The Calling

The boat rocked to the rhythm of the waves as it pressed its way through the water and into the darkness. Francis sat at the head of the boat and stared out over the sea, and watched as the water stretched out before them. The light from the moon shimmered and glistened in the reflective surface as the ripples from the boat cascaded off the paddles as they struck the tension of the water and expanded over the rolling waves, growing as they moved away from the boat. He closed his eyes and listened to the slight whisper in the air, focusing on the voice which still hung in his mind...slowly talking and beckoning him closer...closer to what he was believing was his destiny. He turned and sat with his back against the bow and watched his companions as they worked against the tide, pushing hard against the wooden struts which held the paddles in place. Even from his position, in this growing darkness he could see the bulging muscles of Lord Galahad and Lord Kay straining against their chain mail, and see their chest heave beneath the heavy thick armour as they exerted themselves, thrusting the paddles through the water.

He glanced at the smaller Knight; Bedivere who sat at the rear of the boat, his hand gripped on the rudder as he moved the mechanism slightly to the gestures made by Francis as he listened to the voice inside his head. He watched Francis intently, matching his stare as he sat resolute, his eyes narrowing beneath his visor. “Penny for them?” he asked Bedivere.

Bedivere was brought out of his silent revere and blinked hard at Francis and frowned, “I know not what thee mean?” he asked.

“Penny for them...” insisted Francis.

“I heard what thee said, I do not understand thine meaning”

“Your thoughts...”

“I know not what thee mean?” repeated the Knight.

“What are you thinking?”

“He is worried” commented Galahad

“About what?”

“The Lady...”

“Explain” commanded Francis and almost blushed with embarrassment with the curtness of his talk.

“Yon Bedivere!” laughed Kay, “couldn’t throw thine sword back into the lake for thy Lady” he craned his head back toward Bedivere and smirked, “three times, thy tried”

“Be still” snapped Bedivere

“Once is a mistake, but twice!! Kay laughed and returned his full efforts to the paddle, channeling his strength into his movements.

“At least I fought at Camlaan with honour”

Lord Kay narrowed his eyes as he pushed roughly through the waves. “I survived the battle” he said softly.

“Aye...but did thoust not arrive late?” chided Bedivere.

“Cease!” snapped Galahad, “you forget, we are Knights of the round table” he paused in his rowing and glanced at both his companions, “we are the noblest and bravest of our age and here we are squabbling like children. Lest ye forget who we are, and act like it” his temper rose through the night and he settled back into his task. “My Liege, which way?” he asked returning his attention to Francis who closed his eyes and listened to the voice, then pointed forward almost embarrassed by the sudden outburst of Lord Galahad. “Then I suggest we use our guile to effort our own journey”

The boat pushed on through the waves in silence and Francis sat at the head of the boat in quiet contemplation of the argument. He could understand the growing tension that was growing between the Knights and he hoped that once they had Excalibur, they could get answers. His foot played against a large thick rope and he bent forward and picked at the object holding it in his hands, his eyes wandering over the twine, turning it over in his hands. The rope was thick and long and Francis struggled to close his hand over the expanse of its girth as he traced it toward the end, where a large rusted metal hook was tied untidily to the end. Flakes of oxide fell from the old artefact as he pushed his fingers along the curve of the hook, tracing the large barb on the top of the hook. He shuddered and cast a gaze out into the water and briefly wondered what kind of creature had a hook of this size been used for?

“My Lady...” Agravain’s voice carried into the courtyard and reached Morgan who was pacing around the stone pillar. He came rushing in and stopped before her, struggling to catch his breath under her scrutiny.

“Agravain” she breathed and calmly waited for his response.

“I have a report from my men” he panted.

“Excalibur?” she queried.

Agravain shook his head, “Nay my Lady, but they have found the boy”

“Tis not the news I had hoped, but it will suffice” she said and glanced around the ruins. “Mordred!” she shouted into the old walls and listened as her voice echoed around the ruin. She looked at Agravain and waited for his report, her arms folded across her chest as he spoke.

“My men have witness a small boat being put to sea off the coast my Lady” he started.

“So what of it!” commented Mordred as he strode into the courtyard.

“Where have thoust been?” asked Morgan as she eyed Mordred up and down, “I warned thee about tormenting yon maiden”

“Do not worry Aunt” laughed Mordred, “I have not lain a finger...or anything else upon the girl. At least yet” he said menacingly, “but have at thee, I shall have my sport with her once we have Excalibur” he adjusted the front of his breeches as he spoke, “I wish to taste her wares” he laughed.

“Then where...”

“Resting!” he snapped and turned back to Agravain, “what of thine boat?”

“My men have reported that four men have entered the water and have spent time journeying into the sea”

“Four men?”

“Aye my Lord...it is believed that the young boy is with them”

“That is indeed good fortune” commented Morgan as she strode toward the crystal sphere and gazed into the depths. “Show me the sea” she said softly into the glass and watched patiently as the mist inside the glass swirled into view.

