Living Legends 28: Lance’s Path

Avalon
Time and date unknown

“—at?”

Lance’s vision and balance rolled, and with it his stomach. He could only let Art slump to the floor as his equilibrium vanished. Lance dropped to the ground and unleashed the remnants of his seventy year old breakfast all over the cobblestone path.

Merlin shook her head. “You never listen at all, Du Lac.”

Lance didn’t even bother to respond to the girl. He struggled to regain his wind as the churning in his stomach lessened. After nearly a minute staring at his own vomit, he steadied himself enough to get back to his feet.

They stood on a loose cobblestone path surrounded by dewy grass. A thick haze filled the air around them. Through it, Lance could only see clearly a few yards ahead. He could only barely make out the shape of the massive stone mortuary.

Art moaned on the ground next to him. His strength quickly waned. He could barely remain conscious now.

“Help Mister Lake to his feet, Du Lac. We must hurry inside. She awaits.”

Merlin scurried off ahead while Lance lifted the near lifeless body of his friend in to his arms. He struggled under Art’s weight, but still carried him forward to the structure ahead.

He found a massive metal gate drawn up. A small bridge stretched across a trickling stream around the building. He supposed some would call it a moat. Lance thought it looked far too pathetic for that.

Merlin ran past the gate a few steps ahead. Lance followed her through the door.

“Hold, knave. Identify yourself.”

The voice dropped down upon him from above. Lance could only see beating wings and the flash of clawed hands on an otherwise human shaped form. But several more of the winged creatures dropped down around him.

He brought his lance up to strike, but it was already too late. The gargoyles (he could think of no better word to describe such creatures) surrounded him. A moment later they pounced.

He felt the first few of their strikes straight through his chain mail. The fourth blow caught him alongside the back of his skull. As he pitched forward, his vision blurred in to nothingness.

*****

“Wake up, Lance Larter. Your services are needed.”

Lance opened his eyes to a glowing radiance. Light seemed to flood every ounce of the room and it all flowed from the beautiful blond woman hovering over him. Her endlessly long hair shifted in the air as though floating in water. Though he never saw her before this moment, Lance instantly recognized the Lady of the Lake.

“What happened to me?”

“Your friend Merlin is a bit of a storyteller, I think. He brought you to the Wales, not to Avalon as he told you. His powers do not allow access to the golden hills of Avalon. He forfeited such rights many generations ago.”

She offered a hand to help him to his feet. He realized he was in a small cottage, suffused with the radiance not of the Lady, but of the sun that flooded the room behind her. But even the sun seemed to shine more brightly in Avalon.

“But his magics instantly drew the attention of my guardians. I apologize for the winged brethren’s sharp reaction to your presence. They treat armed guests as enemies, and often forget to question them before they strike. Thankfully, no harm came to you or your friend Arthur Lake.”

Lance grimaced at his friend’s name. “Art! How is he?”

“Your friend rests in the slumber of the near dead, Squire Larter. Come I’ll show you.”

The lady turned and walked away. With each step, her gown flowed around her legs as if in water. Lance couldn’t help but be distracted by the strange, almost mystical movements. He stood and watched them, almost mesmerized, before his friend’s well-being overtook the hypnotic movements. He hurried after the fast-moving Lady.

She walked in to a great chamber filled with tombs. A stone image of the late king housed inside each tomb sat atop each lid. As they continued in to the shadowy halls of the mausoleum chamber, each subsequent set of tombs grew in size.

All the tombs were immaculately clean, unlike any idea of a tomb he ever considered. His mind raced through dozens of movie serials and the spider-web covered shadows of Egyptian pyramids.

“Come, do not tarry here, young squire. Are place is with the living, not the dead.”

Lance hustled to catch up with her. He couldn’t help feel awkward as he hustled between the tombs in an effort to catch up. The Lady continued past the newest of the tombs, a massive affair adorned with the visage of a portly old queen.

The next room took Lance by surprise. After the ancient halls of the tomb, he didn’t expect to find a modern infirmary on the other end. But the fully staffed facility moved as if no one even noticed him. Doctors and nurses walked up and down the hall as they made their rounds.

“What is this?”

“Avalon’s magic rules over time and space. It isn’t hard for us to take an entire hospital wing and bring it to the island. The doctors and nurses come and go as need be, totally unaware of the warp in space and time through which they travel. It allows them to treat Arthur without removing him from the island.”

“They act like they don’t even see us.”

“A side effect of the magic. The temporary visitors cannot see Avalonians unless they are under the hospital’s care. We are specters to them. They won’t even feel our touch.”

Lance reached out as a nurse walked by, but before he could touch her, the Lady cleared her throat.

“We must not tarry here. We have to visit Arthur, so that I can explain to you our dilemma.”

Lance drew his arm back and followed the Lady down the hall. She stopped at the fourth room on the left, number 1155. Lance followed her inside.

Though connected to a number of modern medical apparatuses, the man in the bed still wore an ancient red tunic and britches. He lay on a cape, fastened by a buckle to each shoulder. A golden crown sat on his head. His beard was reddish-brown, though shot through with gray. He appeared maybe forty years in age, though Lance knew that in the circles of magic, age was relative.

“This isn’t Art. It’s—”

“Arthur, King of All Britain.”

“But I thought Art was King Arthur? That’s what he always believed. It’s what he was told when he drew Excalibur from the stone. If he’s here, then how can—?”

The Lady walked to the other side of the room and pulled a curtain aside. Lance blinked in confusion. He hadn’t even realized this room wasn’t a single occupancy. With the curtain pulled aside, he could see the unconscious form of Arthur Lake.

