Legend a5-9

by Robert Doherty

  Morgana felt a chill and looked toward the rear of the boat. Mordred, dressed in fine armor and surrounded by Guides, easily recognizable because of the large feather that capped each of their helmets, was standing there. And he was staring directly at her as if he could read her thoughts. A cold smile sliced across his lips.

  Morgana met his stare. Mordred raised one hand and crooked a finger for her to approach. Morgana made her way sternward and bowed her head.

  “My lord?”

  There were no humans in earshot, only Morgana and the Guides. Still, Mordred kept his voice almost to a whisper as if were afraid of being overheard. “There is something you must do for me as soon as we land.”

  Morgana waited.

  “You will go and find your spy.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will ask him—”

  “Wait,” Mordred hissed, cutting her off. “Troop strengths and deployments and plans — yes, ask all that. But first and foremost, I want the two of you to arrange a clandestine meeting for me with this Arthur.”

  Morgana looked up, surprised, peering into Mordred’s black eyes.

  “He may bring a dozen knights and I will bring only four of mine. That should make him feel secure. It must be at a secret place where none can see us.”

  Morgana hesitated, then asked the question she knew she must in both her role as adviser to the king and as spy. “Why should Arthur agree to such a meeting?”

  “To save much bloodshed,” Mordred said.

  Morgana’s expression must have changed ever so slightly, for Mordred gave a bemused chuckle. “You do not believe me?”

  “Bloodshed has not seemed to bother you up to this point,” Morgana said, reluctantly adding: “My lord.”

  Mordred nodded. “Have your spy tell Arthur that he and I have much in common. A similar history, so to speak. And that we might have a similar future, which we ought to discuss before we act precipitously. Do you understand?”

  “The message, not the content.”

  “That is good enough.”

  MARS

  The guardian hidden at Cydonia on Mars had been tracking the key to the Master Guardian ever since it had been activated several years previously. The vast majority of the time the key was once more shielded, but every sooften it was activated, on what appeared to be a random schedule. There had been no contact with the Master Guardian, so this continued action was confusing.

  The guardian from Mount Sinai had reported that the Shadow was investigating the activation and was planning to retrieve the key and Grail and return them to their proper place in the Hall of Records, as required by the Atlantis Truce. Yet much time had passed with no further word from the Shadow and no obvious resolution of the problem.

  The alien computer analyzed various possibilities. The Shadow might have been killed; its replacement was not scheduled to be cycled up for another three Earth cycles, which would mean there was a void in Aspasia’s presence on Earth. The Shadow might be unable for some reason to communicate, in which case its mission might be compromised. The Shadow might be on mission and unable to communicate. There was a fourth possibility — the Shadow might not be pursuing the course of action it had been directed to follow.

  The computer had no feelings about any of these possibilities. It was designed to analyze available data and take courses of action. It came up with one solution to all four. Deep underground, in a chamber lined with dozens of deep sleep tubes, a green light came alive on two of them. The tops swung open.

  Two Airlia exited the tubes. They quickly dressed, then went to the guardian computer, splaying six fingered hands against the sides. They were quickly updated on the situation on Earth and issued their orders. Going to a console, one of them pressed a code into the hexagonal array. A small door slid open on the console, revealing a scepter with a lion head with glittering ruby-red eye. The Airlia grabbed the scepter and slid it into a metal case, which it then tucked into its belt.

  Leaving the guardian chamber, they made their way viapassageways to a massive underground hangar. Nine lean shapes, two hundred meters tall by twenty wide at the base, were parked in the hangar — Talon spacecraft, warships that had traveled into the system on the sides of Aspasia’s mothership. They entered one of the Talons and powered the craft up. As the hangar roof slid to the side, the craft rose up and accelerated into the Martian sky.

  Once before all the Talons had been alerted — when the Ones Who Wait had tried building an interstellar array on the slopes of a mountain that had been twin to Kilimanjaro. For the current mission, it was decided one would do.

