Camelot Enterprise: A Contemporary Arthurian Epic

by GR Griffin

  Gwen couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, Lancelot smiled fondly. Merlin and Gwaine broke into laughter as Arthur slowly processed the situation. Glaring at the pair, he put his dagger away, a little embarrassed.

  “That was not funny.”

  His agitated words spurred on Merlin’s glee, and Arthur’s embarrassment merely grew when Merlin ruffled his hand through his hair out of the blue.

  “Come on,” The druid said with a smile, tugging his arm lightly. “You can’t sleep out here.”

  Chapter 30

  Arthur had discovered that Bregurófne really did live up to its name, more than he could have ever anticipated. It was mighty and majestic, gliding through the skies effortlessly, its tail swinging behind it. It was fast, agile. Bregurófne was strong, its spectacular coiled horns at the front of its head revealed not only its vigour but its longevity. When Arthur rode it, they connected as one, battling against the wind (despite Merlin’s encouragement not to do so) and raging their own ferocious warfare against nature’s forces. Every afternoon, Arthur believed Merlin was running errands for Balinor, he would climb to the top of æsclanğne and summon Bregurófne. The creature would land gracefully on the tree, bowing its head towards its master.

  They would then take flight and become the envy of every rider. They raced the wind, they challenged the vertical drops of the cliff faces, they wove intricately between the branches of the canopy layer. Each movement was swift, beautiful and precise. Arthur no longer required speaking aloud, nor thinking commands to his Wyvern. His Wyvern and he were in a peaceful equilibrium, one many would strive to achieve and fail. Today they had travelled far beyond Ealdor, over the Perilous lands and in the direction of the Freignt clan. Arthur knew they had to respect the clan’s privacy and leave within at least a five mile radius, he wasn’t a druid yet. He was still a Pendragon, still the son of the man who condemned the druids.

  He was surprised to say the least, when a shadow cast over he and Bregurófne; one that could only be forged by another Wyvern. Gazing up, half expecting it to be Merlin, he noticed the hue of the scales weren’t quite bright enough to be Léohte’s, they were a murky grey. The creature was clearly tamed, as it flew almost mechanically, feet dangling on each side of its body. The fact that the druid hadn’t introduced themselves didn’t bode well in Arthur’s opinion. Skillfully, Arthur maneuvered upwards, flying beside the mysterious intruder. He was even more surprised when he identified the rider. The man looked over at him, eyes narrowed and expression stern.

  Arthur was not surprised when the man steered his Wyvern to the left abruptly, creating a surge of wind that pushed Bregurófne sideways. Clutching onto the horns tighter, Arthur felt his trusted sky-companion adjust to the shift in the wind and continue as if unaffected. Arthur smirked, there were some advantages to deliberately flying against the wind; it strengthened your Wyvern’s wings. Despite wanting nothing more than to prove a point and retaliate to the aggression, Arthur refrained from doing so. There were some fights that were not worth starting; some arguments had no reason to escalate. The man on his murky Wyvern gazed over at Arthur, something unidentifiable in his eyes.

  “Impressive Wyvern,” Arthur admitted, unsure how exactly to being a conversation with this man. “What’s it called?”

  “Fullmægen.” The man reluctantly replied, not returning the question. Arthur nodded appreciatively at the name, not bothering to comment on it. Before he could think of something else to say, the man continued.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked, yet again startling Arthur – this time with his genuine tone of voice and the lack of bite it had.

  “I suppose I should ask you the same thing,” Arthur mused thoughtfully, watching the brown-haired man evade his eyes towards the horizon. “You said you went to Serepolis, that’s pretty far from where we are now.”

  Twisting his lips, the man ignored Arthur’s words stubbornly. The reaction caused Arthur to smile of all things. Yes, this man hated his guts, this man was hostile towards him, this man had left his best friend because of Arthur, but that by no means made him a bad man.

  “Merlin misses you,” Arthur called over the sound of the wind scraping past their ears at a high velocity. He hoped to at least make some kind of contact with this man, for Merlin’s sake more than for his own. At these words, the man rolled his eyes and ordered his Wyvern to fly faster; Bregurófne had no trouble catching up. Arthur rolled his eyes petulantly.

  “Will-”

  The Wyvern abruptly slowed down, allowing conversation to flow easier.

