Arthur

Wake up.

No.

You must.

I can't.

You must, Arthur. They are waiting for you.

I don't recognize the voice, and I am close to ignoring it and letting myself fall back into the darkness where I have spent uncountable years. Then I pause. "What others?" I ask, and am startled by the sound of my own voice.

There is no answer. I ask again, and marvel at the strange feeling of speech in my throat. I tap my teeth together experimentally before remembering that I have control of other things again. I stretch out one arm. I flex my fingers. My joints are stiff, but they move.

I open my eyes. I can't immediately make sense of what I'm seeing, though there is nothing spectacular about the view itself. A gray sky that is obscured by clouds, bare-branched trees and leaves not yet brown that have been torn to the grass by the wind. There's a lake, too, and some buried knowledge tells me without explanation or understanding that I have come from its waters. The familiar weight of armor rests on my chest and arms, cold but dry, and my fingers seek out the comforting presence of the sword at my hip. It's there, and I breathe my relief.

Something hums in my head, and it takes me a moment to realize that the noise is coming from outside it. I close my eyes again, taking a deep breath with lungs that feel strange and new. Somebody warned me about this. A low, ancient voice that pulsed with sadness as it spoke: Your world has changed, but it still needs you. You will not be alone.

But I am alone. I know without being told that an unthinkable amount of time has passed, that everything and everyone I knew is gone. The voice should have left me alone. I should have stayed in the darkness.

They are waiting for you.

I sit up and then stand on legs that feel as frail as a foal's. The humming sound grows louder, then fades again, and I look slowly about myself and try to control a rising sense of panic. My eyes take in the sight of something- several somethings- thundering across a black road. I don't understand it. I know instinctively that I can't.

I start to walk. Action is the only thing that will keep me sane, and I focus all of my attention on the simple act of moving one foot after the other. I don't know who is waiting for me, but they aren't here. My only option is to find them.

The black road rises up to meet me, and I pause. The things I saw earlier, rolling faster than any horse and glaring fire from their eyes, were running over this path. It must be safe if it can hold things so monstrous, but still I hesitate. If I cross this road now, I will be fully accepting whatever new fate has been handed me, whether or not anyone else shows up. It will have been my choice, and I will be forced to accept whatever consequences result. Even if I am alone.

I take a breath and step onto the road.

"Hey!"

I start, stumbling back into the grass. Somebody brushes past me, riding something that looks like a twisted metal horse with wheels instead of legs. He shouts something else, but I can't understand his words. My heart is pounding as hard as it did when I went on my first mission, and I am ashamed at my cowardice. I am King of Camelot- or I was, anyway. I have nothing to fear.

And yet I am afraid. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment, and I feel acutely how ill ready I am to take on whatever challenge has been laid before me. I don't even know where I am.

"Father," I whisper, staring up into the clouds. He would know what to do. He would be strong, even in the face of this strangeness. He would be disappointed in me now.

So when the next wheeled horse charges me, I do what my father would do: I attack. The man riding it yells in a tongue I don't understand, but I will not allow that to stop me. My sword rings through the air and slams into the front wheel, and I feel the blade slice through a layer of thick skin before crashing against the metal underneath. The man tumbles from the monster's back and lands on the road, where he surges to his feet and takes a furious step toward me.

I jerk my sword free and fall into a ready stance, daring him to advance. He stops, raising his hands slightly, and begins babbling in the same foreign language. Why isn't he attacking? He has no blade that I can see- maybe the beast was his only weapon. His voice is hoarse with anger, and he gestures repeatedly at the slain creature, but I cannot guess even the language he is speaking, let alone what the words mean.

After a few moments it becomes obvious that he is not going to attack me, so I move to sheathe my sword. Before I can, however, something wails behind me, and I spin to face it. Flashing blue lights make me throw up an arm to shield my eyes, and a voice magnified by something I can't see issues commands I have no hope of understanding. I raise my sword, and something strikes me from behind. I fall to my knees, and men wearing dark clothes step forward to rip my sword from me. "Wait," I gasp, but I have no more hope of them understanding me than my understanding them. They shove me to the ground, wrenching my hands behind my back and shouting to each other.

Cold metal is clapped over each wrist, and I am lifted to my feet and pushed toward the road. One of the men picks up my sword, holding it awkwardly and gesturing to his companions. They argue for a moment and then turn to direct their questions at me.

"I don't understand," I plead. "I don't know what you're saying."

They stop, uncertain. One of them repeats his question, and I repeat my answer. They look at one another and shrug. Finally, one of them motions for me to follow, and I walk meekly toward the flashing blue lights and allow myself to be pushed through a door onto some kind of soft chair. The man shuts the door, and I am left alone.