The Grail Quest (The Avalon Book 1)

by J. R. Rain

  The dragon was gone.

  Chapter Forty-one

  The hall was majestic, stretching as far as the eye could see.

  Its walls were composed of what appeared to be semi-transparent stones. Correction, jewels. Indeed, hundreds upon thousands of diamonds and rubies and emeralds were embedded in the walls, creating prisms of light that were nothing short of spectacular. Placed along the hall were many tables, and seated around these tables were many people. Many bright people. People who were literally glowing. Spirits, I realized. Those who had recently passed over from the flesh.

  How I knew this, I did not know. Why I was here, I still did not know.

  My attention turned to the group of five men and women who were seated in front of me around a rectangular table. All were watching me expectantly. All radiated warmth and love. All looked hauntingly familiar.

  “Welcome,” said a voice. I wasn’t sure who had spoken.

  “Um, hi,” I said.

  “Please, James, have a seat.” Again, I had no idea who was talking. In fact, I didn’t see any of their lips moving.

  So I sat in a plush red chair that had been waiting for me, a chair I literally sank into, easily the greatest sitting experience I had ever had. Heck, I never wanted to get up.

  Anyway, I found myself seated at the head of the long table. To my left was a man and woman. To my right were two women and one man. All seemed ageless. All seemed wise. All were beautiful in unique ways. And all were watching me as if I were the most fascinating man they’d ever seen.

  Go figure.

  “Where am I?” I asked, and with a start I realized I had not opened my mouth to speak, that I was instead speaking telepathically again. I hadn’t meant to, it just...happened.

  “You are in the Hall of Knowledge, James,” said a voice in my head.

  “And which of you is speaking?” I asked.

  “We are speaking to you from the One Mind,” said the genderless voice, and everyone at the long table nodded together, once.

  “But how do you all agree what to say?” I blurted out.

  They smiled collectively. “We have worked with each other for a very long time, James.”

  “Am I dead?” I asked.

  There was a pause. “In the physical world, you are very near death, James. But as you can see, in the spiritual world, you are very much alive.”

  Good job, James. Two days in England and you’re already dead.

  “No, James, you are not dead,” said the One Voice, obviously hearing my thoughts.

  “Who, exactly, are you?” But the moment I asked the question, I knew the answer. The more I looked into their faces, the more I began to recognize them.

  “Yes, James. We are your friends.”

  And then it all came back. In a glorious, furious rush. Yes, I knew these people. I had known them all along. I had known them from time immemorial. I had known them through many lifetimes. In fact, through all my lifetimes.

  “Welcome back, James.”

  “Am I in heaven?”

  “Yes,” said my guides. “You’re always in heaven.”

  * * *

  We spent what might have been many hours—or perhaps even days—discussing my physical life up to this point. We discussed the development of my soul: my failed marriage, my writing, my schooling, my many thousands of life choices. We discussed my childhood, my influence on others, the ramifications of every choice I had ever made. I saw how one single act of love could spread throughout the world. I saw how one single act of anger or hate could crush the human spirit. I saw that I was on earth to continue my spiritual lessons, to continue growing, and that I had chosen to come to earth. I learned that the council watched over me as similar councils watched over other spirits. No one was alone, ever. I learned that some spirits made great leaps forward in their evolutionary progress, while others floundered, crushed by circumstances on earth. And still others made very poor decisions, choices that hurt others, hurt themselves, choices that actually stunted their spiritual development. But no spirit was lost, I learned. There is always hope. There is always another lifetime to learn and to grow.

  After much discussion, the council grew quiet and I sensed that they had something important to tell me. “We do, James,” said the One Voice. “Your work on earth is incomplete.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Another pause. The council members looked at each other, then back to me. “We want you to return to your physical body, James.”

  “Return? Why?”

  “You came to earth for a very specific reason. That reason has not been completed.”

  “But I thought I was dead.”

  “No, James. You were badly wounded in battle, but you have not died. At least not yet.”

  I felt a mild sense of panic. I liked it here. It was peaceful here. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Always.”

  “Then I choose to stay.”

  The council grew quiet again, and I sensed their overwhelming love for me. I also sensed their deep respect for any decision I should make. They knew life was not always easy in the flesh and presented many challenges. They also knew that life presented many wonderful opportunities for real growth, too, but they would never force me to return, ever, and respected my decision to stay.

  I looked at each of them. They looked at me. I felt an overwhelming, inexplicable love for these five spirits. I knew in my heart that I had loved them for eons upon eons.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll bite. What’s the purpose?”

  They smiled at me compassionately, collectively. “We cannot tell you, James. Part of the growing process is to make certain choices at certain times.”

  “And this is one of those times?”

  They smiled again. “Your path cannot be revealed, James. You understand this concept on some level. It is upon this path that the spirit evolves.”

  “And why do I need to evolve?”

  “You don’t. It has always been your choice to evolve,” said the council. They paused, looked at each other again, and then looked back at me. “We do, however, have a compromise. Are you interested in hearing it?”

