A/N: The song that occurs in this chapter twice is Preliator by Globus.
Chapter VII
"What's happening?" asks Lily as the white sails suddenly fall flat and the ship loses speed until it almost comes to a complete stop upon the calm sea.
"Wake Freya up for me would you Regina? It would seem we've passed into the realm of Camelot, and I'd rather not take the slow path to Avalon."
"If I get hit Hook," warns Regina as she climbs the stairs and heads to the captain's quarters.
"Just use a stick to poke her and stay out of arm's reach," suggests Maleficent with a small smirk.
"She can't be that bad surely," comments the prince.
Regina rolls her eyes and disappears into Killian's cabin. A crash is heard from within the cabin, followed by multiple curses and the soft murmurs of Regina as she backs out the door, her hands raised in surrender.
"It's all Captain Guyliner's fault. He wanted you awake."
"I've not even had a single hour of sleep, and that's over the span of three days! What is it?" growls the redhead from beneath a mass of bed head, her eyes bleary and tired but glinting in warning at the leather-clad captain smiling crookedly at her.
"My apologies my Lady, but it would seem Camelot's seas remain protected."
"Ugh," she groans, her head drooping. "Fine."
Her hands raise gracefully up above her head, her legs crossed like a ballet dancer in fifth position. Her eyes close, flickering beneath the lids as she performs a plié before slowly opening her arms and bending her wrists backwards. The others gaze on in shock as, at the same time, a thin - almost invisible - barrier appears around the ship, gently swirling and refracting the light as it moves. Prisms of colour bounce and shine around them until the bubble-like barrier bursts. The canvas once more fill with gusts of air and the keel of the ship cuts through the waves at a much faster speed.
"Done. Now kindly don't disturb me again until we're sailing up the River of Sorrow," she warns the captain before moving to return to her bed.
"The River of Sorrow? Sounds ominous," remarks Robin.
"Merely called that because unless you are of Camelotian descent it is almost impossible to steer any vessel through it. Any that make such a foolish attempt dies from their own folly and their form of transport, be it tall ship or fishing boat, is found only in wreckage that washes upon the shore," explains Killian with a grin. "But it's the only way to the docks in Camelot and closest place for us to go ashore and journey to Lake Avalon."
"Camelot," sighs David, his stare amazed as he gazes across the horizon and at the alabaster stone walls of the great castle raised high above the treetops.
"It's bigger than I expected," adds Lily, her voice barely a whisper. "What's it like?"
"I've never been within it's walls. Like the good captain and most likely Regina also, King Arthur and his knights found me to be someone they didn't want in their city or around their people. And so all I know of Camelot is Avalon," Maleficent tells her daughter emotionlessly.
"You let them stop you entering it?"
"I had no reason or need of going into the city. Doing so would simply have caused strife between Freya and the people of Camelot. I owed her plenty to not want to do such a thing."
"Think you mean further strife," adds Regina with a smile and roll of her eyes.
Hossana Meus
"Now what was that?" frowns Killian as he glances around.
"Music, but where did it come from?" asks Regina as she joins in the search for the choir of disembodied voices, no trace of her previous humour to be found. "Damn bird," she curses as Navarre begins to flap his wings and screech, nipping Regina with his sharp beak when she attempts to go near him. "A little help Mal? Blasted thing never liked me. Maleficent, now if you please," she glares when the dragon-witch remains standing on the deck watching Regina's struggles with the bird, a small smile playing upon her lips.
"You were never a bird-person. Just needs a certain commanding touch," remarks Maleficent with a roll of her eyes.
Fortuna Deus, Aeterna Teus, the singing continues but Maleficent ignores it and stretches out her hand to the terrified falcon, pursing her lips and giving a low echoing whistle. Navarre quietens a little and sweeps up into the air, flitting down from the poop deck to land on Maleficent's black ring. Using the back of her other hand she gently strokes the fearful bird, cooing reassurances to him. But as the music surrounding them continues he begins to squawk and screech once more before finally taking flight and fleeing, heading for the nearby land.
Mystrie,
Morte,
Sancte,
Prior
"No!" cries out Freya as she flings herself on to the deck by Killian's side just as the music swells into a thrumming and pounding of drums with only a single soft silvery voice accompanying the cacophonous sound, chilling all upon the ship and causing the tiny hairs on the backs of their necks to raise up.
