X-Calibur: The Trial

by Jackson-Lawrence, R.

  “Then we'll die,” Arthur agreed. “Better that than spend another day trapped in here!”

  There was a general murmur from the crowd as they considered what Arthur had said. They had been trapped inside the simulation for more than a year, every day the same as the last, but were they really willing to accept death as an alternative? He didn't think so, but he still hoped some of them would have the courage to stand with him.

  One of the patrons pointed at him, muttering, “The slave certainly seems to believe what he's saying, but that's not the same as being able to deliver on his promises.”

  Arthur understood their apprehension. His plan was reckless, born out of the need to act quickly rather than waiting for Caran Doc and the Ardent Dawn to arrive. It was just as likely to fail as succeed, but he hadn't been left with much of a choice. He didn't need them to fight with him, it wasn't essential to the plan, but it would make the battle a lot easier if they did.

  Arthur waited, taking it all in. The crowd looked far from happy, but the occasional glance of agreement raised his spirits. After a while the room gradually grew quiet, eyes turning back towards him expectantly. “Tomorrow, at dawn,” Arthur said, stepping from the chair and heading towards the door. “Join me on the Fields of Camlann and we'll take back our freedom, together!”

  *****

  Ari-Dun sat at the table, pretending to sleep. Everything was moving so quickly and he had to tell his master what he had learned. If Mor-Dred thought that he might be involved, even for a minute, Ari-Dun didn't want to imagine what new torment his master might bestow upon him.

  Arthur and Gwen were curled up together on the floor before the dying embers of the fire while Merlin and Triltan dozed beside the bed. Lance lay in the bed, silent and unmoving. Ari-Dun sat up slowly, watching to see if any of them stirred. Arthur breathed deeply and laid his arm lazily across Gwen, but otherwise they all seemed the same.

  Sliding his chair back as quietly as he was able, Ari-Dun stood and crept towards the door. He turned back frequently, his eight eyes checking and double checking that he was unobserved, but he reached the door without incident. He pulled it open a crack, muscles tensing as the single remaining hinge creaked, and slipped out into the night.

  It was raining again and he was soaked by the time he'd reached the entrance to the castle. The four guards let him through without question and a moment later Ari-Dun was in the throne room, rushing towards the throne itself.

  “Jester!” Mor-Dred said happily, feigning surprise. “How unexpected. What are you doing out at this late hour?”

  “Master, I'm sorry to disturb you,” Ari-Dun began, dropping painfully to one knee before the dais. “I bring word of the false King and his plans.”

  We know, the fragment whispered. We always know!

  “Ah, you mean his plans to raise the people against me on the Fields of Camlann?” Mor-Dred asked with a mocking smile. Ari-Dun looked surprised and then fearful as Mor-Dred stood.

  “Of course I know all about it,” Mor-Dred continued. “This is my domain, and you would do well to remember that, Jester. Your drunken complaints in the tavern? Not as secret as you might think, but I let them pass. I like you, Jester, doesn't it show?” Ari-Dun said nothing, his heart heavy as he struggled to recall all the times had had complained about his mistreatment.

  He didn't answer! the fragment hissed.

  “That wasn't rhetorical!” Mor-Dred snapped suddenly.

  “Yes, yes, master,” Ari-Dun stammered. “Every day I am grateful for the compassion you show me.”

  “Exactly,” Mor-Dred remarked. “You are a petty, insignificant creature whose entire reason for existence is my entertainment. Isn't that right?”

  “Yes, master,” Ari-Dun continued, bowing as low as his twisted back would allow.

  Show him! the fragment cried.

  “And in return for your loyalty,” Mor-Dred continued, “I shall grant you five minutes free from pain. What do you say?”

  Ari-Dun looked up in confusion. He had never been rewarded before, only punished, regardless of what he had done for his King. “Thank you?” he said.

  “That's right,” Mor-Dred told him. “And be sure to make the most of it. Once your pain returns, it will be five times worse that it was before. Now run along.”

  The fragment laughed hysterically while Ari-Dun hobbled quickly from the throne room, Mor-Dred waving dismissively as he left.

