Excalibur Rising (32 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Todd
     Todd stopped at the entrance to the last cave. He could see that this final chamber had once been guarded by iron gates, but the gates were open now and the girl in blue had gone on ahead to wave her hand and light the wall torches.
     All of this was beyond Todd’s comprehension.  Despite the research he had carried out for Violet, the ancient, grainy pictures he had pulled from the internet, or even the flamboyant poesy of Mallory and Tennyson, nothing in his life had prepared him for the sight of Arthur and his knights lying in a row like colorful wax statues.  He made an attempt to rationalize what he was seeing.  Perhaps they were just wax dummies, because surely they were not the real thing. They were not knights from a parallel universe sleeping the centuries away, waiting for the magical sword.
      The sword Excalibur was silent in his hands.  To him this sword, for the sake of which people had already died, was nothing more than a modest creation of little artistic value, and he could not tell why it had such a profound effect on other people. Most certainly if he was directing a production of Camelot, Excalibur would require a far more dramatic prop, something in bright gold, with large gem stones, and perhaps some words carved along the blade.
     Rowan, the old woman with the very creative hairstyle, turned to face him. “Place the sword in the king’s hands,” she said.
      Todd surveyed the row of wax dummies. “Which is the king?” he asked.
      Rowan looked at him impatiently. “You can’t tell, you really can’t tell?” she asked. “I wonder where your ancestors came from.”
      She shook her head. “No, don’t answer that.  We don’t have time to waste on idle speculation.”
     She pointed to a wooden pallet that was raised higher than the others, and to the inert figure of a knight, the only one who was not clasping a sword in his hands.
      “That one,” said Rowan. “He is the king.”
      Todd approached and looked down at the still figure of the king.  Arthur was not a young man.  His hair and beard were grey but his shoulders were broad and he had a barrel chest and sturdy legs. 
      “Place the sword  in his hands,” said the old woman.
      Todd touched the knight’s hands.  He expected them to be cold and stiff, but they were warm, as though blood was still flowing in his veins.  He placed the sword on the knight’s chest and then moved the knight’s hands so that they were clasping the sword.
      He stepped back.  While it was true that the sword itself was having no effect on him, everything else was serving to terrify him.  Bad enough to have survived the wrecking of the limousine, and the hair-raising ride in the open Jeep or whatever the hell it was, but now they were deep underground in a chamber that was surely going to be flooded just as soon as the water rose high enough in the valley.  He wondered how long Violet and Elaine planned to just stand there looking at those impossible un-dead bodies and ignoring the fact that they were all going to drown?
     He edged towards the doorway, plotting his escape.  He would sprint through the tunnels, and if the blonde with the magic fingers was not available to light the lamps, he would use his cell phone as a flashlight.  He would get out of the cave, out of the valley, and as far away as possible.  He wanted to be back in Key West playing Madame Arcati to an empty house, and going out drinking with his friends.  He needed to get his life back, and he needed his therapist. If he did not go immediately into therapy, this whole experience would scar him for life.
     No, he would not wait for Violet or anyone else to tell him to leave, he would make his own decision and he would go just as soon as he was sure that putting the sword into the knight’s hands had done nothing, absolutely nothing, which was obviously the case. 
      He stared at the king’s hands. The fingernails were short and blunt and none too clean and the hands themselves were large and bony, pitted with scars. As he watched, the scarred hands with the dirty fingernails twitched.  He held his breath, waiting.  The fingers twitched again and then both hands moved and the un-dead king took a firm grip of his sword.
     He heard movement behind him, rustling clothes, clanking metals, and the sharp intakes of a dozen breaths.  He turned slowly, and reluctantly, fearful of what he might see.  These men were dead. They had been dead for centuries, and surely the flesh was going to fall from their bones as soon as they moved.  Surely their clothes were going to disintegrate, leaving nothing but a roomful of animated, naked, skeletons.
     But they were not skeletons.  They seemed to be living, breathing, healthy men.  They were sitting up on their wooden biers, stretching their arms, looking around with eager curiosity, and speaking to each other in low murmurs.  The old woman answered them in soft, soothing tones, leading them to look in the direction of the king
     Todd looked back and saw that Arthur had opened his eyes, deep brown, beneath wild grey eyebrows.  He was looking round the cave with a quick intelligent glance, taking in everything and finally allowing his puzzled gaze to rest on Todd for a moment.  His glance slid away again. Obviously he was not ready to deal with something so deeply unfamiliar as a man in a tweed suit. 
