Sons of Camelot: The Complete Trilogy (9 page)

“For the first time, I got a good look at him, but I could not see any features of a face beneath his cloak. What I was sure of though, is that he followed me one night through the castle at Avalon. I wondered if you know this man since the first time I noticed him was when he followed you from the dining hall after luncheon one day.”

“No face you say?”

“Not ‘no’ face, Erasmus. That would be silly. His face is always obscured by the hood of his cloak and usually he is too far away to really get a good look at.”

“I am not aware of any such man, Rhys. I can only advise that you refrain from peering into the face of creatures that prefer to remain faceless; you may not like what you eventually see.”

Rhys scoffed at the man’s words, dismissing them for superstitious nonsense. As soon as he did that, Erasmus grabbed him by both shoulders and gave him a stiff shake.

“There are many legions of evil abroad in England today, Rhys. Do not think that they do not know that Arthur seeks to destroy them. Instead, be careful that they do not destroy his instrument… you.”

***

Leeds, Yorkshire, England.

John sat perched on the highest point of the church in the middle of the town. He loved sitting up there, wishing he could fly like the many pigeons and crows that nested near the steeple and belfry.

Leeds had always been a special place for him, even when he was forced to spend whole seasons out in the countryside at Otley. There were only cattle at Otley and John hated cattle. The look of them, the smell of them, the sound of them. It was all unbearable.

Today, he wasn’t thinking of how much he hated Otley and cattle. Today, he was thinking of how much he loved Leeds and would miss her, but also of how it made him feel to defend her and save her; their country as well. After he had been knighted, his father had told him briefly of the possibility that he may be called to a gathering of the Sons one day. Then when he had sailed to the Shetland outpost with the last of Arthur’s men to defend the north against Norse invaders, he had told his son that if anything were to happen in England, then Arthur would have no choice but to call them to assemble.

“Be ready, John, and do not disobey the commands of your king when they come.”

***

Caerleon, England.

The next morning, Richard, Rhys and Erasmus said their goodbyes, mounted their horses and rode out of the gates of Camelot. Richard waved briefly to his younger brother, John, and his father, Caradoc. Rhys did the same before turning to look forward and sinking into a sullen mood.

“What is it, sir?” Erasmus asked, noting the knight’s expression.

“Why did my father not come, Erasmus? Why does he hate me so much?”

“I doubt that is the case, Sir Rhys. Perhaps when we get to Kenilwurt, you will know what kept him away.”

“Perhaps.”

Rhys blinked away the tears that threatened to form in his eyes, willing himself not to cry over things he had no control over. He had fought this same battle for his father’s acceptance his entire life and it seemed that even after achieving such a high honor as being knighted by the king, his father’s satisfaction was not attainable.

When they reached the bridge to the town of Caerleon, the three turned to take one last look at the magnificent castle. Its sand-colored stone walls shone golden in the light of the rising sun and the dew glistened magically on the lush, verdant hillside. The woods around the plain were just waking up and the sounds of birds were audible everywhere. Rhys noticed a small herd of deer grazing at the edge of the forest and paused to watch them. They looked at ease. Then he noticed as the stag raised his head suddenly and sniffed the air, then lowered his great horns again to the ground to feed.

It must have heard something, but found nothing on the wind to alarm him,
Rhys thought.

And then it happened. Rhys hardly had the chance to bring Richard and Erasmus’ attention to the attack before it was over and the stag had been dragged behind the dark tree line. A huge, black creature had erupted from the forest and pounced on the stag’s back, bringing the deer down under its weight alone. Then, with one dip of its jaws to the neck, the animal was dead and bleeding and being dragged away and out of sight.

“What was that?” Rhys murmured, half to himself.

“I didn’t see it,” Richard replied.

“Neither I,” Erasmus chimed in.

“It was no animal that I have ever seen before. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Chapter Nine

Arcadia

“He knows, your Majesty,” the cloaked being said simply to his king.

“What do you mean he knows, Drow?”

The cloaked man was suddenly angry at the derogatory title and threw the hood back from his head to face Oberon.

“My name is Erandur, King Oberon. It may suit you to remember that I, too, am a king of my people.”

“Indeed, friend. Forgive me. These are such difficult times that we are facing and it just hurts more to think that the humans may have discovered our plans.”

“Indeed.”

“How much does the boy know?”

“It is difficult to tell, but he has been doing a lot of travelling lately. Arthur recently knighted him at Camelot and fostered him as his surrogate among the Sons. I think they intend to gather them.”

Oberon’s face became red with anger. He threw the cup he held in his hand across the hall and shouted at the attendants.

“Bring the Advisors’ Council in to me immediately,” he boomed across the throne room.

He was confused and furious. The visions he was having recently had left him feeling suspicious and unsure, but he was certain that if their uprising against Eon and Mordred’s overthrow of Arthur were not successful, it would mean certain doom for him and his people as well as all his forces and the Dark Princes on Earth. The Advisors came walking into the room and took their respective seats in front of the high throne.

“I have seen what Mab sees in her dreams,” he started. “I do not like it.”

“What does she dream of, Sire?” asked the First.

“You know that I cannot see everything as she does, only parts of it,” he cautioned, “but I am sure that she has dreamt of the next Coming.”

The Advisors gasped in unison, exchanging worried glances and muttering amongst themselves.