With Freya's cry hundreds of spectral forms take shape upon the ship and on the crests of the waves in the surrounding sea. All of the apparitions stand tall with their hands clasped before them. All their eyes affixed to Freya who stares in growing horror at the ghosts standing before her. Only one of the numerous spectres moves through the crowd of dead in the crashing waves below.
A young girl with short hair stands before the keel. A sudden swirl of silent wind spins around her, raising her up until she stands on the bow of the ship. Her long gown, as colourless and translucent as all the spirits, remains untouched by the wind causing the live women's gowns to flutter. The girl's movements are as graceful as any extremely accomplished ballet dancer. She reaches her hands out to Freya and begins to sing to their Lady of the Lake in a throaty and husky voice. The young girl's voice is loud and powerful; such a difference to the previously low and honeyed voices that had sung as one. The others all flinch as the other ghosts join in with their choir of voices as the girl finishes the verse. The beautiful, yet terrifying, cacophony of noise holds them all captive for a few moments.
"Freya, what's wrong? Who are all these people?" asks David, his hand quickly finding the hilt of his trusty sword.
"How is this possible?" Regina's eyes fill with fear as she backs away from the ghosts nearest her and clutches Maleficent's hand who looks fearful of the sight before her too.
"It shouldn't be. Only one thing could have done this," whimpers Freya, tears cascading freely down her cheeks as the hauntingly ethereal music continues evermore. "Faster Captain Jones, if you would. A detour to the castle is required, so just to the mouth of the river please."
Mordred! the Lady of the Lake screams inside her head.
"Come on, get a move on! You're not on holiday. Heave to those mooring lines. Get them down and nailed to the shore," commands Captain Jones with a smirk.
"You're enjoying this," glares Maleficent from where she's using magic to pull free one of the ropes with Regina.
"Just a bit."
"Remember why we're here, Killian," reminds the prince.
"They're here too and there's even more of them," cries out Lily, dropping her hold on the rope she's heaving with Robin and David over the side of the ship and towards the shingle beach.
Killian's eyes widen as he takes in the ghosts standing so still upon the shore. His gaze darts to Freya who lies crumpled on the deck, her tears dried up but the tracks remaining behind as evidence upon her cheeks. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her waist and her eyes stare blankly and lifelessly at nothing. She had performed some kind of magic which made all the ghosts disappear, along with their singing. Then as the ship continued on its journey she had dropped to the deck and none of them had been able to reach her. Freya had simply slipped away and closed herself from everyone and everything.
"Freya, they're back. Those spectres are returned. Come on, darling, no giving up just yet," Killian tells her in a low, modulated voice. "Please!" he shouts, shaking her slightly as she remains unresponsive.
Killian sighs with relief when her eyes finally react, when Freya finally sees him. But he frowns when he sees the absolute terror and agony reflected upon her face when the ghosts to the starboard side resume their ethereal choir. She remains frozen on the deck as she looks over Killian's shoulder and out at the gathering at the shore and the entire road to the looming castle nearby. At a sudden poignant-sounding moment of the music a single tear travels out of the corner of Freya's eye and down the curve of her cheek. Killian leans back in shock and releases his hold on the redhead.
"You understand what they're singing."
"They speak of God. Of battle. So much pain, so much death," croaks Freya, her voice dead.
"Freya, whatever has happened to them you'll help them. You know what's happened to them, so fix it!"
Freya blinks and stares at Killian blankly for a moment before realisation floods through her. She jumps to her feet, almost unbalancing the good captain as she rushes for one of the free lines and swoops down, swinging to shore where the others are hammering the other lines into place with Maleficent and Regina keeping an alert watch on the ghosts. A few moments later and Killian joins them on Camelot's shores.
"What are they? Or rather how can they be?" asks Regina.
"Mordred," replies Freya coldly before striding off in the direction of the castle, barely even blinking as she ends up walking through the misty vapour of the apparitions. "Don't worry, they can't hurt you," she calls to the others as she trudges onwards, before murmuring under her breath, "yet."
As the group walk through the streets of the lower town they see the wrecks and ruins of the homes, stalls and businesses. No longer is there life within this place; only rubble from the bricks and the blackened wood from the buildings remain. The further they go the more damage they see, until the wreckage becomes not simply that of buildings. Abandoned bodies lay strewn and left as carrion for the crows. The endless empty silence of the deceased the only companion to their croaking caws and the sound of flesh being torn from bone. Lily wrinkles her nose in disgust as they pass a body causing the murder of crows to squawk and fly away from their pecking of dead flesh. She freezes in shock at the empty chasms where the little boy's eyes had once been.
