“Not for a moment. You are the love of my life, and my place is by your side,” she returned without hesitation, her hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. His helm was held in the crook of his arm and as he watched the drawbridge before them start to lower, he wondered if it might be best to put it on. Showing up unannounced was a good way to get shot at. Still, not like he had a pigeon to send in warning.
Not that one could outfly the dragon anyhow.
“Here we go,” he muttered, tightening his grip on her gloved hand, then stepping forward.
“I’d stay put if I were you,” Wyrddlin suddenly offered, his head snaking his way. “They have archers readying bows. We don’t want to provoke them anymore than we already have.”
He nodded in understanding and held his ground. A group of horses were approaching and he purposely held his free hand away from the swords attached to his waist. They were friends and if he would not be the one to make an aggressive move that would appear otherwise.
There were twenty soldiers that appeared to be royal guard, a silver armored knight, a brown robed, blue haired elf, and a golden armored female riding in the center of it all. As they approached, the woman raised her hand and called for a halt, twenty yards away from where they stood. Turning her head to the massive dragon head hovering above them, the golden armored elf began to speak.
“Hail ancient one, as Queen of the Elves I welcome you to our lands. Why do you honor us with your presence?” the golden armored warrior asked, not bothering to look their way.
The eyes of the blue haired elf holding a crystal staff shifted from the dragon in his direction, then to the sword hanging at his waist. He saw the widening of the eyes, the purse of the mouth, and knew that the magician understood exactly what he was seeing.
Before he could speak, their dragon companion’s voice thundered over them. “It is I that am honored by your bravery and respect. Long lost is the reverence held between our two peoples and with the decline of my own kin, I despaired it gone from the world forever. You do me great honor, Queen of the Elves, but I am just along for the ride, it’s my young companions in which you must eagerly speak. For they have traveled a long way and at great peril to come to your eastern forest,” Wyrddlin told the assembled elves, bowing his head at the last.
He felt great pride at the dragon’s words and stepped forward to greet the horsed host before him.
“I am Tristan, son of Constantine, second born prince of Lancaster, heir to the throne of Griedlok. This is my betrothed, Willow, second daughter of Bordin, King of Griedlok. Our feline companion here is Trek, a fairy protector for my unborn child. We have come on behest of Merlin and seek an audience with the King on a matter of great importance,” he stated, arms wide, Willow standing steadfast at his side.
“I would recognize that voice anywhere,” the Queen announced, spurring her horse forward and breaking from her guards, despite their reluctance to allow her to do so. “I once heard it a long time ago when in the presence of a good friend and King, who I’m told has recently departed this world at the hands of the mage you proclaim sent you to us.”
He nodded his head in understanding, knowing that messengers from Lancaster must have warned of them ahead of time of their possible appearance. “The charges against Merlin were false, perpetuated by a traitor in sheep’s clothing at my brother’s side. The traitor has been revealed and has turned tail to hide under his mistress’s undergarments. You may not remember, but we met once,” he continued, stepping towards the awaiting Queen. “I was on my father’s knee when you and your husband came to our home and spoke of a unification of the races. You are as beautiful then as you are now.”
“Majesty, they might be agents of the—,” the silver knight began, but the Queen held up her hand and cut him off.
“I do remember that young boy, but the tales and descriptions of him since do not match the impressive figure standing across from me. How do I know you are who you say?” she pushed, her face determined; her green eyes penetrating.
He reached down and grasped the pommel of his sword. Bows raised in answer, but he drew it anyway. As it cleared the sheath it was almost as if the world stood still, even the wind appeared to die off as if waiting on bated breath. He held the sword before him, letting all those within eyesight see the magnificent blade they had sacrificed so much for.
“This is Excalibur, sword of Kings, given back to the people by the Lady of the Lake, intended to both heal your ill King and destroy the book the Phoenix clings to in order to preserve her wretched existence. You can doubt who I am, for I know that the price I paid for retrieving this sword has altered who I was beyond recognition of even those that I love. But you cannot deny in your hearts what this blade represents, what it truly is; hope. Hope to heal King Erik, to unite the lands against the Phoenix and to drive her forces back into oblivion,” he stated loudly, making sure all that were assembled heard every word.
“You may look different, young Prince, but it’s Constantine’s presence I feel in your words. I never believed that one of his own sons had betrayed him and have been counseled by our magister to disregard any warnings of that magician Merlin as well. I am gladdened to see both assertions have proved valid and I welcome you all to Forlorn,” the Queen responded with a bow of her head, her eyes glued to the sword before them.
He slowly sheathed it and the forgotten bows of the Royal Service dropped in response. “On behalf of my company, I accept your offer of hospitality and would ask that your archers on the walls refrain from shooting my overly large companion here. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but that is hardly a reason to shoot at him.”
Amysta laughed. She turned towards one of the Royal Service and issued an order for the men on the walls to stand down. Reluctantly the elf turned his horse and rose for the gates.
