Chapter 4 – Cadal

The afternoon sun had started worming its way through the clouds by the time Arthur made it out of the forest and onto the road to Camelot.

The morning had been a long and arduous one. In the time it took for Arthur to make his way out of the Valley of the Fallen Kings, any enthusiasm he had initially felt about Taliesin's challenge had been thoroughly extinguished. He had left the cave early in the morning, only to discover that the rain that had been threatening in his home world the previous day had also fallen here overnight – leaving dripping leaves, sodden undergrowth and excessive quantities of mud in its wake. Within a few hours of forcing his way through the overgrown vegetation, Arthur's new peasant clothes had soaked through to his skin, and he was coated in mud up to his waist. He was cold, he was tired and, worst of all, he was hungry.

Arthur had stumbled out of the cave that morning with only the faintest idea of where he was expected to go, and carrying little more than his sword, some money, and the clothes on his back. Despite the amount of care Taliesin had taken setting Arthur upon this unusual path, the old seer had been strangely silent on what he expected the King to achieve once he arrived in the other world. Although he had stressed the fact that Arthur would be 'tested' on this journey, he had been remarkably silent on the actual nature of the tests in store – only that, once Arthur overcame them, he could travel back to the Crystal Cave and return home.

The memory of his final conversation with Taliesin still resounded in his mind, the meanings as obscure now in the light of the new day as they had been the previous evening in the cave.


"Look!" Arthur had shouted, for the fifth of sixth time, "You say that I won't be allowed to return home until I've passed your test, yet you don't explain what you expect me to do! If I don't know exactly what this 'test' of yours entails, how can I possibly know when, or even if, I've passed it? Do you expect me to remain in this world forever?"

"When the time comes, you will know" was Taliesin's infuriatingly enigmatic answer.

At this point, Arthur's already strained temper had once again come to the boil, leading him to pace the cave furiously with Taliesin watching patiently. Tristan, who by this time had made himself comfortable in a corner of the cave, sitting down on a rock with his back against a crystal-free patch on the wall, hadn't even glanced up from where he was polishing his sword. After the first few outbursts from the King he had removed himself from the conversation, waiting patiently and almost forgotten until he was needed again.

The argument between the two men, one young and passionate and the other filled with a patience born of age, had stretched out for several hours. The same topics had been debated and discussed repeatedly, with the young King determined to coerce as much information as possible from the wizened old seer – who, in turn, had stubbornly refused to impart any knowledge beyond what he deemed essential for the quest to succeed.

"And these clothes! They stink – and I'm sure there are lice in here" pulling at the neck of the peasant's tunic he wore, Arthur had once again protested at the disguise that Taliesin had decided was necessary. "I really don't see why I have to pretend to be a peasant – could I really not be a knight, or a noble, or something? I'm sure I could pull it off better." The fine chain mail that the rough garb replaced lay on the floor beside Tristan, and Arthur hadn't been able to help looking at it longingly as he adjusted his worn woollen cloak.

"You would attract too much attention. As a peasant you are invisible, you can pass unnoticed, see what you otherwise would not – you will need that, for this quest. And remember-"

"I know, I know," Arthur's interruption was tired, the reminder having been drilled into him endlessly over the past hours "No-one can know who I am. So you keep telling me."

"You underestimate the danger, young King" Arthur had glared at Taliesin's stern reminder, but chose to remain silent as the seer explained himself once again. "In this world, Arthur Pendragon never existed – the son of Uther was never born. Should anyone discover who you truly are, the consequences would be severe – the potential danger is greater than you realise. If news of your existence were to reach the wrong ears… at best, you would be considered mad, at worst you could be tried for treason. And, if someone were to actually believe the truth of your identity – well, the political ramifications would be beyond anyone's control."

"If its really that dangerous…" Tristan's interruption had taken the two men by surprise, his presence up until that moment forgotten. "If it is truly as dangerous as you say – then why send him? This test is of your making, you can stop it anytime you want."

"Because, Sir Knight, Arthur needs to do this – it is imperative that he accept the truths he will learn in this world. And, truth be told, he is needed in the other world too." Taliesin had stared into Arthur's eyes at this point, as if it was of vital importance that Arthur understand the next sentence. "Arthur's presence in this world is essential, lest land fall into darkness."

