The Calling

Gwen sat on the bale of hay in the corner of the small dungeon and pulled her legs tightly into her body. She pulled at the thin fabric of her brown jodhpurs, her hands trembling under the slight pressure. Her eyes were tinged with a redness through the excess of tears, and her hair was filthy and bedraggled. She stared at the form of the Knight laying on the floor close to the door. His eyes bulged as they stared out, his mouth contorted into a frozen silent scream as patches of blood smeared and covered his beard and clothing. Gwen hadn’t known her ’saviour′ and briefly recalled the sudden sensation of joy upon his arrival, then to have it snatched from her. She felt guilty at her own position and stared at Bors as he watched her through his dead eyes. Gwen wanted to cry, she could feel the sensation growing within her, her muscles tightening and contorting with every second, but no tears came. She wanted to scream, her stomach tightened and fear gripped her, but no sounds came...instead she buried her head deep into her knees and closed her eyes from the nightmare around her. She didn’t know nor understand what was happening or why, but she wished it would end soon.

“’Twas a fish” commented Kay as he stared into the water, “of that I am sure”

“It cannot be” said Bedivere following his gaze, “there are no fish of that size in these waters”

“How can thee be sure?” asked Kay, “the world has changed from our time”

Bedivere nodded; Kay’s logic seemed sound, times had indeed changed since their time. The roads were filled with metal carriages which ran along hard flat tracks apparently of their own accord, while the air was filled with obnoxious smells and sounds. He glanced back at Francis who was gazing out over the side of the boat, his legs spread wide and while one hand was placed firmly on the rudder, his other was resting between his legs. “It would seem our Lord Francis is bewitched”

“Aye” agreed Kay, “It would seem so” he followed Francis’ gaze out into the water. “We had best be on guard” he said. A splash from the side of the boat disturbed his thinking and he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, “there is trickery afoot”

“Come to me...” the voice urged in his head, but Francis shook the thought clear.

“I can’t...” he whispered, “that sound” he craned his head in the opposite direction and stared out through starry eyes into the night.

“You must come to me...”

“No... the singing” he struggled between the two voices, “it wants me” his voice was tinged with lust and longing as the singing grew stronger in his mind. “I must answer”

“No!” snapped the voice, “you must come to me...” Francis stared out over the water at the two voices in his head. Both luring him, one he knew would lead to his destiny...the other...his thoughts were clouded by the allure of the singing. His passion rose and his thoughts were driven by the altercation with Gwen the previous night. He thought of her body beneath her tightly fitting clothing, the rise of her breasts and the swell of her arse as the material of her clothing struggled to contain her frame. He could feel his excitement rising through his own clothing and his trousers felt tight around his groin as he anticipation grew. The singing was an arousal in itself, but coupled with the thought of Gwen and her body was overwhelming his every thought. The whole reason for being here, everything he had strove for. “Come to me...” the woman urged him, but Francis ignored the calling consumed with lust and wanting for the sound of singing in his head.

He turned and looked over the edge of the boat and stared deep into the water. He could see a figure forming beneath the surface of the still water and watched as it cleared in his head. The woman swam up toward the boat, her hair flailing in the depths, extending and reaching through the water. She was beautiful, absolutely perfect, from her expansive ginger hair to her petite face, her elfin features staring back at him through the water. Her eyes shone like pools of opal in the midnight sky, while her smile irradiated the darkness and shone like a beacon...calling to him, alluring him. “I want you” she mouthed through the water, and giggled, biting her lips seductively.

Francis reached for the water, “I want you...” he whispered as his hand dragged across the surface of the water. He could see her naked breasts heaving beneath the water, the swell of the waves playing against her nipples and could feel his excitement rising further.

Kay and Bedivere glanced around them as the sounds of water lapping against the side of the boat disturbed their focus. The swipe of tail against the surface of the water and gentle tap against the wood of the boat distracted them from Francis. “Tis witchcraft...” breathed Kay

“Morgan...” whispered Bedivere.

Morgan watched in the sphere as the two shapes swam around the boat, while Francis leant over the side of the small wooden vessel reaching into the water. Slowly a hand rose from the sea, its arm covered in scales and a fin ran down its length toward its elbow. She threw her head back as she kept her hands firmly over the crystal ball. “Typical male!” she laughed, “driven by their own sexual needs!” she gazed into the sphere and laughed again, “thine desire shall be thine death!” she cried.