“Silence!” Oberon shouted and a hurried hush fell over the five seated before him. “It is known that the Coming must happen occasionally if life in Eon is to continue; it is we who have made it so. We, of Arcadia, have concerned ourselves with it less and less over the centuries; however, I sense from her emotions that there is more to it this time.”

The five remained quiet out of fear of further reprimand from their King, but their worry and discontent was tangible within the room and written on all their faces. Oberon shuffled uneasily on his throne and beckoned to a nearby steward to fill his cup. He drank deeply from it and gestured that cups be brought for the Advisors.

After the brief refreshment, he resumed his oration.

“My Advisors, the Coming does not bother me, but is seems that Mab knows something of the war that is approaching. She now suspects that they will engage attacking forces
in Eon within the year. It will not be an easy fight for us; she is going to be well prepared.”

Finally, the First spoke. He was the governor of the council and the king’s chief advisor in all matters.

“The vision may be correct, Sire,” he said and the king looked at him with intent. “The Second has reported a myriad of goings on throughout the four realms and the increased reports over the last weeks have been disgruntling.”

“Indeed so,” the Second chimed in.

The Second was in charge of news gathering throughout the four worlds and he often knew of the happenings in Eon and on Earth before anyone else did. However, he did not possess the wit to always deduce what the news meant; that was the job of the twins, the Third and Forth advisors. They were the wizards who had accompanied Murganth into Eon to start the war and had failed. Oberon had secretly kept them alive and had taken them to Arcadia with him as a line of defense against Mab’s magic. They were gifted seers, talented at divination, sign reading and astrology.

The Second continued his report.

“My spies tell me that in Avalon, Morgana has named the next Three Sisters and that preparations have begun to begin the Thirteenth Age of the Sisterhood. On Earth, it is discovered that the line of the Dumnonian Dragon is alive in the Midlands and have become very powerful, boasting many brave men. The youngest has left Avalon and now rides beneath the standard of Gascogne, his mother’s house, to gather the Sons of the Round Table in Arthur’s name. His cousin, Richard, the true heir of Dumnonia, rides with him. And now we know that Eon prepares for invasion
.
”

“This is not coincidence,” Oberon said. “It cannot be by chance that two sons of the House of Dumnonia are abroad in England at Arthur’s will at the same time that dreams of the Dragon Prince spread among Eon’s royalty.”

“I think not sir; it is too convenient,” the First replied.

“How could Anlawwd Wledig’s line have survived?” Oberon asked. “He bore no sons and his kingdom fell to the hands of Cunedda. The Dragon is dead!”

“Aye, the Dragon’s line is dead,” the First agreed. “What say you, Twins?”

The Third and the Forth shook their heads and clucked their tongues. As if they were one person, they simultaneously stood from their seats and as they stood there, they began to sway in circles. Oberon leaned forward on his ivory throne and watched with eager eyes. The other three Advisors stood up and stepped aside to get out of the way of the two wizards; a lesson they had learned many years ago. The swaying continued and became accompanied by mumbling and then outright chanting.

The Fifth spoke up at that time and asked the stewards to remove the five chairs immediately. They had barely removed the last one before the Twins grabbed hold of each other and fell to the floor, still in their trance. Silence reigned over the throne room for several minutes until the two showed signs of revival. The First and the Second helped them to their feet, while the Fifth ordered the stewards to return the chairs to the center of the room. They all took their seats.

“The news is not good, Sire,” the Twins said in eerie unison. “We must summon Anebos immediately.”

The king did not hesitate.

“Summon the cambion to me now!” Oberon bellowed, sending several pages running from the room to do his bidding. “First and Second, you must find out how this is possible. If the house of Draig had no heir, how can the line live?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

***

Liverpool, England.

When Derrick received the parchment with the crest of King Arthur clearly imprinted into the sealing wax, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude. He had been praying to the gods for a suitable reason to leave home for months. His uncles had taken over the running of the estate and the managing of the land since his father’s departure and there had been a growing resentment between them for a while.

He took their decisive actions and their exclusion of him from the business as an indication that they truly believed his father would not return from the mainland. That Arthur’s campaign against the Romans would end in failure. As a knight of Arthur’s court, he considered that high treason. He would rather leave Liverpool and let his uncles continue to dig their own deep graves. When his father returned and saw the steps they had taken against him, it would be obvious that they had thought ill of the king and his plans and they would be brought to trial for it.

Derrick said nothing to anyone after he had read the letter; neither did he show it to anyone. He packed his bags, readied his horse and rode from the castle in the dead of night. He had decided to ride east, then south if needed until he met up with Rhys and the others instead of spending one more day on the estate.

Why should I care?
he asked himself as he kicked his horse into a full gallop down the road toward Manchester.
They probably will all celebrate when they find me missing in the morning.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed the many pairs of glowing yellow eyes that watched from the surrounding forests as he rode the horse hard to the east.

Earth

Just outside of Thoks’ Bury, they stopped along the banks of the river and took rooms at a roadside inn. They bathed and rested and took a light meal of roasted lamb with bread and cheese in the main hall of the inn. The innkeeper, a merry fat lady called Maeve poured ale into their mugs silently and left them alone together.

“We are more than halfway there now,” Rhys said, smiling broadly.

“Yes, we are,” Erasmus agreed. “We have made excellent time and the wagons have been keeping up with us the entire journey. Tomorrow’s ride will also be easy; there is no rain coming for a few more days at least.”