32 Cross Roads
"Dear Gods" Arthur muttered to himself, looking at the nightly sky above, sparkled with stars, distant, cold, and white.
"Does it really astound you?" Armand asked in wonderment, comfortably rested in the grass after his long narrative. "Knowing Uther as you do?"
"What?" Arthur sarcastically asked back. "That he murdered his own sister? Or that he took the Auvergne away from his sick nephew at the first chance? No, why should it? My father, the monster!"
"What he did to your Guinivere, that was murder" Armand said disinterestedly. "As for his sister – he just didn't save her. Who knows if he could have saved her. Morgana stirred up a hell of a storm, and the vessel was ablaze. And Hortensius is a crazed pig, his county's much better off without him."
Arthur darted round, white-faced. "Morgana? She caused….. but she'd given me her word….!"
Armand rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so she'd given you her word not to touch your precious bastard of a father. With the emphasis on she'd given her word to you, her somewhat oversensitive baby-brother. You're not a tough cookie, Arthur, never have been."
"Morgana promised me to respect the free passage I'd granted to Uther…."
"And she did. The storm hit them on the high seas, not in Albion waters."
"Of all the lying hypocrites I've met in my life, Armand of Morgwyn….."
"I strongly suggest Your Majesty looks at the Pendragons for the very image of hypocrisy. Your father committed genocide of my people, what was left of us lifted your arse on the throne and kept it there, and you've betrayed us too, for the measly political advantage of holding peace with that whining lot of crawling Christians!" Armand was no longer lying on the ground. Instead he towered over Arthur again, seething with anger. On reflex, Arthur's hand searched for the hilt of his blade – and let go again.
"Be not fooled, Arthur" Armand hissed through gritted teeth. "I may look my younger, invincible self, but if I were, you wouldn't have made it here in one piece. I need you, I didn't lie. One step away from this magical cross road and you'd see me for what I really am. For what Morgause has made me. A living carcass, old and rotten! She did it for you! Your interests, your wishes, your desires!"
Armand might have expected Arthur to back away from his mad rage, but instead Pendragon kicked the other's feet off from under his legs, and when Armand fell with a yelp, Arthur was on him before he could catch his breath. With all his weight he nailed Armand to the ground. "Listen, you treacherous bastard, because I will not repeat this: I agreed to help you as a means to an end. It serves my purpose, got it? I'm not interested in what childish justifications you conjured up to justify your crimes to yourself. I'm pretty sure you killed Morgause in the first place, or tried to, and she had good cause to go against you. So spare me your fucking self-delusions, you're not my judge, you never will be!"
"Crimes?" Armand shouted at him, unabashed. "What crimes? I did what I had to do, fighting for my people's future!"
"Your own words condemn you. You went to the Auvergne for one purpose only. To stir up my father to come for Camelot, for me, and mine! Without you, Lance and Guinivere would still be alive, the thousands of men that died in battle against the Gaulish and the Saxons would still be alive …."
"Do not leave them at my doorstep, Arthur. Your father didn't need stirring up. You stirred him, your betrayal was what he couldn't cope with. His own son, the thorn in Uther's flesh!"
"I had no choice…"
"And neither had I!"
"You promised me to keep the peace when I as High King allowed magic back into Camelot, and into all of Albion. I kept my word, you waged war against all we'd achieved!"
"You did not keep your word, Sire, you chose the Christians above me and mine! You were selling us to them, just for a few more years of peace for Camelot!"
"Will you ever twig that the world is not turning around you and your shitty Blessed Isle alone! Have we magic-blind no right to live? Have we?"
Armand was silent for a second before he answered, calm and sobered all of a sudden. "You really never got it, did you. The Christians were after our blood, Arthur. I'd seen it all before, I knew the signs. They'd lied, cheated, they'd done everything to make you go their way, and you sat on your throne, watching them, but unseeing, unknowing of what was going on – you've been their fool, Pendragon, not their King."
Arthur bent his head despairingly. "It was never any use, arguing with a true believer, was it. Not with you, not with the Christians… the world's your oyster, and every afternoon you have the Lord, or Gods, or whatever creatures once hatched the beastly idea of creating this maniac excuse for a universe, for a brew and a nice chat. You've a monopoly on the truth, on all the enlightenment there is, you, the bishops, my father – you're all of the same, fucking stock of madmen…." With that Arthur rose, and let go off the other.
