The Calling

Morgan Le Fay surveyed her surroundings as she stepped from her muddy ‘grave’ and over the rotting vegetation sprawled over the floor of the castle. She kicked out at a scuttling rodent as it ran from its burrow and regarded the woman curiously for the invasion into its domain. A shower of light emanated from Morgan as she walked through the remains of the castle, casting off any lingering evidence of her ancient incarnation as her long robes sparkled and shimmered in the small vestiges of light which split in through the holes and gaps in the castle walls. She turned to gaze through the open roof and winched as the sun glared down on her. She stretched in the warmth of the sun for a moment before continuing her slow progress through the ruins, picking her way over the uneven ground and stepping over discarded stones and rocks cast at various intervals amongst the grass and shrubs growing throughout the site. She ran her hands over the ruins as she walked carefully searching the ruins for a specific site. “Oh my Arthur...” she breathed as her hands ran over a small mound in the ground. She absently stroked the ground and allowed her fingers to flow through the grass as the patch beneath her touch glowed under the pressure of her fingers. “You were so beautiful...” she said wistfully and to no-one in particular, “and we were so young” she smiled as memories returned to her as the ground began to part around her fingers.

Morgan stood to her full height and watched as a thin column rose from the ground. It was tall and slim and built from the construct of the castle itself with four sharp points which ran from the floor and cradled a rounded glass sphere at its head. The column rose to waist height where it stopped, allowing Morgan to stroke the circular top of the dome. She teased the glass, toying with the smooth surface of the glass ball as her thoughts strayed into the past, “we could have had it all” she mused. A small light began to glow at the heart of the orb and its light radiated out into the confined space where she stood and illuminated the sad smile which had crossed her face. She stroked the glass and gazed into the depths of the crystal. “Show me Arthur” she asked quietly of the glass and stood as the orb darkened, a mist swirling across the surface of the globe. Several mounds across the sprawling courtyard which caught her attention for a moment before returning her attention back to the globe. She frowned as the mist inside the globe, “where is he...” she urged as the mist swirled and darkened in the glass, “where is he”.

The earth around the site began to move and shift beneath the pressure of the rising figures from the soil. Sun glinted and shimmered off the dullen steel armour which surrounded the bodies of the figures as earth and soil fell away from the knights. “He must be near” cursed Morgan, “the can feel the call of Excalibur pulling at my heart, I can hear of her voice...but where is Arthur...” she peered deeper into the glass, “my love” she whispered almost silently.

“My Lady...“, a knight stepped from his muddy grave and moved into position close to Morgan.

“Agravain...my Knight Commander. Prepare the forces” she commanded, still staring into the globe. “For if we are awakening...so must Arthur” she reasoned, “the time of reckoning is upon us again good Agravain, we must prepare to do battle” she rested her hand on the top of the globe and faced the Knight. She stared into the faceplate of the helmet, “where is Mordred?” she asked.

“I know not my Lady”

“Then find him!” she shouted, “Idiot!” she spat as Agravain nodded and turned to the small plethora of men at the rear of the courtyard. She watched as the Knight Commander strode across the ground, his waiting men and indicated to the knights to follow his example from the area and out into the castle. Morgan watched as the knights filed out of the courtyard and returned her attention back to the crystal ball. “Why do you hide from me?” she spoke through clenched teeth into the glass, her own reflection staring back at her through the surface of the glass. She swept across the dirt on the floor, causing clouds of dust to fly and settle as she disturbed the ancient slumber of eons. She crossed her hands behind her back as she paced the courtyard, anger flushing her finely tuned features as the orb remained dark, hiding its secrets.

“My Lord...”

Mordred turned from his position at the pinnacle of the outer wall of the castle. The wind swept his hair and it played in the breeze as he gazed out over the sea and into the distance. “Look what has happened to my beloved Tintagel...” he mused without turning.

“My Lord”

“I remember coming here as a boy” he continued placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, still holstered in its scabbard hanging from his waist. “I used to play...down there” he said pointing to the cliff edge and small, almost concealed path which lead down to the beach from the cliff top. “When I was a boy, we would travel here...myself and Arthur and whilst he would play ‘King’, I would atone for my sins here” he indicated across the ruined site. “Now look at it Agravain, in ruins”

“My Lord...”

“What is it!” he demanded.

“Your presence is sought”

Mordred sighed and ran a hand over his breastplate, examining the dents and abrasions in the metal. “and yet I live” he mused, then leapt from his position and followed the Knight Commander into the castle.

“Still naught!” raged Morgan as she returned to her position by the stone column. The globe still offered nothing more than dark mist swirling within the glass.

“Mother...?” queried a voice from the edge of the courtyard.

“Mordred” spoke Morgan quietly.

Mordred walked briskly across the floor of the courtyard and knelt at her feet and took her hand. “Deathless Morgan...” he breathed as he kissed her hand. “Aunt” he gazed up into her green eyes as he spoke and lowered his head to her feet.

