Knight Rising

by T. Mikita

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. A Very Bad Day

  2. Stitches

  3. The Watcher

  4. Blood

  5. Goodbyes

  6. Whitehall

  7. Well Met

  8. Lady Pendragon

  9. Legacy

  10. Monsters

  11. The New Knights

  12. Welcome

  13. The Order of Mordred

  14. Dust

  15. The Chronicles

  16. Lost in the Ether

  17. Undead Constructs

  18. Basilisk

  19. Talent

  20. Talisman

  21. Nightmares

  22. The Dare

  23. Keepers of History

  24. Necromancer

  25. The Gate

  26. Those Left Behind

  27. Understanding

  28. Preparations

  29. Rescue

  30. Servants of the Master

  31. The Will to Fight

  32. The Blessing

  33. Rest for the Weary

  Knight Rising

  The Pendragon Chronicles Book 1

  T. M. Mikita

  Mikita Associates

  Knight Rising

  The Pendragon Chronicles - Book 1

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher.

  Knight Rising © 2021 by T. M. Mikita

  Cover Art by Mary Lepiane

  2021 Mikita Associates Publishing

  Published in the United States of America.

  Prologue

  England

  950 AD.

  It was not a true battle. Only a skirmish, but the men were possessed with dark magic. Merlin could feel it like a heavy malaise that obscured his vision. He searched for the wizard. Where was Mordred? Now was the time to defeat him, before the prophecy could be brought to fruition.

  Merlin glanced toward Arthur’s knights. The King wielded his sword mightily against the possessed men. The fight was nearly won, and there was little magic could do to improve the odds as Arthur dispatched the last of them. The others ran in terror from the power of his righteous blade.

  A moment later, Arthur offered mercy to those who were left alive, giving them a chance at redemption. Merlin looked around with satisfaction as Sir Gawain led the village women and children from the scene of the battle. Innocents were to be protected by the Knights of the Realm, just as Arthur planned. All was well.

  Then the unthinkable happened.

  A dead man rose up with gnashing teeth and otherworldly claws. He struck Arthur from behind. It was a cowardly and dishonorable action, and for a moment Merlin thought it could not have truly happened. The man was already dead. Then he sensed Mordred’s putrid magic in the blow and knew it was so. Arthur was struck down, just as it had been prophesied.

  The great King shall fall.

  By treachery, he shall be defeated and his ways shall be forgotten. Even his body will be lost to the elements until there is no trace of what he was. Nonetheless, his people shall stand united against a common foe.

  New kings shall rise, but the fellowship shall be broken. Each man shall jostle to sit at the head and rule over his brothers. The dream of chivalry and honor shall pass out of memory; naught but a tale for children.

  Albion shall lie buried in the ashes of men’s minds. Until one born of the blood and the spirit of the lost King, shall rise again to return the Order to glory.

  “No!” Merlin screamed as he saw the blow to Arthur’s person.

  He stood as if frozen, unable to stop it. He was supposed to prevent this fate. And he had not. Merlin turned, literally feeling the pain of the claws within himself. Long as a sword, they tore through his king’s armor. Arthur fell, pierced and poisoned just as the prophecy foretold.

  Merlin cried out in fury and frustration, magic filling his hands lashing out at the creature. The body of the villain was already dead, but it dissolved under the onslaught of Merlin’s power. Mordred’s magic was driven from the corpse. It was only a puppet of Mordred, not the foul wizard himself. There was no one here upon which to exact revenge.

  It was not supposed to happen this way. Arthur was supposed to unite the land. He was supposed to fulfill the dream to rule Camelot, and to save the people. He was supposed to bring peace among the warring tribes of Saxons, and Angles and Jutes, and now that dream was lost. Arthur was struck down by a cowardly blow; by dark magic brought from beyond the Gates.

  “May heaven smite Mordred, Morgana and all your evil spawn!” Merlin screamed, and magic flowed through him as his power searched for Mordred. He released the magic, throwing dragon’s fire over the whole of the battlefield. The Dark Knights fell, each of them, roasted and blackened in Merlin’s furious fire. The evil would rise no more. He swore it with fervent faith and the dragon fire that was his own birthright.

  Merlin ran to Arthur’s side, but no matter how fleet-footed he might be, the damage was already done. Arthur was dying. He could feel the King’s life-blood seeping into the soil. He could taste the poison from the wound in his own mouth.

  “Arthur,” Merlin whispered as he knelt beside his friend. “Arthur, are you alright?” He asked stupidly, although he knew that the King was not. Merlin could feel the life ebbing from him. The poison was a blight in his own soul that neither love nor magic could purge.

  Arthur tried to say something, and Merlin leaned down, putting his ear close to Arthur’s lips. The King’s voice was rasping. “Merlin, you’re an idiot,” he said. A weak smile crossed Arthur’s lips, but Merlin could not return it.

