Return to Camelot
Ray awoke before dawn, disturbed by fitful dreams. He was disoriented, and took a few moments to understand why he was curled up on a scratchy rug on a hard stone floor, instead of in his bed on the Waverider.
He frowned and allowed himself a sigh when the memories came flooding back. Stranded. Alone. Again. It was upsetting not to have a companion with him, like he had with Kendra. But then, after the way she instantly dropped even a pretense of caring about the life they'd built together, coming back to the Waverider had felt like loss and heartache, instead of the joyous reunion it should have been. At least, if he had to be alone, there were no feelings to misinterpret (or be misled by). And there were no dinosaurs. He could handle loneliness as long as there weren't any dinosaurs.
Ray got up and left the house quietly to find the facilities (such as they were). He took care of as much of his morning routine as he could under the circumstances, then tried to make himself as useful as possible without waking up his hosts. He swept the floors, drew water from the well and filled all the pitchers and bowls in the house that seemed to need filling.
His hosts got up when he was finishing up water duties, and the lady of the house seemed surprised and happy to see Ray up and working already. Her husband was less enthusiastic, and seemed put out by Ray's proactive help. Ray had encountered similar attitudes before. He never understood it - who could object to someone helping them for free? But he knew enough about people to know logic didn't have much to do with this kind of reaction.
Ray could usually turn up the charm and overcome this when corporate culture was involved. Turning up the charm in an older man's house, with a wife who already looked at Ray like he was a godsend would not go over well. He would have to leave this shelter and figure out something else.
"I thank you both for your kind hospitality," he said. "But I must be on my way."
"Oh no!"
"As ye will."
Ray smiled wryly. "I'm sorry to impose, but... my clothes aren't right for the cold, and..." He shrugged, gesturing to his own bare feet. He looked at the man of the house. "Good sir Green, would you allow me to work for you today in exchange for clothes and a day's food?"
Green narrowed his eyes, but after a moment's deliberation, he nodded. "Ye can start by chopping and bringing in more firewood."
"I thank you kindly, sir. I'll start right away."
"Ye'll do no such thing!"
"Mary!"
"Surely you'll not have the man chop wood on an empty stomach?! And in bare feet, too? It's un-Christian, Bartholomew Green, and I won't hear of it!"
Green had the decency to look sheepish then, and Ray was allowed to join them for breakfast and wear his host's spare boots before being put to work. He chopped and carted wood, mended fences, and did everything else Green told him to do, for the rest of the day. Mrs. Green insisted on him staying the night again, and the next morning, she loaded him down with two days' worth of food and water, a cord of firewood and kindling, a full suit of clothes and a (somewhat tattered) cloak for the rain.
"If ye head south," she told him, pointing toward the forest, "ye shall come on the Court, in about two and a half days' walk."
"The court, ma'am?" Ray asked. "Whose court?"
"Why, the Court of Camelot! A strong man like you could do well there, if ye can wield a sword. 'Tis said they even allow commoners to fight with them, so long as they be brave and strong."
Ray smiled bright, unable to believe his luck. If he could connect with Guinevere and Arthur again, he would most certainly "do well". "Thank you, ma'am. I'll try there."
"Here," Green said in a gruff tone. He held out an old, worn sheath and dagger. "'Tis a sturdy blade, though its looks be none too fancy. And ye'd best not travel unarmed."
Ray smiled at him. "Thank you very much, sir. As my mother used to say, it's... it's naught but what's inside that matters."
He waved goodbye and set off on his way to Camelot.
The first day of the journey went well - as well as could be expected, at least. Ray tended to keep himself in decent enough shape on the Waverider, but he focused on sparring and sprinting. Time travelers had little use for marathon walking sessions in Ray's experience, and certainly not while hefting forty pounds of wood and food, and wearing too-tight second hand boots.
Still, he was eager to get to Camelot, and he pushed himself to make the best time possible. By the time he stopped to make camp in a clearing in the forest, he was exhausted. He was glad to set fire to at least a part of his burden. He ate a simple dinner of cured meat and cold boiled potatoes, and smiled at the memory of the Greens' horror when he told them he was allergic to bread.
Tired as he was, Ray took advantage of the privacy, and pulled out his suit. He was relieved when the suit expanded to full size, but when he put it on, the neural connections still didn't work. Verbal commands were useless as well, and he took it back off, feeling dejected. Ray didn't have the tools he needed to dismantle the suit and use the parts as a beacon, but he knew now that it wouldn't work anyway. The neural connectors and verbal communication were crucial parts of the transformation from super-suit to temporal beacon.
Ray wasn't confident about shrinking in the suit, either. With the system on the fritz, he could get stuck small-sized, and then he would never have a chance of being found. Assuming he could survive at all. Shrinking in an alpha city with plenty of food waste (gag) would be different than shrinking in the middle of a forest. No. Until he was rescued, the ATOM suit was nothing more than a strange miniature suit of armor that he couldn't use.
