The Iron Locket (The Risen King)

by Samantha Warren

  She looked at him with expectation. He examined her closely, searching his addled brain for the answer. It took several moments, but he found her face, buried beneath decades of another life that seemed so meaningless now. A golden queen who came to him in his youth as a young king. A promise to protect and serve sometime in the future in exchange for a beautiful bride.

  "Titania."

  She beamed and the smile was genuine. "Very good. I knew you would remember."

  "Guinevere..." Another blond swam before his eyes, both gorgeous and terrible, lover and wife, the one who destroyed the greatest friendship he had ever known.

  "Ah, yes, well, we all make mistakes. I should not have granted that particular wish, but alas, we must move on. There is a chance to do it again, my young king. You have your most precious knight back. Together, you must work to accomplish the greatest task you have ever taken on. Greater than ruling Camelot, greater even than finding the Holy Grail. You must save Faery."

  Arthur's eyes wandered to the others milling around the rising knights. Beautiful women, all of them, having a strange grace and power that belied their otherwise human features. "Is that where we are?"

  She nodded once. "You are in a special place, protected by the Four Queens of Faery, the one spot where our domains all touch and become one." She held out her arms and spun in a little circle. "Within these trees, atop this hill, all is peaceful. Quarrels are put aside and sanctity is granted to those within. However, as you can see, the area is extremely small, and it can only be used for purposes that all four queens agree upon. Preserving your life and those of your knights was the last unanimous decision we could make, until now, when we raised you from the dead."

  Arthur pressed his hands against the grass. It felt soft and cool in his fingers. "Why now?" He wrinkled his forehead. "And when is 'now'?"

  Titania beamed. "Now is the year two thousand and twelve. Not quite two thousand years since your death." She pressed her hands and laughed, a deep-throated giggle that seemed odd coming from a woman such as Titania. "A lot has changed since your time, dear Arthur. You are going to be amazed, and likely disappointed in the turn this world has taken."

  He raised an eyebrow at how pleased she seemed to be about that fact. "Why? Why bring us back?"

  "Ah," she said, pointing a finger at him. "Let's wait on that a moment. We'll get you all caught up to speed at the same time."

  Rising, the queen rose and clapped her hands twice. The sound echoed out across the clearing. Faeries who had been been tending to the other knights all turned their heads in her direction for the briefest of moments, then some started removing the glass coffins with impossible ease while others moved chairs pulled from only they knew where to array in a double semicircle on the hill where Arthur's coffin had been.

  The other knights moved in the direction of their king, most of them with growing smiles on their faces while a particular dark-haired knight hung back, apprehension on his face. Arthur stared at him, emotions that had been suppressed for centuries rising once more to the surface. That man had been the reason for his downfall and the betrayal still cut deep. He frowned inwardly, keeping his face a mask. Would he be able to put aside the pain he felt? Would he be able to forget and forgive the hurt that overwhelmed him when he discovered his best friend and his wife had been having an affair behind his back?

  His musings were interrupted when a young man with scraggly brown hair down to his chin reached him. The man wore an easy smile and carried a quiet confidence. Arthur grinned as he recognized him.

  "Tristan," he said by way of greeting and held out his hand.

  Tristan reached out and clasped the king's forearm with his own, the traditional handshake of their time. "Arthur." He nodded once, the smile never leaving his face. He released Arthur's arm and stepped to the side, taking up a position facing the other knights, behind the king and to his left. He lifted his chin and clasped his hands behind his back as his eyes took in every minute detail. Arthur's grin grew. Tristan was a man of few words, but his loyalty and abilities were beyond reproach. Give the knight a bow and a sword and few men could stand against him.

  Next, he heartily embraced a stern knight with dark, curly hair, laughing out loud as he recalled a stunt the two of them had pulled in their youth. The knight in front of him cocked an eyebrow, his sculpted goatee twitching as he gave Arthur a small smirk.

  "Lady Bronwyn," Kay asked as Arthur's laughter was mirrored in his eyes.