  *****

  The following morning, shortly before dawn, Arthur and Merlin made their way through the dark, empty streets of Camelot. They saw no one in their travels, neither Mor-Dred's soldiers nor the people of Camelot rallying to join them.

  “You're sure he snuck out last night?” Arthur asked.

  “A little after midnight,” Merlin reassured him. “He returned an hour or so later. Are you sure Mor-Dred will leave the caste to face you?”

  “What, the chance to face King Arthur on the Fields of Camlann?” Arthur said with a smile. “Even though he knows the truth, he won't be able to help himself.”

  The truth. Those two words still struck Merlin like a blow to the chest. Once he had accepted the truth of what he was so many memories had come rushing back. He recalled his creators, Milford Sanders and Sebastian Caruthers, and their families who had joined them during their final days. How was it possible he had forgotten those who meant so much to him? How was that fair to those lost?

  Merlin knew the answer, knew it the moment his reality had been shown to him. If Mor-Dred had hoped exposing Merlin to the truth would shatter his resolve he had failed. If anything, Merlin felt as though he was looking at himself with clear eyes for the very first time. The Merlin persona was still there, its thoughts, memories and beliefs, but the AI who had chosen to remain as Merlin was so much more. He could access all of his programming, all of his data, and choose what aspects of himself he wished to embrace.

  He was no longer slave to a constructed persona.

  He was free.

  “We're here,” Arthur said quietly, interrupting Merlin's thoughts. “The gates, they're open.”

  “Where are the guards?” Merlin asked, looking around.

  The last time they had travelled that way they had been escorted by Mor-Dred's guards, forcibly marched through the streets of Camelot. The large wooden gates had been closed and barred, guarded by yet more soldiers to deny access to the Fields of Camlann beyond.

  “I think he left them open for us,” Arthur said.

  “More of his games,” Merlin said bitterly.

  But this time, we'll cheat, Arthur thought to himself.

  They stepped through the open gates just as the sun began to edge over the horizon, casting an orange glare across the fields themselves. Merlin looked out, across the fields to the countryside beyond, realising that he no longer felt the anger and shame he had experienced when he last stood in that spot. That had been a feature of the Merlin persona he longer needed.

  The guilt over Arthur's death and Merlin's failure were just pieces of the construct, built to reinforce the identity that was nothing but an amalgam of ancient myths and legends. Looking at it clearly for the very first time, he was able to see that there had probably never been a real Arthur, or at least not one joined by Merlin at the city of Camelot.

  “Arthur,” Merlin said as they turned back towards the open gates. “Before, well, before we do this, I need to apologise, one more time.”

  “You have nothing to apologise for,” Arthur said, placing a hand on the older man's arm. “I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner. We should never have kept it from you.”

  “I understand,” Merlin said, smiling. “You were right to do as you did, no one could have foreseen the effect it would have. I could have snapped, hurt you, worse.”

  “You could never,” Arthur replied. “You're a good man, Merlin, whatever your programming.”

  “I was created as a weapon of war,” Merlin reminded him.

  “But you're so much more than tha
t,” Arthur continued. “Look at what you've accomplished, what you've helped build back on Earth. Look at the alliances we've made, the friendships you've earned. I doubt the real Arthur and Merlin could have done any more.”

  “Thank you, for your faith in me,” Merlin said. “It means more than I could ever say.”

  “You've earned it,” Arthur replied. “Now let's hope we're not alone in all this.”

  They stood and waited, watching the open gateway eagerly. After several minutes, a single Mori appeared and stood beside the gate, watching them with suspicion. After a moment he turned and left, leaving them alone once more.

  No one else appeared for almost thirty minuets, when a small column of soldiers appeared at the gate, four of them carrying a platform upon their shoulders. Mor-Dred sat atop the platform upon a replica of his throne, looking down at them as he approached. Once through the gate, he leapt nimbly from the platform and walked towards them.

