Thankfully, unconsciousness rendered no nightmares to Henry this time; the last thing he remembered seeing was Arthur slumped lifelessly on the ground before him, and Rebecca struggling vainly as she was bound as well, before the blow to his head sent him into absolute darkness. When he stirred again, he found himself bound hand and foot, propped up against a tree alongside his similarly bound companions, as the early morning sunrise had just crested the horizon. Their captors, five in all, were clustered around an unfamiliar campsite, rifling through the travelers' belongings. Not far from them were Henry's and Arthur's horses, hitched to a tree.

  Pain shot through his head as he tried to crane his neck to look further; he winced and laid back against the tree, his head throbbing hotly as he struggled to regain his bearings.

  "Good morning, sunshine." Arthur's voice, weak as it was, dripped with its familiar sarcasm. "Enjoy your nap?"

  "Shut it," Rebecca hissed. "Let me concentrate. I can't burn these ropes off with your yapping."

  "Lot of good you were in a fight," Arthur shot back. "What happened to all those fancy spells of yours? Or are you really just a cheap magician after all?"

  "Quiet." Henry closed his eyes, the pain radiating brilliantly from the back of his head. "She saved my life."

  "Ah, don't think you're clear either, lord squire." Arthur shot him a nasty look. "You couldn't even look after yourself in a fight. Looks like Gallant failed you, miserably."

  Henry felt rage well up inside him, but before he could retort, one of the men, the leader, ambled up to the trio.

  "Ah, my beauties are all awake now. Just in time for the fun." He squatted down to meet Henry's eyes. "I'd ask what you're doing in these woods, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth." He glanced slyly at Henry's and Arthur's mounts. "Literally."

  "Sod off," Arthur spat. "I'll take you on again, without these fools weighing me down. Give me my sword, and I'll fight all of you myself."

  The man shook his head, smirking. "You're feisty. I'll admit, you were hardest to take down. Certainly gave us more of a fight than the last group."

  "So fight me," Arthur snarled, "unless you're a stinking coward!"

  "Oh, on the contrary. I think it unsportsmanlike to fight a dead man walking."

  "What's that supposed to mean?!"

  "You'll see, in time. Now then." The man shifted his attention to Henry and Rebecca. "What to do with you two? You killed Lyle, and badly hurt John. I suppose I'll have to return the favor." He lazily took the dagger from his belt and balanced it atop his hand, the blade teetering between Henry and Rebecca. "Who do I kill, and who do I maim?"

  The blade slowly turned to Henry. The man grinned.

  "So, the gentleman bites it. How noble of him to save his lady." He whistled to the others, who tossed aside whatever they were rummaging through and gathered around the trio at the tree. The man Henry had wounded limped over, his eyes fixed murderously on the young squire. A blood-stained bandage was wrapped around the leg Henry had run through earlier.

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  "John, I think it fair you cut the devil's throat for your leg and for Lyle." The man pulled Rebecca to her feet and pushed her to the other men. "As for her, you boys have fun. It's not often we get to have two women in these woods to partake in."

  Rebecca screamed as Arthur swore and struggled viciously against his bindings. Henry violently strained against the rope as well, ignoring the pain in his head and hands as John drew his own dagger and approached with a wicked grin.

  A whistling sound erupted from behind the men, before John and the leader crumpled to the ground. The other three men only had time to stop and gape before the sound came again, and they too fell lifelessly to the ground.

  Henry looked on incredulously, before he spotted the arrow in the back of each man's head.

  "Who the hell...?" Arthur's pondering was cut short with the emergence of another darkly clad and cloaked figure from the opposite treeline, his bow drawn at the ready.

  For a moment, nothing was said; the trio warily eyed their dark savior, who returned the gaze with equal trepidation. The bow remained drawn without so much as a tremor, not aimed directly at any of the trio, but enough to warrant caution.

  Arthur finally broke the silence. "Oi! Fancy giving us a hand?"

  The figure paused for a moment, before lowering his bow. He approached them and drew his dagger, much to Henry's alarm.

  He stepped behind Rebecca and cut her hands free first, then her feet. He repeated this with Arthur next, then finally Henry.

  As their rescuer cut the bonds on Henry's hands and feet, Henry caught a glimpse of his face. He was young, younger than the bandits, and likely around the trio's age as well; beneath the dark hood he wore, the bright purple of his irises caught Henry's attention first.

  "Thank you," Henry said, standing up and rubbing his wrists. "We owe you. Big."

  His rescuer opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could come out, a blow to the side of Henry's face knocked him to the ground.

  Arthur stood over him, his fists clenched and his face fixed in fury. "You useless cumber! You almost got us killed!" He delivered a savage kick to Henry's ribs, forcing the air from the squire's lungs. "Did Gallant's teachings mean nothing?! Or was he just an incompetent fool?!"

  "Arthur, stop!" Rebecca cried out, grabbing his arm. The knight-apprentice fixed his gaze on her before he roughly shoved her aside as well. She fell to the ground, crying out in pain. The figure stood back, his hand on his bow, but saying nothing as he cautiously eyed the scene before him.

  "And you! You're just as much of a burden as he is, if not more so! Some mage you turned out to be!"

  Henry managed to get to his feet and launched himself at Arthur with a cry, tackling him to the ground. The pair tumbled about in the grass as they exchanged blows, before Henry managed to stun Arthur with a blow to the face and sat atop his chest.

  "Shut up!" Henry screamed. "Shut up!! You're just as guilty! You left us on our own without a plan, and you fought aside from us!" He hammered his fists repeatedly into Arthur's face, ignoring the blood mixing in with his own bleeding knuckles. "You abandoned us! You're no knight! You're no knight!" He punched - again, and again, and again. "YOU'RE - NO - KNIGHT!"

  "Henry!" Rebecca's shrill voice snapped him out of his rage. "Henry, stop! You're killing him!"

  Henry, dazed, finally halted his attacks. He looked down at his hands, barely feeling the throbbing pain.

  They were crimson-stained, slick with fresh blood. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding; he couldn't tell where his blood and Arthur's began and ended. His senses finally returned to him, the burning rage fizzling out into horror and shame.

  "I-I'm sorry." Henry clambered off of Arthur, his face ashen. "A-are you alright?"

  Arthur's face was badly swollen and bruised, blood pouring from his nose. One of his eyes was blackened and swollen shut completely; the other was steadily fixed on Henry.

  The knight-apprentice's breathing was ragged and haggard; still, in spite of his horrific injuries, he managed a broken smile on his swollen lips.

  "Where... was this... savagery... earlier?" he croaked out. "Why... did you... hold back...?"

  Henry hung his head as Rebecca and the hooded rescuer moved in and knelt over Arthur, tending to his wounds. The adrenaline had worn off; the raw pain on his fists now manifested in full. He could barely feel the blood dripping from his knuckles as he staggered away in shame.