  “-He doesn’t need me, he’s got you.” The brown-haired man eventually spat disdainfully, the jealousy consuming him spewing out. Arthur’s expression softened as he studied Will.

  “Merlin told me what happened to your father,” he watched Will flinch at the words, casting his gaze anywhere but towards the blonde. Nonetheless, there had been no attempt at verbal abuse yet- Arthur took the response as a step in the right direction. Swallowing-hard, he offered his condolences.

  “I’m truly sorry for the crimes that have been committed against the druids. I know there is injustice and intolerable prejudice against your race. I also know that it is my father who has built the foundations for this unjustified loathing and discrimination. Yet you must understand that a name does not determine who you are, nor does your position in life, or who your parents are. Just because I’m a…Pendragon doesn’t mean I believe that magic is evil. It doesn’t mean that I believe what Camelot stands for is right either-”

  “-If you feel that way, why haven’t you tried to make change before?” Will asked, desperate and weary.

  “…I wasn’t brave enough to make a stand. I was…” sighing, Arthur raked a hand through his hair. “I was a coward.”

  Will scoffed, earning a knowing look from Arthur. Meeting the blonde’s eyes hesitantly, Will raised an eyebrow silently. It was a gesture to speak the unspoken words resonating between them in the air.

  “You have also been a coward William,” Arthur concluded. “Running away from your past, your fears, leaving behind those you love so you can indulge in self-pity and feed your escapist mind.” Pause. He stroked Bregurófne’s scales as they glided leisurely through the air. “Perhaps we both ought to stop running away, put the past behind us and confess to our fears.” Reaching out a hand, Arthur smiled lightly; it was small enough to be considered a trick of the mind.

  “Come back home to Ealdor-” this triggered the anger in Will.

  “-Ealdor can never be my home whilst a Pendragon resides there.”

  Withdrawing his hand, Arthur frowned. He couldn’t deny that he was a little wounded by the fierce words, laced in bitterness and contempt.

  “Then your own stubbornness will cost you your own happiness.” Arthur spat agitatedly, growing annoyed at trying to reason with the stupid man. “For my Eftboren is in two weeks time.

  “…You’ve changed.” Will muttered, quiet enough to be misinterpreted as a mere illusion created by the wind. It was evident that Arthur had heard these words. Confused, he turned his attention towards the man, the optimism inside half-expecting an apology. But Arthur knew things with Will never were, nor could ever be simple. Will’s next words confirmed this.

  “But don’t go thinking that we’re friends now, or something stupid like that, because we’re not.”

  Arthur stifled a laugh at the immature behaviour.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said, unable to stop the smug grin spreading over his face.

  Arthur!

  Eyes wide, Arthur searched for the source of Merlin’s voice, heart racing. He wasn’t sure how he could in all honesty explain this strange scenario. Turning to Will, he sighed. Will’s Wyvern immediately sensed the beating wings of another Wyvern, becoming a little unnerved.

  “You didn’t see me today,” Will mumbled, averting his eyes from Arthur’s judgmental look. Arthur knew there was no reasoning with him, he wanted to remain lost, he wanted to w
allow in his own selfish actions. “I’m still in Serepolis with Freya…I’m, I’m happy.”

  Ironic, the way he said the word happy sounded more like he was trapped in remorse and sadness. In all honesty, Arthur thought it sounded like Will was convincing himself more than Arthur. Smiling woefully at Will, Arthur nodded in agreement. The druid cast one final look back at the blonde, before he and his Wyvern flew off at a rapid speed. They were riding the horizon, almost out of visibility when Merlin and Léohte reached his side.

  “Knew you’d be up here,” Merlin breathed, patting his Wyvern lightly. Of course, Merlin had discovered his routine. “I’ve been watching you and Bregurófne, you’ve become an impressive team.”

  Shrugging, Arthur kept his eyes on the distance, unsure of what to make of today’s events.

  “Who was that?” Merlin asked him curiously, and Arthur should have known better than to assume his friend wouldn’t have noticed the other rider.

  “…Zelina.” He lied, watching Merlin take the bait and laugh humorously. The laughter was encouragement to elaborate on the fictional story. “She seems to have become bored with pursuing you, and has decided – quite rightly too – that I am the better looking, more charming and charismatic one-”

  “-She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Merlin sighed dramatically, feigning egoism as he ran a hand through his black locks. Grinning at his friend, Arthur chuckled.

