This was written for a challenge at the kingarthurfanfiction yahoo group. School has killed my author powers so I haven't been writing much lately but hopefully I can update this soon. Feedback is appreciated as always. My other story King may also be updated soon, I think I have most of it written - music theory class is good for that, good ol' multitasking. And I have another one too that hasn't seen the light of internet yet, but soon. Anyway, enjoy.
Captive - part 1
"Lancelot? Are you awake?"
"Yes, but trying not to think about it."
"Me too…maybe when I open my eyes, we'll really be back at the fort instead of out here. But then, that wouldn't explain why you're in my room."
"And I don't recall my bed being as hard as the ground. So I'd have to say that we're not home."
Gawain opened his eyes and looked around, with a sigh, "Well, you're right, we're still here."
"What a wonderful thing to wake up to…" Lance grumbled, twisting around to get a better view of the camp.
"They at least shouldn't have separated us…I hope the others are ok," the blond knight commented softly, also shifting around a little, but more to get in a comfortable position.
The other man snorted. "Shouldn't have separated us…as if the Saxons care, Gawain. It's not as if they would ask us first. You should be more concerned with not being killed than anything else."
Gawain sighed again and twisted his wrists around behind his back. Since yesterday when the Saxons had split the four prisoners and flung them at the edge of something that could only remotely be called a camp, he had been concentrating on getting his hands untied. It was a trick he had learned a long time ago from experience when they were first brought over by the Romans. But the Saxons' knot-tying skills exceeded the Romans and it was taking far longer than it should.
Lancelot was silent again too, looking around at the Saxon guards that were standing nearby. He knew that by now Arthur on the other side of camp probably had a plan. So the dark-haired knight was trying to come up with a plan of his own to at least get him and Gawain over to where Arthur and Galahad were. But it was a little difficult with his wrists and ankles tied.
The sound of footsteps reached his keen ears and Lance leaned closer to Gawain. "Stop with the ropes, they're coming," he said softly, then looked up as several large men came towards them and pulled them up, starting to drag them across camp. Lance tried to squirm loose, but the Saxon holding him only got frustrated and smacked him across the jaw.
This was the first time they had been moved since they were separated from the others. Both of them prayed to their gods that the Saxons hadn't been doing anything to the other two, but they both also knew that it would be a miracle if they hadn't.
They were brought into a clearing in the forest and unceremoniously dropped – Gawain near the edge, but Lancelot in the middle. The man who was undoubtedly the leader stood nearby and nodded, "Untie the dark-haired one, and give him his weapons."
Lancelot blinked as the Saxons moved to untie him and roughly pulled him up. Mistake number one, giving me my weapons, what do you want me to do, fight one of you? You'll all be dead. He gripped his twin swords in his hands and looked over at the leader of the Saxons. "What do you expect me to do with these, it doesn't seem very wise to give a prisoner his weapons," the knight said, narrowing his eyes and trying to figure out the angle.
The leader grinned menacingly, "If you try to escape or kill any of us, the boy knight dies." He directed both Lance and Gawain's attention to where Galahad had been brought out too. The youngest knight's face was bruised, and the other two cringed, knowing that was those were the only visible injuries and there could be more. But what mostly took their attention was the dagger being held to his throat. Galahad looked at them both with pleading eyes. He was trying so hard to be brave, but he was truly terrified. Gawain started struggling to get to him, but his bonds wouldn't let him.
Lancelot felt anger boil up inside of him and he glared at the leader, speaking through clenched teeth, "Then what do you expect me to do?"
"Fight," the man answered simply, then paused before continuing, "You will fight. If you refuse, the boy dies. If you attempt to go easy, the boy dies."
"Who do you expect him to fight…!" Gawain started, but then stopped. He looked up at Lance, who returned the same look of realization. The Saxons wouldn't be foolish to make him fight one of their own, and it wouldn't have the same effect. There was only one person left.
Mistake number two, Lance thought again, making me fight Arth-..oh, sweet Goddess…
The Saxon that had brought Arthur out, dropped him the same way that had been done with the others, only the difference was, he wasn't tied up. The Roman struggled to get to his feet, standing shakily as if at any moment he might collapse.
Lancelot swallowed hard looking over his best friend. Arthur seemed hardly capable of standing, let alone wielding a sword. His face was pale and his dark hair was matted to his head with sweat, but he didn't look to be nearly as beaten as Galahad had been. "What have you done to him," the knight growled in rage.
The leader answered, "It is no matter to you. You will fight your commander. Now."
Lance hesitated, looking from the leader, to Galahad, to Arthur. He knew what would happen if he refused, but if he didn't…it was Arthur, and he had hurt the man once – he didn't want to do it again. "Now!" the Saxon repeated, obviously growing impatient.
Taking a deep breath, the knight stepped forward to meet Arthur. "Are you ready?" he asked reluctantly.
Arthur blinked a few times as if trying to clear his vision. It felt like he had just woken up after not getting nearly enough sleep. No, worse than that. He couldn't concentrate – he felt sick. And everything felt like it was slowed down. Fortunately, he did understand what was going on and knew what they had to do. "Yes," Arthur said softly, slightly surprised how weak his voice sounded.
