“I already regret this.”




“Don’t be, this’ll be lots of fun for us, not everyday one goes exploring.”


“Oh good,” Summer said half-absently. She held out her hands, not even looking up, and quickly cut the tunic along the seams with a little pocket knife. Soaking half in the water, she wiped away as much of the blood as she could, then looked back up at Arthur with compressed lips. “I don’t think he’ll make it back to town, and …. well, look.” The wound was clearly very bad. Without expert help, the knight would probably die in a few days. She cut the rest of the tunic into strips, but she couldn’t help feeling it was a hopeless task. “What did he mean by ‘it will begin again’?”

“We can’t give up on him, he’s strong. I know that he will make it and we’ll get him to Camelot and Gaius.” Arthur spoke with conviction. “I fear that what he means is that what is happening will continue on and on. Never ending and never stopping. Like a curse. I wonder if Gaius would know any way to break such a thing.”

She couldn’t help glancing up at Arthur, startled. He had picked it apart so easily, from just the one phrase. “Do you think that’s why he wanted you to kill him?” She held that thought for a moment, concentrating on winding the strips around the sounded torso — “Lift, a little, please, yes, just there.” — before finishing it. “Is that the way to break it? Someone has to — has to — “