It is late spring, the sun has already set, but the hot, humid air makes you think it's summer. It is not raining outside, but you can hear the claps of thunder and see flashes through the small window that lightens the room in the attic. You sit at the desk, almost in a hypnotic trance, busily typing your story. No, it's more than that. It's your fourth novel, but the first one in five years. At first, you didn't want to go back into writing. The first two books were a success, but that was ten years ago. The last one was not well received. This story will be a masterpiece, you tell yourself. You know it will be. Your reluctance to write again was overpowered by the mysterious and awesome story that just came to you one night, two weeks earlier. It wouldn't let you go. Last week, you turned on the rusty computer in the attic, and haven't stopped typing since.
In a frenzy to get down your thoughts before they escape you, you realize you are typing faster than you have ever before. And longer. Lunch is long gone, dinner as well. It is nearing 9:00 at night and you're starving. 'After this chapter, I'll go find something to eat' you tell yourself. Then you smile, that's what you have been telling yourself all evening. Yet you have moved only to stretch your exhausted fingers. Clap! The sky roars outside. Suddenly aware that the storm is in very close proximity (there was about a second in between the lightning and the thunder), you absently move you're right hand to the mouse and press SAVE. The computer works nosily for a few seconds, and you take this time to stretch out your neck. You look around, the attic is completely dark except for the eerie glow of the computer and the occasional light from the skies. The computer silences itself once again. You sit back down, re-reading the last passage that you typed, wondering if you should grab a quick bite to eat. Y ou know there's nothing in the fridge. Perhaps an apple, but that wouldn't hold you. Then you come across a missed detail in the last paragraph. You start typing again. CLAP! The lightning is extremely close this time, but you pay no attention to it. As you end your sentence, just before you press the period, another bright light, but this one doesn't flash and go away. With your pinky poised over the period, you freeze. Something's wrong. It's still bright. You turn your head to the small window. It seems like time has just frozen in the middle of the flash. Suddenly, the computer gives a whine, and yellow sparks come out of it. Blue strings of electricity escape from the monitor and keyboard and rushes into your frozen fingers and transverses into your body. That is the last thing you see before it suddenly goes dark.
You open your eyes to hazy light. You realize that you're not sitting anymore, and fear strikes you. You don't think you're in your attic. As your eyes adjust, you grope around, hoping to find something familiar. Your fingers brush against a soft carpet under you. As you regain your vision you think to yourself 'I don't remember any dusty, green shag carpet in the attic.' As this thought enters your mind, the realization of what happened with the computer and the storm hits like a brick wall. Lurching into a sitting position, you slam your head into the rock outcropping above you. "Ouch!" you exclaim angrily, rubbing your smashed nose, "Where'd that rock come from?"
The bleeding finally staunched, you stand up carefully, fully expecting to meet the ground in moments. You are not disappointed. Again you pick yourself up. This time after a few unsteady steps you manage to stay upright. You squint in the bright sunlight and take in the view. All around you there are green rolling hills and cliffs, there are few clouds in the sky and it is unseasonably warm. As you look closer you see some squat trees here and there, extending into a vast forest. A glint of sunshine catches your eye. You look closer and from out of the dense forest a black armor clad knight charges. 'Awesome!' you think. Then you realize that he is charging towards you! And he's getting closer! Frantically you grab the nearest weapon. You look down and see that you are holding the charred remains of your computer. 'Well, you think, I always said words are mightier than the sword.'
As the black knight comes closer, you steady your footing. He extends his lance and points it towards you. Without thinking, as his lance nears your head, you heave the burnt monitor at him. The horse is surprised, and neighs, standing on its hind legs. The monitor crashes into the knight, square on his chest, and he falls backwards, off the horse. He is not moving. Frightened, the horse gallops away into the forest. You step closer to the fallen man, and he suddenly heaves to his feet and draws a sword. He marches towards you, the tip of the blade shining in the sun.
