X-Calibur: The Trial (8 page)

“Not at the moment,” Merlin said with a wry smile. “But the day's not over yet!”

*****

The guards dragged Lance and Gwen forcibly back through the antechamber and down the stairs to the castle dungeons. The jailer met them at the bottom, smiling gleefully as he twirled the heavy ring of keys around in his hand.

“Not everyone gets to meet his majesty,” the jailer said as he escorted them back their cell. “I bet you're feeling pleased with yourselves right about now?”

“Oh yes, ecstatic,” Lance said sarcastically.

The jailer laughed. “I don't know what you got to be upset about,” he continued. “His highness insisted on me keeping you alive, for the time being at least. That's more than what he said about the others down here.”

“Why would you help him?” Gwen asked. “We know what happened to the hive, the millions of people he killed.”

“Not me though,” the jailer said proudly. “He chose me, said I was special! Said he had a very important role for me, right here in the castle!”

“Jailer?” Lance scoffed. “That's important, is it?”

The jailer turned on his heels, looking up into Lance's eyes as he barked, “Important? You don't think what I do is important? I might have been told to keep you alive, but I wasn't told I couldn't hurt you a bit. As long as you don't die, that's what I heard.”

Lance stared down at him, neither man wanting to be the first to look away. After a moment, the jailer chuckled to himself and began walking again. With a nudge from the guards behind them, Lance and Gwen followed.

“I think I'm going to like having you two down here,” the jailer said. “Not many left of the others, they kept breaking on me. I thought, what with this being in a computer and everything that they'd be able to take a little more punishment. Seems I was wrong.”

“What did you do before the King appointed you jailer?” Gwen asked, her voice breaking as she imagined the treatment the other prisoners must have suffered. She'd hoped the other cells were quiet because they were empty, but to learn the reason why they were empty brought her no comfort.

“See, that's the, what do you call it?” the jailer replied. “The irony, isn't it? I was
in
a cell back on the hive, locked up for doing only what came natural. That's why the King chose me. I'd spent more time in cells than anyone else aboard the ship, said it gave me a unique perspective.”

“You were a prisoner?” Lance asked, his mouth going dry. “What did you do?”

“Nothing much,” the jailer said with a grin. “Just some killings, that's all.”

*****

Triltan stayed hidden, head down as she listened to the two men approach. The sweeping light from their torches made the corridor seem much brighter than she expected, and even though she was crouched behind the small desk, the reflected light from the walls lit the surrounding space more than she would have liked.

She desperately wanted to look up over the desk, to see how close they were, but to do so would have ruined her only advantage; surprise. Instead, she focussed on her hearing, listening to every footstep and ragged breath. After a moment she held her own breath, imagining that they were close enough to hear her, picturing them only steps away from the desk behind which she hid.

She had no way of knowing for sure if they were in position, but if she left it too long they'd be on top of her. Leaning forwards, she counted to three before reconnecting the cable onto the fuse. Nothing happened for a moment, and she was beginning to reach for her rifle when there was a loud bang and a flash of light from the other side of the table. A fraction of a second later, she was once again plunged into darkness.

The icon in her vision was flashing again; electrical danger. There was no shouting, no screaming, no erratic bursts of plasma from an enemy attack. Instead, there was only silence and the smell of burnt flesh invading her nostrils.

Leaning out from behind the table, she could see that the corridor was entirely dark, the light from the enemy torches extinguished. She held her breath once again, listening intently, but there was no sound of movement, only the low hum of electricity as it passed through the defence mesh. After a further moment's hesitation, Triltan finally removed the rifle from her back as quickly and quietly as she was able. She switched on the torch beneath the barrel of her rifle and aimed it out along the corridor, her finger held against the trigger and ready to fire.

The first thing she saw was that her plan had worked. The two Mori looked to have been thrown by the force of the electrical charge, slamming them against the walls of the tunnel. The were both unmoving and their weapons were cast aside, the lights attached to them either disabled or destroyed by the force of the blast.

She was about to take a step forward and investigate when the icon in her vision began to flash more regularly, and she stopped herself before she stepped onto the mesh herself. The device was still live, and though her armour may offer her some protection from the electrical charge, she was more than likely just to end up like the two Mori who had been approaching her.

That was almost it,
she thought, taking a step backwards.
No wonder my father's so worried about me.

After one last look along the corridor, she knelt back down behind the table, her gaze fixed on the two prone bodies in front of her. She allowed herself a cursory glance at the junction box, reminding herself which cable she needed to detach, before looking again along the barrel of the rifle. She knew it was the third cable from the left, and with a careful, probing finger she located it easily and pulled it from the fuse.

The icon in her vision disappeared instantly, letting her know she'd removed the right cable. She had no idea what would happen if she'd disconnected the wrong cable, and she was in no hurry to find out. After getting once more to her feet, she edged slowly along the corridor, her rifle aimed on the closest guard. Neither of them had moved but she wasn't taking any chances. She came to the guard's rifle first and kicked it along the floor behind her, the sound of scraping metal doing nothing for her nerves. With her next step she was stood beside his body, and she nudged him with her boot to see if he'd respond.

He was alive, she could see his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. At least she hadn't killed them, which she found strangely comforting, and it also reignited the hope that Arthur and the others were still alive. The defence mesh was clearly designed to incapacitate intruders, not to kill them, and if Mordred wanted them captured alive it must have been for good reason. Chances were they were somewhere further in, unconscious but still breathing.

