Sir Galahad spotted Sir Kay across the battlefield.
The knight was still spinning his dragon spiral still blocking, still deflecting, still surviving. But Galahad could see the cost. The pale blue of his hands. The blood streaming from his eyes. The way his arms trembled with each rotation.
He was struggling.
He was out of energy.
Galahad's jaw tightened.
No. The thought was absolute. We must protect everyone. No matter what. No matter the sacrifice.
He turned to Tristan and Percival the two knights who were still standing beside him, still capable, still fighting. Their eyes were fixed on the falling rods, on Kay's desperate defense, on the inevitability of their situation.
"Hey." Galahad's voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. "I have a plan."
Tristan's head turned. Percival's bleeding eyes focused.
"We need everyone to escape from the battlefield. Now."
He pointed across the sand.
"Sir Kay. Lancelot. You two are with me." His finger shifted. "Sir Leodegrance is away from the range of fire for now. But if this guy keeps this up..." He looked up at Titus, still hanging in the sky, still raining rods. "...we will run out of energy. And it will be inevitable."
His voice hardened.
"We will die here."
He took a breath.
"So let's gather everyone. Launch a staggering attack. And escape from here."
Tristan's brow furrowed.
"From here..." He looked around at the battlefield at the rods, at the general, at the hopelessness of their position. "...to where?"
Galahad paused.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened. He took in a gulp of saliva, buying himself a moment to think.
"We won't be the only one leaving this battlefield." His voice was quiet, but certain. "He too will be leaving."
Tristan's eyes widened.
"And of course before he leaves..." Galahad's hand tightened on the Sword of David. "I plan to give him an attack that would make him unable to ever think of making another."
He looked at Tristan, then at Percival.
"For that, I'll need both of you to take over for now. Use any method any method so that we won't die from these rods."
He pointed across the battlefield.
"I'll open a cut. And drag Lancelot, Kay, and Leodegrance here. To safety."
Percival's face twisted.
"Are you serious?" His voice was sharp, incredulous. "We don't have any defensive technique that can last that long. Or have you forgotten" He gestured at himself. "that I didn't learn the sword technique that's right for this?"
Galahad met his eyes.
"It doesn't matter."
Percival blinked.
"With those eyes of yours..." Galahad's voice was calm, certain. "I'm sure you will be good at evading."
He reached into his hilt into a small compartment Galahad had never noticed before and pulled out a rope.
It was long. Coiled. Strong.
"Tristan." He tossed it. "You're strong enough to carry the weight of two. Because of your well-toned muscles."
Tristan caught the rope, his expression unreadable.
"You two will initiate a two-man attack force." Galahad's voice was rapid, efficient. "Percival you will be the pin pointer. You'll track the rods, predict their trajectories, tell Tristan where the attacks will come from."
His eyes shifted to Tristan.
"Tristan you will take down the ones in your radar. And his radar. As you two continuously shift positions."
Tristan looked at the rope in his hands.
Then at Percival.
Percival's face was a mask of reluctance his lips pressed together, his brow furrowed, his bleeding eyes narrowed.
"Really?" Percival's voice was dry. "Tied together. With him."
He sighed.
"It means I might get some bugs on me if this goes on." A pause. "But..."
He stepped forward.
"...what's a little bugs, if we can survive this?"
Tristan moved.
He wrapped the rope around Percival's waist once, twice and tied it tight. Then he wrapped it around his own, securing them together. Back to back. Connected.
Percival's back pressed against Tristan's.
He could feel the hunter's breathing steady, calm, ready. The warmth of his body through the armor. The trust that this bond required.
He frowned.
"Don't get us killed," he muttered.
Tristan's voice came from behind him.
"Same to you."
Galahad watched them the rope between them, the connection they had formed and smiled.
"I pray," he said quietly, to himself, to the grey sky, to whatever gods might be listening, "that we can survive this battle."
He looked at Tristan and Percival at the tag team he had just created, at the potential coiled between them.
"And live to see more battles."
His smile widened.
"A tag team of this level..." He shook his head in wonder. "It would bring enemies to their knees."
His voice dropped.
"They would become unstoppable."
Tristan and Percival stood back to back.
Galahad raised the Sword of David.
And somewhere above them, the rods continued to fall.