The Calling

The other Knights joined him at the alter and looked over the body of the boy as he lay still on the hard rock. The scene evoked memories of a time gone past as the seven Knights surrounded the alter as Merlin stood over the body and stared down at Francis examining the traces of blood which stained his forehead with his eyes.

“It is over” rasped the Fisher King.

Merlin turned to look at the giant and lowered his head, “then we have failed” he said.

“No... the boy will live” he stated simply and pressed his hand down over the chest of Francis. “His heart is weak, but he lives”

“Then he is the one” declared Merlin triumphantly and watched as the Fisher King bowed slightly in his direction. He turned to the Knights and smiled, spreading his arms out toward the waiting party, “he has passed the test” he confirmed, “he is the one” A feeling of relief swept through the cavern and all eyes once again fell onto the rock where Francis’ chest rose slightly under his tattered jacket. A small exertion of air forced its way from between his lips and slowly his eyes fluttered open as he struggled to pull himself off the stone alter.

“The King is dead!” shouted Galahad above the silence, punching the air, “long live the King” Francis pulled himself into a sitting position as a chorus of “Long live the King” echoed throughout the cavern.

Morgan stepped from the public house and staggered as the cold air hit her. She leant heavily on the handrail which led up the stone steps to the pub and looked around at the empty street. Mordred placed a hand on her shoulder and knelt by her side, his faced masked with false concern at her sudden collapse.

“Morgan...what ails thee?” he asked.

“I felt...” she frowned as she struggled to find the words to express her sudden bout of weakness. “I felt...something” she admitted shaking her head, “it was like...like...something stepped over my grave”

“I do not understand your words”

“It was as though something had stirred in the past...a vision” she pushed herself to her full height using the handrail and stared off through the ether. “I could feel a presence...a stirring as though something had disturbed the past”

“Thoust does not make sense Morgan!”

“Does thee not feel it!” snapped Morgan as she watched a figure appear in the distance. She glanced at Mordred, “I could feel Arthur...”

“Then he lives”

“No... but I could feel...” she searched for the words, “Camlaan” her words trailed off as her mind cast back to the battle.

“How?“, Mordred took her hand and led her down the stone steps onto the road as Agravain stepped from the pub, Gwen draped over his shoulder.

“The Fisher King...” said Morgan. “He is the only one who has that kind of power”

“But yourself...”

“Nay, Mordred. Indeed, both myself and Merlin and equal in many ways, but there are restrictions to our abilities. But the Fisher King...he can bend the will of time itself to his command” she breathed heavily as she spoke, her chest rising and falling as an excitement coursed through her body.

“What does this mean?” asked Mordred.

“It means that we do not have much time!” snapped Morgan pushing Mordred from her, “Get the girl back to the castle and prepare our forces”

Agravain nodded and stepped into the road, looking past both Morgan and Mordred. “My Lady” he commented.

She stared at the figure; now running toward the small group and turned to Mordred, “you want your sport” she commented smiling, “have at thee”

“With pleasure my Lady” grinned Mordred pulling his sword from its scabbard around his waist.

“Dispatch the peasant and meet us back at the castle”, with her instructions Morgan turned back to Agravain. “Let us leave at once, we have much to prepare” she strode past the Knight Commander and smiled as she heard his obedient footsteps on the road behind her.

Gwen struggled in his grip as she lay across his shoulder trapped within his thick mighty hold and she looked up as Mordred withdraw his sword and held it stretched out before him, pointing it toward the figure running toward them. She forced her head up and struggled as she recognised the figure as he neared at speed. “Lance!” she called, “Lance!” The figure paused for a moment then, head down ran forward toward them once again. She looked on aghast at his progress and called desperately at him, “No... Lance...no!” she screamed, “turn around! Run...run...” she urged as Agravain tightened his grip on her.

Mordred laughed as the youth skid to an ungainly stop, yards short of the group and met the Knights stare with fear in his eyes. “Lance” he mocked, “could this be Lancelot” Mordred laughed at his own humour, “I think not...yon boy is naught but a coward, see how he stops before my might” he scoffed calling back over his shoulder.

“Run Lance...just fucking run!” called Gwen desperately.

“Shut her up!” yelled Mordred, glancing over his shoulder. “Well boy, are thee a man?” Mordred returned his gaze toward the boy in front of him. His sword outstretched pointing directly at the boy’s chest. “What say thee Lance?” he mocked laughing again.