“How can Arthur be the Arthur if the Arthur is sitting right here beside him?”

“Your friend Arthur was not the King of All Britain, Squire Larter. He was only a boy gifted with a great mission. The time of Arthur’s resurrection grew near, and the woman you knew as Faye Morgana already walked the earth. I needed away to keep Morgana from finding Avalon and doing harm to the king. So I went in search of a man worthy enough to carry Arthur’s sword. I found a boy, your friend Arthur Lake.

“I gave him the blade. I let him draw it from the stone and become the Sword of Camelot. With Excalibur in his hands, Morgana would focus her attentions on him. Avalon and the king would be safe until his revival.”

“You used him as a scapegoat? You set him up to be attacked by that mad witch?”

“I did what was necessary for the future of this world, Squire! I did not leave him unprotected! I gave him Excalibur. I gave him allies in you and Merlin! It was not the perfect solution, but it would keep the king safe.”

She shook her head. “But fate stepped in to curse my plan. Arthur Lake and you disappeared from existence, lost in time. Seventy years is but a moment in time to Avalon, but it was enough time for Morgana to find us. She reached out to a group of our gargoyle watchers and convinced them to turn against Avalon and the legacy of Camelot. The traitors were discovered before they could burn the island to the ground, but not before one of them poisoned Arthur.”

Lance couldn’t believe his ears. He heard her. He understood her. He just couldn’t quite believe her. He couldn’t begin to fathom it. How could everything we worked for be a lie?

The Lady of the Lake sat down on the side of Arthur’s bed. She ran a hand gently through his red-gray hair. “We don’t know how to cure him. The doctors have tried dozens of treatments, but nothing can stop the poison. Only the magic of Avalon can keep the poison from completing its final task. And even its power cannot save the king forever. Time grows short. He may have a few years left at best and should he awake, he would die instantly.”

“I see where this is going. You bring me here, and you tell me that you’ve lied to us about the very reason for our existence. Now you want me to pull your bacon from the fire again!”

“I need your help to guarantee the safety of the free world. Arthur’s fate connects to the fate of the whole realm of Britain. Not just Great Britain, but any land the people of the British Isles touched or claimed as their own. The power of the ley lines calls and connects to Arthur. Without his presence, I fear a cataclysm of epic proportion. A new dark ages will emerge, one from which the world will never escape. Yes, I’m asking for your help. My gargoyles cannot operate outside the realms of magic for long, and Merlin… Let’s just say Merlin must stop his dalliances with my sister Nimue before he is turned to something worse than a tree or a little girl.

“The king does not face death alone. The ailment that threatens the king also threatens your friend. The two have formed a link through Excalibur. The same poison courses through your friend’s veins. If Arthur Pendragon dies, so too does Arthur Lake. If the fate of all mankind cannot bring you to act, I pray the fate of your friend will.”

“You manipulated us with lies when you gave us these powers, and now you seek to manipulate me with the truth. Do you truly believe you’re better than Faye Morgana?”

“Morgana’s dark arts threaten all mankind, and you dare compare her to me? I’ve struck down lesser men for far less!”

“I suspect you differ little from your sister then. Or from Morgana!”

The Lady’s visage turned sour. Lance could feel the energy pour from her skin as her eyes fell on him with anger. “You… you…”

The rage fell from her face.

“I fear you may be right, Squire Larter. I have betrayed you and Arthur Lake in the name of the king. But I did not do it out of malice, nor do I ask this boon of you with any great ease. I have nowhere else to turn, Lance. Without you all is lost.”

Lance chewed on those words for a moment. He could see now how duty bound him. “When this is over, you and I will have a reckoning. I promise you this.”

The Lady of the Lake nodded her head. “I suspect we could have it no other way. So be it.”

“Where do I start then? How can I save the King?”

“Only a token of great healing power can tear the poison from the Pendragon’s body. I have sensed such an object in a city known as Valhalla, not far from the place you once called home.”

“I have heard of it. Hero calls it home. He could help us find it.”

“No more, I fear. The man you call Hero passed from the mortal coil almost a decade ago. And dark forces grow in the city he called home. It is with those forces of evil that the Oparian Eye now rests. You must find away in to their sanctuary and regain the eye.”

“Valhalla is a large city. How will I ever find this Eye?”

The Lady reached a hand in to her gowns. As she pulled it free, a sword appeared from nowhere.

“With Arthur Lake’s sickness, his power over Excalibur will fade and with it your own powers. This blade is Caliburn, sister of Excalibur, and I grant it to you now.”

She turned the sword in her hands. She rested the blade against her palms as she offered the hilt to him. Lance stared at the shining blade as he took Caliburn in his hand.

Energy flashed across his skin as blue and silver chainmail appeared upon his skin. Caliburn burned with a holy light.

“Lance Larter, you hold the fate of Avalon and all of Camelot in your hand. Do you accept this quest?”

“I do.” Lance rested the tip of his blade on the ground as he kneeled before her. “I will complete your quest and save both Arthurs.”

“Good. Much time has been wasted already. Be gone to the city of Valhalla. But hurry, I cannot say how long your friends will survive without you. Weeks at best.”

Lance nodded. “Do it then. Send me there.”

“As you wish.”

With a sweep of her hand, the Lady and the rest of the room vanished. Back dressed in normal street clothes, Lance stood inside a small newsstand. He grabbed the nearest paper, the Valhalla Horn, and looked at the date: June 21, 2010. Another three years lost to the vagaries of Avalon.

He dropped the paper where he found it and set out in to the streets of the city.

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