"The shine of the eyes attracts them and is usually one of the first parts to be taken away," whispers Maleficent as she places a comforting arm around her daughter and urges her to continue moving with the rest.
The group hurry onwards; some keeping their gaze forwards, others letting their eyes dart around alert for any hidden dangers. All eyes flinch away as they walk under the portcullis. They all, apart from Maleficent and Freya, hold a hand or arm up against their mouths and noses to block out the stench and reek of the disembodied heads rotting upon the spikes and the scent of the rusting blood on the metal gate. Freya remains emotionless yet pale. She sees the sights and can feel nothing for it all. There is only emptiness. Maleficent has seen such sights like it before but is not unaffected because her friend had cared for these people and once been friend to them all.
Their footsteps echo off the surrounding stone walls as they finally reach the cobbled courtyard. All seven glance around at the towering walls, turrets, arches and spires of the great castle of Camelot. Some of the gargoyles, guarding over the castle from the turrets, remain unspoiled whilst the rest lie broken on the cobbles. What was once a place of astonishing beauty made from white stone and stretching high into the heavens has become nothing more than a battleground. The darkened stain of blood spilt long ago seeps into the alabaster stone, blemishing it and serving as a stark grim reminder of some terrible incident that occurred within Camelot's walls months ago. Here there is little rubble, only blood and bones.
The septet head in the direction of the great entrance to the Citadel but slow as they grow closer to the many steps. They too are stained with blood and bone. The afternoon sun glints off the broken remnants of a number of the castle's windows. Glancing around, halted before the deformed metal statue that had served as a reminder for what a good and true Knight of Camelot was, Freya's eyes flicker over the archways and pillared walkways that now bear scorch marks - ones that could only have been made by fireballs created from the darkest of magic. As the others also stop and look around Killian glances at the cobbles they walk on, noting they seem to be covered with a layer of grime. He pauses and bends, using a gloved hand to scoop dirt off the stone.
"What is it?" queries Robin but it is the dragoness that answers him after taking a deep breath of the air around her.
"Ash mixed with the remains of the people that were burned."
"Not a single soul. The Great Hall is derelict and dusty," comments David after looking through one of the remaining tall glass windows built into the Citadel. "Surely not all of Camelot are in our world or dead."
"How right you are," declares a grating voice that seems to reverberate off the stone walls surrounding them.
Freya halts - the others stopping at the same time and automatically spreading out behind her with Killian being the closest to the Lady of the Lake - and glares up at the royal balcony that overlooks the courtyard. "Mordred."
"Lady Freya! This is an honour. Truly. How'd you like my greeting party?" the same voice laughs from the shadows. "Such pitiful things. Simply left with only a few Knights of Camelot. They were so easy to overthrow, as were the chains Arthur bound me in twenty-eight years ago. Did you know they imprisoned me? All for just trying to rid this world of those that seek to eradicate us."
"King Arthur wants equality for all, not genocide. That seems to be more your territory," David calls up to the faceless man from behind and to the left of Freya.
"Equality? Don't make me laugh," replies Mordred as he moves out of the shadows and leans against the white marble of the ledge enclosing the balcony. "How is it he strives for equality if he will not accept all in this world within such hallowed walls. Why even Lady Freya was bound by laws should she ever visit this place, something you rarely did. Yet, curiously you remained loyal to him and Camelot," the black-haired man tilts his head in confusion as his brown, almost black, eyes narrow.
"Why?" she asks in a quiet voice, the single word trembling and cracking.
"How pitiful you look dear Lady of the Lake," he sneers in an adenoidal tone of voice. "Oh, does it hurt to see your precious Camelotians made thus? I thought it would. All those years locked up and yet no time passed in terms of our aging because the rest of our world did not move onwards. It gave me a long long time to learn so much. And then when I was finally free I discovered I would be unable to gain my revenge against Arthur and his beloved Guinevere because they were in another world that I had no way of getting to. I had thought all lost, but imagine my shock when, after much vigorous torture dear sweet Morgana Le Fay chirped. So I searched for a way that I might be able to make you open that lovely little portal in Avalon, and I found it: The Spectres Curse. Ah, you know it," he grins when Freya flinches at the name. "Drags their souls from their rest and chains them to me."