Lance hovered unsure what to do, he waivered as the woman and man walked briskly along the road and out of sight, whilst this other man dressed in black armour and set off with a winged black helmet stood before him brandishing a heavy thick sword. He turned and began a swift retreat calling back over his shoulder as he ran, “I’d be pretty stupid to fight a fucking nutter like you wouldn’t I?” he called as he ran.

“I knew thee to be a coward!” called Mordred.

Lance paused and looked back, “hardly, you have a fucking sword and all I have are these” he raised his fists and showed them to Mordred.

The Knight laughed, “I like thee boy” he scoffed and threw his sword down on the floor beside him, “you think thoust can best me?” he asked almost incredulously. Lance looked the Knight up and down for a moment and nodded, causing another riotous laugh from Mordred. “Then so be it, come to me boy. If thoust win I shall award you handsomely”

“What with?” queried Lance.

“Gold...silver...riches beyond your wildest dreams” boasted Mordred. “and then there are the women” he teased.

“The women?”

“Yes boy, the women. Not that cheap whore” he said nodding over his shoulder toward the pub referencing to Gwen, “real women of noble birth. You would have status boy” he promised as Lance took a step toward Mordred, his fists raised before him.

“Your funeral” sneered Lance as he lunged quickly forward catching Mordred off guard. The punch landed on the Knights chin knocking him backward and cutting his lip in the process. “Just for starters...” said Lance as he lunged again swinging with his fist, connecting with his right fist against the chin of Mordred, followed by the left which struck the Knight square on the nose. “And see that blonde bit you were with” sneered Lance as he stood over Mordred, “She’ll be the first”

Mordred laughed, “Ha! she would eat thoust alive boy”

“I’m counting on it” countered Lance and brought his fist deep into the midriff of the Knight. Mordred bent double and gasped as the fist connected just beneath his chest plate and took the air out of his body. He knelt on the ground on one knee and spat a patch of blood onto the street beside the feet of Lance. He placed his hands on the shoulders of the Knight and hauled him roughly to his feet and spat into his face as Mordred stood face to face with the young man. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Lance brought his fist down into Mordred’s midriff once again. The Knight staggered back under the attack and watched as Lance stepped forward, his fists raised and watched as the boy’s fist swung down catching him over his left eye. “Ain’t no-one in this town who can take me” boasted Lance as he watched Mordred sag back again.

“Mordred!” the voice echoed around his head, “hear me”

He raised his head and spoke into the sky, “I hear thee Morgan” he called into the atmosphere.

“You going fucking mad” snapped Lance, smiling as another blow caught Mordred full on the chin.

“Do not delay...make haste postwithe”

Mordred nodded and stood to his full height before Lance and smiled, “You have shown spirit boy” he commented, “I can commend that”

“Yeah...well fucking commend this” snapped Lance as he swung with his fist again connecting with the Knight’s chin. His fist connected with a sickening thud, but the Knight barely moved under the attack. Lance stepped back unsure what to do, then moved forward again swinging his right fist catching the Knight on the cheek, followed by a swift left beneath the chin.

Mordred stood and threw his head back releasing a hearty laugh, “go ahead boy. I’ll give you one final shot” he said and placed his hands firmly on his hips as Lance waivered confused by the sudden turn of events. He pointed to his chin and laughed, “go on...your best shot” he mocked and stepped close to Lance. Lance clenched his fist and raised them before his face and nodded, taking several deep breaths before thrusting his fist forward into the face of Mordred. Blood exploded from the Knights nose, but little else happened much to the dismay of Lance who stood facing Mordred. “By all that’s holy” exclaimed Mordred clapping his hands together, “this is fun!”

He struck Lance hard in the face and watched with a satisfied grin as the boy staggered back, his face instantly swelling from the impact of the strike. He laughed as the area around his left eye began to rise and cover the young man’s brow, then admiring his work, Mordred’s smile vanished and he swung his left fist catching Lance across the cheek. As Lance felt the force of the impact, blood erupted from his mouth and spat in a geyser effect across the pavement as he fell back. He staggered desperately trying to remain on his feet and raised his head as a third fist swung down savagely against his already bulging face. Air and blood escaped his body as his body sagged under its own weight and he rested his heavy hands upon his knees as he struggled with the gravity around him. He felt a large arm snake around his neck and pull his body close to his face as Mordred held him fast in a tightening head-lock. Lance stared down at the cold hard grey concrete on the street beneath his feet and watched as blood fell onto the ground smearing the floor and spreading outward in a splattered pattern. Pain coursed through his body from the impact of just three blows from the Knight as his legs struggled to cope with the pressure placed from the exertion. Unconsciousness threatened to swim into his mind as his thoughts were clouded by visions of darkness and crimson.

