Chapter 15

[Halfway between Mithian's former campsite and Whitgate—Sunset]

[A/N: Laudine and Lunete are from Chretien's Ywain.]

Sol settled toward Horizon's western edge. Reds, golds and purples burnished parting Overcast's skies. Breeze rustled through bare branches and yellowed grass. Cold dirt had frozen rock hard. Flurries danced about in the darkening air overhead.

Another of Jack Frost's chilly specials coming up….

Ywain set his sword down against a tree. He took a deep draught from his water skin. I hope Princess Mithian and Lady Elaine are all right. Malodius is with them. It is the triple goddess herself who took them away from here. She said she'd bring them to Whitgate. Princess Josiane took Count Bernard back to the King for security. Britomart can handle herself in a battle. I am sure Lady Laudine is watching us.

Laudine….

A dark frown curled the sides of his mouth. He glanced up into the darkening skies. Luna already ascended toward her zenith. He shook his head. Another month and it will be a year. I owe her a visit. I wish I could bring her to court! King Rodor would welcome her. She shares the same outlook with Princess Mithian and Princess Josiane. Lunete and Britomart would get along well.

I am glad you are thinking of our lady, Brave Knight. A slender woman slipped out from behind a central birch tree. Her chocolate brown tresses poked out from her hood. Emerald eyes glinted at him. "I do have our Lady's court to run, you know."

"I am very well aware. Bigotry still presses down on sorcerers and magical creatures. I do my duty to the triple goddess." Guilt sagged on his conscience. Duties clashed with Duties. "Can I let the world go? Laudine should know that my mind is always on her."

"She knows. She would appreciate a visit however." Lunete watched Britomart start the campfire. "That one has more facets than even she knows."

"Perhaps Laudine might move to Whitgate? King Rodor and Princess Mithian would welcome her. Perhaps an arrangement could be made where she and I can be together between Whitgate and the Fountain?" Ywain signaled to Britomart.

"The goddess would favor such an arrangement. Perhaps it might happen. It would favor all concerned." Lunete glanced at the trees behind Britomart. "There is another reason I came. There are three men traveling out there. They need to get to Whitgate to see your King. One of them is a very old friend of yours. Go ahead. I will speak with the Fire Hair."

He rubbed the back of his neck. As usual, Lunete's cryptic clues kept him on edge. Still, Trust in her remained at a high level. "I will return." He grabbed his sword. "Britomart, watch the camp. I will be right back." He passed her and disappeared into the trees.

"Where is he going?" Britomart stopped short of Lunete. She slid her blade from its scabbard. "And why would Sir Ywain leave you here and go off alone?" Caution pressed her to size the newcomer up again.

"Perhaps because I am his wife's steward? I bear a message from Lady Laudine and another from the goddess, Britomart. Such matters will concern you as well." Lunete nodded. "You might wish to prepare. There will be another patient soon enough." She studied the woods anew.

How can she know that? Britomart sheathed her blade once more. Her eyes followed Lunete's.

Mysteries abounded...Connections awaited….

[A Few Hundred Yards Away]

[A/N: Yes, we are twisting still further. A few more folks we are familiar with from the series.]

Just out of the Nemeth camp's sight, Lancelot brought an armful of wood into another small clearing. Mercenary opportunities had fallen off. He'd fought well for King Bors in Gaul. Still, Uther's banishment order discouraged some rulers. Tintagel stuck close to Camelot (although they still let him pass through the kingdom). Sporadic work had enabled him to get by.

King Rodor, word had it, had Recruitment's door wide open. Quality character and ethics mattered of course. Unlike Uther's clinging to the Knight's Code, Rodor balanced that against the Capability Laws. Three extraordinary tasks for Nemeth merited noble status.

Bors wrote about my duty for him. Let's hope Rodor takes that! He set the wood down not far from the fire. "That feels good!" Gratitude brightened his expression. A smile across his face. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them.

Percival grinned. "Warm yourself up, Lancelot." He fed a few sticks to the fire. "Gawain's still not back." He motioned toward the saddlebags. "I hope he remembered what I told him. Royal land's not far from here."

Lancelot rolled his eyes. Irreverence seemed to guide Gawain in most regards. Still, his hunting skills netted game on most days. "I have to believe that he will find something. Our stomachs depend on it. I am going to check on Balinor."

"Aye. He was asking about Gawain and you." Percival scratched his head. Downpour three nights earlier forced impromptu shelter in a cave. There, Gawain, Lancelot and he ran into the ragged Balinor. Despite his aloofness, they noted Balinor's weakness. Lancelot and he convinced Balinor to come with them. They rode in bits and starts. "We are still three days away from Whitgate at this rate."

"His sickness?" Concern raised Lancelot's eyebrow. He shot another glance toward the fur bundle across the clearing.

Percival offered only a shrug. "Balinor holds his own. Beyond that, I cannot say. I agree with Blancheflor. We need Master Wyngate to look at him. I am not a healer. Neither are Gawain or you." He waved Gawain over. "We were thinking you were never going to come back."