The silver knight said something in Elvish, and he heard Willow’s quick intake of breath. She stepped forward and addressed the elf directly. “Sir, I understand your reluctance, but we do not intend any harm. You, Sir Pendoran, served with my father during the Cleansing and while the two of us never crossed paths, surely you can see the family resemblance.”
Pendoran looked her over, studying her face intently, then grunted. “The Phoenix knows how to mask her agents and though I do indeed see your father in your eyes, that does not mean that I’m comfortable with—”
The Queen turned around and glared at the knight. “We have already had this discussion and I tire from having to repeat myself. I am Queen, and if I see fit to offer them hospitality and allow them to see my husband, then you will stand and see it done.”
The blue haired elf brought his horse alongside his Queens and stared down at them. “Merlin succeeded, Majesty. Excalibur is here despite everything the Phoenix has done to prevent it. We need to get them to your husband before he’s beyond saving. I know you hold me responsible for much that has happened, but I beseech you to heed my counsel now. This sword is Erik’s sole chance at survival. It is what the boy claims it to be, I have seen it through visions; I have felt its call from afar. Even now it sings within my blood. Let’s drop suspicion and make haste before it’s too late.”
Amysta eyed the druid for a moment, then after a deep breath nodded her head. “I am afraid we don’t have much in the way of shelter for a dragon, but I will see that you are provided a place to bed down and order some livestock given over to you once you’ve rested from your journey.”
Wyrddlin bowed his head, “thank you, Queen of the Elves. You do me great honor.”
She nodded back. “The honor is mine. Now, if you three will follow me, I’ll see to it that you get your audience with my husband. And I pray that your intentions are good or you may never see the sun again.”
He smiled and nodded his head in understanding, “of course.” Taking Willow by the hand, he began his way forward, Trek following close behind. The silver dragon took flight and his hair whipped in a sudden gust of wind.
Each step f
orward felt lighter and lighter, as if a burden was slowly rising from his shoulders. This is what they had set out to do so and with Willow by his side, he set forth to see the quest through to its completion.
Chapter 3
Restoration
I
Tristan set his helm down on a nearby dresser as he entered the King’s chambers. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the emaciated elf lying covered up before him. He could tell from his thin frame that his health had been declining drastically and wondered if he had arrived in time to save the Elven King’s life. Had all their sacrifices been for nothing?
Erik’s beard had grown out of control, the gray streaks deepening in color, the hair frail and jagged. His once well shaped face looked hollow and stretched thin. His once muscular body had shriveled, jagged breaths escaping in quick hitches of his chest. He wore a dark blue shirt, though the blanket covered most of it and it didn’t look to have been changed very recently.
Amysta stood on his left side, Willow the other, and he could hear his fiancé’s quick intake of breath when she took in the fallen sovereign’s state of being. Trek jumped onto the bed and eyed the King, then turned to look at him expectantly. The magister pushed his way past and went to the King’s side, hand on the shrunken wrist, eyes closed in silent thought. “He lives, but barely. We are running out of time.”
This is what he had come here to do and he wasn’t going to shirk from it now. Stepping forward, he undid the scabbard adorning his waist and brought Excalibur up before him. Coming along the left side of the bed, he felt the presence of the two elven women behind them, but he ignored their hovering as he slowly laid Excalibur upon the King’s covered chest. Then he reached down and placed the elf’s right hand on the hilt just as the magister did the same with the other.
They all held their breaths in anticipation of what came next.
The elf’s breath suddenly hitched, then went out in a long, exhausted breath.
“Erik!” the Queen suddenly exclaimed, rushing past him to crouch by her husband’s side. “Don’t leave me, my love. Please!”
His heart began to ache; maybe they’d been too late after all.
Wind buffeted the balcony doors and he turned just in time to see them burst open, a large gust of wind smacking him and driving him forward. He reached out and caught himself before he crushed the frail body with his armored weight. The magister rose, wide eyed, as the entire chamber was caught up in a fury of wind.
The Elven King took a very large gasp of air, his eyes snapping open, mouth dropping in a soundless scream. Energy crackled around them and Tristan thought he heard the distant sound of thunder as the room shook violently beneath his feet. Willow reached out and grabbed his arm for support and they held each other in the sudden fury of nature ripping about them in chaotic thrusts.
White light shimmered along Excalibur’s blade and intensified to the point where he was forced to look away, his arm up to shield his already blinded eyes.
“What’s going on?” he heard a distant elven voice ask from the doorway, but the words were barely audible over the roar of the wind.
Willow held on tighter and he closed his eyes, tilting his head in her direction. Used to be they’d touch foreheads, but now he barely felt the touch of her hair underneath his chin. His hair flowed untethered and he had to spit it out of his mouth constantly in order to keep his airways clear. The roar was intensifying and even through closed eyelids, he could see the blinding white light filling everything around them.
Then it died down and the wind was gone.
He opened his eyes but found that he was unable to see anything but white and vague gray lines that mimicked shapes. The Queen was still crouching over her husband and the magister was standing off to the right, hands covering his face. The King’s aide was huddled against a far corner, and the cat simply stared up at him as if nothing had ever happened.