  Merlin laid a hand on his king’s chest. He could feel the blood filling Arthur’s lungs. Every breath was more difficult than the last, and yet there was a shine of holy light around him. Arthur was blessed. Still, his life blood was running out onto the field.

  “I have failed you, Sire,” Merlin said, searching for some magic to restore Arthur, and yet, he knew there was none. Not here. Not in this unblessed land of war and mundania.

  Arthur shook his head. “You have not,” the King said. “One day, you will build the kingdom I could not. It will flourish under your hand.”

  “Not me,” Merlin said shaking his head. “That is not what is written. The Order will die without you, Arthur. The people need their King. They need you. I need you,” Merlin whispered.

  “The people need to rely upon themselves,” Arthur said with surety. “I believe, that there will come a day when the dark returns. The people must learn to stand together, each as an equal. A table with no head, remember. A round table.”

  If Merlin were not so worried for Arthur’s well-being he might have laughed at the notion.

  Arthur took another ragged breath, and Merlin had to lean close to hear him. “Camelot may whither, but the Order will survive. The people will survive.”

  “And what about you, Arthur?”

  “Every mortal thing dies, Merlin.” Arthur rasped. “I will see my father and mother, Merlin.” He closed his eyes. “I see Avalon.”

  “No!” Merlin shouted tears welling in his eyes in frustration and pain. “No. This is not the end. You have experienced many injuries and you have survived. I will not let you die. You shall recover. I swear it.”

  “By magic?” Arthur asked, his eyes fluttering open and Merlin was surprised. He caught Merlin wit
h his hawk-like gaze. Even near death, it was arresting.

  “I will not allow you to die,” Merlin whispered in a hard voice.

  “You will stop death? Do not be a fool, Merlin. No man can stop death.”

  “A king cannot die by such evil treachery. I will take you through the Gate,” Merlin said at last. “All will be well, Sire.”

  “No!” Arthur’s hand tightened on Merlin’s arm. “The Gates must remain closed. The men of this realm have no defense. They cannot be left to die by the treachery of a world not their own. If this world falls…” Arthur choked on blood and his voice faded. His eyes closed, the golden light in them dimming.

  “I will save you,” Merlin vowed as he gathered the man close. “If this world must burn to do it, I will save you.”

  “This world,” Arthur began again, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “This world must not...”

  “Damn this world!” Merlin growled. “I will not live in it without you.”

  Arthur did not speak again. He only sighed and gasped in an effort to breathe while Merlin searched for an answer; a way to work his will.

  “I will take you to Avalon,” Merlin said with intent. At least he had a plan. “There will be answers beyond the Gate in the Holy City.” Arthur did not answer. He was still and quiet; his breath shallow. His lips were blue beneath the red tinge of blood.

  “I swear, I will find a way,” Merlin promised, guilt assaulting him as he felt Arthur’s spirit failing. He should have stopped the injury. He should have known. He should have deflected the blow. The words rolled around in his brain. Should have. Should have. Should have.

  He should have killed Mordred long ago, but Arthur had cautioned mercy. Look what that got him. Now, he must rely upon the magic of the Otherworld, the magic of the Lady of the Lake, the magic of Avalon to perhaps save the life of the King. He picked up Arthur in his arms and his hands glowed with power. Gathering the energy around himself, Merlin teleported to the shores of the Lake. Arthur roused, as if the magic of the teleportation had revived him. He groaned in pain, as the dark power continued to course through him, killing him bit by bit.

  “It is alright, my friend.” Merlin promised, walking with long strides to the edge of the water. He called for the Lady.

  She rose from the center of the water, summoned by Merlin’s words and the power in his hands.

  “Can you save him?” Merlin called from the shore.

  “You know, I cannot leave the lake. That is the nature of the magic,” she said.

  Merlin waded out into the water, still holding Arthur. The King was silent, and yet, Merlin knew he still breathed, but only barely. When Merlin was waist deep, he demanded of the Lady. “Save him! Give him back his life.”

  “Oh, Merlin,” the Lady said softly as she laid a damp hand on Arthur’s brow. “You know only dark magic can do such things; a life for a life. Whose would you take?”

  “Mine! Take my life; my life for his.”

  “He would not want that. And you know, that is not the answer.”

  “Then what is!” Merlin shouted.

  The Lady did not speak at first. She was not in the habit of telling secrets.

  Bloody bitch, Merlin thought, but he dare not say the words aloud. He could not offend her. She was his only hope now. She had to open the Gate. He had to convince her to do so.

  “Please. I beg you. All of his dreams for a new world will die with him,” Merlin said softly.

  “Even dreams are not everlasting. They die, just as men do.”