Slightly panting Armand rose, too. Meticulously he dusted his clothes with his hands before he spoke again, this time to Arthur's back. "All right. Let's call it even. The Isle's affairs for me, and Camelot for you. It's all I ever wanted, anyway."
"Good" Arthur retorted without turning. "I leave the truth to you, if only, just for once, you'll really leave the peace to me!"
Armand cocked his head, still shaken, but hell-bent on keeping control of this argument. "Just to saturate my curiosity, Arthur ….. what do you believe in?"
At that, Pendragon finally turned to once more face the other with a slight, musing shake of his head. "If, after all that's happened, you still do not know that, High Master, then telling you is no use at all."
Before Armand could say something, Arthur walked away, and laid his arm around Gallahad's shoulder. "Aren't you cold, Galla?"
There was an expression of radiant, unbelievable happiness and utter contentment on the boy's face when he looked up at his father that made Arthur's breath catch up in his throat. "Why, Papa? It's so warm… look, the sun is shining. Mother isn't cold, are you, Mama?" He reached out with his hand, as if somebody in front of him took it, and held it. "Doesn't she look wonderful, Papa? So beautiful!" Galla stared enraptured at something – someone – only he could see.
"Yes" Arthur said quickly, pressing his son's shoulders. "She always does."
Galla listened to something nobody else heard, and laughed merrily. "Papa will join us for that, won't you?" He looked back at his father.
Arthur looked at Armand, who shook his head.
"Not now, Galla. I've some work to do, then I'll be back with you and your mother. You just go … have a fine day together…."
"What use is a King's Crown if you cannot give yourself a day off?" Galla laughed.
"Well, perhaps I can have the afternoon off, then" Arthur said laboriously.
"All right" Galla drawled. A minute later he was once more talking to his mother who wasn't really there.
"It is time, Arthur" Armand said softly. "Leave the boy alone. The lesser he sees or hears of things, the better it'll be."
Walking with Armand to the huge black alder tree that crowned the hill, Arthur cleared his throat. "Whatever I've said back there, Armand…. Whatever's going to happen – thanks for that, anyway. For Galla, I mean… and what he's seeing and feeling…."
"Do not worry" Armand replied as they reached the tree. "I promised to keep the boy happy, and I will, whatever comes, my powers will suffice for that."
Arthur just nodded curtly, not trusting his voice. He was confused, unsure of himself, his decisions – and most of all – he was scared. Never had his father's abhorrence of magic, the nightmare of his younger years, fully left him. He had trusted Merlin, Gaius, Morgana, and some of the Druids, because he'd loved them. Love had, however, never brought an understanding of the magic world. And so Armand's words and concepts meant nothing to him except for the vain hope that after all the shattered dreams, there might still be something left for him to do to make things right.
"Lay your left hand on the tree" Armand commanded, as he laid his own hand on the ancient bark. "Give your other hand to me!"
They closed the circle, and with a start Arthur's left hand touched hilt and sheath of Excalibur in Armand's hand.
"It's midnight" Armand said hoarsely. "The gates are opening…." He closed his eyes, muttering under his breath, Arthur knew not what – and cared not, either. With a burning, painfully futile desire he wished for Merlin's presence, or Morgana's, for anyone whom he could trust….
A gentle breeze stirred the dead leaves on the ground. Something flowed from the tree, through Arthur's hand, and Armand smiled, a radiant, beautiful smile. He bent back his head, laughed, joyfully and ravished. He never ceased the incantations he was singing loudly to the stars.
The invisible flow of energy from the tree grew stronger, warmer, but not painful. Arthur saw the sheath and sword glow in the darkness, illuminate his hand, and Armand's, making them transparent. He craned his head for Galla. Oblivious of his surroundings, the boy was still talking animatedly to the empty space before him.
When the storm suddenly hit him, Arthur saw and heard nothing anymore.
Armand's grip on his hand became stronger, it hurt him. The sword twitched and twisted in their hands like a living creature. The sound of the winds was deafening, and yet – nothing on the hill stirred, no leave, no bush, not the tree under his hand or the grass under his feet.
Until the tree was gone, the grass was gone, all was gone except Armand and Excalibur, glowing, humming, as if the sword was also singing to the stars, an age old song of power and glory, of crushed hopes, and others found anew. Arthur was trembling from a freezing cold, desperately clinging to the hand and the sword which seemed to be the only things real in this howling abyss of air and darkness.