  “Very much,” I said.

  They explained the compromise: my specific purpose would be revealed to me now, and if I decided that it was a worthy purpose, the memory of it would be removed from my memory.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “But if I return to earth, how will I ever know what my purpose is?”

  The council smiled gently. “We will remind you, James. We will not let you stray far from the path.”

  “Unless I choose to stray far from the path.”

  “Exactly,” they said.

  “Okay,” I said, clapping my hands. “Lay it on me.”

  And they did, and it must have been one heck of a purpose to complete, because when they were finished, I found myself agreeing instantly to return to the flesh.

  What I agreed to, I may never know.

  Beyond the transparent bejeweled walls were blue skies and white clouds. Birds flew over distant tree tops. High above, a single source of light shone brightly down, touching everything, infusing everything. But it was more than just light.

  It was everything.

  And from this light I sensed the greatest of love, a love so powerful that I began to weep. And as I wept, the light in the sky pulsated and grew in size, spreading across the heavens, streaming in through the transparent walls, surrounding me. As it enveloped me, I heard singing—beautiful, sweet singing—and I knew that all the angels of heaven were praising God, and that I was home.

  Finally home.

  But I wasn’t ready to stay.

  No, not yet.

  Chapter Forty-two

  I awoke slowly to the sounds of clashing swords.

  Someone shouted something angrily. Someone answered, although much more calmly. I wanted both of them to shut the hell up and give my aching head a break.

  I tried opening my eyes but they did
n’t want to work. I tried again—and this time piercing light stabbed straight through to the back of my skull. I groaned.

  God, my head hurt.

  Movement just above me. A shadow passing before the light. Something touching my face. Something soft and tender.

  Fingers.

  More fighting. More shouts. More pain in my head. I heard many voices. Metal clanging against metal. My brain clanging against my skull.

  The Hall of Enlightenment. My new friends. My old friends. The dragon. Flying. It all came rushing back to me.

  They—my guides and friends—were going to tell me something. Something important. A secret. The reason for my entire existence. And, yes, they had indeed told me. I know they had, but...nothing. The memory was gone.

  I groaned.

  “Come back to me, James,” said a voice over me. A female voice. A soft voice. A voice full of warmth and love and...panic.

  I shifted my focus to her.

  “Come on, James. You can do it.”

  Something was hovering above me. Something oval and white and damn beautiful.

  I blinked and refocused and then I saw that it was Marion. There was blood on her face. She tried to smile down at me, but she was too distracted by something going on nearby.

  And then she turned to her right and screamed.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Yeah, my head hurt. Yeah, I was still confused as hell. Yeah, I wished I was still surrounded in that loving warm light. And, yeah, I even wished I was still flying in blissful tranquility side by side with the dragon, crazy as that sounds.

  But with Marion’s scream, well, that all went out the window.

  I bolted upright and immediately fought a sickening wave of nausea. I forced my eyes to work, forced them to adjust to my surroundings. Blurry images came into view. Two hazy figures were currently engaged in a strange sort of give-and-take dance: spinning, lunging, swinging.

  Metal clashed; sparks erupted.

  No, not a dance. Swordplay. Ferocious swordplay. And as I thought this, my memory came rushing back to me: the chapel, Arthur, Excalibur, Merlin.

  Metal clashed again. Someone grunted and Marion screamed again. I ignored the pain in my head, leaped to my feet, and promptly vomited.

  When I was done retching, I finally saw who was fighting whom.

  * * *

  Arthur and Merlin were in the middle of what could only be described as an epic battle.

  Swords flashed and blurred. Bodies spun, contorted, and moved in mind-boggling ways. Arthur, I saw, was cut in many places and covered in his own blood; he seemed to be weakening. Merlin, unscathed, was grinning and full of confidence.

  Although Arthur fought with the great Excalibur, it was Merlin who clearly had the upper hand. Upper hand, of course, was used figuratively here, since no hand appeared to be holding Merlin’s sword.

  Indeed, his sword hovered before him, flashing impossibly fast. Nearly too fast for my eyes to follow. How Arthur kept up with the sword, I had no idea.

  Merlin himself was able to keep out of harm’s way by being physically unattached to his sword. A neat trick. Arthur wasn’t so lucky. His face and arms were crisscrossed with fresh wounds.

  The fighting continued across the chapel. Sparks showered down in a brilliant display. Merlin’s men watched from the dark corners of the abbey. Many were wounded, the result of Arthur’s prowess with the sword, no doubt, and perhaps my own blind luck from earlier.

  Marion and I stood together upon the raised altar. Or, more accurately, she stood and I leaned against her. She covered her mouth as she watched the fighting, screaming each time Arthur was slashed.

  My strength was returning, quickly, although a lot of good that did Arthur. Still, I might be useful as a diversion perhaps. Something, anything.

  A break in the fighting, both fighters pausing. Arthur seemed relieved and sucked in great lungsful of air, oblivious to his own wounds, which streamed blood down his arms, chest and torso. His shoes, I saw, were spilling over in his own blood, sloshing as if he had come in from the rain.