Biting his lip, Lance nodded. He didn't like the sluggish way Arthur was reacting and he almost sounded like he was drunk. But no, Lance had seen him drunk, it was defiantly something else – he looked sick. "Don't go easy on me," Lancelot said softly as he brought his swords up, "This has to look real."
"The same goes for you," Arthur replied, struggling to lift his sword. He took a deep breath, trying to push what ever was making him feel so bad away and muster his energy.
Gawain watched from the side, sitting up with his hands still tied behind his back, and occasionally stealing a glance over at Galahad. He desperately wanted to go to his friend, and knowing that he couldn't was even worse. But he was also watching with worry the duel that was unfolding in front of him. Lancelot had let Arthur make the first move and they were all slightly surprised when the Roman straightened up and seemed to shake off the sickly look for a few moments. However, it didn't seem like it would last long.
It resembled a sparing match between the two – they knew each other's moves almost as well as their own. Two warriors exactly matched. But the Saxons had sharp eyes, they could tell when the fight was boarding on just a show. One man stood near the edge of the clearing with a whip in his hand. If he suspected something, the strips of leather where slapped across Arthur's back.
Lancelot cringed when Arthur couldn't block one of his swords in time and he cut down the man's shoulder and arm. It wasn't deep, more of a long cut than anything else, but he could tell that the Roman was quickly tiring and wouldn't last much longer. He was right. Arthur stumbled slightly and fell to his knees, trying to push himself up with his sword, but unable to gather the strength to do so.
Looking around quickly at the Saxons who seemed amused at the Roman's weakened condition, Lance moved forward to help him up. As he pulled Arthur to his feet, the whip raked across his back and Lance bit his lip angrily. "Don't touch him, unless it's with your sword," the Saxon wielding it growled.
"Come on, Arthur, just a little bit longer," the knight whispered to his friend who seemed on the verge of collapse again with blood already starting to soak his tunic from the slashes the whip made through it. Lance sighed, there was no way that they could keep this up, he had to do something. He let Arthur make the first move again, not surprised that the resistance of their swords pushing against each other was lessened. The dangerous dance began again.
Gawain glanced up at the Saxon behind him, noting that the man was completely engrossed in the duel before them. That was a good thing – his hands were nearly free. Just a little bit more and he would be loose. But he was also keeping an eye on the fight, and on Galahad.
Suddenly, Gawain gasped silently, his full attention drawn to Arthur and Lancelot as the latter fell to the ground. Lance had let himself get hit, Gawain noted quickly, and the Saxons completely bought it. But Arthur, he stood panting in the middle of the clearing that had served as their arena. A look of horror, guilt and despair came across his face as he let his sword drop from his hand and fell to the ground again next to his wounded friend.
Lancelot looked around on the ground subtly. The wound wasn't terribly deep and he could venture to guess that Arthur probably didn't have the strength for that in the condition he was in. It hurt like hell, but that he could deal with. He looked over at Gawain, who quickly recognized the light in the other man's dark eyes and nodded. He looked over at Galahad – the Saxon who had been holding him hostage had lowered his dagger, and Galahad also nodded. Lance inwardly grinned, gripping both swords as the Saxons started to move towards them, obviously amused by the show.
"Arthur.." he whispered before their captors were close enough to hear them. Vaguely the commander's seemingly faded grey eyes came to meet his. "It's all right, you didn't hurt me too much. We're getting out of here…stay down, you shouldn't fight like this…"
Arthur shifted to grab his sword again. He could hear the Saxons drawing close. Taking a deep breath, he knew he didn't have much strength left, but he wouldn't sit out this fight. One of the Saxons stopped just behind him and reached down, pulling him up by his hair. Arthur gritted his teeth in pain from the whip wounds on his back as he was roughly pulled up. Still gripping his sword, he used all of his concentration to slam the sword backwards, impaling the man behind him.
That was the signal. Lance inwardly cursed at Arthur's stubbornness to fight with him, but jumped to his feet with his swords in hand, cutting down another man near by who had brought his weapon up already. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gawain slip the ropes off of his feet and waste no time in taking down the Saxon behind him. Galahad did the same, reversing the hold his captor had had on the dagger and stabbing the man with it.
The other two knights quickly picked up the weapons that were dropped, getting ready to defend. Arthur got in a few hits in, forcing his body to work. He had to protect Lancelot, after the damage he himself had already inflicted. But he was so tired…no, there was a job to do, he had to protect his best friend. Arthur almost didn't realize when finally the Saxons who had been watching them lie dead in the clearing of the forest, turning the dirt a dark red. It had been done silently and quickly – no one else in the camp heard.
Holding his wounded side, Lance quickly looked around, making sure that Galahad and Gawain were fine before turning to Arthur. The Roman fell to his knees again, breathing heavily. Cursing, Lance caught him before he fell on his face. "Gawain, see if you can get our weapons," the knight started, looking up at them, "Galahad, can you get some horses quietly? Before the rest of them notice." The youngest nodded in agreement.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Arthur said in a hoarse whisper with his eyes squeezed shut.