Part 2

 Rhino awoke in a field of red flowers. He was lying on his back looking at a cloudless blue sky. Listening intensely for any noise that would give someone's position away- and hearing none, Rhino slowly, cautiously,  pushed himself upright, his armour jangling as he rose.

Armour?

Rhino looked himself over- he was in his chain mail suit, his formal leather Council tabard belted over the top. His legs were covered in his leather armour and plate greaves. The small 'butt-monkey' axe the Phoenix Guards had given him hung from one hip, and the two-headed Axe he had grown up using was on the ground next to were he had laid. Rhino picked it up gingerly and looked round again.

 He was alone. The filed of flowers seemed to stretch forever over all horizons. He suddenly recognised the flowers- the Humans called them poppies. A sign of death, or was it remembrance?

 Rhino drew in a breath and hefted the familiar axe. There was no clue to where he'd come from. No trail across the field, no door, nothing. He slowly turned around- flowers, flowers, flowers, there. A patch of poppies were shorter or perhaps missing. Rhino headed for it.

  

Ellendain snapped too standing, his sword in his hand. He felt tired and his muscles felt like he'd been fighting. He slapped his empty hand against his armour and realised he was holding a dagger. He raised his arm to eye level slowly, he was so tired. It was his dagger and it was bloodied. Then the smell hit him- the smell of death.

Fresh death.

He looked at his body- fresh blood, brain matter, and other bits were stuck to his chain mail. His red Lions Council Tabard ripped to shreds. He raised his sword, it too was bloodied. Ellendain suddenly realised he was standing on something.

Slowly he looked down.

He was standing on a pile.

A pile of bodies.

He stood in the body of a male Dwarf, his booted feet within the ribcage. The Dwarves head was intact, lifeless eyes rolled back in the head, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. A sense of satisfaction rolled over Ellendain- that had been his kill. He remembered it distinctly, but yet as well he knew it hadn't been him. The Dwarf was not alone, mealy the top of the pile, below him, under him, were at least thirty more. Ellendain closed his eyes. He knew he did not kill them, but yet remembered burying his sword or dagger into each one, and enjoying it.

Slowly he opened his eyes and looked about.

All around him, as far as he could see were piles of dead bodies. Dwarves, he knew, and all his kills. As far as he could see, all to the horizons, bodies.

He screamed.

  

It had taken four days to gather the Lions Council and William was tired. He had organised guards (The Defenders insisting on the job) on the room and its unchanging energy field, and guards on the floor leading there. Meetings had been called. The room probed with magic, attempts at communication made. And all for nothing.

Nothing.

Rhino, Ellendain, and The Ogre gone.

 Now he faced the hardest thing he'd ever had to do- he had to tell the Lions.

 Prince Bishop William Hatfield stood in an anti-chamber to the Great Hall of Camelot. A door was all that separated him from the mass of the Lions assembled out there. Some had come with the Council members when William’s urgent summons had sent the Ritual Circles humming. Others had arrived for the Parliament, ironically due to have started today. Others had come after they had heard of the emergency, a show of the solidarity the Lions were infamous for.

 He was alone. A bottle sat on the table in front of him. Rhino had given it to him when he'd arrived- how long ago now? It was the last bottle produced by Rhinos Uncle Rasputin before a slight accident had closed down his distillery. The bottle teased him, its green liquid called him, tempted him, but it felt wrong to open it. The last bottle.  William picked it up and turned it, the candle light reflecting majestically in the glass.

Rising, he slowly he put it down and sighed.

With a heavy heart he turned towards the door.

In the doorway he stopped and half turned back.

The Last Bottle.

He turned to face the Lions.

  

Ormardu screamed and roared in frustration. He was trapped!

He pounded on the walls, he pounded on the floor, pounded the ceiling. He pounded until he collapsed exhausted.

When he woke he pounded again.

He was trapped!

Trapped in his own mind.

Trapped in his own body.

*No escape.*

  

The bare patch was a circle in the poppy field. The plants had been flattered into a completely regular circle. Not a plant was damaged. The pattern started in the centre and spiralled out, a perfect unbroken pattern.

 Rhino had seen them before, though never this perfect. They appeared at random throughout Avalon’s fields. Some said they were Fey, others thought they were transport circles. Rhino took the opinion of the natives of Avalon and avoided them.

'Why risk what you don't know' his Uncle had once said to him. 'A soldiers job was to survive and fight not risk the unknown'. And he had survived seventy five years of war with that advice.

And his instinct. 'A solider, a Commander, on occasion must use spontaneity and improvise' Rhino couldn't remember who'd told him that.

Spontaneity.

Rhino looked again at the circle, and then slowly round at the field, the endless unbroken red field, his own path though the fields already covered by the plants.

