The Calling

She laughed at him nervously, “That’s not Camelot” she said. “It’s Tintagel”

“But it could be” he urged...then appeared to change his mind as he looked at her, “No... your right...it couldn’t” he seemed distant in his thoughts, “Tristan said...Camelot is to the North of here”

“Who’s Tristan...your friend?” she asked kindly.

Francis blinked at her for a moment confused, “Who?” he asked.

“Tristan”

Francis shook his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone called Tristan” he admitted.

Gwen sighed in frustration, “But you said Tristan said Camelot was North of here”

“Did I?”

“Yes you did!” she snapped, she could feel her frustration boiling at his attitude, “Like talking to a child” she said.

“Tristan...” the name lingered on the lips of Francis for a moment and he slowly shook his head, “I don’t know a Tristan...” his words trailed away into the distance as his eyes marked the castle, “Knight of Cornwall...” he whispered.

“Shit!” snapped Gwen. The suddenness of her outburst brought the meandering mind of Francis back to reality and he looked at her. She was looking further down the promenade at the figure of a man walking briskly toward them. His heavy set frame swung as he walked and his jacket cast open as he stared defiantly at the couple on the bench. “It’s Lance...” she whispered.

“Lance?” queried Francis, his attention wavering on the man’s clenched fists. A look of anger and jealousy flushed over his features as he neared the pair.

“My boyfriend...” she explained in a hurried whisper.

“Lance...” he said again, “as in Lancelot?”

She nodded, “I told you, everyone around here is obsessed with the legend”

A shadow crossed over the bench as Lance stopped just short of the pair and gazed toward Francis, “Guinevere...” he said, his deep voice cutting the atmosphere.”

“Lance...” she began.

“Who’s this?” he demanded.

“Please Lance...”

“Come on Gwen baby” he mocked, “I only asked who your friend here is?” he stood over the form of Francis who remained on the bench staring uncomfortably out toward the castle in the distance.

“Lance...he’s just a tourist, that’s all. He’s staying at the hotel...wants to know the way to the castle...”

“Yeah...well, as long as that’s all he’s after” he said menacingly. He sat down between Francis and Gwen and pushed his body against her as he stared down at Francis. “She’s mine...” he said placing his arm around her shoulders, “and if you come near her...” the warning was tangible and hung in the air between them for a moment.

Francis looked Lance up and down and could see the bulk of his body beneath his clothing. The newcomer dwarfed Francis in both size and stature as he leaned over his body attempting to intimidate him. “Look mate” said Francis, “I’m not looking for any trouble, I’m just here to see the sights”

“Yeah well...” sneered Lance, “She ain’t one of them, you got that”

Francis nodded his understanding and stood from the bench. “Anyway as I was saying...” started Gwen, “If you follow that road there” she said pointing, “it will lead you straight to the castle...or you could cut through the woods. It’s longer, but it makes for a nicer walk” Francis nodded in her direction and set off down the road, casting a final glance behind him as he set off. Lance sneered at him as he walked and leant closer to Gwen, whispering in her ear. She feigned a laugh and waved toward Francis as he turned and stared up the road toward the castle. He considered briefly the walk along the road before looking into the woods. A signpost indicated toward a small path which offered directions through the wood toward the castle and shrugging he changed direction and plunged into the wooded area.

“He is coming” breathed Merlin as he watched Francis in the depths of the chalice as he plunged from view into the wood.

“He is heading for the castle” stated Galahad simply as he peered over the old man’s shoulder into the chalice.

“But he will come” insisted Merlin, “Is all prepared?” Galahad moved away from his side and Merlin cast his gaze over the seven Knights and allowed a smile to pierce his face.

“What about Morgan?” asked Bedivere. “Her forces will be alert to his movements”

“She will not dare move against us until Excalibur is secure” Merlin said, “by that time it will be too late”

“You still have not told us why we are resurrect” said Galahad from the shadows.