  I took in some air, felt a curious strength radiate from the floor and up along my spine. I found my own sword, although I doubted it would be of any use against Merlin’s own enchanted sword.

  Still, I had to do something. I couldn’t let my new friend die.

  Both men were now circling each other. Merlin had a whimsical smile on his face, humor in his eyes. Arthur, to my shock, had the same expression, although much bloodier.

  My God, he is having fun!

  Arthur glanced my way and saw me for the first time. He gave me a small, imperceptible nod.

  Welcome back, James. Have a nice nap?

  You’re hurt, I thought.

  Nonsense. Just having a little fun.

  Arthur turned back to Merlin. As he did so, the two fighters picked up on a conversation that I had obviously missed a part of, a conversation that I suspected Arthur wanted me to hear.

  “Like I was saying, my old friend,” he was saying to Merlin. “You have life backward.”

  “Oh? How so?” asked the wizard. Merlin kept his hands angled down, palms open, perhaps a wizarding method of controlling the enchanted sword. I sensed, though, that one of the dark creatures contained within his black cloak was handling the sword. Perhaps many such dark creatures.

  “You seek to take from life,” said Arthur, keeping his sword steady before him. Considering all of his injuries, I wondered how steady his sword would have been if it hadn’t been Excalibur. “When, in fact, you should give to life.”

  The two men turned again. Parry, block, counter-parry. Spin. Slash. A dance of death.

  “And what do you suggest I give?”

  “Anything. Time. Energy. Money. But most of all your love.”

  “You forgot to mention life,” said Merlin.

  “How so?”

  Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “Would you give your life, my king?”

  The moment he uttered this question, a sickening feeling arose within me. A feeling that wasn’t due to my head injury. I knew that Arthur would, in fact, give up his life. He was just crazy enough to do it.

  Arthur stopped fighting and stepped back. Merlin paused as well, watching him curiously, his bedeviled sword still flashing back and forth in front of him. I watched Arthur, as well. But I wasn’t curious. I was suddenly horror-stricken. What was he going to do?

  “If someone desired my life,” said Arthur, looking over at us with a hint of what might have been sadness crossing his face, “then I would give it to him.”

  Merlin laughed. “That is not the king I remember.”

  “The king you remember has changed much, old friend.”

  “Then let’s test your new-found resolve,” said Merlin. “May I have your life, my lord?”

  Arthur took in some air. Blood dribbled out of his many wounds. He was leaving a slick swath of crimson across the stone floor. He looked at me again...and winked.

  Then he lowered his sword and looked Merlin in the eye. “Of course, old friend.”

  “No!” I screamed, lunging forward, stumbling.

  Merlin’s sword, in a heartbeat, lashed out and drove deep into Arthur’s chest.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The bloodied point of the disembodied sword slid out.

  Arthur dropped to his knees, and a great fountain of blood gushed from his heart.

  Merlin stood over him, seemingly incapable of moving, mouth open in what appeared to be shock and horror. For a brief instant I saw a real man with real emotions. His enchanted sword still hovered before him, but it had stopped flashing back and forth.

  Next, Arthur pitched forward and lay facedown in a pool of his own spreading blood, Excalibur still gripped in his hand, glowing dully.

  A strange sound came from my lungs, something primal and hurt and furious, and I turned on Merlin, swinging my sword hard. And for the first time in my life, I meant to kill another man.

  * * *


  Merlin’s disembodied sword came to life in an instant and reparteed, but I was already swinging hard again, my own sword shockingly light and surprisingly easy to maneuver.

  I swung low, a slashing movement, but the enchanted sword was there, waiting. I advanced. My footwork sure and confident. My hatred pure. My adrenaline pumping.

  I attacked again and again: wild over the top swings, thrusts, lunges, anything and everything I could think of. I was sweating, panting. Furious tears streamed down my face. I occasionally caught a curious look in Merlin’s own eyes: Fear.

  We moved across the raised platform, from wall to wall. At some point I saw that Merlin was even floating a few feet above the ground.

  And still I attacked. And still his sword countered my every move. I realized my problem immediately, of course: Merlin was too far removed from his sword. He was nearly impossible to get close to. As we fought, I also caught the faces of his merry band of bandits, all crowding the doorway, watching the fight. Watching, no doubt, a man gone mad with rage.

  So far, Merlin had only defended himself. It would be only a matter of moments before he decided to go on the offensive. If so, I knew I would be done. My blind rage could only get me so far. My pumping adrenaline could only stave off the enchanted skill of his sword for so long. There would come a point when I would be exposed, and run through much like Arthur had been.

  I had to find a way to finish this now.

  And as we fought, as the rain continued to fall through the open roof, as we moved across the church, our swords clashing and spitting fire, we stepped across a deep puddle that had formed in the center of the roofless church. In that puddle I caught a bizarre reflection: our movements were nearly a blur, our swords flashing at an incomprehensible rate.

  Only then did I realize the speed at which I was fighting.