“Let me go,” Arthur demanded.
“You seem a little agitated,” Mor-Dred said with a sneer. “I'm worried you might hurt yourself.”
“Arthur, Adam,” Merlin said quietly, his voice lacking inflection. Hearing his tone was enough to stop Arthur's struggling, and with a nod towards Mor-Dred he was released. He dropped to one knee and paused before standing, taking in his surroundings.
Arthur wasn't where he expected to be. Instead of being beneath the Isle of Corbenic, he instead found himself back in the throne room in Camelot, the long red carpet a little way to his left. He stood and turned, looking for the door through which he had entered, but it was no longer there. Only Merlin remained, his shoulders slumped and his face weary, making him look older than Arthur thought possible.
“You promised,” Arthur said, his tone measured. Mor-Dred had strolled across the room and back to his throne where he sat, looking down on them.
“And what did I promise?” Mor-Dred replied, resting his hands together as he relaxed.
“You said we had a chance of success, that we could find the Grail and free Lance and Gwen,” Arthur continued, the anger bubbling inside of him. “It was a lie, just like Merlin said. You never intended to keep your word.”
Mor-Dred chuckled, shaking his head. “A Grail quest is, well, metaphorical,” he said with a condescending tone. “When one searches for the Grail, what one really searches for is knowledge, for truth. Tell me, Arthur, did neither of you discover any great truths on your journey?”
“You tricked us,” Arthur insisted.
“If it makes you feel better to believe that,” Mor-Dred replied, his patronising tone persisting. “In the meantime, Guards, send for the prisoners. I believe I have a bargain to uphold.”
Arthur turned back towards Merlin who still had his head bowed. “I'm sorry,” Arthur told him, though if Merlin heard him he didn't acknowledge it. “We'll fix this, I promise.”
Merlin failed to move, failed to respond. Arthur didn't know what to do, what to say to make it better. Perhaps if they had told Merlin before, when they'd first found out the truth, but they'd had Merlin's best interests in mind when they made their decision. What would they have gained by telling him then? How could they have known he would find out like that?
Arthur was reminded of something Merlin had told him. “A good leader always tries to do the best for his people,” he had said. “A great leader knows that it's impossible. Good intentions will not save you from having to make the hard decisions.”
Arthur had made the hard decision and he had to live with the consequences.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the large double door opening. He turned to see Gwen, her clothes dirty and face red from crying. He looked for Lance, initially failing to recognise the form draped over the guard's shoulder as his friend.
“What have you done?” Arthur demanded, turning his attention back towards Mor-Dred. “You promised they wouldn't be harmed?”
“I said they would live,” Mor-Dred corrected. “They both still take breath, and their hearts beat within their chests. What more do you want?”
The guard carrying Lance dropped him to the floor, making Gwen gasp. Arthur ran to them, pausing for a moment to make eye contact with Gwen before crouching beside Lance's lifeless body. As Mor-Dred had stated, Lance's chest moved slightly with every shallow breath but he failed to react to his mistreatment. As Arthur placed his arms beneath his wounded friend, he saw for the first time the ragged stump where his left arm used to be. As he looked towards the throne, Mor-Dred was smiling.
“This isn't over,” Arthur stated venomously.
“I should hope not,” Mor-Dred replied, his voice full of cheer. “I want you and Merlin to live a very long life, here with me, in Camelot. I expect the centuries we'll share together will be most entertaining.”
Arthur turned away from him, pulling Lance's body close to his own before following Gwen and Merlin towards the exit.
“Oh, and by the way,” Mor-Dred called after them. “I wouldn't expect any help from your peculiar friend on the hive. From the look of things, they've become quite desperate, and I suspect they'll be joining you in here momentarily.”
Arthur turned to see an image of Triltan working to attach wires to the inside of one of the birthing pods. He hadn't known her long enough to fully read her facial expression, but desperation would certainly fit. Arthur felt his heart sink, Lance's body suddenly feeling much heavier within his arms.