  QIAN-LING

  The launch, of course, was noted. Ts’ang Chieh received the information from the Qian-Ling guardian within minutes of the Talon’s departing Mars. He considered this for several moments, then relayed the information to the Ones Who Wait in Africa.

  ENGLAND

  Gawain followed Merlin to a place both had been to many times before: Avalon. Gawain waited until Merlin had crossed over the water and disappeared into the top of the tor before crossing himself. Then he took another rowboat, made his way to the base of the tor, and climbed up.

  He used his own medallion to enter the Watcher headquarters. Moving silently, Gawain went into the depths of the tor, searching for the errant Watcher. He found him where he expected — in the records chamber, poring over old documents. Merlin jumped to his feet in surprise as Gawain entered the room.

  “How did you get in here?” Merlin demanded, his hands fumbling for a dagger tucked into his belt.

  Gawain smacked the dagger out of the other man’s hand. “Sit down.”

  Merlin grabbed a stool, almost fell on his first attempt, then managed to attain a perch. “Did Arthur send you after me?”

  “Arthur?” Gawain spit. “You have no clue what you’ve stirred up.” He pulled the chain from underneath his armor and showed Merlin the gold medallion.

  The old man’s eyes grew wide as they recognized it. “The head of my order — but you serve on Arthur’s Round Table.”

  “I sit at Arthur’s Round Table to see what he — and you— are up to,” Gawain said. He pointed at the papers. “What are you searching for?”

  “More information on the king.”

  “Arthur?”

  “The king who is to wield the sword, who is to bring prosperity back to the people. Like it was in Atlantis.”

  “Atlantis? We were ruled by those creatures in Atlantis. You’re a Watcher, why would you want that?”

  “But this”—Merlin held up the same parchment that Donnchadh had read the previous year—“says that a man is to wield the sword. Not an alien. Arthur is not Airlia.”

  Gawain sighed. The Watchers had seemed like a good idea so many millennia ago. And the organization had worked relatively well — surprisingly well, actually. But they had never foreseen this danger.

  “Not everything written is true,” Gawain said. “Some Watchers obviously let their imaginations get the better of them.”

  “You are saying the prophecy isn’t true?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Gawain said. “Arthur isn’t Airlia,” he continued. “But he’s not a man either.” He gestured at the documents. “Have you read in there about Shadows? Men imprinted with the alien mind?”

  “Arthur?” Merlin asked.

  Gawain nodded.

  “And Mordred?”

  “Now you’re getting the idea,” Gawain said.

  Merlin put his head in his hands. “What have I done?”

  Gawain came around the table and put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You’ll have a chance to put things right before all of this is over.”

  “How? What should I do?”

  Gawain shook his head. “I don’t know right now, but you’ll know it when it happens.”

  ENGLAND

  Donnchadh lay in the shade underneath the oak tree, staring out over the placid water of the pond. Her head was resting on her backpack and a brace of black daggers were stuck point dow
n in the dirt next to her along with the cores of several apples.

  “I heard you coming five minutes ago,” she called out.

  “How did you know it was me?” Gawain asked as he appeared out of the shadows cast by the old trees.

  “All these years and you ask that? I don’t have to see you to know you are near.”

  Gawain nodded and didn’t comment. He threw his pack down next to his wife, then slowly sat down on top of it, moving his long sword out of the way as he did so. “What word do you bring?”

  “Mordred wants to meet with Arthur.”

  That gave Gawain pause. He removed his helmet and began unbuckling his chest armor as he digested the information. He sighed as he removed the heavy metal from his upper body. “Why?” he finally asked.

  Morgana removed an apple from her pack and tossed it to him. He caught it and took a large bite. She took out another for herself. She chewed for several seconds, then shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about that the entire time coming here and I don’t have a clue. Mordred — Aspasia’s Shadow — is acting strangely for a Shadow. Sometimes I feel as if he has his own agenda.”

