as Baldwin and the others passed, but he squinted at Arthur and his knights suspiciously. The king glared back at him, and he quailed.

Arthur hid a smirk. Yep, he can See the werewolf in my blood, he thought.

Near the back of the abbey, Baldwin pushed open a creaky door, which led into a dark corridor lit by only two torches.

"Leon needs to lie down," Arthur insisted, and Baldwin absentmindedly flicked a finger to the side.

"There's a bed in that room with medical supplies in the cupboards. Do what you need to do, then join me in the third to last room on the left at in the next corridor." The captain did not turn around through the exchange. It was as though he were only half there, and the rest of him was already interrogating Remus, the former and shamed Keeper of the Heart.

Arthur let him go, but told Gwaine and Percival to join him, to keep a watchful eye. The knights nodded in confirmation and followed Baldwin down the hall.

Elyan pushed open the side door and helped Arthur bring Leon inside. They laid the knight on the bed, which was little more than a straw-filled mattress with blankets of animal skins, and then tended to his leg. Leon put a piece of cloth in his mouth so he wouldn't bite his tongue, and he squeezed the hilt of his sword as Arthur jerked the arrow out of his thigh. Elyan was ready with the linen, and he hastily covered the wound to staunch the blood flow. Together, the companions fixed up the injury to the best of their abilities.

"I wish we knew more about this stuff," Elyan grunted, indicating to the many herbs littering the cupboards and bedside table. "We would be able to reduce the risk of infection with some plants, but if we tried..."

"We'd just end up poisoning you," Arthur said to Leon, and grinned.

The knight, sweating and ashen-faced, tried to smile in turn. "If only Merlin were here, eh?"

Arthur's expression faded into one of grim surrender. "If only."

The king left Elyan to watch Leon as he rested and made his way down the corridor to where Baldwin was questioning Remus.

Okay, which door did he say it was? Arthur wandered from room to room, peeking in those that he could and discarding the locked ones. He turned into a new corridor and saw a fresh set of doors all the way down. He wished that he had been paying more attention to the Silverblood captain.

Taking a deep breath, he nearly began a new search when he was overwhelmed by the strong scent of human body odour. To his surprise, he had no difficulty distinguishing Gwaine's from Percival's, or Baldwin's from them both.

Handy, indeed, he thought, half impressed by his new skill and half despaired.

Following his nose, he was able to discard the fainter but detectable scents of other Silverbloods who had roamed by hours ago and find the correct door, the third from last on the left of the corridor. Pushing it open, Gwaine and Percival both turned to look at him while Baldwin continued to question Remus in a low voice. Arthur focused on the sorry, depleted man roped to the chair in the centre of the dark room. He looked haggard from lack of food and sunlight, with torn clothes and a sunken face. His head was drooped to avoid looking at Baldwin, and he flinched whenever anyone moved.

"Has he said anything?" Arthur demanded, finding a strange resilience to sympathy for the man.

Baldwin growled. "Nothing that we don't already know."

The king nodded, breathing quietly through his mouth. He found it impossible to ignore the strong stench of Remus's unwashed body, vomit, and urine; he wished he could control his peaked sense of smell.

"Can he track the Silver Heart? He was in possession of it for years, you said. Could it be possible that he bonded with it through magical means?"

"That's what I'm trying to wheedle out of him," Baldwin retorted sharply, out of frustration. "He doesn't seem to understand that his Blackhand friends aren't coming to save him. He's not important enough."

"Look, I've said all I know!" the pitiful man wailed, then cringed as Baldwin lifted a threatening hand.

"Baldwin!" Arthur snapped, halting the blow just before it struck. "That'll do."

The captain lowered his fist begrudgingly, but acknowledged the king's authority and sense. It would not do to beat information out if there was no information to be had. Retreating, Baldwin let Arthur approach and assume control.

The king found another chair and placed it before Remus before sitting, leaning forward so he could see part of the Blackhand's face. "Remus, right?"

The man didn't reply.

"Look...You're the cause of all this, you know. You betrayed your family, your true family. You set a werewolf loose in the land, and I and my servant are paying for your actions, be it deliberate or an accident. It was the former, wasn't it?"

Still, Remus remained prone.

