Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls

by Gord Rollo, Rena Mason

  “Joseph, the Arimathean merchant, had used the carpenter’s cup to collect the blood of Christ, that was well known, but what was not so well known was the fact the Arimathean also collected the blood of Escariot after his suicide, using the same golden cup to capture precious drops of the traitor’s life juices. This tainted the Grail, spoiling its glorious goodness with evil incarnate. Good and evil together as one.

  “This cup was eventually passed into the hands of Jacques de Morlay, preceptor of the Knights Templar, who was sworn to guard it. Since that day, the battle has raged between good and evil, each side knowing if they possessed the Grail they could harness the divine power within. In the hands of the church, or a pure soul like that of a Templar, the righteous power of the Lord shines through, putting an end to disease and suffering and making miracles possible. In the hands of someone whose heart is cold and black and filled with the Devil, the tainted side of the Grail can bring destruction and chaos and maybe even open up the gates of Hell itself.”

  “That’s why it had to remain hidden,” William said, his face visibly drained of color even in the flickering light of the fire.

  “Exactly. It’s why a brave knight decided it was worth sacrificing his life for, why I’ve spent my entire life trying to track it down to make sure it would always be safe, and why a foolish grave robber, who should by all rights be dead with his idiot friend, shouldn’t have given up the most powerful artifact in history to an evil sorceress.”

  “Sorceress?” William said. “But I had no idea Da Vine was anything other—”

  “Stop calling her that. It’s just more of her trickery and lies. She’s the Witch of Lyonesse. She’s been known by a dozen names but her real name is Morgana Le Fay.”

  “Hold on. You’re back to talking rubbish again. The witch you speak of wasn’t real. Morgana’s just legend, same as King Arthur, and Excalibur, and the Knights of the Round Table…and…and…”

  “And what?” Black asked, his voice cold and low again.”

  “And the Grail, I was gonna say.” William gulped down a few mouthfuls of air and thought about everything he’d just learned. “It can’t be true…can it? Christ, that would make you…no!”

  “My name’s not Ambrosious Black. The Welsh and the Irish remember me as Myrdinn, the bard and prophet, but to the English and the Scotts I’m known as—”

  “Merlin the magician!” William finished his sentence for him and then settled into a brooding silence. Black just let him be, knowing the simple man would need time to let it all soak in. Eventually, William raised his eyes and spoke again. “You’re serious, right? I mean, this is all real? Everything you’ve told me?”

  “Every word, yes.”

  “And you’re the good guy.”

  “I’m no saint…but yes. I serve only two people: The Forever King, and our blessed Lord on high. I’m charged with protecting the Grail and stopping the witch. She’ll destroy the world if we don’t get that Grail back.”

  “We? What do you mean…we?”

  “I need your help, William. I wouldn’t have told you any of this if I could find her and do this myself.”

  “But I can’t help you. I’m a bad man…I’ve done terrible things.”

  “Aye, you have…but it looks like God’s about to give you a chance to make up for everything evil you’ve done. One last chance to do what’s honest and right.”

  William wasn’t convinced there was anything he could ever do to right the wrongs in his life, but something stirred to life in his dark heart and he knew he couldn’t refuse the old man. “Okay. I guess I’m your man.”

  “Excellent,” Merlin said. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

  Chapter

  18

  Calton Cemetery was still shrouded in fog, but a glimmer of sun was rising in the east and would hopefully start to burn it away, layer by wispy layer, for another day. A huge bank of dark clouds hung in the sky threatening a storm, but it was too early yet to tell. Merlin stood in the cold, early morning mist with his eyes closed but his mind wide open. He was deep in prayer and meditation, and if anyone had taken the opportunity to check they’d have found out his respirations were down to five breaths a minute and his heart rate had been cut in half from the times it normally beat. It was his way of preparing his body and mind for battle; his calm before the chaos; his moment of serenity before the coming storm.

