Reclaiming England. (Nano Novel 2016)

Chapter Two: Return to life.

A small boat lay at the shore of the lake, bobbing gently up and down. A man lay in the centre, his head in the lap of one of the many women in the boat. Another man stood on the land, looking on in worry.

"We shall take him, and we shall heal him," one of the woman said, looking up at the man on the edge of the lake. He nodded, pursing his lips together. He was Sir Bedivere, the last survivor of the Battle of Camlann – save the Pendragon, lying wounded in the boat. He could yet live.

His half sister – Morgan le Fay – had long been his bitter enemy, but now that he was dying, she came to his aid.

Slowly, Sir Bedivere watched as the boat drifted farther and farther away, the woman keening softly. A voice came to him over the lake, the voice of Nimue, the sorceress. She called him softly, saying, "Arthur will return in Albion's time of greatest need."

Sir Bedivere stood by the lake, his bloodstained boots soaking in the waters, watching as his king floated into the distance.

The sun was just setting as Maria and Tiger set out. The two of them didn't have far to go – the path of the supply truck passed near the Underground base. They moved quickly, striding through the streets until the came to the large road, leading into London. Following it for ten minutes, they left the city behind, ducking behind a large bush by the side of the road – waiting for the truck.

This was a regular ambush sight, and Maria was surprised the Americans still used it. Three trucks before this one had been attacked, and all but one destroyed completely, the contents stolen.

Maria and Tiger weren't the only rebels ambushing the truck; no there was a group of them – ten in total. Usually the trucks weren't well defended, and this one would – hopefully – be no different.

It wasn't long before the headlights of the truck came into view, moving quickly. At a nod from Tiger, one of the other men raised his gun, letting a round into one of the wheels. It hit full on, and the tire deflated with a hiss.

Three more shots followed it, and suddenly all the tires were dead. Shouts came from the truck as it slowed, and a man jumped out.

"Rebels," he muttered, spitting out a cigarette butt. As he spoke, he banged on the door of the truck, and men leaped from the truck, guns ready. Tiger stood suddenly, and with him the rest of the rebels.

Maria raised her gun, biting her lip slightly, and aimed carefully. Once she had pulled the trigger, she ducked behind a rock. A bullet ricocheted off it as she took cover.

Her heart pounding, she steadied herself for a moment, before looking back up. Rebels now surrounded the truck, and the five remaining Americans were being subdued.

"Check it," Tiger ordered, and Maria moved towards the truck. Pulling the back open, she let out a curse as a bullet flew over her head.

"There's men in there," she shouted, staying to one side of the now open doors. Darting back into view of the man inside, she fired blindly, hearing the bullet smash something glass inside. Another shot from inside rewarded her.

"Grenade!" someone shouted, as a small object was thrown out. Maria leapt to one side, but the grenade went off, a loud bang in her ear.

Dazed, she felt blood from the shrapnel dripping down her cheek. She raised her hand, tracing the cut. It was just above the large scar on her right cheek – she might be getting another scar.

Struggling to her feet, she turned to see what was happening at the truck. She couldn't hear anything, just subdued sounds. Shaking her head, she tried to regain her hearing.

A stab of fear shot through her – what if she was going to be permanently deaf? But as she stood, watching men taking over the truck, her sound began to return, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Content that the truck was dealt with; she turned back to the road. Often there were two trucks, one travelling behind the other. Sure enough, she could see the faint glow of head lights.

"Truck!" she shouted, and men turned.

"Quickly," Tiger said. They all knew what to do. The first truck was quickly spun, blocking the road, and the rebels darted behind it. The surviving Americans were nowhere to be seen – Maria didn't question it; Tiger didn't like to keep prisoners.

She was making her way to the safety of the truck, when something caught her attention. A man was stumbling across the road, looking drunk and lost. A quick look at the oncoming truck told Maria that he was going to make it across the road.

Acting almost on instinct, she ran forward, throwing her arms around the man and dragging him off the road. He shouted something, but she didn't hear it, intent on saving his life.

She felt her shoulder hit a rock as she fell, pulling the stranger with her. The truck rushed past.

As the sounds of gunshots sounded from ahead – telling her the others would soon take care of the truck – Maria struggled to her feet, taking a good look at the stranger.

He was tall, perhaps 6'5, and well built. His hair was blond, and a large scar showed on the top of his head. He sported a beard, and looked to be in his late thirties, early forties.

But the strangest thing was his clothes. He seemed to be wearing a suit of armour and chain mail, and empty scabbard on his side. He wore a cloak, red, with a golden dragon on it.

He blinked up at Maria and frowned, his hand darting to his side – for a sword that wasn't there.

"What is it that you wish, maiden?" he asked, his voice thick with some kind of accent, Maria couldn't tell what. "Why have you attacked me so?"

"I saved your life, buddy," Maria snapped, crossing her arms. The stranger frowned, blinking and shaking his head.

"Is that so. I cannot remember anything. What happened? Where am I?"

"You're outside London, and nearly got done by an American truck." Maria frowned, what on earth was a man in knight's armour doing in the middle of London. Who was he? A mad man?

"Well, if you saved my life I am indebted to you, lady," the man said, climbing to his feet. "What is your name?"

"Maria," she said simply. "And you? If you remember that is."

"Do you not know me?" the man seemed surprised. "I am Arthur."

"Yeah, sorry mate. I don't know any Arthurs. Now, my turn to ask questions. Who are you, what are you doing here and why are you wearing... armour?"

"I am a knight, maiden. It is only natural that I should wear armour, is it not? As for why I am here, I do not know. I only remember a white light, and before that... a church. A battle. I don't know." He lowered his head, looking at the ground.

The sounds of fighting by the truck had faded, and Maria glanced back.

"C'mon, Matt'll want to see you. What did you say your name was again, Arthur?"

The stranger nodded, and Maria nodded back. The two of them made their way back to the road, following it until they reached the small party of men.

One of them was badly wounded, and already he was being placed in the truck without flat tires – it was much quicker than walking, and he needed help soon. Maria and Arthur rejoined the men, and Maria quickly began helping to transfer goods from the broken truck to the one will good wheels.

Tiger, having spotted Arthur, made his way towards the man.

"Who are you?" he asked, crossing his arms in an attempt to intimidate Arthur. Maria paused in her work to watch, she wanted to see how Arthur stood up to a threat. By the looks of him, he had been in some kind of war – he might be able to help them.

"Arthur. And who are you?" Arthur asked, mimicking the stance. Tiger seemed taken aback by the assertive answer, but scowled.

"Tiger."

"Interesting name. Might I ask who is your king or lord? I wish to speak with him."

"Soon," Tiger said, turning his attention back to the men. Arthur frowned, but didn't say anything.

Seeing the exchange was over, Maria returned to her work, thinking Arthur – whoever he was – could either be a large gain to their cause, or hinder them greatly.