The Calling

Morgan strode through the ruins of the castle with her arm draped through Gwen’s. The sun had risen over the horizon and bore witness to the couple as they walked slowly back toward the courtyard. Morgan stopped and glanced up toward the sky, closing her eyes as she smelt the morning air. A smile slowly tracked over her face, “Excalibur” she said softly. “He has it” she breathed in the morning air heavily as she spoke, her breast heaving and exhaling her hot breath.

“How do you know?” asked Gwen quietly

“I can sense it” Morgan whispered softly turning to Gwen, “we have much to do” They strode together in silence through the ruins and Gwen watched her as they moved through the strewn boulders which lay discarded across the courtyard. She looked everything Gwen wasn’t, strong, confident and powerful and Gwen spied her with a slight envious feeling swell in the pit of her stomach, “Knight Commander!” her voice snapped through the ruins and caused Gwen to start slightly at the sudden harshness of her voice. She watched as a Knight ran into the courtyard and came to a stop before her and dropped to one knee, staring respectfully at the ground.

“My Lady”

“It is Excalibur” she said slowly, “I can feel it’s touch in my mind. After all these years, its call is weak...” she trailed off as her eyes glazed over in a wistful contemplation. “Prepare our forces” she snapped.

“Morgan...” the voice came from behind them and Gwen recognised it as her persecutor of the last day.

“Mordred” acknowledged Morgan.

“Is it time?” he asked, eyeing Gwen suspiciously, “What are thoust doing here!” he snapped.

“Hold thy tongue!” snapped Morgan.

“Forgive me, deathless one. I did not mean” his fawning betrayed his fear of her and his hatred.

“Yes Mordred...it is time, and this time we shall have Excalibur” she smiled at Mordred as he strode toward her matching her stare. “We have the means to obtain the sword”

“The girl?” queried Mordred

“Aye...the girl. She has agreed the aide our cause and with the maiden’s assistance the youth will hand us Excalibur without us raising a hand”

“Thoust deny me my vengeance” spat Mordred.

“Perhaps...” Morgan teased, “once we have Excalibur”

“No!” snapped Gwen, finding her voice. “No!” she said again, “if I help you get this sword you must promise you will not harm anyone” Morgan and Mordred exchanged an amused glance, “promise or I won’t help you”

“I promise” said Morgan softly.

“Aunt!”

“We promise” Morgan corrected herself, “and thy shall assist us of thy own free will” Gwen nodded, “then no one shall be harmed by our hands”

“And the Knights”

“I shall release them”

“Aunt!” protested Mordred again.

“Hold fast Mordred” warned Morgan, “it is of my design that they be released. Call it a gesture of good will” she turned to Agravain, “see to it, and bring the Knights here to me” she said. Agravain slapped his arm against his chest and turned sharply from the courtyard. “You see my dear, I gave you my word”

“Thank you” whispered Gwen

“Now for thy part...” she approached Gwen and smiled down at her as she towered over her body. She circled the young woman and stood at her back looking toward Mordred, “we shall allow yon youth to enter the castle. When he finds you, you must delay him until I am ready”

“How do I do that?” asked Gwen biting her lip

“You will think of something” purred the older woman as she slid her hands around Gwen’s young body. She leant her head close to Gwen’s ear as she slid her hand down the front of her jodhpurs and into her knickers. She spoke as her fingers curled and cupped at her groin, “men are such weak minded fools” she whispered staring at Mordred as her fingers played beneath the surface of Gwen’s clothing, “see how he stares...” she teased. Despite herself, Gwen closed her eyes and bit at her lip as Morgan’s fingers moved slowly within her underwear, “you shall use your female wiles to entice yon youth” she moved abruptly away from Gwen and stood before a stone plinth which cradled a large crystal ball. “I shall be ready, you be sure you are too” she said, then turned to Mordred, “take her to the dungeon...and do not harm the girl” she added shooting him a warning glance. He nodded and moved toward Gwen who flinched under his touch, “soon...” she whispered running her hands over the surface of the sphere.

Gwen flashed a quick glance over her shoulder as she was led gently from courtyard and watched for a moment as Morgan stood smiling peering into the glass orb, her hands smoothing its surface as she lowered her face close to the sphere and she briefly wondered what she had agreed to.

“Tis Excalibur” whispered Lord Kay as Francis appeared through the trees of the small clearing, his eyes locked on the object in the youth’s hands.

Francis smiled at his two companions and held the sword aloft over his head, “my Lords!” he called grinning wildly.

“Tis as magnificent as I remember” said Bedivere softly.

“Aye...a noble weapon” agreed Kay as he knelt on one knee before Francis as he approached.