The silence following that pronouncement had been the longest yet, as the knights struggled to grasp the meaning behind Taliesin's words. In the end, it was Tristan who broke it.

"Very well, but I still don't understand why I can't accompany him. I took an oath to protect the King, and I mean to keep it. I can't stay in this cave and let him face danger on his own."

Truth be told, Arthur had been taken by surprise by this sudden display of loyalty from the cynical knight. In the past, Tristan had made his disdain for some of the King's decisions known – he had made no secret of his lack of respect for royalty, particularly those of the Pendragon line. When the recently bereaved smuggler had approached Arthur some time after the most recent battle for the kingdom, and made his request to join the ranks of Camelot's knights, Arthur had been only to happy to grant it – after all, the man had proven himself a more than capable fighter, and after the aid he had bestowed when the kingdom was most in need, it was only right that the man be rewarded. He had been bemused by the request, but more than willing to grant it.

But, to be faced with undeniable proof of the newest knight's loyalty here in the Crystal Cave was still something of a shock.

"Isolde was willing to die for you" came Tristan's quiet reply at Arthur's questioning look. "In memory of my beloved, I cannot do any less."

"Your loyalty is admirable, Sir Knight" The seer had sounded sad, but had remained resolute in his original decision. "I am sorry that you cannot accompany your King, but I regret that it is just not possible – only Arthur can pass into this other world. But fear not, there is still work for you in this world. You will be needed, in Arthur's absence."


The rumble of his stomach drew Arthur back to the present. He had scavenged a few berries to eat while travelling, but he had no provisions of his own and was no longer carrying the equipment he would need to hunt – his crossbow had to be left in the cave, along with the rest of his possessions, to be kept until his return. With more time and patience he could have set up a few traps and caught a couple of rabbits, but he admitted to himself that he was a little inexperienced in that form of hunting. While peasants relied upon traps to catch their meat, as a noble he had always preferred the thrill of the chase – going after larger animals such as deer and boar. With only his sword, and a simple knife that had been thrust into his belt, he had little chance of successfully catching his own food.

Arthur's sword. That had been the one concession that Arthur had managed to wring from the seer – despite the objections, he had managed to convince Taliesin to let him keep it. The ancient sorcerer had protested that Excalibur was far too extravagant to belong to a peasant, and that any type of ostentation was only likely to draw unwanted attention – but at this point Arthur had very firmly drawn the line. Ever since that miraculous moment when he had drawn the precious sword from the stone, proving once and for all that he did have what it took to be a great King of Camelot, he had refused to be parted from the blade. From the first time he had truly held Excalibur, he had known without a doubt that the sword was his, meant for no other, and there was no way he was leaving such a gift behind in a cave – especially with an untrustworthy magic user.

Taliesin had eventually given in, but not before giving Arthur some cryptic advice.

"Beware, young King, of losing that sword: it was forged for you, and you alone. No other hand must be allowed to wield it, for none other has the right and only evil would come of it. Take it, if you must, but beware of the power you could unleash into that world if you are careless." Then he had wrapped the hilt of the sword in a piece of cloth "There, I have done all I can to conceal the blade. The rest is up to you"

Arthur wasn't entirely certain how exactly a single piece of cloth was supposed to hide Excalibur from curious eyes – but if it meant he actually got to keep hold of the sword, he wasn't going to argue.

And so Arthur had set off on his new journey, travelling in the direction of Camelot purely because he had no idea where else to go. With no indication given by Taliesin of which direction to travel, he had simply chosen to go home – or as close to home as this new world could provide. He had reasoned that the citadel was the centre of the kingdom, so if he was to learn any of the 'truths' that Taliesin kept talking about then that was the best place to start. And, at the very least, the city would offer shelter and food – something he was already much in need of.

Now, standing on the edge of the road to Camelot, Arthur was painfully aware that the citadel was still a good day's journey away on foot, and there was little chance of finding food before then. However, with no other option open to him, the king-turned-peasant stepped out onto the road, turned resolutely northwards, and started walking briskly along the muddy track.

If he was lucky, he would find some food along the way.


