There had been a disturbance in what could only be described as the Fabric of Time, it had never happened before. Certainly the Elder gods had moved through Time both to the Past and the Future but this disturbance had not been caused by an Elder god for it had been more brutal and could only have been brought about by a mortal and a mortal who carried enormous enchantment with him. It had not been the Dark Lord, the Mythical Beasts were certain of that, for all his Dark Magic the Dark Lord could not move through Space and Time. It was true that he could breach the Underworld and reach down into the Depths of Hell but that was from his own innate being and creation. For all the strength needed to reach into that fire-driven demonic domain it was as nothing compared to the Power of Enchantment that was required to breach the Fabric of Time.
It was Stormrider, the golden king of the unicorns who spoke first.
“It was the Old Magic, I think we all sensed that,” the unicorn looked around at his two friends and they both signalled their agreement.
“It was a Force that none of us have ever felt before,” Firewing spoke in his high voice of the eagle that could drop to the roar of a lion in battle. “It had a Power and Authority that could not be denied.”
“But who has that Power?” Stormrider queried, “For there is little of the Old Magic left in Avalon except ourselves and Mithras Invictus.”
“It was not the Bull Slayer,” Firewing said, “He has greater Power than this and besides he has lost interest in Avalon. He most certainly would not cause a Rift in Time for a land that he doesn’t care for anymore.”
“There is one other who has the Old Magic,” Draago told them in his deep voice, “There is the Raven Boy.”
For a moment the three Mythical Beasts were silent as they considered this possibility.
“He is Mithras’ son,” Stormrider said but there was doubt in the unicorn’s voice.
“Does he have the Power to cross Time?” Firewing said what they were all thinking.
“He does not,” Draago put in. The dragon knew Merlin better than most for the boy enchanter was his Dragon Master. “One day perhaps but not yet. It was not the Raven Boy’s doing, I am sure of that and what would be the purpose of it? The Raven Boy has had no dealings with the Future any more than we three have.”
“Whoever did this thing took a great risk,” Stormrider said, “For other Beings from beyond the Abyss and even worse could also use this Break in the Fabric of Time to cross into our world and that would not be good, not good at all.”
And that was a blatant understatement for it was beyond the Abyss that the worst creations of Hell sought to break into other Worlds and other Times.
“The ghouls tell me that it was centred on the Great Stones and seemed to emanate from the Dragons’ Teeth,” Firewing put in.
“The Dragons’ Teeth are the oldest and most sacred of all Avalon’s shrines,” Draago said, “Dragons were worshipped there even before the Coming of Men.”
“And even before the worship of the Elder gods,” Stormrider agreed, “It is a place of the Deepest of the Old Magic and so it would be the most fitting place for this Transfer of Time to take place.”
“The ghouls told me that the place ran with a blue fire that leapt from Great Stone to Great Stone. There were spectres there and they said that the Old Magic seemed to take on an almost physical form. Then it was funnelled to the Dragon’s Teeth and a figure materialised out of the Old Magic.”
“A figure?” The golden unicorn had not heard this but then Stormrider tried to have as little to do with the ghouls as he could. It was not that he disliked them but that they smelt so awful.
“A figure,” the griffin continued, “The figure of a boy to be exact.”
“A boy,” Stormrider had not expected this for he had believed that if some great enchanter with this much Power of the Old Magic had found it necessary to tear the Fabric in Time then he would have sent either a mighty warrior or perhaps another enchanter to help them in their struggle against the Dark Lord and his Dark Forces. This was all very disappointing the unicorn thought and certainly irresponsible to risk so much for so little.
“The ghouls told me that this boy appeared from the very heart of the Old Magic. He was naked and at first he just crouched on the ground as if he did not understand what had happened to him.”
“This does not sound like a great warrior or a great enchanter of the Old Magic,” Draago rumbled his deep voice echoing around Dragons’ Keep.
“It does not,” the golden unicorn agreed.
“The boy got to his feet,” Firewing carried on, “And wandered around in a daze until he found some clothes and a sword in a scabbard. The ghouls say that he still seemed to be in a gaze but dressed himself and buckled on the sword and then he tried to pull out the Great Sword of Mithras Invictus which is held in the fallen Great Stones.”
“He would not be able to take Mithras’ sword,” the dragon said grimly, “It will not move an inch until the Once and Future King is born and grown to his strength. That is what the Dragon Lore predicts.”
“Are you sure the ghouls were telling you the truth?” Stormrider asked Firewing for it was a well-known fact that ghouls are terrible liars and he found all this story about a naked boy and blue fire almost unbelievable.
“The ghouls do lie,” Draago agreed with the golden unicorn, “It’s almost a religion to them to not tell the truth.”
“That’s definitely true,” Firewing said, “But in this I am certain that this was what they saw, I don’t think any of the ghouls other than Grim has the intelligence to make up a story like this.”
“Ah, Grim,” Stormrider said, for all the ghoul’s dreadful smell, or ‘stink’ as Merlin put it, the golden unicorn was fond of this particular ghoul who had shown great loyalty to Merlin and Avalon in the boy enchanter’s confrontation with the Minotaur. A confrontation that had brought about the death or the boy enchanter’s erstwhile friend, the mercenary known as Archer. And the ghoul had stood shoulder to shoulder with Merlin as they stood vigil for a whole night by Archer’s funeral pyre.