Despondent, Ray put the suit away and tucked the case into his modern pants pocket. He stared into the fire and pictured the faces of his friends before drifting off to sleep.
Next morning, he awoke before dawn again. This time, instead of the cold hard floor of the farmhouse waking him, it was the rain. "Wonderful." Ray pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, ate a quick breakfast, then packed up for the second half of his trek.
A steady rain showered Ray through the first half of the day. The foliage under the forest's canopy got slippery, and mud puddles impeded his progress. He stopped for another meal and a rest sooner than he had the day before.
Lunch was a disappointment. Water had gotten into the food, making it less appetizing than before. He was achy from the walking, and the three night's straight of getting hardly any sleep, and he struggled longer than usual to find something positive to focus on.
In the end, it was dinosaurs again. He recalled the rainy season in Gertrude's territory, and decided soggy potatoes and sore feet were better than cowering in a hole hoping the rain would at least throw the giant lizard off his scent.
Soon, Ray was up and on his way again, looking forward to a hot bath and sleeping in a real bed at Camelot. The rain stopped about an hour after lunch, and Ray happily threw back his hood and picked up his pace.
He was just beginning to wonder when he would catch sight of the castle, when he caught sight of something else - six gruff looking men walking toward him through the woods. Ray's first instinct was to change his course and veer away from them, but he knew if he could see them, they had already seen him. Since there was no point in running, he continued on his southward path, hoping they would see he had nothing of value and leave him alone.
No such luck. As the group drew closer to him, Ray stepped aside so he would pass them as he walked. The men changed their course to walk directly in front of him. Ray stopped walking and waited. When they got close enough to hear, Ray nodded and said, "Good day."
"G'day, peasant," one of the men spat. "What brings you to our forest?"
"Passing through," Ray said calmly. "I want no trouble."
The men laughed, and the one who'd spoken first nodded to his friends. They began to surround Ray, and he sighed. "'No trouble', he says," the leader sneered. "Well, there'll be no trouble when you hand over your gold."
Ray shook his head. "I have no money," he said, keeping an eye on the other men as they moved to surround him.
"No money? You're headed south on this path, and that leads only to the jester's court! Yet you have no sword, and no gold to offer them? You lie!"
Ray shrugged off his pack and tossed it toward the leader, knowing he would need more freedom of movement soon if things kept going the way they were. "See for yourself."
The leader scowled at him. "Trent! Check the pack."
One of the other men stepped forward, sword drawn, and began roughly dumping things out of Ray's bags and kicking them here and there. Ray frowned and surreptitiously checked the give in his dagger under his cloak, while the others laughed at Trent's destructive antics.
"No gold, Chief," he said with a mean smile at Ray.
"Well then! It must be under that cloak. Take it off, peasant."
Ray looked darkly at the other man. "You won't want what's under here."
The chief looked surprised, then laughed and the others laughed with him. "You're spirited, dog! But you'll die just the same. Get him, boys!"
Ray pulled off the cloak and unsheathed the dagger in the same motion. He spun the cloak around his left arm, watching the men advance, and listening for an attack from behind. Trent jumped for him first, and Ray parried his first strike with his "shielded" arm and sunk the dagger deep into his enemy's torso.
The fight seemed to move lightning fast, but lasted forever at the same time. Ray made good use of every single resource he could to survive. The peasant's cloak was a poor shield, but it provided some measure of protection while he pushed up swords so he could get close with his smaller blade. He used his scattered wood to club enemies, and at some point during the fight, he took the sword from one of the fallen bandits and went at the rest with renewed vigor.
In the end, Ray bested all but the chief, and with a final burst of adrenaline, he hacked at the man's sword until it broke at the hilt. Stunned, the chief dropped to his knees and raised his hands. Ray touched his sword to the man's neck and glared.
"No! Have mercy, lord! Spare my life, and I will give you all our gold!"
"I don't need gold." The chief looked panicked, but Ray jerked his head. "Go."
"What?"
"GO! Leave, and remember, you owe your life to a peasant!" The chief nodded and scrambled away, followed by a few of his limping companions.
"Bravo!" Ray spun toward the sound of the voice, sword raised. He was shocked to see three knights on horseback, coming to a halt a few yards away. "No need for your weapon, good sir," the knight said. "We bear you no ill will." Ray lowered his weapon, noticing for the first time, the livery of the knights.
"You're of King Arthur's court?"
"We are knights of the Round Table," the man answered. "We heard the sound of battle and came to help, but you have fared well without us, and acted honorably as well. We would gladly welcome you to our court."
Ray smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. "You have my thanks, fair knight. I-" Ray swayed and saw the knight's eyes widen in alarm. He struggled to speak again, but nothing would come out. He staggered to his knees, suddenly feeling all the blows and cuts from the fight. The cloak slipped off his arm, revealing a blood-soaked, shredded mess. Ray stared at it for a second before his vision blurred and he crashed to the ground.