“At this time I do not know my Lord” admitted Merlin, “but once Excalibur has been recovered all should be revealed” Merlin turned to Tristan who stood silently by the wall. “My Lord...” he started, “you know this area better than anyone, will you assist the young King to safety”

Tristan nodded and pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, “Cornwall has changed a plenty since I roamed its country...” he said sadly, “but I will endeavor to protect my Liege”

“What of us?” asked a large Knight, masked in the shadows.

“Lord Kay?” enquired Merlin.

“Are we expected to stand around baying to the orders of one such as you” he queried rudely, “I am a Knight of the round table...not a babysitter to a false King or his magical sage” he spat the words, “if Morgan is here then we should do battle with her forthwith instead of hiding in the shadows like rats...nay even rats have more honour than...than this!” he snapped and threw down a stone on the floor at Merlin’s feet.

“My Lord Kay, please. Until the boy passes the test of the Fisher King then our quest remains for naught” said Merlin.

“Fisher King...Fisher King...always his name”

“Do not speak his name in haste my Lord” warned Merlin. “He will verify the destiny of the boy and lead us to Excalibur, until then we must be patient”

“I shall not sulk in the shadows like some weak minded peasant!” snapped Kay as he pushed his way close to Merlin.

“Did thee not miss most of the battle of Camlaan, Kay” scoffed Galahad as he moved between the two men, “take your angst out those who are worthy of your venom”

“Take care Galahad...your purity shall be thine death”

“As your arrogance my Lord, shall be yours”

“Please my Lords...” urged Merlin, “have a care... you seven are the final survivors of Camlaan” he said casting his gaze over the Knights, “we stand together as protectors of the crown and the Kingdom of Briton, it is our duty to protect the bloodline as our oath. You are the noblest and bravest of all the Knight of the round table, act that way!” he snapped. “Please my Lord, join Lord Tristan and protect the young King”

Lord Kay snorted and moved close to Tristan who placed his hand on the larger Knights shoulder, “my friend...” Tristan smiled as he spoke softly to Kay and turned to face the entrance of the tunnel. The larger Knight shrugged off the hand which laid on his shoulder and stalked away down the tunnel toward the sunlight cast through the distant opening.

“Good luck” commented Galahad toward Tristan as he moved to join his comrade in the tunnel and watched in silence as the two Knights walked away, disappearing into the gloomy dank conditions.

Francis glanced around him as he walked along the dirty wooded track which led from the road and up toward the castle. Small streams of light shone through the branches and played across the leaves as they danced in the slight breeze. Around his feet lay a carpet of tiny blue flowers, each bulb swaying and waving as he passed, his feet pressing down in the soft ground beneath the pressure of his shoe. He stopped and paused in a clearing and glanced back in the direction he had walked. The road was completely covered by the tendrils of the trees as they reached through the wood, clawing and grasping at the penetrating rays of sunlight. He strained his eyes upward toward the sky and squinted as the sun forced its way through the blanket of leaves which spread its way over the top of the forest. He frowned as he watched darkness force its way over the blue sky and fall over the landscape around him. Under the blanket of darkness, the wood took on a different feel...a sinister feel. He shivered and felt as though he shouldn’t be in this place, he felt as though he was intruding somewhere he should not have gone. Francis checked his watch, pulling the cuff of his jacket over his arm to reveal a small digital watch. The red numbers shone out from the face of the small black square, and revealed he had only been walking through the woods for twenty minutes, and only two hours since he had awoken in his hotel room.

He cast his gaze around him once again, listening to the sounds of the wood as it settled in the breeze. He couldn’t understand how it had become so dark so quickly and moved deeper into the wood, following the rough dirt trail. The ground crunched under foot and branches and bracken were forced from its slumber and kicked up as Francis pushed his way through the darkness. He could see in the distance ahead of him a pair of bright shining lights, small and intense, but nevertheless bright and full of fire and wisdom. The sound of movement from the trees disturbed him for a moment and when he glanced back toward the source of the light he frowned through the darkness as they appeared to have been swamped under the blanket of blackness. More noises surrounded and circled Francis as he stood, stock still and unsure of his surroundings and presence. “Is there anybody here?” he stammered into the dark, awaiting an unheard reply. Another noise to his right caused him to start and he peered through the darkness into the dark expanse of the bushes to the side of the path. He crouched staring intently through the leaves and into the depths of...nothing, nothing but darkness, nothing but a deathly black.