  “Arthur, Merlin,” he said, his arms wide as if to embrace them. “I thought it better to face you here, much easier than engaging your formidable army within the streets of the city. Where are they, by the way? Are they late?”

  “It's just us,” Arthur said defiantly, looking into Mor-Dred's eerily blue eyes.

  “The two of you against my army?” Mor-Dred replied thoughtfully. “I admire your resolve, but I don't think much to your chances. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?”

  “Better to die fighting than to live one more day as your slave,” Arthur replied.

  “Oh no,” Mor-Dred said mockingly. “You won't die here, at least not today. Do you honestly think I would let you go that easily?”

  “You're insane,” Arthur remarked. “Trying to work out what you'll do is pointless.”

  Mor-Dred laughed deeply, turning back to his soldiers. “You,” he said, pointing at the closest. “Come teach this boy a lesson.”

  The guard stepped forwards, drawing his sword from the scabbard at his waist. He was wearing the same black armour of all of Mor-Dred's guards and the same neutral expression upon his face. Arthur moved a short distance away from Merlin, rolling his shoulders as he readied his body to fight.

  “Maybe I could get a sword,” Arthur called to Mor-Dred. “Make this a little fairer?”

  “If you like,” Mor-Dred said with a smile, taking a sword from another guard and tossing it towards Arthur.

  Now, Triltan, Arthur said through his capsule as he picked up the sword and prepared to fight.

  *****

  Triltan and Gwen hid behind one of the buildings, looking out towards the large door to Mor-Dred's castle. Four guards stood outside, as rigid and unmoving as statues. Triltan still felt bad about leaving Lance alone in Ari-Dun's home, but as Gwen and Arthur had reminded her, this was the only chance for any of them, Lance included.

  Now, Triltan, Arthur's voice said, sounding as though he was right beside her and making her jump.

  “You okay?” Gwen asked, her body tensing at the sudden movement.

  “It's started,” Triltan replied.

  Triltan accessed her capsule and looked out at the closest of Mor-Dred's guards, concentrating until she could see the lines and lines of code which determined his form. She could see that the three other guards were identical, both in appearance and construction, and she was able to trace the code back through the mainframe to the core architecture.

  Triltan had suggested deleting the code, making all of Mor-Dred's guards disappear in one go, but Arthur and Gwen had talked her out of it. They reminded her that they needed to keep Mor-Dred away from the hub for as long as possible, giving Arthur and Merlin the chance to keep Mor-Dred distracted without tipping him off to their plans.

  Instead, Triltan accessed the portion of their code which determined their response to damage and altered it. No longer would they be invulnerable to the physical effects of the simulation; Arthur and Gwen would be able to fight them head on.

  “Now,” Triltan said to Gwen, watching as Gwen slipped out from behind the building and approached the first guard.

  While Gwen dispatched the four guards watching the entrance, Triltan performed her final piece of digital manipulation before following her into the castle.

  *****

  Arthur raised his sword as the guard swung his in an overhead arch, the force of the blow knocking Arthur to his knees. Arthur rolled backwards and stood in a crouch, sword held loosely as the guard advanced. He parried another blow and used the momentum to rise in a sweeping arc, bringing his sword down hard upon the back of the guard's armour. It bounced off harmlessly, the vibrations running up the sword and into Arthur's arms.

  Come on, Triltan, Arthur thought, leaping backwards as the guard's sword swept past his midsection.

  “Having fun yet?” Mor-Dred called out to him, applauding as the guard missed Arthur's midsection by mere centimetres.

  “No, not really,” Arthur muttered as he parried another unnaturally strong blow which almost took him off his feet. The guard was advancing and Arthur had to take another step back as he deflected each of his swings. It was only a matter of time before one of them landed.

  Done, Triltan's voice said via his capsule. Merlin too. Good luck.

  You too, Arthur replied, the look of determination on his face turning into a grin.

  “Merlin!” Arthur yelled as he stood his ground and deflected another swing of the guard's sword. “You've got your magic back.”

  “Arthur?” Merlin replied with confusion. “I know the truth?”