Mordred joined her and peered over her shoulder, “I see nothing” he complained and turned away angrily.

“Be patient!” she snapped casting a quick glance over her shoulder to the Knight and shook her head at his impatience.

“He is there My Lady. Of that I am sure...my men”

“I understand your loyalty Knight Commander” she said as she gazed into the orb, “and I believe what thee have said. Now I must concentrate” she frowned as she peered into the glass, “where art thoust” she urged. The waves crashed over the surf as the sea rolled in through the night onto the beach as Morgan watched as the image scrolled slowly across the beach. Mist swirled and covered the image as she rubbed her fingers across the cold glass surface of the sphere, “thoust must be here” she said softly into the glass as the image moved along the beach, then stretched over the sea. In the distance a small object rocked gently on the surface of the water and Morgan leant forward frowning into the sphere. “There!” she exclaimed.

Mordred hurried to her side and peered into the glass, “I see him!” he laughed and pressed his hand against the surface of the sphere, “Galahad...Kay...and Bedivere” he whispered clenching his fist at the sight of the three Knights.

“Be still Mordred” she chided placing a hand on his arm. She waved a hand over the top of the sphere and smiled as the mist gathered within the glass, covering the image inside the orb...

“Tis a thick mist...” complained Kay as he peered through the mist which had descended over the water.

“There feels a coldness...” remarked Bedivere who shivered.

“I don’t understand” said Francis peering through the mist.

“Tis simple enough” rebuked Kay, “Tis common that mist lies upon the water”

“No... I don’t mean that”

“Aye...tis not natural” they turned to Galahad who was looking out over the side of the boat into the fog. “It feels strange...unholy”

“I mean...” urged Francis, “the way it came in” he struggled to find the words as he spoke, “it was clear a minute ago, with not a cloud in the sky...and now this” he waved about the boat indicating toward the thick mist which surrounded the boat.

“Magic...” whispered Galahad.

“Morgan...” Galahad looked at Bedivere and nodded.

“We must take heed” he warned. The men looked about the boat and into the thick mist and scanned the calm water which surrounded them.

“Your right” said Francis looking at Bedivere, “it has got colder”. A chill ran up his spine as he looked out over the water, running his eyes over the still water.

“No waves” whispered Kay as he followed the gaze of Francis across the water.

“No ripples” commented Francis

Galahad looked up into the air and frowned, “no wind” he said.

“We had better keep moving” said Francis whispering hoarsely over the silence. He closed his eyes and strained to listen to the voice in his head...” I can’t hear...” he said softly.

“My Liege”

“The voice...I can’t hear it” snapped Francis, fear sweeping into his voice.

“Be calm” urged Bedivere, “from whence did the voice come?” Francis closed his eyes and struggled to hear the voice...still nothing, which way had it come...he had no idea he realised, he had just been following her sound. “My Lord” urged Bedivere. Francis frowned, follow your feelings he thought and raised his hand, pointing off into the mist. “Is thoust sure?”

“As sure as I can be”. The Knights looked around and pushed the oars through the water. Francis watched as the oars plunged into the calm water and stared as the impact caused by the wood striking the water made no sound or ripples...

Morgan laughed as she walked from the sphere and into the ruins, where she stood before a large boulder which lay in its side on the grass. She brushed the moss from the rock and stared into a large crater of water which lay in the recess of the boulder. She waved her hand over the puddle and sat on the edge of the stone and laughed as she stared into the water as a thick cloud of mist swamped the small boat. Her fingers dipped into the water and trailed through the puddle stirring up small tidal waves as her fingers circled the water.

“Tis a storm!” called Galahad as the boat rocked under the sudden influx of water pressure. He gripped the side of the boat and struggled to maintain his grip on the wooden oar in his hand. The actions of Kay and Bedivere mirrored his own as they struggled to retain their grip on the small boat as it was thrown across the waves. Francis fell onto the floor of the boat and grasped desperately at the seat which ran across the bottom of the boat.

“It isn’t!” he shouted over the sudden rush of sound and the swell of the waves. “The sea was calm!” his voice was almost lost on the air as the boat rolled over the waves. “This storm isn’t natural” he shouted as the words were snatched from his mouth and carried off over the turbulence. Water cascaded over the sides of the boat as the small craft rocked violently on the surface of the water, thrown from wave to wave. The Knights struggled under the pressure placed upon the boat and fell into each other as they desperately clung onto their oar. Water sprayed into the faces as a steady wash of water covered the floor of the boat.

“We are in fear of sinking” shouted Kay above the squall of the storm.

“We must be calm!” yelled Bedivere.

Waves hit the boat and water rolled over the sides into the vessel. Francis desperately struggled to stem the tide as the boat slowly buckled and filled from the growing monsoon. “Tis Morgan!” shouted Galahad, his beard covered with water and the salty water flowing across his already gleaming armour.

