The Kidnapped Prince

The Perilous Lands

"We're still a day behind schedule," Sir Bedivere states, scanning the forest path ahead of him.

"We were," Sir Percival stresses.

The company rode through the night, only stopping when the horses needed a breather or water. It wasn't pleasant for the company. At least two of them are sleeping on top of their horses. And at least two more will join them in the near future.

"How are you not passing out?" Galahad asks his mentor as he nudges his horse to keep pace with Sir Gawain's. The older squire yawns.

It was a long night for everyone.

"You mean like your sister?" Sir Bedivere asks, turning to glance at Lady Alys. The young lady is currently dozing on her horse's back. She looks too peaceful to disturb, like Lady Rhoslyn, who's taken to reciting ingredients in a potion since she gets queasy if she sleeps on a moving horse.

She did that once and only once. Not only did she throw up she fell off her horse while trying to get down.

Galahad nods, telling his master yes. The only other person dozing off is Sir Gawain.

"Practice,"

"How does that—"

"Screaming children at three in the morning... it's not pretty," Sir Bedivere sighs. He knows the trials a parent has to make to calm their fussy child at three in the morning. It's not a fetching look...especially later in the day.

The grand master wasn't too pleased when his wife managed to convince him not to hire a nurse the first time around. It wasn't her fault. She thought looking after an infant would be easier than a grown man. Her mistake. They did not make the same mistake the second or third time around.

Instead, they enlisted the help of his wife's sister to watch the older children when they got up to feed the baby. The arrangement worked and went both ways when Sir Bedivere's in-laws had a child.

Beside Galahad, Sir Gawain jolts awake when his horse stops to poop. Gaheris snickers at his brother from behind. Not a morning person but not a night owl either, but as someone who likes sleep, Sir Gawain snaps at his snickering brother. He tells the squire he will clean the armoury when he gets back to Camelot--top to bottom.

Gaheris immediately shuts his mouth.

The company of knights, squires and ladies continue on in silence. They ride for a few hours more before they realize the trees have begun to grow closer together. Then comes the stench. A putrid smell that reeks of a gassy bog.

The Perilous Lands. At last.

"Smell that?" Lady Alys lifts her cloak to cover her mouth and nose. Trying to keep from gagging on the fowl air.

Sir Percival nods. The knight lifts his green forest cloak to cover his nose. He might be used to the stables smell, but this smell. This is in its own league of rankness.

"The Perilous Lands," Lady Rhoslyn states, frowning at the smell. Overall it doesn't bother her too much, not like her companions. She's smelled far worse things from Master Merlin's cauldron.

"How do you know?" Galahad asks, not quite ready to believe his sister.

"Master Merlin keeps a bottle of air from the perilous lands in his collection,"

"Air?"

"It's an odd collection. The bottle labelled The Perilous Lands smells like this," Lady Rhoslyn gestures to the rapidly changing forest around them, from lush green to murky silt brown. He has nicer-smelling bottles too. One from Kent, a place called Italy and one from Spain.