Survival.

He stepped into the circle.

  

When he'd stopped screaming he had moved. A different Dwarf lay dead at his feet. Headless his time, with only about twenty below him. Ellendain didn't remember the fight, but felt the satisfaction of the kill.

*They are only Dwarves* said a thought. Ellendain smiled. Only Dwarves- Dwarves had been killing Elves since the two races first met. Millions of lives.

*Dwarves were only good for killing*, he started moving, walking down the pile. He hefted his sword. Bring on the Dwarves.

 Pile after pile of bodies he passed, the smile grew into a maniacal grin. He no longer thought of the bodies as people mearly as HIS KILLS. He counted briefly but gave up at 1,000 dead. ALL HIS KILLS. He stomped with purpose though his killing fields, occasionally chopping at an outstretched limb or popping out an eye with his dagger.

 One eye popped with satisfaction and hit him on the chest, sticking to something he wore. He reached for it, wondering what it tasted like. His fingers closed on it to pull it from....

The Lion of Avalon.

The Symbol.

Only half remained, the roaring jaws. He froze, fingers round the eye ball.

.....oh gods......a small voice in his mind said.

"....oh Gods......" he ripped the eye ball from the Lion.

"....OH GODS......." he screamed, and screamed and screamed.......

  

The Council had met to decide how to approach the Lions with this. In the end William and Lady Josephine, (Magi, and Lions Third in Command) sat in plain wooden chairs before the dais. The three soft padded chairs upon the dais  untouched and  unused. The Honour Banner of the Lions, and the Pendragon Banner were rolled closed.

Between them and the Lions was a clear space, the speaking space. Down each side of this in equal numbers sat the Council, all bar Cheetah- head of Lions Security, who stood at William’s right arm. The space on Lady Josephine’s left arm was left empty for Ormardu, as there was an empty seat in the Council for Ellendain.

 Lady Josephine was already seated when William finally entered the Hall. The room fell silent immediately. The only sound an occasional sob from Lady Sapphire, who having been incommunicado since she left had only just arrived and been told the news. Lady Sapphire was being supported by Lady Flower, (who Ormardu had made several unsubtle advances to, despite her being engaged).

 The tension in the room was palatable. If nothing else the missing people and rolled up banners told almost the tale themselves, but the faces of the members of the Council all but shouted the news. Even Ugluk, the Orc Strike team leader mealy held his beer tankard rather than swig from it. As William took his seat Ivan, Herald of the Lions stepped forward.

"Parliament in session" he announced, somewhat redundantly.

The assembled Lions waited. William rose to his feet.

"Thank you for coming to Camelot, Lions. I wish this Parliament could be under better circumstances......."

 By the time William had told everything he knew- the spirit quest, the roar, Rhino and Ellendain's disappearance, the attempts to probe the room, and to contact the missing, and the failure of every attempt- he was shaking. William sat down slowly. The worst part was the way the Lions had sat there and said nothing......

The silence seemed to last for hours, then Ivan stepped forward

"We have examined the field" he said quietly "it is impenetrable. We can let people try if they wish, but only a few at a time. The room is sealed." Mole, a high ranking Mage of the Lions, stepped forward slightly,

"I have examined the room- I wish it was otherwise, but it is so" Mole commanded a lot of respect in the Lions, he had the ear of Floris Brand, the most powerful Mage in the world for one thing. Several Lions hung their heads at his announcement.

"Are we giving up then?" asked Three Chop Nick of The One.

"No. We have the room watched. The Defenders stand ready to help, and I'm sure while you are here so do you" Marcus Tarquinian, General of the Lions, didn't speak much at Council- his voice was heard more on the battlefield. William sighed to himself- this was going better than expected.

"So we do nothing then?" demanded Parmenian of the One. He was a berserker, and his voice carried a lot of weight with the younger Warriors amongst the Lions. Oh no William thought.

"We can not do anything" Lady Josephine shot back acidly.

"Let me go in there- I'll do something!" cried Caradoc. There were louder voices in agreement "why do we sit here when Rhino, our Lord General, is trapped? We should go in there, get him out" Caradoc actually stepped into the speaking area. A short, but powerfully built Human Caradoc was a berserker also. When Caradoc spoke the passion he put into his agreement would often persuade many- he would be a good leader if he could control his temper. Damm, not now- thought William. Ramat, an Elf healer stepped forward.

"You were not listening Caradoc, there is no way in. We cannot get in" Caradoc half turned to him

"There must be a way" he growled. Caradoc carried his weapons naked, not sheathed. William felt Cheetah start forward.