"Wait!" You exclaim. "It was a mistake! I am new to this land, and you came towards me..." you search desperately for more to say, something to stop him!!! But he speaks before you have the chance to continue. "You are a wicked one. How dare you trespass King Arthur's land, and how dare you challenge his loyal servants?" He says the last words in a growl. He raises the sword. Suddenly, you are engulfed in black smoke and as it clears, you find yourself in a dark room.
"Not again!" you say outloud. "Again for what?" A voice behind you asks.
Startled, you turn around and stand face to face with an old, haggard woman. "I have been watching you, child. You can't lie to me. Now who are you? Where have you come from?" You stammer, "My name is Rhea. I don't know how I got here... I was writing at home and
"Writing?" She interrupts, and…
"Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rime;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory."
She laughs. "Bold words for such a woman. Then perhaps you are who you say you are. Then that means my spell worked!"
"Spell?" you ask.
She laughs again. You gaze at her questioningly.
"Oh, don't worry about it, she says, just the ramblings of a old woman."
Strangely enough you begin to feel comfortable around her despite the suspicious nature of your arrival. You start to say something, you're not sure what but reasonably infer that it will be something important.
"Gahhhh…."
The old woman looks at you pityingly and offers you a stool and a cup of tea. You numbly accept, appalled by your lack of conversation."
Don't worry, she says, this has bound to be something of a shock to you."
Gratefully you take the earthenware cup of steaming liquid and begin to grow fond of this woman. You take a sip to collect your thoughts. 'Curious taste' you think to your self. Finally you formulate the question that has been on your mind since you arrived in the cot. "What is this spell you are talking about and what does it have to do with me?"
"Well, she starts, it has to do with a prophecy brought out of the mists of Avalon many years ago by the queens who reside there. It was the time of Uther the Pendragon, he was waging a bloody war to gain a kingdom. The prophecy told of a woman of many words that would come from a far away place. She was to be endowed with great magic of which no one knows. This is the magic that can be used to preserve or to shatter the kingdom of peace."
"And this has what to do with me?" you ask, finishing your tea.
She leans over and refills your cup and answers, "I and others believe that you are the one that the prophecy speaks of."
"Me? What others?" you ask, drinking again from the cup, your words slurring slightly.
You notice that your vision seems to be hazy and your eyelids are growing heavy. As your vision slowly fades a large man walks out of the shadows of the cot. Two more men enter the cottage and grab you roughly by the arms. You try in vain to struggle but the drug in the tea seeps through your body stealing away your strength. They easily wrench your arms behind your back and bind them tightly, they then take a rag and gag you so you can't make a sound. A cloak is thrown around your shoulders and the hood drawn down across your face. You can see nothing except the floor directly in front of you.
With your last ounce of concentration you hear the man say to the old woman,
"You're sure she's the one?"
The woman makes an affirmative noise.
"Good! Here's your money, witch!"
Then you fad away into the darkness. They place you unconscious one a horse in front of one of the thugs.
Hours later you awake to the jostling of the horse beneath you. You have a pounding headache. Absently you move around trying to get comfortable. Then you realize that there is an arm clamped around your waist, you hear a voice from behind you.
"Stop moving, you stupid girl." a rough grumble commands.
You stiffen and the events of the previous day force themselves back into reality. You start to retort angrily and realize that you are still gagged. Half an hour later or so you think since you can see nothing you are dragged down from the horse and stumble into a tent. There they rip the cloak off and force you to the ground. You strain your eyes to discover your whereabouts but it is too dark to see anything. The men tie your feet together and back you up to a pole, they then tie you to the pole in the middle of the tent. The gag is removed and left loose about your neck.
"Please, you croak through dry, parched lips, water."
A cup is brought and held to your lips, you drink greedily. Then to your dismay the gag is replaced and you are blindfolded. You hear the sounds of the men leaving and realize that you are all alone. Briefly you try to work the bonds in hopes of escape but the drug is still in your system zapping your strength. You give up, escape is impossible. Panic begins to rise and you spend several minutes battling to remain calm. You are partially successful but the fear remains. Despite this you sleep.