Bedivere moved to copy his actions, but was stopped by Francis, “no... no... there’s no need for all that” he said.

“But thoust is our King” replied Bedivere as he sunk to one knee and lowered his head.

“I’d like to think that I’m more than your King” said Francis smiling as he extended a hand toward the kneeling Knight, “I hope I’m your friend”

“Would be an honour my Lord” said Bedivere as he accepted his hand.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked cautiously

“We all make mistakes” commented Kay, standing and peering at the boy’s hand, “tis how we react to atone for thy mistakes maketh the man”

Francis shuffled uncomfortably for a moment, the sword weighing heavy in his hand and the guilt still weighing heavy in his heart. “I understand” he said eventually.

Kay laughed and slapped Francis on the back, “don’t be so serious” he laughed, “I jest my Lord” his eyes looked at the sword in his hands and the light glimmered in his eyes. Francis lifted the sword and held the weapon across the palms of his hands. The blade felt cold against his skin and Francis could feel the power within the weapon as it generated an aura. “Tis a mighty weapon” Kay breathed softly, reaching forward and touching the polish metal of the blade.

“It’s beautiful...” whispered Francis.

“We must not delay” warned Bedivere, glancing around the glade.

“We have the sword” said Francis casually, “why worry now?”

“If thy hath Excalibur, then Morgan will know”

“Aye...My Lord Bedivere is correct” agreed Kay, his eyes suddenly darting around the deserted clearing.

“We are safe here” insisted Francis, “the Lady told me...”

“But we must yet travel abroad back to yon resting place” snapped Bedivere his face clouding over with a serious look.

“Let us depart” stated Kay.

Francis nodded, “the scabbard” he said holding out his hand toward Bedivere. The Knight pulled the sheave from his belt and presented it to Francis who weighed it in his hand for a moment before sliding the long blade into the leather shearing. He looked around the island and frowned as the mist seemed to swirl and encase the area, covering the trees and swamping the landscape. “We had better move” he said urgently, “this mist is coming in quick!”

“Does not seem natural” commented Bedivere as he peered into the distance.

“Nay” agreed Kay and pointed through the haze, “methinks the beach is this way”

“Are thee sure?” queried Bedivere

“It all looks the same” said Francis peering around as the mist grew thicker.

“My Lord...” whispered Bedivere, “which way?” The two Knights looked at Francis expectantly.

Francis closed his eyes and concentrated his thoughts, if the sword he drawn him here then surely it could lead him to the boat. His forehead furrowed into a frown and he turned slowly in a circle on the spot, the soft dirt digging into his trainers as he moved through the ground. “Merlin...” he whispered, “here me”. There was a deafening silence in his head as he continued his slow spin, then drawing the sheaved sword to his chest he whispered again into the leather bound object, “your part of me...” he urged, “show me the way” he spoke softly through gritted teeth as he willed an answer. He was aware of the two Knights staring at him through the ever growing fog, but continued his silent vigil.

“I hear thee” the voice in his head exploded and Francis could feel himself recoil under the pressure for a moment as the shock of the sudden intrusion invaded his thoughts.

“Merlin?” he questioned the voice, his head moving, his eyes still closed tightly.

“It is I” replied the voice

“Help me...” pleaded Francis

“You are the last of the Pendragon” the voice replied, “You must do things for yourself, I can only guide you”

“Then guide me now!” snapped Francis, casting curious glances from both Kay and Bedivere. “I... I’m sorry...please Merlin help us” he paused as the voice became quiet. “Merlin!” he pleaded as the fog swirled around his ankles.

Gawain stood at Merlin’s side and gazed into the depths of the pool, watching as the fog thickened around his comrades and the boy. “Will thoust help?” he asked concerned.

“I can do only so much” said Merlin, his own eyes closed mirroring that of Francis as his hands were spread across the surface of the water.

“Thoust is the boy’s consort” stated Gawain, “he needs thy assistance”

“I am aware of his condition” said Merlin testily

“But your countenance betrays your words”

“My Lord Gawain, I am bound by oath not to interfere...”

“Thoust is a player of words” spat Gawain, “My Lord Galahad was right about that. Your powers can aide the boy, what is thy afraid of?”

“I am Merlin” the old man stated simply, “I do not fear naught” his words betrayed an arrogance to his voice, “I do what I must, and what I please”

“Then if thee do not fear, then help thy Lord Francis. Is that not your position...advisor”?

Merlin’s eyes snapped open and he frowned at Gawain, “thoust does try my patient my Lord, but thine words are truth” he closed his eyes and placed his hands over the water again. “I do fear, but not what thee think. I fear the curse...”