She hadn't met many Mori in the two days she had spent in Camelot, but from what she knew of the species the specimen in front of her didn't look very old. He was taller than her, but then so was almost everyone on Earth, but he wasn't as tall as Arthur or Gar-Wan. His facial ridges, though prominent, were also wider than expected; another sign of adolescence.

After kicking him again, a little harder than the first time, she moved past him and checked on the second guard. He looked just as young as the first and was equally unconscious. After kicking his rifle out of the way she moved past him and to the foot of the stairs, climbing just enough to get a view of the enormous birthing chamber beyond.

It was just as Lance had described; thousands of individual pods in every direction, reaching up along the curved walls. She paused, listening intently, making sure there were no signs of movement before she returned to her prisoners. They were still unconscious, but she had no idea for how long. The effects of the electrical charge weren't permanent, and what would happen once they woke up? They'd come for her, and even armed she wasn't sure she'd be able to defeat them.

She checked the pockets on her armour, looking for restraints. The soldiers who had escorted her and the others on the Lambent Twilight had filled their pockets with various supplies, but she had never thought she'd need them. Apart from the scanner and a small supply of medical gel, her pockets were otherwise empty. She had to find something to restrain them, and fast.

Triltan climbed to the top of the stairs, turning to take in the enormity and majesty of the birthing chamber. Her initial view from half-way up the stairs hadn't done the room justice. It wasn't just enormous, it was breathtaking. There were more pods than she could count, stretching as far as she could see in any direction and as silent as the grave.

As she turned for a second time she spotted a control station to the right of the stairs. There were no signs of anyone else so she ran towards it, hoping to find something there to restrain the two guards. The station was composed of a series of curved desks with large monitors above them, detailing information on various pods. Below the desks were sets of draws which she searched as quickly as she could. In the third draw she opened she finally found what she was looking for.

The restraints were black and composed of two circular metallic rings held together by a fixed metal bar. They were arranged according to size, which made sense she supposed considering the difference in size between Arthur and Gwen. She hadn't paid attention to how big the guards were, so she picked up a selection and hurried back down the stairs.

The two Mori were still unconscious but she didn't waste any time. With effort, she rolled the first guard onto his front and pulled his arms behind him, fastening one wrist and then the other. Just as she was about to attend to the second guard, she thought better of it and fastened the first guard's ankles too.

After she had done the same to the second guard, binding him just as securely, Triltan finally relaxed, securing her rifle on the bracket on her back. With a nervous smile and the guard's rifles tucked under her arm, she returned to the control station, ready to begin her search. Arthur and the others were somewhere close by, possibly still unconscious, and it was up to her to find them.

*****

As night fell over Camelot, Arthur and Merlin returned to the castle walls, trying their best to look inconspicuous. The guards continued to patrol atop the walls, and a small group had been posted in front of the main door. They saw the occasional passer-by, huddle under heavy cloaks as they went about their business, but for the most part they paid Arthur and Merlin no attention.

“I haven't seen any way of getting in,” Arthur whispered as they neared the end of the eastern wall. “Not without a rope or a ladder anyway.”

“Nor I,” Merlin agreed. “Let's keep searching.”

The moon rose as they continued their search, a bright, full moon illuminating their path. The southern wall was just as high and solid as the eastern wall, the only way in or out they had seen being the large, well guarded main door to the north. The keep loomed above them, casting its shadow as the moon continued to rise, darkening their spirits.

The buildings behind the castle were similar to those in front of it, made of the same stone and connected by winding streets. They weren't all residences, Arthur noted as they came across a tavern, the light from the torches inside spilling out through the dirty glass windows. Unlike the other buildings, which seemed eerily quiet, the tavern was loud and boisterous. The deep Mori voices carried along the street, more imposing than welcoming.

Arthur and Merlin stopped before the solid wooden door, hesitating. “Should we go in?” Arthur asked. “No one seemed keen to speak to us earlier.”

“We need information,” Merlin replied. “In my experience, alcohol tends to loosen men's tongues.” Before Arthur could ask what that meant, Merlin had already opened the door and was stepping inside.

As the patrons turned to see who was entering, the room fell instantly quiet and all eyes turned upon the intruders. The tavern had a long, wooden bar along one wall with a large open fire burning in the wall opposite. Between the bar and the fire were tables and chairs, randomly arranged and all occupied. Every set of eyes bored into them, questioning and accusing at the same time.

“Maybe we should just leave?” Arthur whispered, pausing in the doorway.

“Just stay close,” Merlin whispered back, putting on his friendliest smile and walking confidently towards the bar.

The barman was Mori and appeared to be as real as his patrons. As Merlin approached, the barman rested his hands on the bar and leant forwards, his gaze unwavering. “Good evening,” the barman said, his voice betraying his nervousness. “Agents of King Mor-Dred are always welcome here.”

“Agents of the King?” Merlin replied, scoffing. “There's only one true King and he's standing behind me.”

The barman's gaze flickered to Arthur and then back to Merlin, a mixture of confusion and fear crossing his face. “I, I,” the barman stammered. “Please, sir, I've always done as the King instructed, me and my patrons.”

“Relax,” a voice called from the rear of the tavern. “These two aren't agents of the King, they're as real as you or I.”

“Ari-Dun?” Arthur asked, turning to look as the old Mori rose painfully to his feet.

“Adam 359,” Ari-Dun replied, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. “Behold, gentlemen, the slave responsible for our current circumstances!”