  “Yeah, she doesn’t.” he murmured, too relaxed to condition his tongue. Gripping Bregurófne’s horns tighter to stop himself from slapping his hands over his mouth, Arthur felt his cheeks flush a little. Bregurófne snorted, whether it was in response to this comment or coincidence, Arthur didn’t know and didn’t want to know, one annoying creature – that fluffy red bird – was enough. Titling his head to one side, a faint smirk on his face, Merlin pushed Léohte closer teasingly.

  “Sorry I didn’t quite catch that Arthur-”

  “-Oh will you just shut-up Merlin!” Arthur snapped grumpily, not sure why he felt so trapped when he could just order his Wyvern to speed off. He didn’t, allowing Bregurófne to glide alongside Léohte.

  That’s when a large shadow – big enough to be a cloud – toppled over them, blocking out the sun. This was followed by a deafening, overpowering roar. Eyes wide, panic-stricken, Merlin gazed over to Arthur frantically.

  “FLY AS FAST AS YOU CAN!”

  Arthur definitely didn’t need to be told twice, because that was one big motherfucking Wyvern. In fact, when he spared a glance up at it, he established it wasn’t a gigantic Wyvern. It was a dragon, a proper Dragon! Bregurófne quickened its pace, significantly faster than Léohte. The shadow hovering over them effortlessly kept up with them. It roared maliciously, its claws reaching out for the slower Wyvern: Léohte. Bravely, Arthur and Bregurófne rammed into the dragon’s foot with force, steering it off-course. Under Merlin’s command, Léohte rapidly spun out of harms way, narrowly missing those giant claws. The Dragon turned its attention towards the pair that had the audacity to try and stop it.

  “We need to get down,” Merlin yelled, his Wyvern clumsily fluttering back and forth with fright. He tried to calm it, eyes glowing gold. “To the forest!”

  Nodding, Arthur stroked Bregurófne’s horns soothingly. His Wyvern was surprisingly composed despite being chased by a creature that would happily eat it. Léohte wasn’t doing so well, frequently averting the course Merlin had charted out in his mind. It appeared that Merlin’s Wyvern was fully aware of what was chasing them. The dive down to the forest had to be meticulously calculated, there was no way they could continue outrunning this Dragon. With Léohte’s tolerance decreasing, Arthur was fearful of Merlin’s safety, and whether his Wyvern would make the dive as successful as Bregurófne. Merlin noticed Arthur’s reluctance and glowered.

  “DO IT. I’ll follow you!”

  Shutting his eyes for a moment, the rush of the wind on his face, Arthur clutched the horns tighter. This was a complicated dive, the angle had to be prefect, close to ninety degrees, but not completely. The Dragon above lunged for the Wyverns, instigating the dive. Bregurófne fell first plummeting down to the forest at a rapid speed – Léohte struggled to follow. Glancing behind, Arthur gasped. Léohte wasn’t following; the damn Dragon was seconds from consuming them!

  “TURN AROUND!” Arthur ordered to his Wyvern.

  What happened next unfolded so quickly that neither Merlin nor Arthur had time to process it fully until they collided brutally with the emergent layer of the grand forest. Arthur jumped off Bregurófne’s back, grabbing Merlin by his jacket. He recklessly pulled him off Léohte, watching as the Dragon’s claws followed their movements. Léohte’s wing was slashed mercilessly by the claws. The Wyvern roared out in pain, Merlin leapt out of Arthur’s grasp towards his Wvyern, seeming to forget that they were in midair and descending rapidly. Just as the Dragon made its intentions clear, reaching for Léohte, Bregurófne wrapped its legs around Léohte, sheltering it with its own wings. Merlin realised at this moment that he was falling, without the aid of a Wyvern. Arthur latched back onto the jacket, hauling him viciously towards him. Bregurófne skillfully maneuvered itself beneath them, allowing them to fall onto its back.

  Merlin sighed in relief with Arthur.

  Then they hit the emergent layer at a forceful velocity, and immediately stopped laughing. Bregurófne swerved out of the way of the Dragon that had pursued them into the trees. Arthur noticed a thick tree ahead, Bregurófne had the same idea. It tilted sideways for a moment, gracefully slipping through the small gap, leaving the Dragon stuck on the other side. Bregurófne released Léohte onto the thick tree branch, landing softly beside it. Merlin leapt out of Arthur’s grasp, desperately running towards Léohte as it cried out in pain.