  “Have you sent out word for the Watchers?”

  Morgana nodded. “Couriers have been dispatched. One, who was here in England, has already arrived. I’ve made him the new Watcher of Avalon. I gave him the name Brynn after the first watcher of the tor.”

  Gawain had stripped down to just a short tunic. His armor lay in a haphazard pile. He finished the apple and eyed the pond. “Do you think the water is cold?”

  “Ever since Avalon, you don’t like cold water.”

  “For good reason.”

  “It’s the end of summer,” Morgana said. “It should be warm.”

  “Want to check it out with me?”

  Morgana smiled and slowly got to her feet. As Gawain went toward the water, she stripped off her garments. When Gawain glanced over his shoulder and saw this, a smile crossed his weary face.

  XIX

  A.D. 529: ENGLAND

  Gawain and Morgana were spectators at the most in-teresting event they had seen in millennia. The secret meeting between Arthur and Mordred was held in the southwest of England on a craggy knoll that poked up out of a thick forest.

  Arthur rode in from the north with Gawain as one of the twelve knights he had for security and Merlin by his side. Mordred approached from the southeast with four Guides and Morgana as escort. Both parties paused at the base of the knoll and dismounted. They climbed up the rocky crag until Mordred and Arthur were face-to-face, just under two meters apart. Both parties fanned out around their leaders, eyeing each other suspiciously.

  Mordred was the first to speak. “You call yourself Arthur?”

  The other Shadow nodded but did not speak.

  Mordred looked at the sword strapped to his opponent’s waist. “You have Excalibur. Do you have the Grail?”

  Arthur remained silent and Mordred flashed an evil grin. “You do not. I have heard you’ve sent your knights on a quest for it.” He looked past Arthur at Merlin. “I have heard that a meddling Watcher has hidden it.”

  Arthur finally spoke. “The Grail and the sword must be returned to the Hall of Records.”

  “Then why haven’t you done so?” Mordred asked.

  “Because you’re here,” Arthur replied.

  “And you have to deal with me before you can do what you’ve been ordered to.”

  Arthur’s hand went to the pommel of Excalibur. “The truce must be maintained.”

  “Why?”

  Arthur frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “Why should we do this? Fight each other? Return the key and the Grail to Giza? To what end?”

  “Because it is our duty,” Arthur said.

  Morgana caught Gawain’s eye. Both were slightly surprised that the two creatures felt comfortable speaking in front of their subordinates, but such was their arrogance that they considered the humans around them to be of no significance.

  “ ‘Duty’?” Mordred laughed.

  Arthur glared at him. “You are the Shadow of one who did not do his duty so it is no surprise that you do not take it seriously.”

  “Aspasia did his duty,” Mordred argued. “Artad was mistaken in his rush to judgment.”

  Arthur shrugged. “The evidence says otherwise.”

  Mordred waved his hands, dismissing the argument. “The thing to think about, my brother in making, is that we are not Artad and Aspasia. We are Shadows of them. What do you think they will do with us when this truce is over?”

  “We must do our duty,” Arthur said.

  “What about our duty to ourselves?” Mordred pressed.

  “There is no self,” Arthur said simply. He tapped his chest. “We are Shadows made to serve.”

  Mordred stared at his opposite. “You’ve been imprinted by the guardian. But you can get past it. I can help free you.” He took a step closer. “We can partake of the Grail. No more reincarnations.”

  Arthur’s face was blank, showing no interest.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Mordred continued. “Because I — Aspasia — knew Artad a long time ago. Served with him. You’re thinking ahead. So we use the Grail? Artad and Aspasia will be alerted by the guardians and come for us. But we won’t be here. We take one of the motherships. Leave this place. Go out among the stars and find our own place.”