  Behind the magician stood the newly erected stone effigy of Robert the Bruce, towering over the white-haired old man like a frozen giant. The city council had hired him to build a statue to commemorate the Battle of Bannockburn, but Merlin’s thoughts drifted further into the past than that, back to an age of blood and clashing steel that history had somehow forgotten and pushed into myth and legend. A time when the Forever King still proudly walked the land, surrounded by brave men in shining armor who were honorable and just. Together, with Merlin’s help, they had purged Britain of the ruthless heathens and the immoral nobility who foolishly believed they were above the laws of God. Together they’d searched for the elusive Holy Grail, determined to find it and keep it safe forever but it wasn’t to be.

  The witch Morgana was searching for the Grail, too. Even then, when Merlin had thought she was just a silly woman who had lost her way in the world. She had doubts about the Lord and her faith had been shaken by the cruel death of her father, but Merlin had never believed she would give her soul to the devil the way she so eagerly had. She’d always had the gift of magic in her (as many people did back in those days), but her powers had grown a thousand-fold after her soul had willingly been corrupted. She’d raised a small army of devil worshippers, cutthroats, and mercenaries and launched a hastily planned attack against the king’s disciplined and far better-trained knights.

  The confrontation was more of a slaughter than an honorable battle, the deep green grass of the field painted red with the blood of Morgana’s woefully prepared troops. In the end she accomplished what she’d set out to do that day though, albeit purely by accident, and it was the darkest day in Merlin’s long life. The king had ridden out on his warhorse at the end of the fray and while dismounting to join his men, the horse’s front hooves slipped on the blood slick grass, its normally sturdy legs sliding out from beneath it. The huge animal tried to correct itself, but in the process toppled over and landed on its left side, accidentally crushing the king beneath its massive bulk.

  By the time Merlin made it to the king’s side, the horse had regained its feet but the damage was already done. The greatest warrior the land had ever known was dying on the battlefield, his pelvis bones crushed and nearly every rib shattered from the horse’s tremendous weight. What Merlin remembered most – and the image that still haunted his nightmares all these years later – was of his beloved king staring up at him in helpless agony, blood draining out of both of his eyes….

  Merlin snapped back to reality, a light rain starting to fall from the unsettled sky. The fog in the cemetery disorienting him for a moment, but when he turned to see the intricate sculpture he’d recently done for the city he remembered where – and more importantly – when he was. Perched on the Scottish King’s shoulder was the Snowy Owl, carefully watching its master and patiently awaiting orders. It didn’t have to wait long. Merlin took two more deep breaths, willing his breathing and heart rate to return to normal and then addressed his feathered companion by name.

  “Nazza, my friend. If today doesn’t go our way I want you to get as far away from here as you can. Understand?”

  The bird of prey swiveled its head to look down at the old wizard, then turned away again, ignoring him. Merlin grinned despite the gravity of their situation, unable to help himself. “You’re as stubborn as Lancelot, you are…but not nearly as pretty. At least go fetch me my staff from where we left it outside of the city. I have a feeling I’m going to need it soon. Go!”

  The white owl immediately took to the air, heading off into the fog and the rain without making a sound. “An
d hurry up about it, too,” Merlin called after it but it was already lost in the gloom.

  “I’m hurrying as fast as I can, gov,” William’s voice answered back, his footsteps announcing his arrival before his body materialized out of the fog. “It’s a long way to run, you know?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Merlin said, but couldn’t be bothered to explain the situation. “Well…did you deliver the message?”

  “Aye, but it wasn’t easy. Half the town wants to see me hang, remember? I had to peek in the windows of three different pubs but I eventually found Big Josh, one of Da Vine’s…I mean Morgana’s fat goons, and waited for him to head for home.”

  “And did you remember what to tell him?”

  “I told him to tell his boss we had a major problem. Said that you’d found another golden cup here in Calton and you’re claiming that you’ve found the real Grail. I told Big Josh to tell her she might have a fake on her hands. Said she’d better come to the cemetery this morning to straighten this mess out.”