The next morning you are awakened by a kick to the ribs. The bonds on your ankles are cut and you are loosed from the pole, however your hands remain tied. You are wrapped once again in the cloak and the blindfold is removed. They push you out of the tent and lift you up on a horse. An arm comes around you holding you in place like an iron band. All day you travel thus knowing nothing about where they are taking you or what they want with you.
As night falls, as you assume from the fading light that trickles beneath the hood, you are dragged from the saddle. Pushed ahead by unseen hands you stumble along. After awhile the hands stop you and tear away the cloak. You blink furiously half blinded by the brightly-lit room. On a dais several feet in front of you sits the man you saw in the old witch's cot.
"Welcome to my humble home. Did you enjoy your trip?" he says mockingly.
"Oh, ya it was great." you reply sarcastically, silently cursing yourself for the ever present dry wit in your personality.
The man's smile fads and in a flat, cold tone he commands, "Bring her here." Two guards detach themselves from the wall and grab your arms. They drag you to the foot of the dais. "Do you know who you address? I'm Modred the fiend son of King Arthur." You gasp and turn deathly pale, you are well aware of the legends of King Arthur and Modred. He nods in satisfaction at your reaction. "What do you want with me!" you cry in desperation. "You are the instrument of prophecy. You possess the magic I need to destroy this land." he sneers.
"I don't have any magic!"
"You do and if you wish to continue your pathetic existence you will wield it for me!" he shouts.
"But I can't!! I don't know what you're talking about! I'm just a writer." you try to explain.
"We have ways of making you change your mind. Guards, chain her in the pit!"
You are led down a passageway and begin to walk down a flight of stairs. Down and down you go, you begin to wonder if you will ever reach the bottom when you are pushed into a large chamber. You are taken toward a large hole in the floor and a ladder is tossed down. They untie your hands. With one guard descending below you and another above you, you enter the pit. Once you reach the bottom a door in the grating that divides the pit in half is opened. You are led to the far wall and your wrists are chained to the wall. The guards leave taking the ladder with them. The only light is faint coming from a torch near the stairs. You look up, the pit seems to go on forever. There's no way you'd be able to scale the wall even if you got free of the chains and the cell. Besides it looks to be a sheer wall. The fear and hopelessness of your situation begins to close in on you. Suddenly you hear a small sound.
"Who's there!" you cry wildly, your heart pounding in fear.
"Quiet!" a voice whispers, and a person steps into the faint light in a small cell situated on the other side of the your bars. "My name is Gwen, I'm a prisoner as well. Why are you here?"
You debate about whether it is a good idea to tell this person then decide to trust her if only a little otherwise it would be very lonely.
"I'm Rhea. Modred thinks I'm a person from some sort of prophecy and he wants to use my supposed magic to destroy the land." >
Gwen makes a small sound "The prophecy has come!" she whispers in horror. "We must find a way out, so he can't use you to betray my husband. Oh, Lance please hurry!"
"What? Who's your husband and who's Lance?" you ask.
"My husband is Arthur. Modred plans to use me to stay his hand when the battle begins. Lance is my husband's finest knight and my champion. He will rescue me no matter what. And you too."
"That would mean that you are Guinevere." you mutter in amazement.
"Yes, call me Gwen." she replies.
In the short time you have known each other a camaraderie has developed and you become fast friends. Each has given the other hope, Gwen the hope of escape and you the hope of Modred's defeat.
"Hey, you say, when do they feed us? I haven't had anything to eat in days."
"Soon", Gwen answers, slightly amused at this turn in conversation. She was right. For soon after food was brought to the pit.
You look up and whisper quickly to Gwen, "Hey, who's that guard up there? He looks… well cleaner than the others." She quickly looks up and relief floods her face.
"Lance!" she breaths.