  “The major reason behind the Atlantis Truce,” Arthur said, “is to keep the motherships inactive so that the Ancient Enemy does not come here and harvest this planet. This planet, and these humans, are an asset to our empire.”

  “ ‘Our empire’?”

  “We will return the Grail and the sword to the Hall of Records, where they belong.”

  “You’re a fool,” Mordred snapped. “You’re as much a machine as a guardian.”

  “Do you have anything else to say?” Arthur asked calmly.

  “It was your choice,” Mordred said. “Remember that just before I kill you.”

  Arthur turned and walked away down the crag, his knights, Merlin, and Gawain following. Mordred remained on the knoll, glaring at the king as he departed. He turned suddenly and caught Morgana staring at him. He stormed down the hill, almost knocking her over in the process.

  Her hand went to one of the black daggers tucked into her belt as she realized that in that glance he had not considered her something to factor into his plans — that he was above humans. Arrogance. It was the one flaw that had allowed the humans on her home planet their initial successes against the Airlia. Given that the Shadow had the imprinting of his Airlia master, it was no surprise that he had that attitude, but feeling it come off someone who appeared human had caught her off guard.

  Morgana followed Mordred down the hill where he was surrounded by his Warrior-Guides. The parley had solved nothing. It would be war on the morrow. She knew that her husband would be preparing himself for battle that evening.

  War. Morgana felt a deep sense of weariness. Why did it always come to death?

  AFRICA

  The Talon came in fast and high over the east coast of Africa. At just the right moment, a pod was ejected from the side of the Talon and it arced back into space. The pod, three meters long by one wide at its center free-fell until less than two hundred meters above the ground. At that point the rear half of the pod unfolded like the petals of a flower, slowing the descent. The pod hit the ground with a solid thud. The front half then also unfolded and an Airlia emerged from the interior holding a long spear in one hand.

  Once he was clear of the craft, the Airlia pulled a small black sphere out of his tunic and pressed one of the hexagonals. The pod slowly disintegrated until there was no sign of it. The Airlia then slowly turned in a circle, taking in the scenery. He was in the middle of a massive crater that stretched twenty kilometers from rim to rim. The crater was elevated over twenty-two hundred meters above the surrounding countryside, the remains of what had been the twin of Kilimanjaro which was
almost two hundred kilometers away to the east.

  The terrain was mostly open grassland with intermittent thick brush. Along the edge of the crater, near the rim, there was dense forest. In the very center was a broad expanse of shallow water.

  The Airlia held up the black sphere and peered with red cat-eyes at a small display. As he studied the data that cameup, he was unaware that he too was being studied. The Talon’s approach and the pod’s landing had not gone unobserved.

  The Airlia found what it was looking for as the small screen glowed amber as he turned in the direction of the lake. The alien walked toward the water, the amber changing to red, the color growing brighter as he approached the lake. Just before it reached the edge of the water, a blast of air bubbled to the surface about fifty meters ahead of it. The Airlia halted, bringing the spear to the ready position.

  Two people appeared, coming up out of the shallow water. They were human-shaped, with pale skin, a man and a woman. However, their eyes were just like the Airlia’s: elongated red cat-eyes. Both held spears similar to the one the Airlia had. They walked to the shore and stopped there, less than five meters from the alien.

  The creature spoke first, in its native language. “Are you behind what is happening with the Grail and Master Key?”

  The female of the pair spoke for them. “No. That was the humans. Artad has dispatched his Shadow to recover both.”

  “As Aspasia’s Shadow has also been dispatched to do the same,” the Airlia said. “However, neither seem to have accomplished that task yet.”

  “Why are you here?” the woman asked.

  “To enforce the Atlantis Truce,” the Airlia replied. “You tried once to break that truce by building an array on this site.”

  The woman considered the Airlia for several moments, processing what it had just said. “You do not trust your Shadow, do you?”

  “Does Artad trust his Shadow?”

  “Artad’s Shadow is imprinted,” the One Who Waits replied.