Sir Kay and his six companions cut a path through the heart of Lot’s army. Their horses trampled men as the knights leaned from their saddles and devastated mounted enemies. They stopped only when they reached King Lot.
Sir Kay’s companions spread around the king in a smooth circle, moving in perfect synchronization as they attacked the king’s guards.
Sir Kay thrust his spear at King Lot, piercing the king’s side before unhorsing him. He was unable to finish the job as King Pellinore—another enemy king—burst through the ranks of Kay’s companions and started attacking him with great ferocity.
By now layers of Britt’s army separated from the main body, riding off to areas that were previously assigned to them, or locations where Britt’s knights were in trouble.
Britt glanced north, to the woods.
“Nay. We have no need of the brother kings yet,” Merlin said, guessing her thoughts.
Britt shut her eyes, the reek of blood and bile had finally reached her.
“You can move to the back of the army, Arthur. I do not intend for you to see combat today,” Merlin said.
Britt forced her eyes open. “No,” she said. “These men are dying for me. The least I can do is witness their courage with open eyes,” she said, swallowing.
Reinforcements had reached Sir Kay and his companions, and just in the nick of time as Kay was briefly dismounted. His horse fought off enemy soldiers until Kay recovered his wits and remounted.
Britt scanned the battlefield, noting the position and condition of her various knights. “You’re certain Ywain is not mounted and in this battle?”
“I am. He was our scout earlier this morning as nothing would happen to him if he were caught. He is waiting on the far side of the army and will meet with me before we decided to call in the brother kings,” Merlin said.
Britt nodded, looking at the colors and emblems on her knights’ horses and armor. She froze, every muscle in her body stiffening.
“Arthur? What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, his horse pawing the ground. “Arthur? Arthur. Britt!” Merlin said, trying to get her attention.
Britt wordlessly slid off the rock and mounted Roen. The black gelding took off as if he were a black bolt of lightning. Britt clung to his back, Excalibur warm on her hip as her heart exploded in her ears.
“Arthur!” Merlin shouted somewhere behind her.
The image of one of King Urien striking Sir Ector, sending him careening from his horse replayed in her mind again and again. Britt had to help him.
Determination wrought of iron kept Britt on Roen’s back as they burst through the front lines of her army, galloping towards the left side of Lot’s army.
In the weeks and months to come, men would describe Britt’s charge as a thing of deadly majesty. Roen exploded forward, alone, across the plains. Britt’s army swept behind her like a metallic veil, chasing after the dust of their king. The ground shook, and the flags held by Lot’s standard bearers were almost ripped off their poles from the onslaught of a great wind that rolled across the plains with Britt.
Britt didn’t shout. She was deadly quiet, her cloak twisted behind her like red wings. As she neared the front lines she pulled Excalibur from its scabbard. The mystical sword sang as it was freed. When the sunlight struck the blade it seemed to ignite like the hottest depths of a star, casting light across the field in a blinding wave.
Sir Kay, who was within sight of King Lot, heard the monarch say, “It can’t be.”
Lot’s soldiers shouted in fear at the sight of Britt.
“It’s the red dragon!”
“Uther Pendragon is back!”
“We’re doomed!”
“All is lost!”
At the last moment Roen twisted, running parallel to the battle, away from Lot. Soldiers and knights on both sides shouted when Roen turned again and plowed through the ranks. All eyes followed the horse’s progress, looking ahead to see Britt’s target: King Urien and Sir Ector.
The king didn’t notice Britt’s deliberate journey. His back was to her as he jabbed his sword at Sir Ector.
The older knight was wounded, the armor on his left shoulder crushed from a mace blow, his helmet gone and trampled somewhere by a horse. He favored his left leg as he backed away from the gleeful king. Urien charged after Ector, his sword flashing and he slammed blow after blow upon Sir Ector.
Britt broke through the wall of soldiers separating her from the enemy king and her foster father. She kicked King Urien between the shoulders as she passed him, making the king stumble.
Britt dismounted Roen and turned to face Urien, her hair leaking out of her helmet to mark her like a shining blonde beacon.
King Urien snarled and lunged at Britt, his face twisted and angry.
Britt, on the other hand, was emotionless and silent. Her blue eyes were intense with anger so cold and smoldering her look alone pushed Urien’s men back. She didn’t raise Excalibur to block King Urien’s swipe at her, instead—in the prime of his arc—Britt crouched and rammed her shoulder into the King’s stomach like a defensive lineman on a football team.