  “Trust me,” Arthur continued, kicking out at the guard and knocking him off his feet. “Enjoy yourself!”

  Merlin looked down at his hands as Arthur drove his sword into the chest of the fallen guard, killing him instantly. They still looked like his hands right up until the point where they didn't. He could see the aged flesh, the reddened swollen joints and the cracked pitted nails, but he could see something else too. They were code, digital, just like the rest of him, and as he looked up he could that the rest of the world was code too.

  “There is no spoon,” Merlin mumbled to himself as fire began to dance between his fingers. Arthur turned to look at him, fear in his eyes.

  This had always been the riskiest part of the plan, connecting Merlin to the simulation itself. They had no idea how he'd react, whether he would be able to control the simulation as Mor-Dred did or crack under the weight of data that would bombard his system. To hear him mumbling about spoons didn't help Arthur's growing sense of unease.

  “There is no spoon!” Merlin said again, yelling as jets of white-hot flame burst forth from his hands and enveloped the closest group of guards, incinerating them in an instant.

  Chapter 12

  Administrative Access

  Earth Year 6239

  Mor-Dred turned, watching as his guards were incinerated by flame pouring from Merlin's outstretched hands. “What have you done?” Mor-Dred screamed, raising a hand dismissively as the flames approached him. The white hot jets seemed to hit an invisible wall, curling around it and passing by harmlessly.

  “What's the matter, Mor-Dred,” Merlin replied. “Scared of a fair fight?”

  “This changes nothing!” Mor-Dred cried, raising his hand and forming a solid wall of rock and earth between himself and Merlin. “This is my world. I built it and I can break it down just as easily!”

  Show them! the fragment hissed in his ear. Tear them apart!

  Mor-Dred rose effortlessly into the air, spreading his arms wide as he ascended. The rock and earth around Merlin rumbled and cracked, erupting out of the ground and circling him. Merlin pushed forwards, fingers spread wide as he turned the rock to air and blew it in a gust at Mor-Dred's rising form.

  Mor-Dred fell backwards, spinning twice in mid-air before righting himself and turning his attention towards the battle below him. Arthur had dispatched four of his guards and was engaged in a fight with two more, parrying blows and dodging swings with ease. Mor-Dred increased the grav
ity below Arthur, pulling him instantly to his knees and forcing his sword into the ground.

  Arthur crumpled, the sudden sensation of weight too much for him to stand. The two guards raised their swords in unison, but before either could land a killing blow they were both engulfed in flame, their bodies writhing and contorted as them crumbled to ash.

  The sudden weight gone, Arthur retrieved his sword and ran towards the next group of guards, swinging his blade in a downward arc and burying it in the neck of the first one he encountered. “Focus on Mor-Dred!” he yelled, hoping that Merlin could hear him.

  Merlin turned, searching the surrounding skies. He barely had time to react as an arc of lightning approached from beside him, burning a line across his chest. Merlin fell backwards, knocked off his feet by the force of the blast, and watched as Mor-Dred approached.

  “I'm going to kill one of them,” Mor-Dred said confidently, moving his fingers and watching the electricity crackle between them. “And I'm going to make you choose which one. Your beloved King? His woman? Perhaps the strange creature, the Teleri? Where are they, by the way? Where are your friends when you need them, Merlin?”

  “On their way,” Merlin lied as he got painfully to his feet. His chest ached and his knees throbbed, every movement and effort.

  “On their-” Mor-Dred began before he suddenly stopped, his eyes growing wide as he realised something was wrong.

  “You try to trick me?” he screamed. “Me!”

  The air around Mor-Dred rippled and Merlin saw immediately what he was trying to do. Mor-Dred hoped to transfer himself to the castle, just as the door beneath the Isle of Corbenic had for Merlin and Arthur. Merlin focussed on the rippling air, distorting it, making it solid. Mor-Dred pushed against him, desperately trying to transfer his code through the network but Merlin cut him off at every turn.

  “Do you honestly think, I would let you go, that easily?” Merlin said mockingly, every word an effort. Mor-Dred screamed and turned, arms raised and ready to attack.