“Stand” she commanded. She gazed into the ether and sighed as Mordred stood by her side. “Arthur is hidden from me” she commented simply.

“Morgan...” he ventured as his hands ran along his armour. “I died” he said. She cast him a quick glance and regarded him briefly as he spoke, but chose to ignore his statement. “I died...I can remember” he insisted, “the battle...I died”

“Perhaps” she dismissed him.

“No...no, Morgan, I died...I know I died...at Camlaan” he insisted. “The...the battle at Camlaan, I died at the hands of Arthur after I had wounded him”

“Mordred” she eased speaking into the glass, “I promised you that if you gave yourself to me, then I would give you the Kingdom”

“But...I don’t understand” he admitted.

“Yours is the Kingdom...even through death”. She stalked him and gazed into his eyes and ran a hand over his chest. Her fingers stroked the dulled armour over his body and played across the expanse of his body as she circled him. She stood at his back and leant forward and whispered into his ear, “at the point of death, the essence of your body can be subdued into the ether of the netherworld and harvested” she breathed into his ear and despite his confusion found himself intoxicated by her words, “so your last breath can be caught and subdued until a point where the physical constitution can be resurrected when the call is made”. She released him from her grip and ran her finger back over the globe and stroked the glass and leant close to the sphere, “now is that time”.

Mordred looked into the sphere and frowned as images evaded him. “I see nothing” he admitted.

“I cannot find him!” she spat and stood from the orb. “What treachery...” she spun and stared into the orb, “Merlin...” she cursed into the globe, “show me Merlin”. The mist swirled and cleared and the shadows parted to reveal the old man deep within a cavern. Morgan smiled as she watched the figure as he helped another from a stone cocoon hewn into the rock face. “See Mordred as he awakes”

“That is not Arthur” stated Mordred as he joined Morgan at the column. They watched for a moment as Merlin pulled at the last vestiges of the stone surrounding the knight.

Merlin reached out to the figure pushing its way from the cocoon. His dull silver armour glinted off the flame as he stepped into the dark cavern. “Merlin” he commented simply as he gazed around him.

“Sir Galahad” replied Merlin as the knight placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What place is this?” he asked as the vision of the cavern swam into view through the visor of his helmet. He pulled at the helmet and revealed long flowing brown hair which fell neatly around his neck. His brown eyes pierced the gloom and rested on the stone altar in the center of the cavern. “Arthur?” he queried.

“Remains dead, Sir Galahad” replied Merlin coldly as he moved back to the stone chalice.

The knight lowered his head in remorse for a moment before staring at Merlin, “then why are we resurrect?”

“The time of the calling” said Merlin, “do you not hear the call of arms”

“I do” admitted Galahad, “but with no King...”

“You are mistaken my Lord...his blood line continues”. Merlin peered through the gloom toward Sir Galahad and beckoned him to join him at the stone chalice. The knight hesitated for the briefest of moments as though considering his options. “Please my Lord...were you not the bravest and purest of all the knights of the round table?” prompted Merlin, “did you not recover the Grail...thoust holiest of quests?”

“And did I not gain my own redemption!” snapped Galahad, “I choose my death as my reward, I earned my divinity”

“You survived Camlaan for a reason my Lord” purred Merlin, “your destiny is here and now...so it has been decreed”

“You talk in riddles Merlin; you always did” Galahad eyed Merlin suspiciously with an air of contempt. “Your lies are no better than Morgan’s”

“You flatter me” lied Merlin as he bent low in a mock bow. “But I speak the truth” he paused and looked deep into the chalice and spoke over his shoulder, “the quest...what do you remember?”

Galahad paused and blinked in the darkness. His eyes clouded as he remembered the quest, “I...I... remember...” he closed his eyes and struggled with the memories, “I remember travelling alone, saving Percival from twenty knights...I remember Sir Bors...I remember the death of Percival’s sister...I remember the city of Sarras and the Holy Grail...I remember choosing my death and the rapture of my ascension to heaven...” he rounded on Merlin angrily, “So why am I here?” he shouted. His voice echoed throughout the cavern, rebounding off the walls and surrounding Merlin with vicious accusation.

“Arthur always regarded you as his bravest...the bravest of the brave, so it was pre-ordained by Madame Fate that you would rise from his ashes to protect the King when he would need you most” he smiled at Galahad and bowed respectfully, “now is the time of the Calling”. He indicated toward the water in the chalice, “the Kingdom needs you” he whispered. “Look...”

Galahad stared into the water and watched as the young man in strange clothing stood before a building, looking back and forth up a metal road. “This is no King”

“But he can be...” urged Merlin, “with our help, he can be great”.

Galahad shook his head disconsolately, “I do not see...”

“Excalibur is calling...and if Excalibur is calling then the forces of chaos will also be rising. Sir Galahad, it is our duty not just to protect the bloodline of the King, but the country itself”. Galahad peered into the water and allowed his hand to drift to the hilt of his sword, “you are needed my Lord...then your ascension can be attained”.