As his vision slowly returned, his eyes fell upon the sword and the King grasping its hilt. The body had been fully restored to its healthy state, the elf’s eyes open, aware of their surroundings, and fixed upon the mumbling wife hovering overhead.
“Amysta? What just happened?” the King croaked, struggling to sit up.
Jarel rushed forward and bumped into the magister, who was slowly beginning to return to himself. “My Lord, you are awake!”
Pushing himself up, Erik sat in the bed, eyeing each of them in turn. Then his grip tightened on the sword he was holding and his gaze fell upon it at last. Running the length of the blade, he slowly held it up and beheld the object that had just restored him to life.
“Excalibur,” the King whispered in recognition. “I never thought to hold you again.”
Revan’s face appeared concerned as he stepped forward and eyed his sovereign. “Arthur?”
“Arthur is no more. He is now as much a part of me as I am of him. His memories flood mine and together we are one,” the King answered automatically, still studying the sword before him.
“Erik?” the Queen pursued, placing a hand on the Elven King’s, eyes searching his face.
Erik smiled as he turned his gaze away from the sword and looked upon his wife. “Yes, my love, it’s me. I may be changed, but I’m still the man you fell in love with.”
They shared a quick kiss and Tristan couldn’t help but see similarities between what he had experienced and what the King had just been through. He had been two made whole as well. Now, upon seeing the Elven King with the sword, he found himself fighting an irresistible urge to drop to one knee and beg forgiveness.
After a moment, he realized that it hadn’t been a fight at all, for that was exactly what his body was doing on its own accord.
The King’s gaze turned in his direction and he saw both recognition and unfamiliarity reflected in the elf’s face. “Lancelot? It can’t be.”
“Sire, this is Constantine’s son, Tristan of Lancaster,” Revan informed his sovereign with a confused tone of voice.
Erik shrugged off his wife’s resisting arms as he swung the sheets free and brought his legs over the side of the bed, clearly intending to stand.
He now felt the soul within him crying for forgiveness and knew that Lancelot’s echo was fighting for control. Understanding the need behind its voice, and knowing that he’d never rest until granted its freedom, he relented and let the tortured soul rise and take his place.
“My King, I am but your humble servant and place my soul within your hands,” he heard his voice intone, eyes on the ground as the King approached him quietly.
The elf bent over and embraced him, tears flowing from the corners of your eyes. “My old friend, there is nothing to be forgiven, that is all in the past and your actions here today have restored my faith in you. Do not let your soul be burdened any longer. You are and have ever been, my first knight and friend.”
He heard the joy in the soul inhabiting his body at the King’s words and knew that redemption had finally restored Lancelot’s frail state to its former glory. With the King’s firm grip, he rose to his feet and the two embraced as long lost brothers. “I never thought this day would come. I have waited so long—”
The King smiled at him. “I know, be at peace knowing that Arthur-that-was forgives you and loves you as a brother.”
He felt the sudden release of his body back to his control and he allowed the joyous soul to once more disappear into the recesses of his mind. “Thank you, my Lord.”
The King broke the embrace and looked at him for a long time. “I can see Constantine within your eyes, but surely it must be John, not Tristan that I’m looking at. Tristan was a thin ungainly youth that resembled his mother more than his father; if I should recall right.”
He smiled and nodded his head. “I understand the confusion. The retrieval of Excalibur changed me in a lot of ways, but I am the second-born son of Constantine and this is my fiancé, Willow of Griedlok.”
Erik turned to glance at the elven princess hovering
by his side and smiled warmly. “You are most welcome daughter of Bordin and I thank you both for bringing Excalibur to me. You have saved my life and I am forever in your debt.”
Amysta had come to stand by her husband’s side and he could see the tears leaking unchecked down her face. “And mine as well. You have shown that my faith was well placed and thank you for returning my husband to me.”
“Hey, I helped out as well,” the cat at their side suddenly spoke and all of them turned in surprise. It had been the first time the fairy had spoken in days and Tristan had almost completely forgotten he was there.
“And my thanks to you as well,” the King nodded, obviously confused over the cat’s presence. “I can see there’s a lot I need to catch up on. If you’d allow me to bathe, we can dine together and you can tell me how you all came to be here. I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks, and I’m sure I’ll barely be finished by the time your tale comes to an end.”
“I doubt that,” he chuckled, eyeing the cat as he began to clean himself, disregarding them all once more.
Erik smiled in turn and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Let my aide show you both to your quarters and let’s get you out of that armor. I’m betting a fresh change of clothes and a bath will be just as welcome to you as it is to me right now.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Willow intoned, bowing her head.
The elf shook his head. “There will be none of that. You have saved my life and it is I that shall bow my head to you, Princess of Griedlok. Prince of Lancaster.” Amysta and Revan followed suit and the two of them stood on unsteady feet as they felt the gratitude emanating from their hosts.
Willow’s eyes teared as she nodded with the respect shown and he felt his heart gladdened at the sight. So much had been sacrificed for this moment, and he couldn’t help but feel that chapter of his life slowly fanning over and another about to begin.
Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3) Page 6