Moments later you hear a soft struggle at the lip of the pit and a body comes hurling down to crash in front of your cell. Shock at the dead man lying a few feet in front of you distracts you from the ladder falling down the side of the pit and the footsteps on the rungs. You come out of your shocked state when you hear the faint click of a lock and you look up to see Gwen step out of her cell and cry "Lance!"
"Quickly now we must leave the guard detail has been away too long." he says, anxiously.
"Wait, Gwen halts him, we must take Rhea with us. She is the instrument of the prophecy. We can't let Modred use her. She doesn't deserve that."
"The prophecy, oh these are indeed dark times." Lance says as he tries to find a key to fit the locks.
Finally the door opens and the key to the wrist irons is quickly found and utilized. The three of you climb out of the pit and freeze as you see light bobbing toward you.
"Hurry, this way!" Lance ushers you and Gwen into a dark side tunnel, "Run!"
As you stumble down the dark passageway you hear Mordred's enraged scream as he discovers the dead guard and more importantly the empty pit.
"Find them!!!!!!"
The next words you hear freezes the blood fast in your veins.
"They went in here!"
"Damn, Lance hisses, our tracks! We must hide quickly!"
You scan the dark recess of the tunnel frantically. An edge of something catches your eye. You strain your eyes and…
"There, you cry out in a relieved half whisper, a ledge!"
Working quickly Lance boosts you and Gwen up to the ledge and then scrambles up himself. The three of you flatten yourselves to the ledge as a search party passes beneath you. You consciously try to suppress the beating of your racing heart for fear that the pounding, loud to your ears, will betray you. Once the troop is out of sight you sit up and looking around for a means of escape since going either forward or back is not an option, you notice a small fissure in the ceiling. As imperfect as your vision is in the dark you believe that you can see that the fissure opens into a large opening. Realizing that this is quite possible the only means of escape you excitedly point this fissure to Lance and Gwen.
"Yes, it looks climbable. Can you two make it?" Lance inquires.
You quickly look at Gwen and then nod to Lance.
"Yes, there's not really much choice, now is there?"
The three of you begin the climb to freedom. You pause momentarily on the ledge waiting for Gwen to climb high enough for you to begin. Small showers of rock slide down the side of the wall kicked loose by the passage of Lance and Gwen who are proceeding you up the wall. The order of this rather impromptu climb was decided largely due to the fact that Lance being an accomplish swordsman should be first in order to deal with an threat waiting at the top and you with your climbing experience, thanks to your recreational pastime, to bring up the rear. An order that you begin to regret as soon as you start the grueling climb. All your muscles burn in protest, several days bound and chained had left you weakened. Every breath is laboriously drawn passed a tightened throat to your lungs. Halfway up you find yourself struggling and stop bracing you feet against the wall. Unintentionally you glance down, a wave of giddiness and nausea pass through you. You close your eyes and lay your face against the cool rough w all waiting for the worst of the vertigo to pass. You hear the soft scrape of leather on rock and feel a hand on your shoulder. You open your eyes to find yourself staring in to the compassionate and understanding gaze of two large brown eyes.
"Come, I will help you." Lance whispers.
You blink and nod, searching for another foothold.
The fissure opens into a large cavern with a small tunnel sloping steeply downwards. You proceed carefully downwards but Gwen just ahead of you suddenly gives a startled gasp and her feet fly out from under her. Diving forward you make a grab for her arm hoping against hope to stop her from sliding all the way down. All this is in vain as you are jerked off your feet as well. Sliding and tumbling down the slope you manage to utter a quick warning to Lance who turns just in time to see the two of you hurtling toward him and knock him off his feet. You slide down about 30 feet and settle in a heap of tangled limbs on a sunlit beach. 'Free!' you think as you untangle yourself from the others and squint in the bright sunlight. Unknown to you that a troop of Modred's men lay in wait behind an outcropping of rock.
