Chapter Two

Darkness. Total darkness. Scott wondered for a minute if he had opened his eyes at all, as it hadn't made any difference, except to increase the pounding in his skull. "Virgil? Gordon?" No answer. His fingers groped around and, to his relief, found the torch. Switching it on, he could see he was in a large cave. 'Must be on the other side of that rockfall, then.' The cave was filled with stalactites and stalagmites, some connecting together to form complete columns, but all casting strange shadows in the torchlight. No sign of his brothers, though. Surely they wouldn't have left him behind. Hold, on, was that a figure resting at the base of one of the rocky columns? It wasn't in IR overalls, but could be one of the cavers. He moved towards it, but as he went deeper into the cave his attention was caught by a curious shape in the centre of the open space. A stalagmite, with the customary fused appearance of melted wax, but this one seemed to have something extruding from one side.

Though his instinct told him to check on the recumbent figure, a compulsion too strong for him to resist was pulling Scott towards the strange object. The extrusion looked like some sort of long, slender cross. He touched the upper part and felt a tingling sensation, like a mild electric shock, run through his fingers and up his arm. He pressed harder, and the encrusted limestone broke away in pieces, like ice off a puddle. No, he realised, it wasn't a cross, but a sword, the hilt now free of its limestone covering. His interest mounting, he rapped on the blade and again the limestone broke away. To his amazement the blade showed no sign of rust, but gleamed in the torchlight. Grasping the handle firmly, he pulled. There was a slight cracking sound as the limestone around the base let go, but then the sword pulled free of the rock.

At once there was a sound like rushing wind, and for a second the cave seemed to be filled with a golden light. Scott stood, bemused, holding the sword and uncertain what to do next. A movement behind him made him spin round. He had forgotten all about the figure he had seen.

Four figures were coming towards him in the torchlight. As they got nearer, Scott realised their features were familiar to him Two were blond, one dark and the fourth had hair that glowed copper in the torchlight. But to his surprise the four knelt in front of him and bowed their heads.

"Hey, fellas, what's all this?"

The tallest one, with blond hair, looked up. "Sire, your knights are ready to do your bidding."

"John?"

The man looked bemused. "No, sire, 'tis Lancelot."

The dark haired one next to him spoke next. "Bedivere, my lord, at your service."

The one with copper-coloured hair met his gaze, a grin crossing his features. "Gawain, sire. It is good to see you again."

The last one raised a blond head. "Galahad at your command, my liege.

Scott's mind was whirling. "What's going on? Where did you come from? Why are you here?"

The one who had called himself Bedivere answered this time. "Merlin brought us here to wait for you. He said you would come for us when it was time, when we were needed."

"Needed? So someone needs our help?"

"Someone must, my lord" said the one identified as Lancelot," else you would not be here to awaken us."

"There is no-one here, sire," said Gawain peering into the dark recesses of the cave. "Perhaps outside?"

The pounding in Scott's head made it difficult for him to think. Hadn't he come down here to find someone, or something? That seemed a long time ago. But there was certainly no danger down here now, so they must be needed elsewhere. No matter if he couldn't understand the rest, someone needed help - that he could deal with. "Come on then, let's go and find out who they are and what we have to do."

All the way back to the surface, Scott kept glancing at his companions. 'OK,' he thought to himself, 'you are dreaming all this. Just go with the flow'.

As the figures emerged from the cave, the first thing Scott noticed was the cold, damp air. The sky was now heavily overcast, with the sun's disc barely visible. A thin smattering of dirty grey snow lay over the ground. The Thunderbird craft had gone, and a twisted spike of metal was all that was left of the radio mast.

Bedivere looked at the sky and scowled, wrapping his cloak tightly around him. Scott followed suit, only then realising that he was no longer wearing his overalls, but was dressed like the others in a woollen tunic and leggings. Over these he wore a cloak, held in place by a brooch in the shape of a dragon.

The group headed down the hill, past the ruins of the cottage, now an empty shell, and onto a road that was pitted and scarred. What had been lush green fields on either side were now a barren wasteland, except the field that contained the wreckage of an aeroplane, its spars sticking out like the skeleton of some prehistoric beast.

"I can see smoke up ahead," the copper-haired knight observed. "Must be a village coming up."

The dark-haired one spoke up. "That's too much smoke to be ordinary fires. Could be trouble."

Scott listened to all this with only half an ear. However, the sound of feet running towards them brought his military training into action. With a quick wave of his hand he gestured his companions off the road, where they crouched behind the remains of a wall. As the running feet approached, Scott jumped out.

"No! Mercy! Please don't hurt me!" It was a young boy, probably no more than twelve years old, dragging a smaller girl by the hand. Both were dressed in ragged clothing.

"We aren't going to hurt you." Scott spoke as gently as he could. The children were clearly terrified. "We just want to know what is going on."

"Robbers!" the boy was gasping for breath. "A band of robbers attacking our village, looking for food. We don't have much but they are taking it and burning the village. My mother told me to take my sister and hide in the old caves. She said the cave-spirits would protect us."

"But what has been going on here?"

The boy looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Scott gestured to the ruined landscape. "All this devastation."

The little girl gave him a confused look. "But it has always been like this."

Her brother shook his head. "She is too young to remember the Great War that put the sun out."