     The first sounds from his throat were cracked, like a man who had gone very long without a drink, but soon he had his voice under control. 
He spoke in a thundering, commanding, bass tone.  The words meant nothing to Todd, but the tone was easy to interpret.  “Where the hell am I?”
     Rowan answered him in one long breathless sentence, pointing out the iron grill that had guarded the cave, the wooden pallets where the knights and slept, and then drawing his attention to a gaping hole in the king’s breastplate.  So, Todd thought, this was where he had received his mortal wound, the one that could only be healed by magic and a long, long rest.  Arthur placed his hand on his chest and drew a deep breath.  He smiled, and nodded his head, and then sprang lightly to his feet, still clasping the sword.
     He handled Excalibur with ease.  Todd had labored to carry the sword up the hillside but Arthur wielded it as though it weighed no more than a fencing foil.  Arthur held it above his head as he rallied his knights, and directed them towards the exit of the cave.
     The Knights of the Round Table passed before the king, each one lowering his head and clasping his chest in a Roman salute.  Todd heard Violet whispering their names, although how she could know their names was one more mystery in a day of mysteries.
     “Sir Ladinas of the Forest Savage, Sir Melion of the Mountain, Sir Gawain, Sir Percivale, Sir Lionel, Sir Bedivere, Sir Pelleas, Sir Edward of Carnarvon, Sir Gawain of Orkney, Sir Dinidan, Sir Galahad the Pure.”
     Arthur lifted his head and looked around the cave.
     “Sir Lamorak, Sir Griflet,” Violet continued.
      The king was becoming distracted and uneasy.
      “He’s not here,” Violet whispered.  “Who is going to tell him?”
      “I will,” said the old woman.
      She pushed aside the remaining knights and spoke directly to the king.
      “Who’s not here?” Todd asked.
     “Lancelot,” said Violet.  “He died somewhere outside the cave, a long time ago.”
      “But he’s only just finding out,” said Todd, “so it will be as though he died yesterday.”
      “There’s worse news to come,” said Violet. “Or at least I think it’s worse news.”
      “What?”
      “Guinevere,” said Violet.
      Several additional knights had already passed the king, each offering his loyal salute, but Arthur lowered his sword and turned away from them. 
      “Oh,” said Violet, “I hope this isn’t going to take long.”
      The old woman had taken hold of the king’s arm, and she was showing him something that was concealed behind one of the deserted pallets.
     “What is it?” Todd asked.
     “Guinevere’s bones,” said Violet.
     “But she was a___”
     “I know what she was,” said Violet. “Every story I have ever read says that Arthur loved her, but look where she died.”
     “Where?” Todd asked.
     “She died alongside Lancelot’s empty bier,” said Violet.  “She was unfaithful to Arthur even in death.”
     Arthur took no more than a moment to consider the remains of his wife.  He crossed himself quickly and then turned away and gestured to the assembled knights to start moving out of the cave.  His face was set in a grim expression and it seemed to Todd that the High King was in a mood to do battle with someone.  He was ready to put Excalibur into action.
Rowan grasped the king’s arm.  He slowed reluctantly and bent his head to listen to what she said. 
     “He has to know what’s happened while he was away,” said Violet.  “He has to know about Mordricus.”
     “Forget about Mordricus,” said Todd, “he has a bigger problem than that.  What’s going to happen when he gets outside? Think what he’s going to see, helicopters, cars, hundreds of people.  It’s going to blow his mind.”
     “Rowan will take him back through the gate,” said Violet, “It’s really close, and once he gets to the other side, he won’t need to understand what’s going on here.  As soon as Arthur and Excalibur are back on the other side, the gate will close, and he won’t have to think about what he saw here.  Maybe he’ll think it was a dream.”
     “I wish,” said Todd
      “Wish what?”
      “I wish it was all a dream,” Todd said. “How I am going to explain this to my therapist?”
      Violet frowned at him. “You are not going to breathe a word of this,” she said.
     “I won’t have to,” Todd replied. “Do you really think that a couple of dozen knights in medieval armor are going to just pass unnoticed in front of the news helicopters out there? ”
     “Oh.”
