King Urien was knocked backwards. His eyes popped open with shock as Britt abandoned her vision limiting helm.
Britt twirled Excalibur. “Stand, Urien,” she commanded, her eyes a blistering blue.
King Urien staggered to his feet, still shocked, before he shook his head and roared, charging at Britt like a mad animal.
As the king raised his sword Britt burst forward, landing a blow on King Urien’s open left side. She pushed King Urien back, striking with incredible speed rather than strength. Sir Ector later described the fight, quietly and without his usual exuberance, as a mortal man desperately fleeing an enraged Elvenking.
King Urien retreated from the onslaught but fell on a slaughtered horse. He scrambled to stand, but froze when he felt the icy tip of Excalibur sliding past the chainmail on his neck, resting against his sweat covered skin.
“Do not move,” Britt said, her voice quiet but edged in burning fury. “Or I will not hesitate to kill you.”
“You’re nothing but a boy,” King Urien croaked.
“That may be, but right now my fondness for your son is the only thing that is keeping Excalibur from biting your throat,” Britt said.
“What?” King Urien said, starting to wiggle until Britt leaned against her sword and placed a foot on Urien’s chest.
“You will live, Urien, but be warned. Never let me see your face again. Leave me and those of mine alone, and never, ever strike Sir Ector again. If you do, not even Ywain will be able to save you,” Britt said, her voice growling and guttural.
She abruptly pulled back from Urien—one of her knights leaped to take her place in holding the king prisoner—and made for Roen. “Sir Ector, are you well?” Britt asked as she mounted her horse, ignoring Urien’s panicked inquires.
“But my son! Ywain, do you have him?” Urien cried.
Sir Ector slowly lifted his gaze from the king and nodded to Britt. “I’m fine, My Lord.”
Britt smiled briefly, although the gesture did nothing to warm her face. “It’s Arthur, father,” she said, directing her black horse into the battle so quickly she did not see the smile bloom on Sir Ector’s face.
Roen jumped a slain soldier, nearly tossing Britt from his back, but she grimly held on as the black horse plunged past fights and skirmishes. This time they were not alone. A small company of knights desperately chased after Britt, protecting her flanks and occasionally zipping forward to strike down a stray knight or soldier.
Lot saw Britt and her knights coming. Rather than face the flint faced ‘boy king,’ Lot grabbed a horse and fled.
He didn’t get six feet before Britt popped him off his horse, nailing him square in the chest with Excalibur’s scabbard. As the King fell and scrambled to right himself Britt dismounted Roen, her long hair whipping in the wind.
Enraged, Lot raised his sword and shouted as he rushed at Britt.
Britt followed her previous tactics and struck before Lot was ready, using a combination of speed and cunningly placed blows to push Lot back and keep him on the defense. Rather than wait for an opening she kept up a solid line of attacks and forged her own holes in the king’s defense.
When she pushed Lot off balance she grabbed him by his shoulder armor, peeled it back, and stabbed the king.
Lot shouted and a small company of his soldiers rushed Britt. Her knights picked off most of them, but she was forced to abandon Lot to fight his men.
Lot dragged himself to a horse and mounted it, setting off to deep depths of his army. “Kings, to me! We will circle around them and crush them!” Lot shouted.
No sooner than Lot had spoken when a horn sounded from the woods in the north. Merlin, King Ban and King Bors charged out of the woods, 10,000 soldiers on horseback following them with deafening cries.
King Pellinore pulled horse around Lot’s. “Who is that who rides with Merlin and a great host?”
Lot cursed. “’Tis King Ban and King Bors of the south. They have brought reinforcements without our knowledge. Retreat!”
King Ban and King Bors swept across the battlefield, reinvigorating it as they chased after Lot and his remaining allies.
Britt, meanwhile, was plucked from the fray and deposited on her horse by Sir Bodwain, who managed to drive her from the fight.
He sat with her, watching the majority of Lot’s army flee while other parts of Britt’s army took captives.
“Well done, the battle has been won,” Merlin pronounced, trotting up to Britt and Sir Bodwain on his spindly horse.
“How?” Britt asked. “They only retreated. We didn’t catch King Lot, and he didn’t surrender.”
“It doesn’t take a king to surrender to force him to admit defeat. We have seen the last of King Lot’s army, although we may not have seen the last of him,” Merlin said before frowning at Britt. “You should not have rushed into battle like that.”