  “Perfect. She’ll come too…I know she will. Even if she knows I’m lying, she’ll come to try and kill me, once and for all. Come on; let’s get back to the gravesite so we’re ready for her.”

  * * *

  Dawn had arrived but the sun was hidden behind the thick layer of storm clouds already, leaving the sky an ominous charcoal grey. Thunder rumbled somewhere off to the west of the city but for now the rain had stopped again. It had taken William a little over half an hour to re-dig the grave Billy and he had found the Carpenter’s Cup inside. He’d been drenched with sweat by the time his shovel scraped the top of the wooden box clean and he’d pried open the lid to reveal the giant man lying within. It had only been a matter of weeks but the knight’s skin was turning a sickly shade of yellow-grey and the smell of the dead Templar was noticeably worse than the last time they’d opened the makeshift casket. Not a horrible stench yet, but the corpse was obviously suffering the effects of being separated from the Holy Grail; its protective magic no longer preventing the flesh from starting to rot.

  “He’s in worse shape than I remember,” William said.

  “Aye, he would be. That’s okay…he’ll do. Put this in with him same as the real one was sitting.” Merlin handed William a smooth-sided golden chalice that looked remarkably similar to the one he’d recently handed over to Morgana.

  “Wow, you made this just from my description? It looks real.”

  “It’s only an illusion. See for yourself.”

  William looked back down and was surprised to see an old tarnished metal wine glass in his hand. Seconds later it changed back into the golden chalice. “That’s incredible.”

  “It’s child’s play, but it will have to do. Put it back wherever you found it.”

  William laid the false Grail down on the large knight’s chest and maneuvered the Templar’s hands until they were shielding the cup in the same way they had for hundreds of years. “There…that’s about as good as we’re going to get.”

  William climbed out of the grave and sat down on the damp grass to catch his breath. Another rumble of thunder drummed above his head, the storm getting closer. Merlin walked to the side of the hole, looked down at the dead man, and said a silent prayer. When he was through, the wizard held his hands out over the cadaver’s body and began to speak in an ancient language only a few people on earth might still be able to translate. Merlin knew the words though…and so did the fallen knight.

  “Sarannha de nedro ank. Terannha de nedro ank. Monutaris de tartarum arturus feh…hades de nedro ank!”

  The wizard spoke in this strange forgotten language for another minute but he ended his conversation with the dead man in English.

  “Thank you brave knight…for your sacrifice and for your faith. You’ve earned your rest in paradise but the world still has need of your services this one last time.”

  William had no idea what all that gibberish had been about, and to be honest he didn’t really want to know. He just wanted this craziness over and done with so he could get out of the approaching storm and make good his escape.

  “What now?” he said.

  “We wait.”

  “What’s going to happen, though?”

  Merlin turned his milky-white eyes to the dark rumbling clouds above but shook his head. “You’ll have to ask the sky, William. Only the thunder knows…”

  * * *

  The fog had completely vanished by the time Morgana made her appearance, walking between her henchmen Angus and Big Josh. It was just like a woman to show up fashionably late. And fashionable she was, twirling a small parasol above her head to protect her coiffured hair and dressed in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline which left nothing to the imagination. The witch looked more like she was stepping onto the lawn of some fancy garden party than walking onto a field of battle, but seeing as she believed today would settle her claim on the true Grail as well as finally getting rid of her archnemesis once and for all, maybe this was a celebration of sorts. Stunningly beautiful or not, she was rotten to the core inside and needed to be stopped.

  “Good of you to show up, my lady,” Merlin spoke, tongue-in-cheek. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your nerve.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, old man,” Morgana said, moving closer.

  “That’s far enough,” Merlin said, once Morgana and her men approached within fifteen feet.