      “Video at six,” said Todd.
      Violet shrugged her shoulders.  “Well, it has to be done.”
      “What about you?” Todd asked.
     “I’m not going to tell anyone anything,” Violet said.
     “But are you going with them?”
     “With them?” said Violet. “No, of course not.  I belong here.”
     “Are you sure?” Todd asked.
     “I like my modern day comforts,” said Violet. “Now please, can we get moving?  Do I have to remind you again about the fact that we’re all going to drown?”
     Todd and Violet caught up with the king in the cavern behind the waterfall.  Freddie, Gavin and Robby had fallen to their knees, their eyes wide with wonder, their faces filled with a blind devotion to the tall man with the dragon symbol on his chest. The king, however, was not looking at his new subjects.  He had stepped out from behind the waterfall and was staring out across the valley.  Excalibur was in his right hand, and with his left hand he was holding back the knights who were crowded behind him.
     Rowan was talking to him again.  The king nodded his head.
     “What’s she telling him?” Todd asked.
     “I don’t know,” said Violet. “I don’t understand their language.”
     “Yes, you do,” Todd said. “Concentrate, I know you understand them.”
     Violet closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked at Todd and smiled.
      “She’s clever,” she said. “She told him that the helicopters are flying dragons, and dragons are not his quest.”
     She listened again.
     “Okay,” she said.  “He’s ready to move.  He trusts her, he always has. You can say goodbye if you want to.”
     “I never even said hello,” Todd protested. 
     “Neither did I,” said Violet. “He doesn’t even know I’m here.  Well, it’s too late now.”
     The king stepped away from the waterfall and onto the steep hillside path with Rowan at his side. The knights followed blinking in the sunlight.  They hesitated as a wall of sound hit them.  The air was full of noise, sirens from the dam, the roar of helicopter engines, and the rushing of water pouring through the sluice gates.
     Rowan urged the king forward, and the knights, with fearful glances at the hovering helicopters, followed behind. 
     “That’s the place,” said Violet. “Right there, that’s the gate.”
     “I don’t see a gate,” said Todd.
      “It’s somewhere in those bushes,” said Violet.  “See where the mist is rising, that means the gate is opening.  This will be all over in a minute.”
     The tendrils of mist wrapped around the base of the bushes, and then spread outwards, curling around Rowan’s legs.  Arthur hurried forward, sword in hand, obviously intending to be first.  Rowan pulled him back.
     “He has to be the last to go,” said Violet. “As soon as he is through, the gate will close.  The other knights have to go first.”
     Arthur turned to gather the knights around him.  He touched one of the knights on the shoulder.
     “Sir Melion of the Mountain,” said Violet.
     “How do you know these things?” Todd asked.
     “Don’t even ask,” said Violet.
      Sir Melion took a step forward. The mist boiled furiously upwards around his waist as if to welcome him back to his own world. He turned and saluted the king one more time, and the mist rose thickly to his shoulders.
     As Sir Melion disappeared from view Todd felt the ground tremble, and heard a pounding of horse’s hooves and a voice screaming “Stop.”
     The king turned quickly and stepped away from the gate, his sword balanced and ready in his hand.  Todd saw a herd of horses pouring over the crest of the hill above them in a flurry of dust.  They were led by a jet black stallion whose hooves flung aside mud and grass as he raced towards them.  He was followed by horses of every color, running free without saddle and bridle.  Only one of the horses carried a rider, Marcus Ryan, who rode astride a swift grey horse in the midst of the pack. 
     It was Ryan who shouted the warning.
     “Stop.”
Violet
     Violet had not expected to see Ryan again.  If Arthur was returned to his own world, there would be no need for them to continue their uneasy partnership.  What could they possibly say to each other?  If Mandretti had managed to survive the explosion of the blue car, Ryan would be wise to stay out of his way.  If Mandretti had died, then surely someone else would demand a reckoning.  Whichever way, she hoped that Ryan would find a way to vanish; wander off into some distant desert looking for treasure, or submerge himself beneath a faraway blue ocean where he could search for pirate bootie.  Although he had been an unwilling partner, there had been moments when she had thought that they might be something more to each other.  She had caught glimpses of a different future for them, but now that was impossible.  All she could do now was to hope that he would be safe.