  “LÉOHTE!” crouching by the wounded Wvyern’s side, Merlin wiped his eyes dejectedly. Its left wing was badly torn through the middle, making it impossible for it to fly. Arthur knelt beside Merlin, wincing as he inspected the damage.

  “She…she won’t survive.” Merlin whispered morbidly, tracing his hand delicately over her scaly skin. She leant into the touch, breath ragged and loud. “Even if I heal her, she won’t be able to fly for at least three weeks. She can’t stay up here, predators will sense her weakness, and they’ll come for her.”

  “Isn’t there somewhere we can take her?” Arthur asked softly, surprised that Léohte welcomed his warm hands on her face. Merlin shook his head sadly, unable to conceal his upset. Incapable of accepting this, Arthur shook his head fiercely. “There must be a something we can do! Anything!”

  Merlin remained cryptically silent, the tears abruptly fading.

  “There is somewhere we can take her.” He whispered eventually. “My friend Gilli, he lives on the Western Coast. Very few predators venture that far out of the forest,” his eyes lost the spark that had suddenly been ignited. “But it’s too far. It will take weeks to travel that far across Albion, by that time she will be dead.”

  “It would take less than an hour if we used a helicopter,” Arthur explained, knowing that what he was saying would not bode well for him, and his father would not approve at all. Lifting his head, Merlin narrowed his eyes, confused. A helicopter, he assumed, was a human contraption like a ‘plane’. Standing up, Arthur pulled out his teleport device.

  “If I go back to Camelot now, Morgana and Leon could take us to your friend Gilli, we’d get there in time.”

  As fantastic as that sounded, Merlin knew Arthur was hiding something from him. That sounded too good to be true, meaning there probably was going to be some kind of consequence for Arthur.

  “You stay here,” Arthur began, pressing the teleport device. “heal her the best you can. I’ll be back with Morgana and Leon in no time-”

  “-How will you find us again Arthur? We’re in the middle of nowhere, Ealdor is,” frowning, Merlin pointed towards the horizon bleakly. “Somewhere in that vicinity.”

  “We’re pretty close to Monus, and over
there lies Mánhús.” Arthur observed with a smile, startling Merlin with his knowledge. “We’ll find you don’t worry.”

  With those reassuring words, Arthur disappeared into thin air, leaving Merlin with Bregurófne and Léohte.

  ♦☼♦

  “Arthur!” the raven-haired woman greeted the blonde warmly. Her smile fell as she studied the expression on his face. His eyes were hollow, lips drawn into a thin line. Morgana was sharp on reading Arthur, never failing to miss an expression or poorly concealed emotion. Leaning towards him urgently, she drew her eyebrows together. “What’s happened?”

  “I need your help.” He gestured over to Leon who had noticed Arthur’s arrival, automatically making his way over.

  There had been a transformation in Leon, a subtle one but nonetheless a transformation. For starters he was wearing smart attire, one that suggested he was not exploring Albion like he wished, and was caught up in more corporal matters. Arthur had seen very little of Leon the past few months. Since he had been mysteriously reassigned in the project, the man spent most his time inside. When Arthur was occasionally in Camelot, Leon was usually in his office. This perturbed Arthur; Leon had his own office. Leon wasn’t an office man. Whatever this reassignment was, it had to be serious. Arthur made note to try and slip it into conversation when he next saw his father.

  “What’s wrong?” Morgana asked, following Arthur as he strode down the hallway. She beckoned Leon to join her.

  Arthur kept his eyes low, not wanting to meet the eyes of the employees who worked here, or bring unnecessary attention to himself. Morgana had told him what people were saying about him, some kind, most not so kind. Granted his visits had become less and less frequent, despite his father demanding to see him every week (Arthur suddenly realised he seemed to be defying his father a lot recently). It appeared Cedric and Valiant’s hate campaign had spread in the absence of Arthur Pendragon. Evidently, as the business demeanor dissolved away, so did the respect he held in Camelot Enterprise. He prayed his father knew nothing of the talk – he may be reassigned. Not that Arthur would move.