“Does the Dragon Lore make any mention of this boy?” Firewing asked Draago for there was very little that was not predicted by the dragons that had walked the earth long before the Coming of Men.
“It does not in so many words,” Draago said, “But there is a mention of a white haired or fair haired boy.” And the dragon chanted the mantra that the three Mythical Beasts knew so well.
“When Evil stands at Camelot’s Gates.
Then will come he of the Old Magic,
In a time before the Raising of the Sword
By the Old Magic will Evil fall.
The Unicorn, the Dragon, the Raven and the Undead
Will face those Evils that all Camelot dreads.
By the Power of the Raven Boy and the Power of the land,
Shall all be protected and all Evil withstand.
Enchantment from a future long foretold
That which will summon the boldest of bold,
Comes the white haired boy at first untrusted
He of Lancelot’s line but never corrupted.”
It is possible,” Draago continued that this boy could be ‘the white haired boy’”
“The ghouls did say that he was fair,” Firewing confirmed, “They said that he was as fair as the Raven Boy is dark.”
“What use is this boy?” Stormrider, ever the realist asked, “What Camelot needs is a great warrior or great enchanter to help the Old Magic take down the Dark Lord, not some half-dressed boy.”
“The Raven Boy is also only a boy,” Draago gently reminded his friend.
“But he is the son of a god,” Stormrider replied, “And he has the Old Magic which presumably this boy does not.”
“The ghouls made no mention of it,” the griffin agreed, “And they would know, they are in great awe of anyone or anything that carries the Old Magic with them.”
“Let us not be too hasty,” Draago put in, “For
there is much that even we are not allowed to see. An enchanter or even an Elder god who has the power to bring this child from the Future to the Past would also have much wisdom. It may well be that we shall see his purpose in this before too long.”
“Well let’s hope that it is not too long,” Stormrider said, “These are dangerous times for Camelot and Avalon and we do not need the distraction of this ‘white-haired’ boy and whatever else can swarm through from the Abyss.”
“I will speak again with the ghouls,” Firewing agreed, “There may be more that they have forgotten to tell me.”
“And I will talk with Kraak, the King of the Raven Kind,” Stormrider also agreed, “Nothing lives or dies in Avalon without the Raven Kind taking notice. Kraak will know more than we three and he will carry our worries to the Raven Boy should he believe it to be necessary.”
“I will remain here at Dragons’ Keep,” Draago told them, “For I await my Dragon Master’s summons. But bring me any news that you may gather about this boy for there is great enchantment here and I would try to make senses of it.”
With that the unicorn and the griffin took powerfully to the air and drove hard away from Dragons’ Keep for there was much here that the Mythical Beasts did not understand and they would allow no threat to Camelot and Avalon to live.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AVALON
THE GREAT STONES
Merlin had brought Galahad back to the very place where the boy had materialised apparently out of nowhere, the Great Stones of Avalon. At first Galahad had wondered whether Merlin had changed his mind and was intent on sending him back to his own time for he still did not trust this strange dark haired Raven Boy. What had happened next had seriously stunned Galahad for Merlin had led him to a large flat area just outside the Ring of the Great Stones and, as if by magic and in fact by magic, four carved granite statues had risen from the ground and then turned so that they all faced inwards. The boy had never seen anything like it for these statues were all carved as the figure of a warrior and the like of a warrior that Galahad had never before seen. For these were in the resemblance of mighty warriors from the Past and were carved as Greek, Trojan, Mycenae and even Roman heroes. Then the fair haired boy realised that what Merlin had created was a training ground and this was where the boy enchanter would find out whether Galahad could truly fight as Mithras Invictus had promised him he could.
“Why have you brought me here?” Galahad asked even though he already knew the answer.
“To see if you can fight,” Merlin told him bluntly.
Galahad shook his head, he might be having trouble liking the Raven Boy but he certainly didn’t want to fight him. He was sure that he hadn’t been sent through Time to do that.
“I don’t want to fight you, Raven Boy,” Galahad said and started to turn away from the boy enchanter.
Merlin gave that strange half smile of his again, “Not me – him,” he told the boy.
Merlin moved his hands quickly and a huge warrior rose out of the ground very much as the Warrior-Statues had. This was obviously a day for seeing what he had never seen before, Galahad thought to himself, for this apparition truly resembled nothing or nobody that he had ever seen either. The warrior was big but what astounded Galahad the most was that the figure appeared to be totally made of metal. It wasn’t as if the warrior was wearing armour it was totally metallic. It gleamed silver in the summer sun and parts of it reflected the light back into Galahad’s eyes.
“Him,” was all that Galahad could say for he was totally lost for words.
“Yes – him,” Merlin confirmed, not without some amusement.
“Is this going to hurt?” Galahad asked the boy enchanter.
“It’s not going to hurt me a bit,” Merlin replied sitting himself comfortably down on the ground and waiting for the action to start.