"I will put an end to this, Mordred," the redhead declares through watery eyes.
"You're going to fight me? How quaint dear Lady. You have seen the army I have in my grasp. You got this far purely because it is rather draining to keep the link and mastery over so many all the time. But with a simple wave of my hands I can make all those ghosts defend me and attack you. What an army it is. They continue to feel pain, and suffer such mindless pain they do, but no matter how agonising it becomes they remain unable to resist my commands; unable to ever even truly die!"
"You're a monster."
"Now now, Lady Freya, there's no need to throw such mean words about. I did this all for you," the sleek-haired man grins maliciously at the pain his words inflict for he knows she can sense the pain of all the ghosts nearby, the pain of his army. "But it seems your companions still mean to wage war upon me. Your own will to do such a thing is slowly extinguishing as all their pain swims around you. You cannot win."
"We have to," declares Freya, her voice filled with agony.
And how exactly will you do that when this is what you bring to fight me?" laughs Mordred as he stands atop the balcony gazing down at the,. "The scruffy pirate, dragoness and Evil Queen don't aid you in this battle. They're simply weaknesses because of your feelings for them," spits out the raven-haired man in disgust at the idea. "And on top of that they have become oh so weak! I can feel it on them. Oh Regina, you've lost your spark. Where's all that darkness gone? The pirate was never of much use. Barely any darkness in him before, and even less now. And Mal, oh now you might have once proved a good contest for me, but you're getting on in years it seems."
"I'll show you -" snarls Maleficent to the right of Killian.
"It's what he wants," interrupts Freya in a small quiet voice, her face blank and emotionless but her green gaze never moving from Mordred's pink face.
Mordred laughs and continues to prowl across the balcony staring down at the group gathered in the courtyard. "The others are but a prince; what's he going to do? Order me to death? A woodsman?" he frowns for a moment, sniffs and then smiles manically. "Yes a woodsman; he has the smell of the forest about him. I'm not a tree to fell, though perhaps I can make use of him once I've dealt with you all. I've been meaning to clear the Evergreen Meadow for some time," he winks, dropping to the ground in front of them before dancing over to stand closer to Lily, resulting in Maleficent moving imperceptibly closer to her daughter and growling at the man in front of them; an action Mordred ignores. "And a human? Now that is precious. Oh, but this one has a bit of the darkness in her. That is beautiful. Not quite as lovely as your darkness Freya. Now that is something to behold. Come on my dear Lady, show me a taste of it. Use your rage," he commands, strutting back to look into Freya's agonised eyes. "No? But I thrust my sword into your brother's belly. And then I shoved my hand into the wound, pouring oil of the Mortaeus flower inside him. Oh how he screamed. Such terrible screams, and they couldn't do a thing to stop his pain or ease his passing."
"Enough!" shouts Hook as he launches himself at the sorcerer, expertly swinging his sword with one hand and using his hook to pierce through the flesh and muscle of his upper arm.
Mordred screams in agony as Hook slams him back against the cold stone of the castle's outer walls. The sorcerer glares at the pirate and lets loose a distorted yell. The captain is shoved back by an invisible force, falling to the ground and being held there under Mordred's control. At the same time a multitude of anguishing cries fills the air and the ghosts begin to reappear in the courtyard. The poignant Latin music gone and replaced by nothing but a fleet of terrorising screams from the ghosts. A group of the ghosts walk through Maleficent before gathering around her in a circle and touching parts of her body. The dragon-witch screams long and continuous as she claws at her hair and her face whitens.
"Mom!" shouts Lily but is restrained by Prince David from getting closer.
"Don't let them touch you. You'll feel a concentrated amount of their pain wherever they touch you," warns Freya as she flinches at her friend's screams but doesn't take her eyes off of Mordred.
"Thanks for the warning," bites out Maleficent in a hoarse voice. "Enough of this!" she declares before her form is suddenly shrouded in smoke and begins to grow and transform.
Freya rolls her eyes back and reaches up to the skies. The bright sunshine disappears along with the calm blue sky as thick black clouds roil high above them. Hard and heavy the raindrops fall, crashing and pounding upon the cobblestones beneath their feet and clinging to their clothes.
"Rain? That's the best you've got?" laughs Mordred.
"No Mordred, with rain and such heat from the sun comes a storm," Freya explains monotonously as her eyes return to normal and she stares at the young man she had once hoped could help her find an apprentice. "This will hurt."