A pair of yellow orbs broke the surface of the darkness and met his stare. They remained before him unwavering and unmoving, the pupil in the center of the orb dilating to the vision of Francis in the clearing. A thick growl broke the tension of the glade and the source of the orbs slowly pushed its way from the bush and circled Francis, meeting his stare with its own. The grey fur of the large animal bristled and shone in the darkness, as slight glimmers of light fought its way through the blanket covering into the glade and how Francis wished it hadn’t. The creature circled Francis, its teeth barred into a fixed grimace as it stared through burning eyes fixed on the soft flesh of Francis. “Don’t worry...” came a female’s voice. “They won’t hurt...not unless I wish them to”. Francis turned sharply and watched as a tall regal woman pushed her way elegantly through the bracken and the thorny undergrowth. The thorns and stems seemed to bounce off her golden armour and were swept beneath a mass of glistening chainmail armour which formed a skirt around her waistline. Flecks of Golden hair streaked down her back and cascaded over her shoulders and over the gleaming gold metal as it fell from a petite golden crown perched on top of her head. She smiled at Francis as she walked unharmed through the dense bushes, the forest apparently spreading and unfolding before her as she took one step after another. He eyed the large creature before him and glanced to a second walking by the woman’s side and gulped at the air of intimidation they held.

Francis recognised her from yesterday he realized...the train, this was the same woman from the train. The woman threw her head back at laughed as though she had read his every thought, before she suddenly fell silent casting her gaze around the glade as they stood opposite each other. “When I was a young girl...” she started staring into the distance, “I would play in these woods” her hand drifted above her head and she watched herself as her hand entwined around an overhanging branch and pulled it down to her line of vision. “Of course” she explained, “the wood was a lot younger in those days...and so was I” she smiled as she spoke as the memories surface in her mind. “Oh...it was beautiful then, none of this...this ...rubbish” she snapped as she waved her hand around the ground at the signs of debris left by absent ramblers and tourists. She released the branch and placed her hand flat on the grey fur of the large beast by her side. “The forest was alive then” she said wistfully, “there packs would roam the forests hunting for prey, hundreds of them I remember” she bent down and tickled the wolf beneath its chin. The wolf closed its eyes and lifted its powerful head to allow her greater leverage as her hand ran through its coarse thick fur. “Now look at it!” she snapped, “nothing but decay...even my friends here” she said sadly looking down at the two creatures circling her as she spoke.

“There are no wolves in the forest” insisted Francis as he watched the animals snap and growl in his direction.

“Exactly!” she said triumphantly, “there are no wolves in the forest” she repeated...then looked straight at Francis, “except these” she smiled with true menace, her teeth matching those of the wolves as they circled his legs.

“There not real” he shouted as they moved slowly around him, occasionally brushing against his legs as they moved. He looked at the woman in defiance, “they don’t exist” he said, “they can’t...there are no wild wolves in England”

“There aren’t” she agreed, “at least not anymore”

“Then what are these?” asked Francis.

“A folly...” she teased before her face clouded with anger, “give me Excalibur!” she raged.

“I don’t have it!”

“But you will!” she shouted, her anger turning into a fire, “and you shall give it to me...for I am Morgan le Fay!” she laughed hysterically as she threw her hands in the air. “I am your destiny!”

“I don’t know where Excalibur is” begged Francis looking straight toward her, “and even if I did, I know I would never give it to you”

“Then thou shall die!” she snapped her fingers in the direction of the two waiting beasts. Francis stared in horror as the wolves moved quickly in a blur of activity, grey fur melding with the rush of air and fusion of fury. The sound of gnashing teeth filled the air as saliva and blood mixed in a symphony of design and nature. Blood, fur, teeth and claws raked at the air as the wolves moved in unison toward Francis, who stood frozen in terror within the wooded glade as the beasts lunged forward for their prey.