"Can you see it?" Armand roared triumphantly. "It's rising from the depth of time where she has willed it. We're pulling it back…. She's caught in the sheath and blade, I knew it, I knew it….Morgause…. oh, gracious Gods, Morgause….." his voice broke, he sobbed and screamed, but what he said – the storm took it away.
Arthur freaked out. He hadn't felt such fear since childhood. This was no danger to reason with, no risk to calculate and fight, this was sheer, undefeatable, mind-crushing madness, a catastrophe, a disaster, and he panicked.
"There he is; the guardian of the other world" Armand suddenly yelled into Arthur's aching ear, half deafened by the mad crescendo. Only vaguely Arthur felt the hard grip on his arm. But even so he looked around – and froze. Even darker against the darkened sky a huge shadow menaced the beholder; higher than Camelot's highest tower, broader than its strongest gate, jet-black scales, each of them huge enough to shield a knight, shimmering in a light that wasn't really there, a gigantic lindworm weltered towards them. His open maw breathed fire, and where his body met the ground, all life so far prevailed withered to dust and crumbled into nothingness.
Arthur's grip on the other and the sword wavered. He fought, but only to get away from here, from this madness.
"Kill it!" Armand screamed in open terror. "Kill it, or we're all doomed!"
"No…."
"For the Gods' sakes, Arthur, this is the incarnation of Morgause's curse that banned the Isle from our world; the magic she encaged so that it might never roam the earth again!"
"Then use your own powers, High Master. I have no dealings with the thing!" Arthur shouted until he thought his throat would burst and still he thought he merely whispered.
"Nothing but Excalibur can end this! The sword does not obey me! For the love of the Great Mother, Arthur, kill it!"
"Where's Galahad? Galla….." Arthur fought desperately to break away from the hysteric sorcerer, his only thought being how to get away from here, how to take Galla to safety and never again set eyes on this kind of black magic.
"Arthur, you kill the guardian, or your precious Galla is as doomed as we are!"
"You swore to keep him safe!"
"Open your fuckin' eyes, we're caught between the worlds, only the guardian's death can set us free! And my powers are wavering!"
Arthur shook his head. No!
A stream of abuses and curses ran from Armand's frantic rambling, but it all drowned in a sky splitting roar of thunder that just didn't stop. The black clouds were ripped apart by lightning that thrashed the invisible ground they stood on. The unnatural green hue let the giant creature's scales gleam like fire as the worm closed in on them, his fire putting the scenery into another blazing terror.
"Galla…. Galla, answer me… where are you…" Arthur suddenly felt Armand's hands slipping away from him, and he ran, ran into the darkness cut to pieces by hell's raining fire, no thought left for the sorcerer he left behind. "Galla….."
Far away, almost invisible, he saw the lanky figure running. The boy ran, jumped, stumbled – and fell. Every second the giant beast would see his son, would kill him, squash him like so much mud without sense, or meaning.
Arthur shouted, screamed every filthy insult he could think of as he ran on, in a desperate attempt to get the creature's attention, to lure the lindworm away from his helpless little boy. Margaly's fragile body, her tender limbs twisted, her face distorted, her skull leaking blood and…. No, Great Mother, please, no, not again, not Galla, not my boy…..
Again, Arthur screamed at the enraged beast, and this time he thought he heard, through all the turmoil another voice coming from somewhere inside the storm, weak and utterly forlorn… "Father….!"
The lindworm turned his giant head at Arthur, and the King did think no longer. When the maw bent down to where the human menace was, Pendragon raised his sword and with one swift move he rammed Excalibur into the lindworm's throat until the blade was buried in the stinking flesh up to the hilt.
It was that easy. Ridiculously easy. The huge falling body not even twisted the blade's hilt from Arthur's grasp. It was as if the beast had never really existed. It fell, fell… an almost human cry filled the night, loud, and piercing, and full of disbelief and horror… then it was quiet.
Under the serene sun of a glorious spring day sky, over the grass softly rustling in the tender breeze, over the softly murmuring water of the lake that kissed the golden beach, Arthur looked at the shimmering towers of the Blessed Isle in all their splendid glory.
"Papa…." Galla whispered strenuously. "Papa…."
Without understanding, not even capable of feeling shock or awe, Arthur watched Galahad as he lay on the ground, coughing up a stream of blood. The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at the man who'd killed him. "Papa….". Arthur caught his son's falling hand in his.
Galahad died without struggle in his father's arms, Excalibur's blade still buried in his heart up to the hilt.