Galahad pulled his sword from its scabbard, “Right,” he said, “Let’s get it started then.”
Galahad walked over the Silver Warrior which stood completely motionless in front of him. The boy looked sideways at Merlin and lifted his hands as if to say ‘What do I do now?’
Before Merlin could reply the Silver Warrior had leapt into action and run the fair haired ‘would-be’ boy warrior through with its sword. Galahad went down as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning and lay completely still on the ground. Unperturbed Merlin picked a piece of particularly tasty grass to suck before climbing to his feet and wandering over to the very still body of Galahad. As the boy enchanter stood over him Galahad opened his eyes.
“Am I dead?” he rather pointlessly asked.
Merlin removed the grass stem from his mouth, “No, you’re not, get up,” he told Galahad.
“He started before I was ready,” the fair haired boy complained as he did ‘get up’.
“You’re supposed to be a warrior,” Merlin reminded him with the accent on ‘supposed’.
That stung Galahad into action and the boy glared at the boy enchanter as he climbed to his feet before stalking over to the Silver Warrior. Merlin noticed that this time Galahad kept his sword raised and ready and never took his eyes off the gleaming Silver Warrior.
“Come on then, Tin Ribs,” Galahad said, “Give me your best shots.”
The Silver Warrior suddenly came alive again and did give the boy its ‘best shots’, in a whirl of sword play it drove the boy effortlessly back across the training ground and although Galahad tried his best he was completely over-matched. After battering the boy to the ground the Silver Warrior ran him through once again and Galahad once more crashed, apparently lifeless, to the ground.
Sighing Merlin got to his feet and spitting out his now well-chewed grass stalk once more wandered over to Galahad and nudged the boy’s prone body with his foot.
“Get up,” Merlin ordered.
Once again Galahad’s eyes came open as he struggled to focus on Merlin.
“I can’t tell you how much that hurts,” he told the boy enchanter who seemed to have very little sympathy for him.
“Were you ready that time or did you slip?” Merlin asked while choosing another piece of grass to suck. Galahad thought it best to ignore that remark.
“I’m not dead?” he said although even to him it seemed a pretty stupid thing to say.
“Obviously not,” Merlin answered drily.
“I thought he had killed me,” Galahad said sitting up and rubbing his sore ribs where the Silver Warrior’s sword had crashed into him what felt about a hundred times.
“He is a Mist Warrior that I have conjured up,” Merlin told him with an exasperated look on his face, “He cannot kill you unless I command it.”
Galahad climbed painfully to his feet, “Well that’s very reassuring to know,” he sarcastically told the boy enchanter. “He’s a very good swordsman,” the fair haired boy added.
“He’s a very bad swordsman,” Merlin corrected, “That’s why I created him for you. Now fight him again and this time try not to be killed. It’s getting a bit boring.”
“I’ll do my best,” Galahad said with more than a hint of sarcasm of his own. “If you insist.”
“I do,” Merlin told the fair haired boy while trying to keep the smile off his face.
With an angry look on his face Galahad stalked over to the Silver Warrior.
“Right, Tin Ribs, let’s do this again.”
The Silver Warrior attacked without warning while Galahad was still talking but Merlin noticed that this time the boy was more than ready for it and had blocked the Silver Warrior’s ‘killing’ sword thrust quite effortlessly. Then Galahad set about the Silver Warrior and the boy’s sword was a blur as he attacked and defended so hard that the Mist Warrior was actually driven back by the strength of the boy’s ferocious attacks. Then, just as it seemed that Galahad was getting mastery of the Silver Warrior the Mist Warrior dummied to its right while running the boy through with a dagger that it had held concealed in its left hand.
Once again Galah
ad crashed apparently lifeless to the ground, he opened his eyes as Merlin once more sauntered over to him.
“It hurts more every time I lose,” the boy wheezed at Merlin, “That’s actually incredibly painful,” he finished with a grimace.
“I can imagine,” Merlin told him without an ounce of sympathy.
“I thought your father said that I came from warrior stock,” Galahad managed to say while desperately trying to get his breath back.
“Mighty warrior stock he said,” Merlin agreed, “Perhaps he was wrong.”
Galahad eased himself into a sitting position, “You said that he was never wrong,” the boy reminded him.
“Maybe he confused you with somebody else,” Merlin answered putting a new grass stem into his mouth.
The insult stung Galahad into action which was just what Merlin had intended. The boy warrior leapt to his feet his face ablaze with anger and half walked half ran over to where the Silver Warrior was once more standing impassively.
“This time it’s for real,” Galahad told the Silver Warrior and attacked with a ferocity that Merlin had not seen from the boy before.
With a series of huge overhand swings that any fully grown knight would have been proud of Galahad drove his opponent forever backwards. So fast were the boy’s sword strokes that it was impossible to see where one thrust ended and another began. Galahad drove the Silver Warrior backwards and sideways almost at will and the boy’s face was a mask of concentration and fury. Gradually the Silver Warrior weakened and seemed to now have no answer to Galahad’s skill.
Merlin and the Land of Mists Book Three: Galahad Page 5