Arthur sighed and instead leaned back in his chair. "Your crimes are unforgivable, but you have a chance to redeem yourself. There—" The king paused, perking like a horse. "What was that?"

The two knights in the room glanced at each other. "What was what?"

"That...crashing sound?"

Baldwin frowned, then strode to the door just as the Silverblood, Delius, ran up and skidded to a halt outside the threshold. "Captain, we're under attack!"

"By whom?"

"Blackhands!"

"How is this possible?" Percival demanded before Arthur could, while Gwaine drew his sword.

"We must have been followed," Baldwin growled, thunder-faced. "How many?"

"At least two dozen, sir, probably more. We cannot hold them for long." Delius kept glancing frantically down the corridor from whence he came. "We have to go, now!"

Baldwin drew a dagger and made for the Keeper, and Arthur said, "Yes, untie him. We'll take him with us and—" He cried out in alarm as the captain stabbed Remus in the neck, hot blood spraying all over his hands. "What are you doing?" the king roared, grabbing Baldwin's shoulder and roughly turning him around.

"If he will not help us, then he is useless!" the Silverblood barked back, as the captive slumped lifelessly in the chair, not even making a sound. Arthur was on the verge of snapping when a loud bang exploded somewhere down the corridor.

"They are coming, captain!" Delius squealed, trying not to bolt. "And there are too many to fight! We must go!"

Though Arthur still glowered poisoned daggers at Baldwin, he followed his knights out and proceeded down the hall, to the last room. Delius was holding open a door.

"Your horses were kept at the back of the abbey, just outside that door, there," he said, indicating with a trembling hand. "Go, we will cover you, and meet you later."

Arthur was about to depart the abbey from that rear exit when he skid to a halt. "Leon!"

Gwaine was already charging back inside when Percival turned about at the cry, and the two knights were sent staggering as Gwaine crashed into him. Arthur didn't wait for them to recover before sprinting down the corridor, ignoring Baldwin's hollers for him to stop and drawing Excalibur. Flying around the corner into the first hall, he saw a Blackhand poking his head into the room where Leon was resting with Elyan on guard. The Blackhand leaped back as the knight's blade swung at him, then raised his own weapon and proceeded to lay siege to the room. Before Arthur reached him, a swarm of howling Blackhands stampeded into the corridor all at once, and attempted to break in as well. None of them had yet noticed the king.

"Yeaaaaaaarg!"

Arthur fell among their roiling numbers, hacking and stabbing at anything that moved. Men screamed in agony and terror as they lost life and limb, not in that order, but the king was deaf to their pleas of mercy. A few managed to turn to face him. Excalibur was but flashes of metal and whirs of sound and they were cut down before they had a chance to strike.

It was odd, but to Arthur they seemed to move more slowly than they should. He recalled faintly, as he lopped off the arm of a man before beheading him, that his knights were the same that day on the training field when he'd sparred with Merlin. At first he'd thought it adrenaline, but now he knew it to be the affects of the werewolf.

I'm not about to thank it, he thought to himself, and gutted a Blackhand before he swung his hammer at the king's head.

The last four Silverblood turn-coats screamed and fled the carnage, but Arthur did not follow them. He pushed past Elyan and into the room. The knight was panting from the excursions, and the king abruptly realized that he himself wasn't the slightest bit tired.

"There will be more of them. Let's get you out of here," Arthur grunted to Leon, who had stood and was trying to hold a sword without falling over. He pulled the knight's arm around his own shoulders and led him towards the door. Elyan checked for any attackers before taking Leon's other side. Gwaine and Percival were waiting outside, their eyes wide.

"Damn, Arthur! I've never seen you move so fast!" Gwaine whistled through his teeth and shook his head. "Those Blackhand bastards were dead before we even got here!"

"Not now, Gwaine," the king snapped, sounding harsher than he intended. "Let's go."

The two knights covered Arthur, Elyan, and wounded Leon as they hastened back down the corridor to the exit around the bend. Once outside, they beheld Baldwin already mounted on his horse and the rest of the steeds waiting by their posts. Leon was gently strapped into place on his saddle and, after they were sure he wouldn't fall, they turned the beasts southeast, forcing them into an unyielding gallop.


"Fly, you fools." ~ Gandalf (The Lord of the Rings)