  Arthur's grin grew. "Yes. I was just thinking of her face when she discovered we had stolen and eaten every Christmas pie."

  Kay nodded, his smirk blooming into a full grin. "Those were good times, brother. May we have many more to come." He clasped Arthur in a brief hug, then released him and stepped back, mimicking Tristan's stance, but on the king's other shoulder.

  The other knights approached and greeted their leader. Though many were from different generations, they were all young, healthy, and handsome, just as he remembered: the ever virtuous Bors who kept his hair and beard neatly trimmed, his hair just barely long to cover the signature scar that graced his forehead; Balan and Balin, foster brothers who could have been twins; the brothers Gareth and Gawain, two men about as different as they could be despite having the same mother; the astoundingly handsome Percival, a poor knight who was sweet as honey but terrified of women; Erec, loyal and faithful, above reproach in everything; and Yvain, lion-hearted and enthusiastic in his duties as a knight.

  As the men greeted Arthur, they arrayed themselves in various positions behind him, leaving only two remaining on the knoll in front. One was the knight who had betrayed Arthur and had attempted to steal his queen. The other was the man's illegitimate son. He was like his father only in looks, Arthur reflected. The dark hair and naturally moody appearance was his only true inheritance from Lancelot. In reality, Galahad was possibly the greatest knight Arthur had ever known. His gallantry was unquestioned and he could be relied upon for any task required. Despite the seriousness with which he approached his duties, however, he was jovial and always had a kind word or crude joke ready when the moment called.

  The young knight stepped forward, an easy grin stretching across his bearded face and a twinkle in his cinnamon eyes. A lock of black hair fell across his forehead and he brushed it away as he reached a hand out to the king. "It's good to see you again, Arthur."

  "Galahad." Arthur felt a warmth creep into his voice as he said the knight's name and took his hand. After a brief moment, he pulled the young man into an embrace, hugging him close for several seconds, then he pushed him back to arms length, keeping his hands clasped tightly on Galahad's shoulders. "How are you, my boy?"

  Galahad laughed. "Confused, as I believe every one of us is. I hope soon there will be some light shed on this strange and unexpected situation. The last thing I remember is seeing an angel of remarkable beauty standing before me, and now I'm here." He shrugged and his grin grew. "I guess we will soon find out." He clapped Arthur on the back once and went to stand beside Gawain.

  That left Lancelot alone in front of Arthur. His hands were clenched at his sides, his head down. Arthur watched him a minute. Lancelot's jaw, highlighted with a thin line of hair, pulsed rhythmically as he clenched his teeth. His lips were pressed into a tight line and his nostrils were flared. Arthur could not tell if Lancelot's stature was combative or submissive.

  Arthur closed his blue eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Then he opened them, raised his chin, and squared his shoulders. "Lancelot," he said, his voice coming out harsher and lower than he intended.

  The man looked up, his dark brown eyes filled with worry, fear, and regret. "Arthur." His voice was soft and respectful. His eyes beseeched his king, begging for forgiveness even before he fell on his knees to the soft grass in front of the man. He grasped Arthur's hands and kissed them. "Forgive me, friend. Though centuries have passed, I am still as distraught at my unacceptable behavior as I was then. I cannot tell you how sorry I am to have b
etrayed you in such an unforgivable fashion. It was--"

  "Stop." Arthur's command brought immediate silence from the grovelling knight and all those around him. His hands were wet and it took him a moment to realize that Lancelot was crying. "Rise."

  Lancelot stood and dropped Arthur's hands, standing before the king with glistening eyes and a heavy heart. Arthur examined him, the man who was his best friend and confidant before the beautiful blond woman who was his queen ripped their friendship asunder. Arthur shook his head before he reached out. Lancelot flinched as Arthur's hands came toward him until Arthur wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

  "Come here, my friend. Let us let bygones be bygones and forget the wrongs of the past. We were once the closest of allies. Let us remember those days and move on from there. Anything that happened in between is long forgotten and shall never be mentioned again."