"There is not one" Lady Josephine stood and shouted at Caradoc "do you think any of us" she indicated the Council "would be here if there was?" A large lady Lady Josephine could be quite intimidating, especially when mad, like now. She moved to confront Caradoc, Cheetah moved up behind him. Pointing a finger at Caradoc Lady Josephine continued "Rhino means more to me than you could know. More to us. If there is not a way" stabbing with her finger she repeated "there is not a way " Caradoc was visibly shaking, a sign of a coming storm.

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Stefan Louis, Lions Master Healer. Caradoc shot him a look that would boil blood. Stefan didn't even blink. Lady Josephine returned to her chair.

"Yes there is" William began, ignoring Caradoc, Finally he thought "there is a sword, the Sword of Wayland. This evil sword has been plaguing the Lions for the past year....."

  

When he stepped into the circle the poppy field faded from view, there was a sickening lurch, then the Great Hall in Camelot faded in, but not Rhinos Camelot. The banners were different and the stonework fresher. On the dais was a single throne, and on it a man in battered plate mail. He wore a bloodied, ripped, Gold coloured tabard with a rearing Lion upon it. The man seemed asleep, one arm draped over the side of the throne, the other propping up his head. Rhino realised were he was. Four hundred years ago in Avalon’s past had been the Golden Age- the Age of Arthur, the Round Table, Merlin. That man on the throne could only be King Arthur, the Pendragon. Except.....

 There was none of the strength, the power of Arthur. The King looked old; his face was etched with age lines, his muscular armoured torso slumped in the throne. His bread and hair wild and unkempt. A tankard loosely hung in his hanging hand. Rhino recognised the posture- the exhaustion of the battle weary. He tired to step forward.

"No spirit" a voice, vaguely familiar, said from behind him. Rhino half turned, and realised he stood in chalk circle, arcane symbols written around the edge. Behind him was a man dressed in black robes with a grey over- tabard; he had long wild black hair and an enormous bread, yet even so the face was familiar- Floris Brand. But, he could not be here so it could only be, must only be...

Arthur, he’s here" Rhino turned back, the figure on the throne stirred and opened sharp piecing blue eyes that locked with Rhino's and seemed to read deep into his soul.

"I see him Merlin". The King rumbled, a power in the voice. A power Rhino had heard once before, many centuries away at the Gathering when the Pendragon had returned briefly to the world.

"you are the person who will inherit Avalon" the King continued. Rhino nodded, unable to speak.

"Speak- who ate you?" the King commanded without raising his voice.

!I am Rhino Kahzad of the Lions people of Avalon"

"What title are you. King?" there was almost a disapproval in the voice.

"No. The Lions wished me to have that title but I refused it. That title belongs only to one man" The King seemed pleased.

"And thus you are?"

"Lord General". Rhino could not decide on a proper honorific and left one off.

"How is Avalon" there was a passion in the King's voice. He leaned forward, the tankard clattering to the floor, his exhaustion shrugged off.

"The land is re-building. The years of chaos took their toll, but we recover. The Chaos army is collapsed. The Manors rebuilding. People return".

"And Camelot?"

"Rebuilt. Re-inhabited. Again the Capital"

"Good". The King paused, as if unsure how to say something. He broke eye contact with Rhino to look at Merlin behind him. No words were spoken but Rhino sensed they communicated.

"Merlin brought you to me tonight. I needed to see you. I needed to see who would inherit Camelot. It, I, am almost gone. In the morning I fight Mordred........" he trailed off.

"Arthur. This will not hold forever" Merlin’s voice had become almost song like "something calls him back".

"Very well then." Arthur voice became more authoritative "a warning and a request Rhino Kahzad. Under Camelot is a spirit, one of Mordred creations. It is very powerful. We bound it into Camelot itself. Its power feeds the stones, keeps the protections bound into the castle and thus into Avalon working. Its inherent evil is combated forever by the spirit of one of my  Knights- Sir Kay who gave his essence so this place would be protected.

"This creature must never awaken. We do not know if Kay can fight it forever, or if others must join him. We do not know if or how it will awaken. If it does Camelot and Avalon will fall. I request from you Rhino Kahazd that you and all your successors keep this creature asleep of...."

"I cannot hold this spell Arthur, quickly" Merlin's voice was strained.

"I swear" Rhino said solemnly. The King smiled and nodded in salute.

"Thank Yooouuuuuuuu" Camelot faded away to blackness. Rhino floated in a void.

 *Oh, dear. What a Shame.......* a voice said from all around. Rhino tired to answer but was suddenly somewhere else.

 

And pounded and pounded and pounded and pounded.

He don't know who he was anymore. All he knew was to pound. It was a hunger that ground at his soul.

Pound, Pound, Pound, Pound, Pound..........

Read Part 3

---

Back to Stories Page
Back to Home Page