The Calling

The boat seemed tiny as the three men ran down the beach toward the vessel as the waves lapped against the wooden paneling. They ran down the beach, their feet sinking into the soft sand as they moved with a unison across the golden surface. Francis jumped into the vessel, as Kay and Bedivere pushed the boat into the water and slowly the boat moved away from the shoreline and out into open sea. With no oars to assist their passage the two burly Knights leant out of the boat; one either side and paddled, forcing their arms through the resistance of the water. Francis held onto the rudder and directed the boat as it drove a path through the sea and cast his eyes back toward the Isle fading in the distance...not just fading in the distance, but actually fading from view completely.

“The Isle...” he breathed as he stared under the glare of the sun. Both Knights paused in their efforts to follow the gaze of Francis toward the Isle.

“Tis magic” whispered Kay and turned back from the Isle, “we had best depart post haste” Francis continued to watched as the mist enveloped the last remaining part of the Isle, its trees and beach completely hidden from view...then slowly as the mist faded the Isle seemed to vanish from the water completely leaving only a still surface. His eyes swept the sea for traces of the Isle, but could see nothing behind the boat, no rising hills...no majestic tree line...no rolling beach...no fields of flowers...and no Lady...nothing. He rubbed his eyes as the flat water churned and bubbled as the force of the Knights brought him back to their present position and he turned to face...land?

The landscape of Cornwall rose out of the water before him and he quickly glanced back, half expecting to have gone in a complete circle, but still there remained nothing of the Isle. He returned his attention to the land in the distance and stared across the horizon at the rising cliffs which stretched beyond his line of vision in both directions. He nodded satisfied that that was truly Cornwall, and soon he thought this would soon be over. He brought the scabbard close to his chest and pulled the blade slightly from the scabbard, allowing his eyes to flirt with the polished metal of the blade. The light of the sun danced off the silver and sparkled in his eyes, reflecting the glare of the sun and mirroring his image in the confines of the metal.

He could see his own image, but that mingled with another...a regal figure, dressed in exquisite robes and finery of which Francis could naught afford...sorry not afford. He shook his head as he realised he had correct his own grammar and stared at the image smiling back at him in his reflection. It could see through the glare of the sun that it was him, but he still frowned at the crown placed upon his head, and the lavish fur around his collar. “I am you...” the whisper almost deafened him and he glanced at Kay and Bedivere who were still forcing their arms through the water, occasionally glancing up toward the shoreline. “I am your past...” Francis looked at the sword and frowned as his image smiled back at him through the metal surface. “I am your future...everything we could be, everything you are...and everything you ever were”

“Excalibur” he said softly, glancing up at the Knight with a flushing red tinge growing across his cheeks, then looked back at the sword in his hand.

“I am your destiny” the voice purred again, “the calling...” Francis forced the sword back into the scabbard, but the voice continued, “look at me...look into my soul”. Francis slowly drew the sword partially out of the scabbard and stared at his own smiling reflection and frowned as the image clouded, “I am your heritage. You are part of me and I am part of me” the voice in his head echoed and Francis tried to shake the feeling of madness from his mind.

“When will this end?” he asked out loud.

“My Lord?” asked Bedivere. Francis realised he had closed his eyes and slowly opened his eyes and stared at Bedivere as he stood over Francis. The Knight was standing in the center of the boat and Francis glanced past him toward Kay who was wading through the water toward the shoreline. He hadn’t realised they had reached land let alone had been sitting with his eyes closed.

“Where...”

“We have arrived, my Lord”

“So I see...” murmured Francis, “that seemed quick” he glanced out to sea where the water was still and calm offering no visible sign of the recent events of the Isle itself.

“Aye my Lord” said Bedivere as he climbed over the side of the boat and placed his hands on the bow alongside those of Lord Kay. “Tis mystical for sure”

“But how can the Isle disappear like that?” it was more of a comment than a question and he stared at his companions as they pulled the boat up onto the shore. “I mean...the land can’t just disappear that like can it?”

“It is best not to ask questions” stated Kay as his feet sunk in the soft sand. “The Lady has great powers and it is not wise to provoke them” he glanced up the beach, “the sun is almost overhead, we had best return to the resting place”

“What...” Francis glanced up toward the sky, then his wrist and he examined the small numbers on the watch as the hands marched relentlessly as time continued despite his own actions. It was close to lunch he realised and his thoughts drifted once again to Gwen and he briefly wondered how the other Knights had failed in their mission to free her from Morgan. With one final glance toward the sea he felt the pang of guilt wash over him as he remembered the sacrifice given by Sir Galahad.

“Your thoughts my Lord” asked Bedivere.

“Hmm...oh nothing” lied Francis as he stared across the water.

“It was his choice” said Bedivere softly, “as is all of ours”

“But I never thought he would...”

“We follow you my Lord as we followed Arthur” Bedivere smiled and followed Kay up the beach and as he walked Francis watched as his footsteps left a trail along the sand. For every step they took, the nearer he was to his destiny and with one final glance out to sea he remembered the words of the Lady, “doomed to live an unyielding sleep”. Did this mean Galahad wasn’t dead? only placed once again into a deep sleep until either the curse could be lifted or until the sword called again should he fail. Or did it just mean he was dead, Francis had so many things he wanted to ask, so many things which remained unanswered. He didn’t know what to do for the best and watched as the waves lapped up against the beach, clawing at the sand. He pulled Excalibur close and turned to face the retreating backs of the two Knights and set off after them, his own footsteps matching those of his companions.

“Morgan...” Mordred spoke slowly as he addressed his Aunt, his words cast down toward the ground as he kept his head bowed in respectful resolution. “What is your intent” his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he spoke and his fingers twitched over the leather bound handle of his weapon.

“Nothing” she said simply.

“Explain...”

“I need not explain to thee” she spat as she stared into the crystal sphere, “your machinations have endangered my plans time and time again. You dishonour me and shame me” her face bore witness to pity, but still she refused to look at her nephew.

“I shall regain my position!” snapped Mordred, “I thirst for power”

“Your ambition is as transparent as your mind” Morgan responded.

“And your tongue shalt be thy death” he snapped, drawing his sword from its scabbard.

“Thoust dare draw arms against me...your own kin” she said smiling, finally turning to face him.

“Thy coldness hath humiliated me no more deathless Morgan”

“Thoust has spirit Mordred, but no gall” she turned back to the sphere and stared at the mist swirling in the sphere, “but nevertheless...I need thee”

“I shall be King”

“Cease thy endless prattling!” Morgan snapped, “and place thy weapon away. He will come and we shall have Excalibur...then thee shall receive thy reward”

“The throne”

Morgan nodded sagely, “I have given my word have I not that thy desire shall be fulfilled and thy shall have what thee deserve”

“What must I do”

“The Lords Tristan and Percival shall report that we have the girl, this will draw in the boy. Thee shall allow him access to the castle unaided, and once he is within our walls...”

“We kill him and take our reward!” concluded Mordred triumphantly.

“Nay...we offer him the girl”

“I do not understand...”

“It is not thy place to understand Mordred, be sure to keep the men out of sight until my mark” she straightened and walked toward her nephew and placed her arms around his shoulders, drawing him close to her body, “then my dear” she said softly stroking his hair, “Excalibur shall be mine”