Nuclear winter. The phrase echoed in Scott's head and he closed his eyes for a moment in grief over all that had been lost. Then he opened them again. That he could do nothing about, but there were people here who needed his help. He looked at his companions and saw a similar resolve in their eyes.

He looked down at the children. "You head on up to the cave like your Mom said. When it is safe again she'll come and find you."

The village came into view, a mixture of brick-built houses, now mostly ruins, and shacks that had obviously been built from parts cannibalised from the houses. The men heard hoof-beats coming towards them at a rapid pace. They looked at each other and drew their swords. Round the corner came a woman, running with desperation, glancing back over her shoulder at the man on horseback who was rapidly gaining on her. Galahad leapt out from their cover, and, showing reckless a disregard for his own safety, grabbed the horse's bridle. As the beast reared, Gawain ran out and took hold of the rider's leg, tipping him from the saddle.

The woman had stumbled and Scott went to help her up. "It's all right," he reassured her, "we're here to help. Can you tell me what's happening?"

She grasped at his arm. "The robbers have shut everyone in the old schoolhouse. They're setting fire to it! Please! My family are in there!"

"Where is the schoolhouse?"

The woman pointed back down the road towards the centre of the village.

"Do you know how many of them there are?"

"About five, maybe six. I'm not sure." Scott could see she was in a state of shock.

"OK, you stay here. Leave this to us." He looked around at his companions, who fell in behind him.

As they approached the schoolhouse they could see smoke and flames emerging from it, accompanied by muffled screams from inside. Five men stood outside, their arms folded, obviously enjoying the spectacle. Nearby a cart was loaded with boxes and bags, presumably the spoils of their raid.

The men turned at the sound of approaching feet, and for a moment looked alarmed to be facing five well-armed men. Two of them drew swords and the others picked up cudgels, then with a shout, rushed at the newcomers.

Scott found himself facing a man armed with a section of iron pipe, who took a swing at him. He blocked the blow then used his attacker's own momentum to swing the man over his head in a judo throw. The man had not expected this and let out a yell as he sailed through the air, arms flailing widely. His head hit the ground with a crack and he lay still.

Scott glanced about him to realise that his companions had also dealt successfully with their opponents.

The cries from the schoolhouse were becoming frantic, but the door had been barricaded with debris. Scott gestured to his blond companions. "You two, clear the door." He turned, "and you two find something to use as a battering ram. I think we're going to have to break our way in."

He then ran back down the street to where he had noticed a water butt standing beside one of the houses. Pulling off his cloak, he dunked it in the water, then returned to where his companions had managed to open the doors. A blast of heat emerged, and some figures staggered out. Scott crouched down beside a man who had collapsed on the ground. "Are there many more in there?"

The man looked at the faces of those who had emerged, then nodded. "Yes. The heat…it was too much... they collapsed…we couldn't help them."

"Well, that's why we're here," replied Scott, his tone grim. He approached the entrance, pulling the wet cloak over his head and shoulders like a protective hood. The heat was intense, but with this it was bearable. Once inside, he looked around and saw two small figures collapsed against a pillar. He scooped them up in his arms, heading for the door. On his way out he passed another figure hooded like himself and realised one of his companions must have copied his idea. Outside he gulped a lungful of much-needed air as he passed the small forms to Lancelot. "Who else went in there?"

"Bedivere, sire, and Galahad."

Covering himself with the cloak again, Scott re-entered the burning building. The smoke was thick now, making it hard to see anything, but he spotted a pair of legs sticking out from behind a desk. These turned out to belong to an old man, who Scott threw over his shoulder and carried from the building. He emerged at the same time as Galahad, who was carrying a similar burden.

"That's the last one, my lord."

Scott rested his hands on his knees as he gulped for air. Then he straightened up and looked at his companions. "We want to make sure there are no more robbers left. Lancelot, stay with the villagers: Galahad, Gawain, you go that way, Bedivere, with me."

They made their way down the street with caution, looking about them all the time. A series of weak cries drew them down a side turning to find an old woman who had been pinned by the legs beneath a pile of timber that had once formed a shack. The two men worked to clear the rubble, then Scott lifted the last piece of timber as Bedivere pulled the woman free. As Bedivere was checking her injuries, more screams rang out. They seemed to be coming from an alleyway between two of the houses. Without thinking, Scott ran towards the sound, gripping the handle of his sword as he went. He rounded a corner to see a man pinning a young woman up against a wall, ignoring her frantic struggles.

"Leave her alone!" Scott shouted.

The man pushed the woman to the ground and turned towards Scott. Scott himself was tall, but his assailant equalled him in height and was broad as well. The man looked at Scott with contempt in his eyes, drawing his sword and picking up a wooden club in the other hand. He lunged at Scott, who ducked and tried to parry back. Scott had done some fencing in his schooldays, but found the unaccustomed weight of his sword was hampering him. The robber seemed to realise his opponent's inexperience and made a great lunge. Scott managed to side-step the blade, but did not see the swinging club that caught him a glancing blow to the side of the head. He staggered back and his assailant, sensing victory, swung his sword over his head. Scott saw his opening and stabbed upwards with his blade as the man rushed forward, driving the blade into his opponent's chest. The robber dropped lifeless to the ground.

Scott heard running feet behind him and turned to see Bedivere approach. Just then he was overcome by a wave of dizziness and the world went black.