Mordred’s face was deadly serious as he grasped Lance around the neck and pulled him close to his body in a vicious grasp. He tightened his grip, restricting the passage of air to the young boy’s lungs, then swiftly brought his fist into the boy’s face three times before letting go and watching him sink to the floor. Blood smeared the Knight’s hand from the impact of the strikes and the sickening sound of bone splintering echoed in the air as the third blow struck. Blood spewed freely over the pavement as Lance was released from the grip of Mordred and collapsed onto all fours on the pavement coughing violently and spitting out great swathes of blood as his insides vomited and constricted. Lance could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage from the beating, and desperately sought an end to the prolonged agony. Mordred looked down at the figure on his hands and knees before him and spat down on the back of his head in utter disgust. He circled the boy and grinned through his own blood stained teeth, then kicked Lance viciously in the stomach, laughing at the sound of bone breaking as his feet connected with the boy’s ribs.

Lance felt his insides scream as bone broke beneath the kick of the Knight, and he rolled onto his side from the force of the attack. He struggled against their darkness which swam around him and curled himself into a fetus position, clutching his legs and pulling them close to his chest from protection. “Sniveling dog! Stand! Stand and face me” spat Mordred as he brought his foot into contacted with the lower back of Lance, bringing an indiscriminate groan of pain from the young boy. “You actually thought that a peasant as thine could best a Knight of noble birth” mocked Mordred as he stood over the body of the boy. Lance felt his kidneys explode inside his body as a second kick connected with his body, in the unending nightmare which surrounded him. He could feel the blood seep from his body and the fire burning through his insides as another kicked rocked through his body. He could feel nothing but pain and the Knight bent forward laughing at the boy’s pain and felt the pressure of a hand running through his hair.

Mordred allowed his fingers to run through Lance’s hair for a moment before closing his fingers tight around the follicles and hauled the boy to his feet. Lance could find no energy to struggle against the strength of the Knight and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet where he staggered under the strain of conscious thought. His legs buckled and he felt the pressure placed on his head through his hair as the Knight held him fast and pulled he once again to his full height, then released his hair and placed a thick hand on the back of his neck, bringing his own face close to Lance’s and resting on his forehead. Lance could feel the hot breath of Mordred on his face and they stood in a deadly embrace.

“I like you” whispered the Knight as he pressed his forehead against Lance’s, “I really do” he smiled as he spoke, and Lance attempted to see him through swollen eyes. His face was a bloodied mess of pulp as his flesh swelled over the whole of his head. Mordred laughed at planted a kiss on the lips of Lance and smiled as he withdrew, “It therefore pains me when I have to do this...” he apologised as he flicked a small blade from his armouredgauntlet and plunged it deep into Lance’s neck. The scream died in his throat as blood seeped through in an avalanche of red and stained his clothing. He couldn’t find the words as the life drained from his body as he listened to Mordred as he boasted whilst holding Lance upright in his standing position allowing the boy’s blood to seep over his armour. “This was how I injured Arthur at Camlaan” he said softly, “Oh, how you should have seen his face” He released his grip on the boy and allowed him to drop to his knees on the street at his feet. Slowly Mordred pushed the blade back into the concealed pocket in the gauntlet as he spoke, “the surprise...” he said wistfully, “’Twas the last thing I ever saw...” his voice trailed off as he turned and stared into the distance at the castle perched high on the hill beyond the line of tress and overlooking the sea, “so how am I here?” he asked himself.

He brought his attention back to the boy who lay writhing in pain on the street and sighed, “’Twas fun” he thought as he walked toward his discarded sword and picked it up weighing it in his hands and walking back to where Lance lay on his back staring through a reddening vision toward the sky. “Rest boy...” said Mordred softly and thrust the sword into the boy’s chest, thrusting the blade deep beneath the ribcage and up into the cavity which housed his heart. Lance convulsed for a final time, gripping at the blade as the life left his body and collapsed into a grateful and eternal sleep, as the blood ran across the road staining the floor and playing across the cracks in the street. Mordred watched as the boy died at his feet and looked up at the castle wistfully before disappearing in the trees.