Chapter 11 [Five Leagues from Camelot—Two and a Half Hours Later]

[A/N: I know I'm speeding things up for the Nemeth and Cawdorian Contingents. Just syncing up the story….]

Calm seemed to govern the western road between Camelot and Gedref. Rain swelled Severn's flow. Whitewater frothed around rocks in the river's midst. A few hawks glided by overhead. Their eyes searched the grass and woods below for prey.

Omen perhaps?

[Cawdorian Encampment—Adjacent Woods]

Cawdorian knights patrolled a clearing amidst large trees. Two dozen knights inspected their weapons. Some ate a meal. Others drank from their water skins. Scouts tied their horses' reins to trees. They rushed through their brethrens' numbers. Fear and Obedience lent haste to their steps. Ahead, a conference awaited….

On the camp's western edge, a muscle-bound man mountain glared at the Severn. Lust and Bloodthirstiness sparked in his eyes. Raven Dark Hair ran every which way. Thick beard touched his hauberk's bottom. Land and Power called to him across the raging waters. Sol sparkled against chain mail's links and the crown atop his head. Crimson sur coat carried Cawdor's symbols on his chest. A large sword hung over his hip. A mace sat by his right side.

Ambition…aye, Good Reader…that nasty thing….

Meleagant narrowed his eyes. Ambition harkened toward Conquest's wave sweeping across Britannia. Nemeth appealed as the easiest and smallest target. His scouts reported on the kingdom's weakness Much like his own realm, Whitgate and Gallsborough in the northwest proved the only fortified cities. His army would control the countryside in a few weeks. Siege would starve out the two towns. Then, he'd kill Rodor, Taene and their brat son. He'd silence Mithian and force her to be his Queen. From there, he'd strike out against the other kingdoms. Camelot would fall last…he'd savor that….

…first things first however….

Rodor has to come this way. He and Uther really think I am here to negotiate? A cruel snigger grated through the air from his mouth. With talks as cover, a trap sat on that side of the river. His knights watched for the Nemeth contingent's approach. Three dozen knights would overwhelm Nemeth's guardian escort. Then he'd sweep them all back across the Severn and a half day's ride back toward Cawdor. Uther will have no idea until it is too late. If he tries to rescue them, it will be war. Let him come. A cruel smirk spread further across his face.

"Sire?" The scout stopped a few feet away from Meleagant. He bowed before the tyrant. "There is news!"

Meleagant raised an eyebrow. "Rodor is not supposed to be here for a day at least, Worm! He does meander along. What is your nattering about?" Menace burned in his eyes. "This had better be important!" His fists clenched at his sides. His lip curled.

The scout shuddered. "Aye! I would not approach if it was not! Sir Mortimer, Sir Harold and I rode along the road toward Camelot. A league and a half from here! There is an advance party from Nemeth, Sire! We saw them camping there. The Prince talked with the knights. The Princess thought herself clever. She and her fire-haired servant went into the meadow. Four knights went with them. There are but eight left! They are still beyond Camelot's range of sight, Sire!"

Meleagant mulled over the report. Caution normally governed Rodor's thinking in such matters. Still, Overconfidence and Assumption led to Opportunity. Prizes remained akin to Quail awaiting fatal shafts in flight. Kay and Mithian meant ransom, crippling terms and his desired marriage. "Very good, Worm! You have earned another chance to please me! Get ready! We ride!"

The scout bowed again to Meleagant. He backed away step by hesitant step. Then he turned and ran back toward his waiting horse. "ARISE! OUR KING HAS BUSINESS FOR US!"

Meleagant rolled his eyes. He pulled Coif over his head. He put his helmet on over that. Anticipation lifted his spirits. He flexed his arms. Then he stormed across the camp. "PAY ATTENTION!"

Activity ceased around the camp. The knights stood and turned toward their master. Their eyes remained fixed upon Meleagant's. Their ears tuned to his words. Fear and Experience had taught them to do so if they valued their lives.

Meleagant scowled. "LISTEN AND LISTEN WELL! OUR CHANCE HAS COME! MOUNT UP! NEMETH HAS BLUNDERED INTO OUR MIDST! THEY ARE BUT A LEAGUE AND A HALF FROM OUR POSITION! TAKE THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS ALIVE! KILL THE KNIGHTS! I WANT THE SPOILS! DO NOT LET THEM ESCAPE! TO YOUR HORSES! RIDE HARD! DO NOT FAIL ME!" He marched to his own horse and climbed up into the saddle. He spurred his horse into a dead gallop toward his prospective victims.

The Cawdorians bowed. Swords buckled around their waists. Urgency all but shoved them into their saddles. Reward and Satisfaction pressed their horses right on Meleagant's heels. Hooves struck the ground. Dirt's clouds flew into the air. Horse lengths devoured the distance with frightening ease. Before Hourglass could manage another turn, they closed in on Kay's encampment.

Meleagant drew his sword. "REYNALD! TAKE FIVE OF YOUR KNIGHTS! PURSUE PRINCESS MITHIAN! SHE IS NOT TO BE HARMED! DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH THE FIRE HAIR! I DO NOT CARE!"

Reynald bowed in his saddle. He pointed toward the five closest knights. Then he rode into the meadow. Ambush and Surprise directed him to slow his advance. Stealth wanted to sneak up on Mithian and Britomart. "Dismount and stay close. We do not want them to see us."

The Cawdorians dared not to defy orders. (Granted, they thought to surround Mithian and prevent her escape. Orders, however, were orders after all….) They dismounted and slipped behind Grass' blind. They followed behind Reynald.

Four Nemethian knights, however, lay between Mithian and them. They drew their swords. Duty demanded a stand. Loyalty insisted on victory or death.

Reynald grinned. "FOR CAWDOR AND MELEAGANT!" Sol sparked from Sword's edges. Glory for one side…Dishonor for the others.

Such as it would go….