  Lancelot grinned and returned the bear hug, clenching his teeth to keep the tears of joy from overflowing. "You are a great king, and an even better man. I thank you for being such a good friend and I am happy to get the chance to serve you once again." His dark eyes took on a thoughtful look. "Speaking of serving again, to what do we owe the pleasure of having risen from the grave to see our friends again? This is a strange place and these women are beyond comprehensible beauty. There is something different about them, something not quite human."

  Arthur turned to his knights and addressed them all. The words came forth without his bidding, revealing secrets he did not realize he had known. "Welcome back from the dead, my friends... my brothers. Together we have fought many battles, some of blood and death, some of a more personal nature. But we have all been brought here once more to wage a bigger battle, one that will test us more than ever before. We will need to work as one, we will need to trust each other, and we will need to rely on each other. We cannot allow past grievances to get in the way of what must be done. What happened in the past is gone, finished, never to return. We are new men and we are given a new chance at life. Let us make the most of this opportunity and handle the task at hand with dignity, honor, and loyalty."

  Several of the men nodded, while others sounded out with resounding "here here"s.

  Galahad raised his hand. "If I may be so bold, what is this task that is going to test the strength of more than a dozen of the greatest knights to ever live?"

  Arthur opened his mouth to answer and shut it immediately. He had no clue. All he knew, deep in his gut, was that some of the men around him would not see the end. And they would not rise again.

  *~*~*

  THREE

  *~*~*

  "That is a question for me, my darling boy." Titania appeared beside Arthur. He eyed the woman, realizing just then that neither she, nor any faeries, had been present while the knights were greeting each other.

  "And you are?" Kay's eyes were narrowed and his arms crossed. His pale lips were set in a scowl that demanded an answer or challenge.

  Titania met his gruff demeanor with grace, her opened arms wide in a welcoming gesture. "I am Titania, Queen of the Southern Faeries. I welcome you to the land of Faery, home of the elven kind, your residence for the last two millenia. I hope you found your stay comfortable and to your liking."

  Her smile did not fade but her eyes held a powerful threat that Kay did not miss. His scowl deepened, but he kept his lips pressed tight. Titania turned her attention to the rest of the group. "As Arthur mentioned, you have been brought here for a purpose. Faery is under attack from a vile opponent, someone who knows our most inner workings and has been privy some of the most private meetings and sensitive information. Someone who we trusted to be on our side no matter the situation. They turned on us, betrayed us. The audacity they have shown in their attacks, the faeries they have killed..."

  Her voice had grown hard and a snarl pulled at one corner of her upper lip. Her blue eyes were dark, a storm raging within them. Her hands clenched at her sides and Arthur quirked an eyebrow when he saw blood dripping onto the ground from her closed fists. The skies turned gray as clouds rolled in and thunder echoed overhead. An invisible gust of wind swirled around the Southern Queen, her anger taking palpable shape.

  With visible effort, Titania closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as a red-haired woman approached her. The woman was just as beautiful with her fair skin and emerald eyes, but her beauty held a softness that Titania did not possess. Her manner was tender and loving as she soothed the flustered queen. Her voice was lilting with a hint of Irish and when she spoke a wave of calmness washed over the knights. "There now, Titania. Save your hatred and anger. You will need it later. Do not waste it on idle angst."

  Titania took several deep breaths and nodded. The storm raging in her eyes and in the skies above cleared, revealing the bright blue once more. She gently squeezed the other woman's shoulder before looking toward the knights. "You must win this war or all is lost," Titania said, her voice low and pleading. She was silent a moment, then she walked several paces away and stood with her back to the group, looking out at the forest surrounding them.

  The red-haired woman's smile reached out to caress the hearts of the men and set their bodies glowing with warmth and love. She clasped the delicate fabric of her sheer dress with long, thin fingers. It was the color of a sunset and the patterns shifted as she moved. It tinkled as if embedded with miniature crystals. Her perfectly shaped nails were bright orange, miniature tangerines on the tips of her fingers. She curtsied elegantly before Arthur as she raised her eyes coyly toward him.