“Farewell, Arthur, King of the Britons,” Mor-Dred said mockingly as they left. “I look forward to seeing you soon.”
*****
Triltan took a deep breath and closed her eyes as her capsule made the wireless connection to the scanner and the hive mainframe beyond. As she opened her eyes again she had the sensation of two images, overlaid upon each other.
The first image was of the birthing chamber and the monitoring station at which she sat, but the second image was in stark contrast to that. It appeared to be a city of some kind, seen from above which she was moving towards rapidly. A single ball of yellow light moved quickly across the sky, turning it to dusk as she watched. As she got closer she began to make out figures moving between the buildings, though they moved at such a pace they were little more than a blur.
A quick thought to her capsule informed her that time was moving much faster within the simulation than the real world, but with a second thought she was able to catch up. That must have been why Arthur's message came in such a burst, she thought to herself.
The sudden jolt as everything slowed down around her was disorientation at first, but once she was no longer seeing the faded image of the birthing chamber through the simulated city she was better able to orientate herself. As she continued to approach the surface, she was able to take the time to further assess the buildings and people below her. The buildings were made of stone, and only a few were more than one or two storeys high. At the centre of the city was a much larger stone building, surrounded by a wall of similar construction.
Once Triltan was close enough she could tell that the people were all Mori, the occupants of the pods she correctly surmised. They were dressed in tattered fabrics and mud stained shoes, nothing like the shiny militaristic dress or intricate robes worn by Gar-Wan and the other Mori she had seen in Camelot. They reminded her a little of the Followers of Ajoch, though even the members of her people who had shunned all technology were better dressed than those below her. They all had a downtrodden look to them, a look Arthur and Gwen had described to her when telling her stories of their life as slaves.
As her feet touched down on one of the muddied streets, she was shocked at how solid the ground felt beneath her, how cold the air was as it moved past her suddenly exposed skin. She looked down at herself, wondering where her armour had gone. She had to remind herself that she wasn't looking at her actual body, just a digital representation of it; the simulation was that realistic.
Triltan was dressed similarly to the others she had, tattered brown fabric from her shoulders to the floor, though it left her arms exposed. She touched it, running her fingers along the coarse fabric, the attention to detail astounding. Every instinct told her that it was real, that she was really wearing a battered old sack with the arms cut out.
The longer she stood there, the more her other senses seemed to agree. The temperature dropped further as a light drizzle started, the rain trickling down her face and arms. The water felt cold and wet, just as she expected it to, and began to pool in small puddles around her feet. Smells drifted towards her as the wind picked up, smells both pleasant and foul, invading her nostrils as she took a deep breath in.
That startled her, the sensation of cold air as it cleared her nostrils and hit the back of her throat. She had a sudden flash of panic, an overwhelming desire to flee. If she was breathing inside the simulation, would her real body be breathing outside, in the real world? The others were all in pods, surrounded by a nu
trient gel which kept their physical body alive. What would happen to her if she stayed inside the simulation?
Triltan forced herself to stop panicking, to calm down. The rational part of her reminded her that breathing was automatic, not something she had to concentrate on, but she was still scared. Just to be sure she pulled back from the simulation, watching it fade as the birthing chamber reappeared within her vision. She noticed it had moved slightly, that it was at an odd angle and moving very slowly. She almost laughed out loud as she realised that she was watching herself fall off the chair in slow motion.
She terminated her connection to the hive mainframe with a thought and managed to catch herself before her real body hit the floor. She took a deep breath and then a second, trying to calm herself. She was disorientated at first, her mind having to change gear as her perception of the passage of time changed back to what she was used to. She looked down at herself, seeing her white armour just where it was supposed to be, feeling the smooth lining of the chair with the tips of her fingers.