Francis could feel the warmth of the woman’s fingers as she reached from the water, he watched as traces of the sea ran down her arm, across the wrist and down toward the elbow. His eyes were transfixed on her eyes, only fliting to near naked breast as a slight rest bite from the beauty of her face. She smiled at him and every seemed perfect, all his worried, all his fear and concerns seemed to drain as she smiled and pulled his senses into her. Just one look...that’s all it took for him to feel alright. Her beauty was intoxicating, he realised that he didn’t care about her figure...it was her looks. He didn’t care about the sword...he didn’t care about Gwen...he didn’t care about the Knights; Kay or Bedivere or even Galahad...he didn’t care about his mother. Francis frowned, why had he suddenly thought about his mother? He did care...his thoughts went out to her as she probably sat at home watching Emmerdale....alone. He did care.

A hiss from the water disturbed his thoughts and he gazed back into the depths at the vision of...what...what was he looking at. The slender hand which he held was replaced by a slimy arm, filled with scales and tough tendons, fins ran along the expanse of the arm as it gripped Francis. But it was her face...gone were the exquisite looks and bewitching smile that had enticed him, now in its place was a vision of hatred. Her creature spat at him as it stared through malicious eyes, thin spiteful eyes which narrowed in the moonlight. The once beguiling mouth which had held him captive now were filled with rows of sharp pointed teeth, gnashing and growling as it pulled on his arm.

“Help me...” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder.

Lord Kay leapt forward and reached for his legs as he struggled against the side of the boat. The water by the boat exploded upward in a geyser of water as a creature climbed onto the edge of the boat knocking Kay off his feet and sent him sprawling into the bowels of the boat. He lay from a moment struggling against the rope at the bottom of the vessel gazing upward at the apparition climbing into the boat. It was slender in form, but powerful muscles ran across its torso and down its body to a long slender grey tail. It lunged toward Lord Kay, its talons clawing at his face, and its teeth gnawing for his throat. “What be this creature!” he gasped as it lunged for him, landing on top of the Knight. Kay struggled holding the creatures hands in place, keeping its long talons away from his throat whilst pulling his head back avoiding the gnashing teeth.

He could feel a swipe of air and the sudden release of the creature’s grip was followed by a geyser of thick glutinous blood poured over his face as the creature’s head bounced onto the floor of the boat. Kay stared up and smiled at the form of Bedivere standing over his body, his sword firmly gripped in his hand and his other hand reaching out for his friend. “Perhaps you need my help” he smiled as he hauled his comrade to his feet. “Take heed to thy warning” said Bedivere, sword aloft gazing around the boat at the circling figures in the water, “there be more of them”

“I am ready” said Kay resolutely and stared into the black inky depths of the sea, “Yon blackhearts!” he called defiantly, “I smite at thee!” He looked at Francis who sat at their feet, scratches running up his arm. “The boy?”

“He is fine” said Bedivere, casting a quick glance downward. “I cut off the creatures arm to save him” Kay looked back at Francis and could indeed see the remains of the creatures arm as the boy sat huddled in the boat.

“What art thoust creatures?” he asked

“I do not know” admitted Bedivere, streams of water falling from his hair. “Tis madness for sure” he said.

“They are sirens” muttered Francis from his position at their feet.

“Explain...”

“Sirens lure weak minded sailors to their deaths by singing to them” Francis said ashamed that he had been the only one to hear the singing.

“Such creatures do not exist” spat Kay, “Only in thine mind”

The boat lurched as one of the creatures slammed against the side of the vessel, rocking the two standing Knights, “Be still!” warned Bedivere as he struggled to remain standing, sword still in hand. The water broke as a tail flash through the surface and dived back under the water, followed by an intense hissing sensation which echoed through the air. “What madness...” murmured Bedivere again, his eyes following the trail left in the water.

Kay watched as a tail broke the water, then thrust his sword deep into the water ahead of the stream. “Tis not madness!” he shouted over the sudden scream of the creature beneath the surface of the water. A thick red liquid sprayed onto the surface of the water and spread around the expanse of the boat, “tis England!” Kay roared as he pulled the sword from the back of the creature and watched as the siren sank below the surface.

The Knights fell backward as a talon hand grasped the back of the boat and pulled the vessel downward. It pulled itself up onto the boat and stared with hatred at the occupants of the boat as they sprawled over the water drowned bottom of the boat. It hissed and hauled itself forward, clawing at Francis with its one remaining hand. Kay and Bedivere struggled under the weight of their own armour and the creature pulled itself into the vessel, its bony hands reaching for Francis.

He could feel the touch of the creature against his legs as it clawed at him, he could feel the hot breath of the creature as it sprawled itself on the top of his body. He struggled to push the creature from his body and felt the weight press down against him, forcing his body onto the floor of the boat. He could feel the water beneath his body and the pressure of the creatures claw against his throat, the sharpness of the creature’s nails pressing against his skin...