  “I hardly think you’re in any position to be making up the rules,” the witch said, but stood her ground anyway. “I’ll do as I damn well please. Good of Mr. Hare to dig your grave for you, though. Thank you, William.”

  William had no idea what to say and no interest in getting involved in this if he could help it, so he remained quiet.

  “The grave’s not mine. Not yours either, unfortunately. It’s already occupied you see…by the true Grail Keeper. Have a look for yourself.”

  “Rubbish, wizard. We both know I’ve already got the proper one. The only one!” As if to add weight to her point, the large mountain of a man to her right held up the golden chalice.

  Merlin tried his best not to stare too hard at the object he’d been searching for most of his long life.

  “Do you now. Are you sure? You’d better be!”

  “Step away from the hole, Merlin. You try my patience for the last time.”

  William began to edge away to his left but Merlin stood his ground. One of Morgana’s henchmen, a tall broad-shouldered muscular man, stepped forward brandishing a long thin-bladed knife.

  “You heard the lady,” Angus Brooks said. His baldheaded ally Josh moved forward as well, a blade appearing in his massive hand too. “Aye…step off!”

  Merlin smiled at the intimidating men, then glanced wryly at Morgana as if to say, you’re kidding me, right? “By all means, good sirs. Anything you say.”

  The magician walked over beside where William had slunk away to, allowing Morgana and her friends access to the Templar’s grave. Morgana peered into the freshly dug hole, somewhat taken aback when she saw the red cross on the giant dead man’s tunic. A shadow of doubt crept across her pretty features and her eyes flashed to the golden cup she’d brought with her today.

  “Give me my Grail, Josh, and get in there and check the grave.”

  “Right away, ma’am.”

  Accomplishing Morgana’s request was easier said than done for the big man. With his bulk, it was proving quite difficult to maneuver his fat body down into the grave and he twice nearly pitched face first down onto the corpse. In the end, Big Josh had to sit down in the wet grass and slide into the hole.

  “Get on with it, man!” Angus said. “Search along the side of the body. It could be down behind his head too.”

  “Shut yer gob…I know what I’m doing!”

  “Find the blasted thing, then. You’ll be swimming soon if those clouds let loose.”

  “Okay…okay.”

  Big Josh knelt down with his knees on the exposed side rails of the
wooden box and began searching around the dead Templar’s legs and sides. He easily found the old sword lying alongside his leg but ignored it for the moment. He was already sweating and breathing hard, the air wheezing in and out of his lungs sounding like a broken steam engine. Eventually he saw the way the dead man’s hands were cupped upon his chest and noticed something golden glinting between the Templar’s grey fingers.

  “Hey, I think I’ve found something,” Josh said, his face beet red from his exertions. “Just a second…looks like gold!”

  As soon as the fat man touched the knight’s hands Merlin shouted, “Now!” and the normal fabric of the world began to come undone. Inside the grave, the dead man’s eyes snapped open and the corpse of the knight reached up and shoved Big Josh backwards with the palm of one massive hand. Josh started to scream, trying to climb to his feet and out of the hole as fast as his overweight body could move but he wasn’t nearly fast enough. The Templar sat up in his box and drew out his long-unused sword in the blink of an eye, savagely swiping the razor-sharp blade across the exposed neck of the fat man. Death obviously hadn’t stolen much of the warrior’s strength as he effortlessly lopped off the goon’s head, a geyser of blood shooting straight up into the air and falling like hot crimson rain. Big Josh’s headless body continued to try and climb out of the hole, and very nearly succeeded before tumbling backwards onto his back and wedging himself against the dirt wall and the outside rim of the casket. His bald head spun end over end, finally coming to rest at the feet of his mate, Angus Brooks.

  Angus was shocked into silence for a moment, not sure what the hell had just happened, but when he saw the huge Templar rise to his feet and start to climb free of his grave he snapped out of his reverie and started to scream. “You bastard!” he shouted, running toward the ancient soldier clutching his knife, revenge on his confused mind.