It had all seemed so real, just like a dream world can feel real for moments after waking. The feeling of disorientation was similar too, as though her brain was struggling to determine which reality to believe. The rational part of her knew what was real, but just for a moment, as she withdrew herself from the simulation, she had been unsure.
At least I'm still breathing, she thought happily.
A thought to her capsule confirmed what she expected. Her heart had continued to beat and her lungs had continued to breathe while she was connected to the hive mainframe, she just couldn't hold herself upright in a chair.
With one more deep breath to steady her nerves, Triltan laid down on the floor beside the console and connected herself to the hive mainframe once more.
*****
The sun was setting as Arthur and the others left the throne room, the heavy doors closing behind them as they stepped out into the cool evening air. Lance still lay limply across Arthur's arms, not stirring despite the change in temperature. Merlin stood to his left and Gwen to his right, shoulders slumped and heads held low.
“What now?” Arthur asked. “Merlin? Gwen?”
Merlin turned to look at him, shaking his head in response before returning his gaze to the ground at his feet. Gwen tried to smile but it looked fake, forced.
“We can't just stay here,” Arthur said, more angrily than he intended. “Lance needs us. It's getting cold and it'll be dark soon.”
As though to emphasize his point a faint drizzle started, the surrounding air growing even colder as the setting sun disappeared behind the clouds. Arthur set off at a fast walk, not sure where he was going and not caring if Gwen and Merlin followed him.
They'd lost, all of them, but they'd faced similar failures before. Things looked dire, it was true, but it had only been a matter of weeks since they'd watched a planet with a population of billions tear itself apart. If that hadn't taught them that things could be worse, what would?
The rain grew heavier as he walked on, the imposing wall surrounding the keep doing little to keep the rain off them. The few people they passed kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact. Arthur wondered how many of them already knew what had happened, if Mor-Dred had somehow spread word of his victory.
Arthur stopped suddenly, surprised to find himself somewhere familiar. He was stood before the tavern where he and Merlin had met Ari-Dun. It seemed like such a long time ago, so much had happened since he had betrayed them to Mor-Dred.
Arthur recalled that Ari-Dun's home was down an alley a short distance from the Tavern. It was dry and had a fire to keep them warm, and besides, if anyone owed them it was Ari-Dun.
Arthur turned off the street and headed down the alleyway and towards the crooked wooden door at the end. He didn't pause, he didn't knock or call to see if anyone was inside. Without breaking his stride Arthur held Lance tightly to his chest and kicked out the door, the top hinge snapping with the force.
The house was empty and a moment later he was out of the rain. Arthur looked around, choosing to lay Lance down on the wooden bed and use the only blanket to dry him. Lance didn't move, didn't respond to the feeling of coarse fabric being pressed against his lacerated skin.
“Merlin, get the fire going,” Arthur demanded, not looking up to see if his orders were being followed. “Gwen, see if you can find some clean water and something to dress these wounds.”
Merlin and Gwen did as ordered, Merlin piling logs and tinder into the hearth before lighting it with a match. Gwen tore up the loose curtain which hung by the door, tearing it into strips. There was no source of clean water inside, but standing outside for a minute or two with a bowl gave her enough water to clean Lance's wounds before dressing them. All the while Arthur sat with Lance, griping his hand tightly.
Once the fire was raging and Lance was tended to, Arthur pulled the bed closer to the flames before taking a seat at the rickety wooden table. He rubbed at his temples as he fought against the fatigue and weariness which plagued him. He felt exhausted, drained in both body and spirit.
A soft hand brushed against his, pulling it from his face. Arthur looked up to see Gwen had joined him, her face a mask of concern. Seeing her like that pained him and he tried to smile but found he lacked the strength. Why hide it? Why pretend everything was okay when it so clearly wasn't? They'd lost and Mor-Dred had won. All they could do was wait and hope that Caran Doc and the Ardent Dawn were able to free them.