“We all have our own demons to fear” said Gawain softly as he backed away to the back of the cavern and rested against the wall, casting an occasional glance back toward the old sage.

“My Lord Francis...” Merlin said softly, “follow thine heart...it will lead you to safety”

“...follow thine heart” came the voice on his head after what had seemed like an eternity of silence. “it will lead you to safety”

“Merlin...Merlin...Merlin!” called Francis into the air, but no other sound was made through the trees. Francis opened his eyes and gazed at his companions through the mist. The fog had become almost impenetrable under his scrutiny and he struggled to make out the figures of his companions. He looked about the area and was shocked to see how much visibility had been reduced. What the hell had Merlin meant...follow thine heart..., he frowned and looked around. There was no way of knowing which was the way out. His instincts screamed at him, this way and that way, but his mind reasoned against action. The mist grew thicker and swallowed him as he struggled with his conscious mind, “follow thy heart...” the words rang in his ear and played with his senses, what did it mean? All he wanted was to get out...to go home.

Home.

Home.

Home, that was it! wasn’t it?

Home. He frowned and thought of home, his mother sitting watching her soap operas, cradling a cup of cooling brown liquid as the television played out its drama.

Nothing...

Home.

He closed his eyes and thought of his room, his bed and the clothes scattered across his floor...nothing...

He tried again and the image of Gwen flashed through his mind and he immediately chided himself over allowing his mind to wander to a girl that he had only just met, and a girl who probably was out of his league and didn’t have the same feelings for him. He smiled despite himself, this was a girl who made him feel better just by looking at him. This was a girl who made him smile even when he felt angry at her...in his mind the mist parted and through the clouds a beacon shone through, guiding him...home...

His eyes snapped open and he stared through the mist, “this way” he said pointing into the ether.

“Is thoust sure?” asked Kay staring in the direction indicated.

Francis nodded decisively, “yes!” his words were firm and his manner was confident and for the first time in days he actually felt in control. He strode forward purposely with his two comrades following as the mist rolled in behind them, growing thicker and denser every second.

“What is the meaning of this!” demanded Percival as he was thrust in the center of the courtyard. He struggled to maintain his balance and composure as he stood before Morgan. The Knight stood defiantly, cuts and bruises marked his skin and the wounds of torture screamed as they condemned his body and the energy fought to flow from his body. His legs could barely support his own weight and his wrists were sore as the shackles had cut deep into his flesh. Tristan fell almost unconscious at his side, his wounds more severe and his treatment worst. He bent to his aide and stared venomously at Morgan as he placed his hand flat on his friends back as he lay exhausted against the cold harsh ground on his hands and knees. Tristan struggled with his conscious mind and could feel his own energy expel with every breath he took, the broken bones in his chest puncturing as his chest rose and fell in time with the hot sticky breath of the Knight. He coughed slightly and droplets of blood stained his mouth as the taste of iron polluted his tongue and he spat a globule of red saliva on the floor by his hand. “He needs rest” begged Percival as he looked on with concern at his friend, “he is dying”

Morgan swept across the courtyard and knelt beside the Knight, her silk cloak trailing across the mud of the floor and she placed a hand on the back of his head. Tristan struggled to react against her touch and his head sagged beneath her fingers. Morgan glanced toward Mordred, a flash of anger triggered in her eyes and glared at her nephew. “He is hurt” she said eventually and looked at Percival with sadness in her eyes, “but he will survive...” she shook her head as she spoke the words and moved slightly as the Knight coughed again. “Take him” she said softly, “with my apologises" she stood to her full height, “the Lord Merlin may be able to assist his pain and...” her words trailed away as she was unable to say what was really in her mind.

“Thank you” said Percival slowly and stood, taking Tristan by the arm and pulled his comrade carefully to his feet. Tristan winched with the pain and placed an arm around his ribs, coughing again and looked through swollen eyes at his persecutor.

“Please...” said Morgan softly, “know I do regret this action”

“My Lady” acknowledged Percival and looked at her, tilting his head slightly and frowned, “indulge my ignorance” he started, “but why does thoust release us. Thy could let us die in thy cells”

“My nephew has acted with dishonour" Morgan stated, “there is no victory without honour” she said simply, “thoust should know that” she turned and walked away, pausing by the crystal sphere for a moment and placed a hand on the ball speaking into the distance, “but mark my words good Percival...Tristan...next time we meet it shall be thy death. Now if you will excuse me, I must prepare for battle” she smiled and turned her head toward Percival, “Oh...send Merlin my love, and tell the boy, Francis that I shall have Excalibur and when I do, I will rest his head upon her blade” Morgan threw her head back and laughed and she pushed her way from the courtyard and into the shadows.