The search party that had passes under the ledge had returned and been alerted to your presence by the crumbling rock you had loosed from the wall in your climb. They had climbed the fissure and reached the top just as you began down the tunnel. Knowing where that tunnel led they rushed back to Modred who dispatched a troop of men to ambush you when you emerged from the tunnel.
With a cry, the men snapped the trap shut. Surrounding you, Gwen and Lance bared steel in their hands. Two men grab you and Gwen from behind holding you tightly by the elbows. Lance with his lightening quick reflexes ripped his sword from the scabbard and attacked. He took out two with the first blow as his sword cleaved through bone and flesh to emerge in a spray of blood. Another he split open from neck to crotch. While engaging the fourth man, two others slipped behind him, swords poised to slice into his unprotected back.
"Lance, lookout behin…" Gwen screamed before the huge sweaty palm of the guard holding her pressed against her mouth silenced her.
Lance whips around and barely manages to avoid the first sword but the other slices into his left shoulder.
Seeing the danger Lance is in, something crumbles inside of you like a wall being torn down. In a cool, detached manner you take out the man holding you with two quick blows, one to the stomach and another to the head. Bending down you take up the dead man's sword and rush to Lance's aid. Moments later, though to you it seems hours, you come to your senses. A small shiver runs up your spine as you take in the carnage that surrounds you. Men lay dead or dying everywhere you look. You look in horror at the bloody blade you hold in your right hand. The sunlight glints off the sword as it slips from your nerveless fingers to fall to the ground. An arm comes around your waist supporting you as the shock of what you just did hits you. You look over to see Lance supporting your weight with his one good arm, his left hangs useless.
"I did this." you whisper.
"Yes, he says simply. Come we must go while we can."
Lance helps you up on to one of the 2 horses Gwen had found around the bluff. Gwen mounts behind you and the three of you ride off, Gwen working to keep you in the saddle. A few leagues from the castle you stop in a thick patch of trees. You slide out of the saddle and collapse beneath a tree, Gwen presses some food that she found in one of the saddlebags into your hands urging you to eat. You do so mechanically the food like ashes in your mouth. An hour later still numb Gwen and Lance force you to mount the horse once more this time tying your hands to the pommel in order to keep you on. Gwen seated behind you again you set off for Camelot.
Head lolling and near dead with exhaustion you pass through the iron portcullis and halt in the courtyard. You hardly notice your wrists being untied and then at Gwen's insistence you dismount and hurriedly grab the stirrup as your knees buckle at the impact. Allowing the horse to support your weight you glance around, blearily. Unable to fight the dizzying sensation any longer, you give into the black void. The last thing you feel is the sensation of falling.
Later you awaken to find yourself warm and cozy in a feather bed. There is a murmur of voices near the far end of the room. That was the noise that had caused you to wake. Deciding to listen first to see if you could discover their intentions towards you, you pretend to still be asleep. The little bits of the conversation that you hear seem to be discussing your future and the prophecy that you are supposedly the instrument of. Finally, deciding that the discussion had gone far enough in the deciding of your future without your consent, you tactfully groan and open your eyes.
The two men at the end of the bed near the door jump and stare at you in the most extraordinary way. The silence, which was growing painfully long, was broken by the appearance of Gwen carrying a tray.
"Kay! Galahad! What are you doing here? Leave at once! It is not decent for you to see a lady in her nightgown." She admonished.
"Umm, we were just seeing to her comfort, milady. We didn't want her to wake alone and confused." The big man replied stammering.
"Really, Kay I would have thought you'd be the first to realize and respect the decency of a lady but I can't fault your intentions, they were meant in kindness. Now shoo!"
The two men, one big, Kay and one dark, Galahad quick left the room each with a muttered "Good day, madam."
"Here, Gwen said coming to the bed, I've brought you some breakfast. Eat up quickly. I'll be back soon with your gown. You can't meet the king in a nightgown."
With that she left the room.
'The king' you think to yourself, 'I'm going to meet King Arthur.' You dig into your breakfast of sausage, eggs and fresh bread. 'Maybe I'll finally get some answers.