As evening started drawing in, Arthur began to feel somewhat uneasy. He had been following the road now for several hours, and had yet to see another living soul upon it. As a knight of Camelot he had patrolled this area for many years, and usually during this season the roads would be well used – farmers taking the fruits of their harvest to the market at Camelot, other travelling merchants with wares to trade and sell, even members of the nobility making their way to the city to visit family members before winter set in, would all be seen upon the roads. To have been walking along the road for nearly five hours and to still have seen no-one was disconcerting.

On top of that, Arthur had spent the last hour with the uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. He could feel a prickling sensation between his shoulder blades, as if he was being watched by a pair of hidden eyes, and he kept spotting movement in the periphery of his vision. He had taken to spinning on the spot, staring into the greenery by the side of the road, certain that he had just seen a figure out of the corner of his eyes – only to find that the forest was empty. The constant rustling of leaves by the side of the road was putting him on edge, and he now walked with his sword constantly unsheathed.

Arthur kept cursing his fear. He was a knight of Camelot, for goodness sake, and he had spent half his life patrolling these woods – he shouldn't be twitching at every gust of wind through the trees, every scuttle of a forest creature in the undergrowth!

Then again, this wasn't his world, these weren't his woods. Who knew what dangers lurked in these forests, ready to catch out the unprepared traveller…

There! He was certain he saw something this time – movement behind a tree to the left of the road. There was someone hidden in the gloom of the forest, he was certain of it. Someone was following him, and he was determined to deal with them.

Approaching the edge of the road, Arthur levelled his sword towards the trees.

"Come out! I know you're there – state your business!" standing straight, he laced his words with all the authority of a king. Focusing on the shadows behind the foliage, his eyes strained to pick out the shape of his stalker. "Show yourself!"

"Good evening" the silky voice in Arthur's ear was quickly followed by a hand to his throat and the sharp point of a knife in the small of his back, causing the young man to freeze. "Not bad, but next time try to look in the right direction. Drop your sword, you're outnumbered" the owner of the voice breathed into Arthur's ear, his foul breath and unwashed stench causing the kings' nose to wrinkle.

Mind racing, Arthur remained calm. He was a trained knight of Camelot, prepared for situations such as these – now that the threat had finally presented itself, he could analyse it and deal with it.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He asked, while making a show of dropping his weapon to the ground.

"Us? Why, we are poor hungry travellers, fallen on hard times. We were hoping a kind fellow traveller such as yourself might be able to help us… Hand over your money, and we'll let you go free" the voice whispered in his ear, a veneer of false friendliness overlaying his words.

Other figures started appearing in Arthur's line of vision, materializing from the shadows at the edge of the forest. He could see now what kind of men he faced: brigands and highwaymen, waiting to ambush anyone foolish enough to travel alone. The men he could see were rough and unshaven, a rag-tag group dressed in filthy clothes, with only a small and rusty collection of weapons between them. They looked gaunt and hungry, with a desperate look in their eyes – a desperation that was probably what had led them to attack a seemingly lowly peasant, one who probably wouldn't have much to offer them.

In Arthur's world, men such as these would not be wandering around the forests near Camelot. Arthur's knights had always patrolled these woods, dealing with thugs and bandits promptly and efficiently – Arthur had always considered it a matter of pride that his knights were able to ensure the safety of the peasants who lived in the outlying regions, and had made it a priority to protect the travellers who used the road to Camelot. On top of that, the land had been prosperous enough in recent times that most of peasants in the outlying villages had enough food to survive, and fewer had been drawn to a life of crime: for these men to be wandering the woods so close to the capital did not bode well for the state of the country.

"Well? What are you waiting for – hand it over" came the voice in his ear once again.

Slowly, Arthur reached down to the money pouch at his belt, carefully surveying the other men in the group out of the corners of his eyes – and once his hand reached his waist he took action, elbowing the man behind him sharply in the stomach.

As his assailant gasped for air and released his hold, Arthur dove to the floor and grabbed his sword. Swinging round, he faced the men now rushing at him with their pitiful weapons – disarming one with a twist of his sword before despatching another with the hilt. Rushing another two men, he soon had them lying sprawling at his feet – alive and groaning, but no longer a threat.