  “Not. This. Dream. I will not allow it. Help me. There must be a way.”

  “There is a chance,” the Lady of the Lake admitted reluctantly. “It will take time. It will take the power of Avalon, but it can be done.”

  “Yes,” Merlin said immediately. “Do it. How long?”

  “I do not know,” the Lady said. “Avalon does not tell me all of its secrets, only that the Gate will open for Arthur.”

  “But not for me?” Merlin felt the devastation fall on him, like a crushing weight.

  “No. Not yet.”

  Merlin closed his eyes. The words were like a sword in his heart. “But Arthur will live?” He whispered. “You promise me that he will live?”

  “Yes.”

  Merlin nodded resigned. “So be it.”

  The rush of water parted, and the Lady gently took Arthur’s body, guiding it where it floated on the water. Arthur seemed to have no life left within him, and yet Merlin could sense there was still a tiny spark. He prayed that it would be enough.

  “I shall return,” Merlin said. “I will sleep and I will wait.”

  “No, Wizard,” the lady said. “You must continue his work. Guard the Gates of this realm which you have opened this day. You must rebuild the Order.”

  “I cannot. Not without Arthur. Not without my King.”

  “He commanded this of you, did he not? You must rebuild.”

  Merlin did not question how the Lady knew. He shook his head in frustration. All was falling to pieces and he could not see his way clear. “How?” He asked, finally. “What is left of the Knights is not enough.”

  “You must use the talents of the people.”

  “The people are weak and inept,” Merlin sneered. “They have no magic within them. Worse, they have no honor.”

  “Then, you must teach them,” the Lady said. “You must show them how to attain the power…and the honor.”

  “Impossible,” Merlin said. “They know nothing.”

  “Teach them,” the Lady said again, just before she and Arthur sank below the bubbling waves. “Your King has commanded you. Do this for your King.” The words echoed into the unending silence. “Do this for your friend.”

  The bubbling lake fell still. Merlin stood for a long while looking after them, tears perched on his lashes. He still felt lost, but the Lady was right. His king had given him a task and a purpose. He would teach the unteachable. It seemed impossible, but he had done the impossible before.

  Merlin knelt on the cold ground. He recalled his staff and wrapped his hands around the wooden rod, feeling the power of the mighty oak within. The vow built in his heart.

  “I shall forge your Knights from the people,” Merlin promised Arthur. “I will rebuild the Order for your return. I failed you once my friend, my King. I will not fail you again. This I vow,” he promised bringing a hand to his heart. “Upon my life, I shall not fail again.” The binding spell was completed, but Merlin continued, steel in his voice. “And I shall not let Mordred strike the last blow.”

  His only answer was the ripples on the surface of the lake.

  There would be no mercy for those who did this. “Curse Mordred and all his spawn,” Merlin said. “Curse them forever.”

  1

  A Very Bad Day

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  Present Day

  It was raining. Typical. The temperature was colder than normal, but not quite cold enough to actually snow. Also Typical.

  Asher Pendrick and his friend, Jules Martin paused before stepping out from under the shelter of the convention center’s overpass into the freezing rain. It was past seven o’clock and already dark. Neither of them had eaten since this morning.

  Asher pulled up the collar of his leather coat and stuck his hands deeper into his pockets as he looked out at the dreary weather with his golden hawk eyes.

  “It’s fucking December,” Jules complained about the weather. “This is supposed to be snow.”

  “Yeah,” Asher agreed. “We’re giving Seattle a run for their money for the city with the most rainy days, and it’s freezing. Global warming my ass.”

  Jules grinned. “You wish,” she said as she he threw him a glance. Jules real name was Julianna, but Asher knew better than to call her that. The two of them never missed a sci-fi/fantasy convention if they could help it, and this one was in their own back yard. Asher had reserved the tickets as soon as they had gone on sale. It was a given.


  They had been here since early this morning, and now were considering food. Asher wanted to just eat in the convention center. There were plenty of food stands, but Jules, always conscious of money, wanted to find a fast-food place nearby instead.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to just get something to eat here?” Asher asked his friend Jules. He looked back towards the warm interior of the convention center.

  “Too expensive,” she said.

  “I’ll pay,” Asher said.

  She threw him a look.

  He held up his hands. “Okay. I know,” he said.

  On their way out of the door, they passed the line for their favorite author’s book signing. The line moved infinitesimally forward and a goodly portion of it was outside under the overhang and blocking the exit.

  Asher threw a glance in the direction of the line. “Glad we came early?” he said to his friend.

  She nodded.

  They walked down the steps behind the crowd and began to weave through. Asher suddenly felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. At least as vulnerable as a guy almost six foot tall could be. He shook off the misgivings.

  “I’m really grateful you paying for my ticket,” Jules said. “You don’t have to pay for my dinner too.”