A scraping sound signalled Merlin joining them at the table, though when Arthur looked at him Merlin conspicuously looked away. Her was hiding, Arthur realised, and that brought back the anger that he had felt as they trudged through the streets of Camelot. Arthur shook his head, trying to keep his anger at bay.
“I'm sorry,” Arthur said at last. “Merlin, I'm sorry. We're all sorry, we didn't mean for you to find out this way.”
“He's right,” Gwen added, her voice little more than a whisper. “The technicians are looking for a way to repair your code without taking away who you are. Once they'd found the answer, we were going to tell you everything.”
“We need you though, Merlin,” Arthur continued. “Now more than ever.”
Merlin chuckled, a self-pitying sound that did nothing to convey humour. “You're sorry?” he said. “Sorry for me? Why? I'm the one who's been lying to you, I've been lying to you since the day we met.”
“It's not like that,” Gwen said, reaching out to him. “You didn't know.”
“Does that matter?” Merlin countered. “I filled your heads with stories, tales that had never been true; could never be true. Everything I told you was a lie, something I made up to justify my existence. All I've ever done is put you in danger. This place, Mor-Dred, it's all my fault. That monster exists because of my ignorance and hubris.
“I'm just a thing, a broken machine and you should have disposed of me the minute you found out.”
“No,” Gwen replied tearfully. “You're still you, our friend. Whatever those technicians found, it doesn't take away who you are to us.”
“Then you're lying to yourself,” Merlin said bitterly.
Arthur felt his anger boil over and he stood, picking up the table and throwing it aside as he reared upon Merlin. Gwen yelped in surprise.
“That's enough, Merlin,” Arthur spat. “So you're not who you thought you were. Guess what, neither are we. Yes, you filled our heads with stories, tales of prophecy and legend, and you know what? We never really believed you, not at first. When we first met we all thought you were crazy, that you'd been stuck on Earth too long and you'd gone insane.
“But we started to believe in you, Merlin. I started to believe. Learning the truth, it was painful, knowing it had all been a lie-”
“Arthur, I,” Merlin interrupted, but Arthur raised a hand to stop him.
“No, Merlin,” he said. “Just listen. Since I learned the truth about who you are, I've had a lot of time to think, and I've realised something. It
doesn't matter, none of it matters, not to any of us. What's important is who we are now. It was you, Merlin, you who made us who we are, you who gave us something no one else ever had.
“You told us we had a choice.”
Merlin looked up at him, their eyes finally meeting. Arthur could see the pain in the older man's eyes and his anger began to subside. Merlin was scared, terrified even, a feeling Arthur remembered all too well.
“I was born a slave,” Arthur continued, his voice calmer than before. “Adam 359, and that's all I could have been. I wanted freedom, but it was you, Merlin, you who gave me the tools and the belief that it was possible.
“I wasn't born Arthur, I was born a slave, just one more copy of those who'd come before me, but you convinced me it could be different. So there's no fate, no prophecy. Is that going to stop us trying to do the right thing? Make us turn our backs on the plans we made and the promises we swore to keep?
“Who we are, it all comes down to the choices we make. Well, you know what? I chose to be Arthur, your Arthur, and I still do. And do you know what else? I choose to accept all the mess and misery that comes along with it.
“Tell me, Merlin, who will you choose to be?”
Arthur returned to his seat as Gwen and Merlin looked up at him, Gwen smiling with pride. Merlin coughed, clearing his throat before speaking. “I would say I chose wisely,” he said. “Or at least the part of me that believed himself Merlin did. You're a good man, Arthur, and it pleases me greatly to call you friend.
“Perhaps you're right, about fate and prophecy, but of all the people who could have found me beneath Glastonbury Tor, it was you three. Everything else, it doesn't matter, you're right about that. For as long as you choose to be Arthur, I will be Merlin, at your side. You, me, Gwen and Lance, the four of us together-”
“Make that five,” Triltan interrupted from the doorway.
*****
X-Calibur: The Trial Page 16