“Don’t be, this’ll be lots of fun for us, not everyday one goes exploring.”
It wasn’t nearly the gracious concession she wanted, but she let it pass. “Yes, sire.” She gave the wounded knight one last pat on the chest, then rose and mounted her horse. “If you can lift him across the saddle, I can support him. We need to stop wasting time.”
Arthur didn’t say anything to her comment but easily pushed forward. He helped to lift the man onto her horse, climbing back to his own horse and began to get the horse to trot. They were going to have to go carefully, if they wanted to get back to Camelot safely.
Once Arthur was ahead of her, Summer let her reins fall to the mare’s neck, relying on her knees for control and her hands to balance the knight. She really didn’t want to be taking him back to Camelot; his words troubled her and she couldn’t shake the conviction that trouble rode inside that helm. But Arthur was her lord; she had to obey.
He could tell that something was still off about this knight and knew magic had to be the source of it. He didn’t know how to talk about it however. Magic was always looked at badly by his father and those practicing it killed. He knew he’d have to get him to Gaius and to keep things very quiet.
They were almost back to Camelot when the strange knight began to rouse. He didn’t move much, but his head tossed where it was leaned back on her shoulder, and he mumbled feverish nonsense. Summer called up to Arthur, “We should hurry. He’s waking, and I don’t know what will happen.”