Arthur readjusted his weapon, and turned to face the last few men – only to find them already comatose on the floor, while an enormous man stood over them wielding a sword.

Coming warily to a halt, Arthur surveyed his unexpected helper. The man before him was extremely tall, easily taller than Arthur himself – he suspected that even Sir Percival would be no match for this man's great height. Unlike his muscular knight, though, this man was skinny: not in the skin and bones way of Merlin, but wiry instead – like he had a lot of muscle hidden very compactly under his skin. The most distinguishable feature about the man, however, was the shock of auburn hair upon his head – it hung down around his ears, and covered his face in a small moustache. And, despite the fact that Arthur was certain that he had never met this man before in his life, there was something strangely familiar about his features – as if he had seen them before on someone else, though he couldn't quite place who.

The stranger looked up then, suddenly fixing Arthur with a pair of inscrutable green eyes – and then smiled, lowering his sword and extending a hand. Once again, Arthur was struck with a chord of familiarity – he was sure he had seen that smile before somewhere.

"Looked like you could use some help – name's Cadal"

The stranger's voice had a musical lilt to it, an accent that Arthur immediately placed as being Welsh. He had met Welshmen before, when a delegation from King Vortigern had briefly visited his father's court many years ago, but it was very unusual to meet one in Camelot.

Well, in his Camelot, anyway. Who knew what the situation was like here.

Appraising the stranger, Cadal, Arthur raised his own hand and shook the one he had been offered.

"Arthur. Thankyou, for the help. I appreciate it."

Cadal grinned even wider, returning Arthur's appraising glance. There was a sharp intelligence in the man's eyes, and a spark of humour that suggested a sense of amusement about the situation.

"No problem, my friend – it is unwise to travel these roads alone, I felt it only my duty to aid you. I see you have very few provisions – I take it you travel to Camelot?"

Arthur nodded silently, loath to speak until he knew more about the man before him. Although the Welshman seemed friendly enough, he remained suspicious of the man's motives – he was aware that he was very much a stranger in this world, despite its similarities to the Camelot he had left behind, and he didn't want anyone taking advantage of his lack of knowledge about the situation he had landed himself in.

At Arthur's refusal to speak, the swordsman's broad smile only faltered slightly. Ignoring Arthur's apparent unfriendliness, he continued speaking. "I too travel to that fair city. We are both without company on this road, might it not be wise to continue together? I assure you, I have no intention of attacking you on the way – on my honour" the foreigner made a strange bowing movement to Arthur as he said this "I merely mean that I have food I am willing to share, and company would be welcome on this lonely road."

Despite his suspicions, Arthur found himself warming to the idea. He had been walking alone for most of the day now, and Cadal seemed, on the surface at least, to be a good man. They would likely be travelling in the same direction anyway, and if the redhead did have intentions of harming him it would be safe to keep him where Arthur could keep an eye on him, rather than worry about whether he was being followed through the undergrowth.

Besides, it might be a good way to learn about this new world before he arrived in Camelot.

"Very well, I would value the company. It was lucky you arrived in time just now, if we travel together we have less chance of being ambushed again…"

To Arthur's surprise, Cadal suddenly threw his head back and started laughing – grabbing a bag from behind a bush, he threw it over his shoulder and started walking backwards down the road ahead of the king.

"Luck? That was no luck – I've been following you for the better part of the day!"

Still chortling at Arthur's dumbfounded expression, he spun on his heel and carried on walking – the startled royal shaking his head before sheathing his sword and following. It was going to be an interesting journey.

A/N: Finally! I can only apologise for taking so long to write this. My only excuse is a combination of writers block, busy life getting in the way, and going on holiday... Anyway, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I'm very sorry I didn't reply to them all this time, but the comments really do help motivate me to write, and your interest in the story means a lot to me! Also to everyone who favourited/alerted etc - thankyou!

Special thanks should probably go to Jane Mays for her little nudge - this chapter probably wouldn't be up yet without it...

Anyway, I'm going to force myself to stick to an updating schedule with this. I've got a lot of story to tell, and I know where I'm going with it - if I haven't updated again within a week, feel free to attack me with metaphorical pitchforks!

(Also - never written an action scene before... was it ok?)