Morgan laughed as her finger circled the stone basin, rising up a tidal wave of water within the boulder. She stood and surveyed the scene broadcast within the water and an insane smirk flashed across her cracked lips. “Feel my wrath Arthur!” she laughed and plunged her hands into the depths of the puddle. Her manic laughter echoed throughout the castle as she stood by the ruined boulder, her hands thrust deep onto the cold surface of the rock beneath the surface of the stone.

The boat buckled and rocked as the waves grew stronger and less tolerant of the tiny craft which violated its body. “Hold on!” yelled Lord Kay as he struggled to maintain his position on his seat. The oar slipped from his grasp and fell over the side of the boat, sinking into the depths of the water which surrounded the boat. Laughter surrounded the boat as the sea buckled up, rising high into the air and throwing the vessel into a violent lurch which threw Francis across the seats and into the back of the boat into Bedivere. The boat spun as the sea quietened and settled into a clam revere before swelling into a watery mound before the vessel.

“This is it!” yelled Francis as the sea rose into a mighty wall before the small wooden vessel. Before the boat two watery humps grew in the wash and stretched out into the air, reaching and grasping through the mist for the sky above the water. The columns of water sprayed the occupants of the boat as the geyser of water forced its way upward...ever upward, then it sprayed outward, changing...forming into something else. Francis looked on with fear growing in his heart as the two columns of water slowly transformed before his eyes and five digits stretched and elongated from each geyser. The apparition before the boat swayed in the raging wind for a moment, flexing and bending as they felt the air around them. Francis could only watch with a horrified fascination as the columns slowly changed into a pair of massive watery hands which ebbed and flowed in the wind. Droplets of water fell from the fingers, and the spray reached out over the boat as the hands turned with a renewed vigour and energy.

“Tis black arts” shouted Bedivere.

“Tis Morgan!” shouted Kay over the noise of the storm. They watched as the hands flexed its fingers, before they stopped and turned so their palms faced the small boat. The first hand came crashing down on the water by the boat, throwing the vessel high in the air. The Knights clung onto the wood of the boat desperately fighting against the sudden swell. The second hand crashed into the water throwing a large wall of water which crashed close to the boat, flinging the vessel high into the air. Sir Galahad drew his sword as he clung onto the edge of the boat and swung his sword over the side and into the column of water which was now close to the boat. The arm reacted savagely and tossed the boat up into the air. Galahad buckled under the sudden force of the water and collapsed hard against the floor of the boat, the water crashing over his armour. His hand gripped at the thick rope which rolled across the surface of the boat and he tugged it close to his body, then forced himself up onto his hands and knees, steadying himself against another rise in water from outside the boat.

Another crash of wave brought Kay tumbling onto the floor of the boat by Galahad, “we are doomed to a watery grave” he whispered through gritted teeth.

“We have survived worse” commented Galahad

“Not much” complained Kay as another sudden wave pushed him to the back of the boat, where Bedivere clung desperately held onto the rudder, water crashing over his body and drowning him in a relentless tidal wave of water.

“My Liege...” started Galahad as he struggled to his feet, the rope held tightly in his hands.

“Don’t” whispered Francis as another lurch forced him beneath the seat further.

“Tis my duty to serve and protect” he said sadly as he stood staring into the dark sky, filled with cloud and mist. The watery hands rose high over the boat and reached through the mist as they stretched over the storm. Galahad placed one foot before the other and stared skyward, the rope in his hands and he began to swing the heavy hook, slowly at first, then as it grew in momentum he raised it slowly over his head. “It has been a honour!” he yelled as he released the heavy hook high into the air toward the column of water. The hook spun and caught the geyser, wrapping around the first wrist and spinning through the air catching the second wrist, pulling the hands together in tight bondage.

“Galahad!” shouted Francis as he watched the rope pull against the water and pull the two hands close to each. Galahad pulled hard on the rope, a grimace crossing his face as water sprayed across the boat. The hands crashed down into the sea throwing the boat into the air, riding high on a crest as the tidal wave of water from the impact savagely rocked the occupants. The water columns submerged into the water, dragging Galahad off balance and throwing him against the side of the boat. Blood forced its way through his clenched mouth and small rivers of crimson merged with the salt water as he struggled to pull against the rising pressure.

“For Excalibur!” he shouted above the noise, “for Briton!” he looked at Francis and smiled, relaxing his grip on the rope, “For Arthur” he said quieter. The hands lurched and pulled violently against the constraints and dived deep into the depths of the salty water, “My Liege...” he whispered finally and closed his eyes as the hands pulled on final time, submerging completely beneath the surface of the ocean and pulling Sir Galahad overboard.

Francis pulled himself from his watery seat and leant over the edge of the boat, “Galahad!” he yelled at the water, “Galahad! Galahad!”