"You need to learn some patience, Percy. You know that?" A snort escaped Gawain's nose. He held up two skinned rabbits. "Had to chase them clear back toward Mercia. These woods are dead!" Frustration narrowed his brow. He grabbed a water skin. "Hey, Balinor! Thirsty?"

Balinor nodded. "Thank you. Glad to see you brought back something." He forced himself to sit up. "What'd you find?"

"Two rabbits. Nothing around here like you said. Backtracked and found 'em by the stream a ways up." Gawain pointed northeast. "Didn't see anyone." He handed him the water skin. "Drink up."

Balinor took a deep mouthful. "Glad someone does something like that." He handed the skin back to Gawain. "You filled at the spring. Good. We should eat before heading any further." He raised a bony finger toward the west. "That's royal demesne. We cannot hunt on that land."

"That's what Percy and Lance told me too. Whatever." Gawain looked at the sick man. "Maybe we can take off and make up some time? We can get to Whitgate that much sooner."

"Riding through the woods at night? Gawain, who knows what is out there?" Lancelot brought over a pair of branches. "See you found something."

"Lance, Balinor's getting warmer. I'm not a healer. I know what sick feels like. He's getting hot." Gawain bowed his head. Memoria berated him over his mother's decline and death a decade earlier. Determination would not let it happen again.

"Listen to him, Lancelot!" Balinor's fist stifled a rasping cough. "I…I need to eat. Then, we can leave." Fur blotted his forehead. Several deep breaths punctuated by coughs pushed from his mouth. Phlegm spat on the ground. "We…we are riding too slowly." His lungs heaved in another breath. "Wyngate will know." His head bowed. If only Kilgarrah was still alive, he would know. Uther had to murder every dragon! He ground his teeth.

"You seemed ready to fall out of the saddle this morning. You just woke up a quarter hourglass ago." Lancelot glanced back at Percival by the fire. He discerned heavier sweat glistening on Balinor's face. "We are…." He stiffened.

Rustling in the woods reached their ears.

"Yeah! I did all right!" Gawain drew his sword. "I know I did not lead anyone back here! I stayed out of that royal land too. I've got enough with Uther and the Big Red Can up north!"

"Tell me about it!" Lancelot held his own sword at the ready. "Percival! There's someone out there!" He stood. "COME OUT! WE KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE!"

"So, you do, Lancelot." Ywain pushed his way through the undergrowth. "Apologies! I saw the fire. I had to make sure you were not poachers."

Gawain snorted. His eyebrow twitched. "Ol' Rodor doesn't have to worry about us. We know the line's about thirty yards that way." A saucy finger pointed west. "Hey! Friend of ours needs a healer. That guy…Win…with you."

"Nay. Britomart is back in the other camp. I am sure she will help your friend." Snigger escaped Ywain's lips. "She may backhand you though."

"Backhand?" Lancelot stared at Gawain. "What did you do?"

"What did I…?" Gawain's hand stifled a cough. "Red has to always get the last word. Well, Brit won't get it around me." He cleared his throat.

"Does anyone ever?" Ywain shook his head. In the few meetings at tournaments, Gawain's irreverence turned him off. "Where is this friend?"

"Sir…Sir Ywain?" Balinor supported himself against the nearest tree. "By the goddess! It has been years…." A grunt pushed from his mouth.

"Sir Balinor!" Ywain stared at his long-lost colleague. "We thought you were dead!" Joy brightened his face. He threw his arms around Balinor. "Our camp is but a few hundred yards from here into the demesne. We will get you back to Whitgate. Master Wyngate will cure you."

"Wyngate's still there." Balinor forced himself to his feet. A smile spread across his face. "And Prince Rodor?"

"He's now King. His daughter is now Princess Mithian. They will be delighted to see you! Malodius will as well! He is still at his post in Whitgate." Ywain slid his arm under Balinor's left arm. "I can help you over to the other camp."

Or you can get some help? Lunete appeared in a puff of mist. "Greetings, Sir Balinor. I have heard Sir Ywain lament to Lady Laudine over your absence. The goddess herself smiles on you. She has purpose for you back in Whitgate." She placed her hand on Balinor's shoulder. She discerned his illness. Let this Wyngate tell him. He has one purpose there that the goddess wishes for him anyhow. More mists swirled about Ywain, Balinor and her.

"Find Britomart and the servants! Tell them that I am in Whitgate!" Thickening mists swallowed Ywain whole as he, Balinor and she vanished from sight.

Gawain grabbed the rabbits. "Guess that's that." Scowl contorted his face. Lectures and haranguing awaited him in that camp. He stalked over to his horse.

"I'll put the fire out." Percival motioned to Lancelot and then over toward Gawain. Then, he headed for the campfire.

The things we deal with. At least they can see not all magic is bad! Lancelot picked up Balinor's discarded furs. We can find a use for these later. He started to collect everything for a ride over to the Nemeth camp.

Details could change plans….