  "Arthur, king of Camelot, leader of a thousand knights, legend centuries beyond his time. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you face to face." Arthur's heart thumped heavily in his chest and his breath came hard and fast. His mind refused to form a coherent sentence, so he simply returned her compliments with a nod. The lady rose and surveyed the other dozen men surrounding their king. "Knights of the greatest caliber sit before me today, pulled from their own world and thrust into another time, ready to take on whatever may come with a bravery no longer seen in these lands." She raised her arms as if to embrace them all with her love and compassion. "I am Oonagh, Queen of the East."

  "You should be called the Queen of Melodrama." Another lady joined them, as powerful and dangerous as Titania, though her skin was pale white, her eyes and hair raven black, and her lips blood red.

  Oonagh's smile did not fade. Instead she turned to the new arrival and embraced her as she had Titania. "Mab, my darling. So wonderful of you to see you. We had feared the worst when you were late to raise the knights."

  Mab waved a dismissive hand at the other queen. The motion revealed a rip in the arm of her black riding jacket and a drop of icy blue blood fell to the earth. When it hit the grass, the blades it touched froze instantly, turning frosty white and snapping off in the wind. "It was nothing. A few of Lea's minions had the audacity to try to waylay me on my path." Her vicious smile revealed teeth as white as freshly fallen snow. "They make wonderful decorations on the way to my castle now."

  Oonagh's smile wavered slightly. "Lovely." The distaste bled through her voice, but it only made Mab's wicked grin grow wider. Oonagh clapped a hand over her chest. "Oh my, how rude we are. My darling knights, please give me the honor of introducing to you Queen Mab, ruler of the North, commander of ice and snow."

  Mab nodded once toward the men, all of whom stared at the ice queen with a wide-eyed respect. "Welcome to Faery," she said by way of greeting. "I would say enjoy your stay, but I doubt many of you will." Her eyes settled on Kay. "You might."

  Arthur looked sidelong at his foster brother, throwing him a questioning glance. Kay was entranced by the queen, though, and his gaze did not waver from hers until she broke the contact.

  "I see Titania is still struggling with this." Mab's cold gaze shifted to the Southern Queen.

  Oonagh glanced toward the golden queen, standing on the hill where Lancelot's coffin had been barely an hour before. "Yes, she is finding it hard to cope, having lost
those dear to her. I fear if we do not end this quickly, it may be a fight to keep the South from falling into the hands of the enemy." Pulling her stare away from Titania, she addressed Mab directly. "Isobel is at the castle, making it ready for the knights."

  "Good," Mab said as she leaned over to readjust a riding boot. "I will head over there and finish the preparations. How long do you think they will be here?"

  Oonagh cocked her head, her copper locks cascading over her shoulder in large curling waves. "Oh, not long. I will brief them before we prepare them for the ride. Then we will meet you there."

  "Very well." Mab's cool gaze slid over the knights as if appraising each and every one of them individually. Satisfied, she nodded once and whistled. A steed the color of the blackest night appeared, stomping and snorting as he pawed at the ground. His eyes were flames and the air in front of him grew white with frost when he blew out a breath. He had no saddle or reins, but Mab swung herself up onto his back with the greatest of ease and sat tall upon his shoulders. She looked down over the knights. "Do not fail us."

  With those final words, she gripped the horse's pearl white mane and yanked him around. He reared and screamed before sprinting away so fast his large hooves barely touched the ground beneath him.

  Oonagh's lips were pressed together as she watched the Queen of the North disappear into the trees. When the last white hair was no longer visible, she turned to the knights with a wry smile on her face. "And she calls me the queen of drama."

  The knights grinned at her, unable to resist the draw of her charm. She settled onto the ground in front of them with her legs in a lotus shape and clasped her hands in her lap. Those in the back row of chairs rearranged themselves so they could see her as other faeries brought in plates of food for the starving men. They left and her smiled dropped. As it faded, clouds rolled in to cover the sun's beaming light.