Kind of an interim chapter to get the action going in the next instalment...
Chapter Two
Gwen didn't know what time it was when she opened her eyes and saw the stars all white and twinkling mischievously back at her but it was late, she knew that much. With a sigh she rolled over and screwed her eyes shut, willing herself back to sleep but it was no good. She eased herself once more onto her back, grunting in tired frustration. No use she thought as she got up and stalked off towards the forest, desperately trying not to wake Arthur or Merlin as she crept through the dingy hallway, cursing as the rickety old floorboards still persisted in creaking under her feet. Yes, a walk would clear her head though she had no idea where she was walking to, only that she was trudging through thick grasses and dodging the odd cow-pat but she stopped short when she found herself confronted by a narrow spring, it's water seeming to laugh at her as it bubbled its way past. Surely this hadn't been here all the time...just how far have I walked?
Still, she could not deny that there was a sense of peace here, an almost otherworldly quality; bliss after feeling so enclosed by the walls of their dwelling. Even the trees that lightly rustled in the breeze did so with subtle consideration, looking almost ethereal under the soft gaze of the full moon. There was a large boulder slumbering next to the waterfall that rushed into the stream, its surface smoothed with age; the perfect place to sit and be alone with her thoughts. At first she felt a little silly, talking to the water that raced by but after a while she began to feel as though someoneor at least something was listening, some spirit of the wash lifting away her troubles if only for just a few fleeting moments. Arthur had been so distant lately, first through his loss and depression but then one day after walking through the fields that surrounded their meagre shelter it was as though he had become another person entirely, like a fire had been lit from within and blazed out through his eyes. He had ideas, dreams about the new life he could build for himself but more and more Gwen wondered if there was a place for her in it. She had hated seeing him so downcast but at least he had needed her then, or so she told herself. He didn't he need her now.
When all the grief had been poured from her soul into the brook below the only thing left within her was empty exhaustion. It was only when she looked to the clearing of the trees she realised the sun was beginning to rise, the sky's blackness disappeared and replaced by the warm glow of reds and oranges that warmed her face. It made her smile. As she lifted herself up to leave she could almost hear a voice telling her that her fears would pass. Perhaps the spirit of the river had indeed been there to receive her. Then again, perhaps it was merely wishful thinking.
While Gwen took her time in making her way back to the others Arthur was just waking up. As refreshing as each new day had become every morning still brought with it the grief of the last few months. When he and his two companions had walked out of Camelot's gates his whole world came crashing down around him. He had lost his father, his kingdom, the sister he could have had...he had lost his home. In truth, had it not been for his servant Merlin and Guinevere he may have looked for a convenient river somewhere. Instead, with them he had travelled to the other side of the land, deep into what had at first seemed like some ridiculous backwater. They found themselves in what had once, long ago, been the land of the Iceni people- known for having some of the most fertile landscapes in all of Britain but Arthur had little mind for farming. On arriving the best shelter they could find was an old abandoned inn, crumbling in parts and filthy to boot with moss and all manner of fungus festering in the walls but it was a roof over their heads.
It was only after days spent roaming the countryside that ideas began to fill the young man's mind. He traced the patterns of the inland waterways, watching the gentle tides ebb and flow on their way out to sea. This land may be known for its pasture and marsh but soon it would be known for something else entirely. No one could ignore the ever-present threat of Saxons across the ocean, eyes set hungrily on British soil like baying hounds on the hunt. Surely if they were to invade it would be through access-ways such as these that provided open routes inland. Arthur well-knew that the locals of this area would be little equipped to mount much of a resistance when the time came.
During his walks he had gotten to know the lay of the land. He remembered the story he was told as a boy of an old abandoned hill-fort somewhere in this area. It had belonged to one of the former tribal leaders that had once ruled over this land before the tide of the Romans. The Tribesmen had made their last stand against invasion here and the fort had fallen into disuse, the Romans choosing to build more elaborate structures for themselves. Arthur had found the abandoned castle and he would bring it back to life but he would not mention his plans to the others just yet.
Rising from his bed he left breakfast, not bothering to wake this companions and went in search of further inspiration.
Away to the west in the great Kingdom of Camelot a young queen looked onto the dusty Jousting field from the royal spectator stand. It was that time of year again when the prospect of winning both gold and glory in gory competition drew all those knights not away on campaign to the city's hospitality. Preparations were well under-way with tents already pitched in the outlying fields and the arms of those competing mounted on the lists. This year would be different though. With no Arthur to compete the field was now open to new, younger athletes ready to test themselves against the might of more experienced champions but this year would be different for another reason; the tournament would include contests of magic with druids from every corner of Albion swarming through the city gates keen to show their talents, many of them for the first time. There would be a Bardic contest, a Duelling contest, Conjuring contests with the whole season crowned by a fantastic display of lights and fire.
Morgana was thankful for it, with such distractions and so much to organise it was only in these very rare moments of reflection that the clouds descended and she found herself thinking about the sadness that would not let her go. She thought about how much her sister would have loved this; magic brought out into the open from its various hiding places and secreted hollows. It was while watching the knights practice that a thought occurred to her. She remembered vividly the first time she and Morgause spoke. The older woman had been wounded in a duel opposite the young Prince Arthur. Morgana smiled to herself when she thought of the brash boy who had been so convinced he would easily best his female opponent.
Morgana would compete. She knew her way around a blade...after all, had she not been taught by some of the finest sword-masters these Isles could offer? Besides, how could she expect her gallant lords to fight for her if she could not lead them herself? No, she must once and for all earn her place amongst them and their respect...
And so to the next chapter...
Anyone actually reading this?