Behind her Regina throws fireball after fireball at the enclosing ghosts but each one simply passes through the spectres. The only reaction is that they screams of agony double each time. The same occurs with every slash of his sword that David makes, every arrow Robin fires, and every time Maleficent slices the ghosts with her tail and claws, bites them with her sharp teeth or snorts her dragon flames at them. The forms simply dissolve into mist as the weapon of choice passes through them and once through they reform and cry out in pain.
Killian meanwhile lays between Mordred and Freya, trapped beneath some invisible force pressing him against the hard and rough cobblestones under his back. His breath pushes out of him and he can feel his ribs begin to creak from the force being exerted upon them. His eyes widen as the sky above is lit up by a sudden flash of lightning that descends down and strikes the ground. He manages to tilt his head and sees Freya throw out one of her hands just as he feels the water pooling around him sizzle from the contact of the forked lightning.
A sudden male scream is all he hears before the force holding him disappears. He jumps to his feet without thinking and plunges his sword into the stomach of Mordred whose attention is too focused on glaring at Freya angrily. Mordred's eyes widen in shock before he glances down at the sword still sticking out of his abdomen and the blood pooling around the wound. His gaze drifts slowly up the hand and arm holding the weapon that is still shuddering from the force used to thrust it home. The sorcerer smiles, blood staining the inside of his mouth and dribbling down the sides of his lips, as he stares into the pirate's dark face.
"Captain Hook, a pleasure to have you back," he coughs out.
The blue-eyed man flinches as a feminine hand gently clasps his one good hand. "It's okay Killian. Pull out the sword. It's over."
"Freya," he whispers in shock slowly turning to gaze at the soaked red-head standing by his side with a much more peaceful expression on her face.
Killian relinquishes his hold on the helm of the sword and backs away in horror. Mordred remains standing, the sword pinning him in place against the walls of Camelot. Freya steps between them and gently cups the dying man's cheeks. Behind the leather-clad pirate the others watch on but keep a close watch on the ghosts that still remain hovering around them but that no longer scream or attack them. Even more rubble lies in the courtyard along with numerous scorch marks and arrows littered all around. Some parts of the area is completely demolished.
"I'm sorry for electrocuting you," says Freya.
"That was a mere zap that broke my concentration, hardly an electrocution," sneers the dark-eyed man. "You really have lost your touch, dear Lady."
Freya nods sadly before leaning in and whispering into Mordred's ear, "I forgive you."
She takes a couple of steps back and, after taking a few deep breaths, uses both hands to pull free the sword. The last of the rain washes the blood from the blade. The scarlet liquid pools in a puddle beneath Mordred's crumpled body as the death rattle fills the sudden quiet. The first ray of sunlight breaks through the thick clouds and lights upon the sorcerer's fallen body and Freya kneeling before him, whispering prayers of peace and forgiveness to the Goddess.
"Freya," calls out Killian, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the new arrivals in the courtyard.
Freya turns and gasps as she recognises some of the people hovering in the battleground. A few of the surviving Camelotians gaze at the group, tears shimmering in their eyes. Freya slowly stands and the gathered few all bow and curtsey. The Lady of the Lake acknowledges them before turning to the ghosts that stand staring unblinkingly at her. She moves slowly and carefully through the ruins of the courtyard until she stands before the soloist that had sang so poignantly and passionately.
"I am so sorry for what happened to you all. I cannot undo it or even make it right. All I can do is free you from your tether here on this world and let you go back to your place of rest."
"That is enough, my Lady," the young girl smiles, her other non-corporeal friends echoing the sentiment.
"Angus, Mary, Gawaine, Piotr and Gily I'll need your help. Bring your instruments to Avalon. We'll meet you there," commands Freya of the blonde-haired siblings Mary and Angus, the suave brunette knight Sir Gawaine, the green-eyed shy Piotr and the beautiful white blonde haired Gily.
"Yes mi'lady," chorus the three men and two women.
"Trish, is there anyone else -" drifts off the sorceress, her jade green gaze dropping from the pale-skinned young girl with short black hair and watery blue eyes.
"Yes, my fair Lady. Many of us escaped and found sanctuary in the Evergreen Meadow."
Freya sighs in relief and smiles before turning to the others. "I'm sorry for involving you all in my personal battle. Are you all okay?"
"We're fine Freya. Let's go to Avalon and you can help these people," David gestures to the waiting spectres. "And then return to our mission."