“What choice does he have?” Lancelot asked as he opened the passenger side front door for Vivian. “Where in the legend does Dunkan fit in? I think Merlin will understand that we’re in unfamiliar territory.”
Lancelot hurried around to the driver’s side. In moments they were headed toward Arthur and Gwen’s school.
“I had a dream last night,” Gwen stated.
“Was I in it?” Arthur asked excitedly, squeezing Gwen’s hand.
“Yes, but you were much older, with a beard. Jim was there too, at your side. It had to be a vision from the past, though, because we were in a castle, and dressed in weird clothing. I…I was the one between you and Jim.”
“Did anything happen in the dream?” Vivian lurched around, her face alight at Gwen’s revelation and description of a scene anchored in the pase.
“No. We were only together a brief moment, and then I was alone. The rest of the dream I spent walking through the castle. It was very dark – illuminated only by torches. Arthur told me some of what you believe is happening, and that I have a part in it. Can it be true that I… I am Guinevere from the legend of Camelot?”
“It sounds very much as it once was,” Lancelot replied. “We will change the legend, this time around.”
“You got that right, Shrek,” Arthur said with fervor. “Did you see the Vicster?”
“No…but strangely… I felt her presence.”
“Also something we will change.” Vivian remembered her part in destroying Camelot with aching regret. “At least you had no visions of disaster relating to our present time. I hope your dreams spare you from the worst times of the past.”
“Were the times so bad?” Gwen asked.
“Some were glorious,” Lancelot answered, “but others can only be remembered with bitterness and regret. Know this: there will be no repeating our long-ago past. If our endeavors end in tragedy, it will happen due to new mistakes, rather than old ones.”
As they neared the school, Vivian pointed, and Lancelot nodded his acknowledgement with a grim smile. Mallor and Madeline stood together on the sidewalk, where children were being left off for the day. They looked uncomfortable and out of place. The other parents glanced at the handsome couple dressed in highly fashionable business attire worth thousands of dollars, with curiosity rather than suspicion.
“So, Sir Toad has come with his lady fair to assure us of their innocence in these latest events,” Lancelot noted. “At least we won’t have to hunt them down. Gwen and Arthur, look closely at the dark couple standing together on the sidewalk in the suit and dress. Trust nothing having to do with them. Believe nothing they say.”
“You got it, Shrek,” Arthur replied, peering out at the two with Gwen as Lancelot guided the Pontiac to a halt near them.
“I owe you my life.” Gwen looked over Arthur’s shoulder with uneasiness. “Are they the ones after me?”
“I think some of it may have to do with them, but we’ll find out how much they have to do with what happened last night, right now,” Lancelot assured her, as he and Vivian exited the Pontiac.
Arthur and Gwen hurried out of the car when Vivian opened the door for them, running off together toward the school with a quick wave, and without stopping for Mallor and Madeline. Parents still dropping off kids gawked at the huge, tee-shirted Lancelot as they walked their protesting children into the school building. Vivian chuckled, seeing the reaction just Lancelot’s presence provoked. If only they knew, Vivian thought, smiling at Lancelot, the parents would be ringing Mallor and Madeline with any weapon on which they could lay their hands.
“Smile, Monte. You’re scaring the parents,” Vivian whispered to Lancelot.
Realizing that his inner disgust at being near Mallor must be reflected in his countenance, Lancelot willed his facial features into a less threatening mode. Reaching behind him, he patted the scabbard covered by his tee shirt while holding the silver-bladed knife. He and Vivian approached Mallor and Madeline with great care, not only watching their legendary foes, but also scanning the area around them for other enemies.
“You needn’t worry, Lancelot. Madeline and I have come alone,” Mallor said. “Will you give us a chance to explain?”
“Yes, because there are other forces at work here. Vivian knows something you don’t about stopping them.” Lancelot gestured at the parking lot. “Pick a coffee shop, and we’ll follow you there.”
“Why not come back to our place?”
“Let’s keep it at a neutral site until we exchange information.”
Mallor began to protest, but Madeline took his arm in both her hands.
“Do as he says, my love. It is more prudent to discuss this in a public place.”
“Very well,” Mallor acquiesced reluctantly. “I know a place by the Jack London Square train station. It’s always crowded and grubby-looking, just as you like.”
“Lead on then, Sir Toad,” Lancelot agreed, walking away with Vivian giggling at the familiar taunt.
* * *
“One day,” Mallor snarled, seething in impotent fury with Madeline hanging on to him worriedly, “I will have his lowborn head on my mantel, stuffed with gravel.”
“It is not meant to be,” Madeline said with a tiredness no amount of rest would ever cure. “I feel Lancelot’s power. We must listen carefully, no matter the insults, my love. Our very existence fades from my conscious perception when we are around Lancelot and Vivian. The bleak images conjured each time we meet with them bode ill for us.”
Mallor bit off an angry retort, seeing the intensity of Madeline’s thoughts reflected in her face. “What then? Shall I bow down and worship at his feet while he kicks me like an unwanted cur? Shall we grovel, forgetting our dreams and embracing a destiny of debasement?”
Madeline slipped into the black BMW’s passenger seat, shaking her head sadly as Mallor closed it behind her, and hurried around to the driver’s side. She left off speaking until Mallor drove toward the restaurant with Lancelot and Vivian following in the Pontiac.
“I believe our acceptance of change may be the only factor left between us and disaster,” Madeline said, reaching over with her hand on Mallor’s thigh. “Lancelot has changed fate already. He should be dead, along with Merlin and the water witch. Arthur and Guinevere should be enslaved. Our son should be alive, awaiting a destiny of power. Instead, Lancelot swept away our plans with murderous efficiency. Modred fed on our hatred, seeking to please us by moving against Lancelot too quickly. Now, I wonder if any course of action would have defeated him.”
Mallor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, as he fought to control the rage any acquiescence to Lancelot evoked in him. He glanced at Madeline, seeing the truth in her eyes.
“What of the vision you had heralding Lancelot’s death if he tried to kill us?”
“Gone,” Madeline answered. “Lancelot has somehow altered everything. It may be that in the course of seeing what would have transpired, the variable within Arthur changed destiny’s path.”
“He’s only a boy! How could-”
“Lancelot’s example,” Madeline interrupted the beginning of Mallor’s tirade. “The boy sensed his own greatness through Lancelot. Having earned Lancelot’s respect long ago as a man, Arthur will now do anything to see himself reflected in his Knight’s eyes in such a way once again. We have no power to alter this, my love. Perhaps Modred envisioned what would happen if Arthur remained in Lancelot’s care for even a short time.”
Mallor smashed his right palm against the steering wheel, face twisted in recognition of what Madeline perceived.
“Your theory explains much,” Mallor conceded in a tight-lipped whisper of regret. “Our son sought to preserve what…our hatred?”
“Or our hunger for power. We overestimated the importance of Excalibur. It is a tool, and a trap. We are what we are, my love. We must decide now whether to destroy ourselves in this quixotic quest for what is not meant to be, or tread a new path. Because we have not harmed any within
Lancelot’s circle, our fate still lies in our grasp.”
“He murdered our son!”
“We murdered our son.” Madeline leaned over with her head on Mallor’s shoulder. “Can you let go of this cursed hatred for Lancelot before it devours us? I live or die at your side, no matter what you choose.”
Mallor remained silent. The enormity of Madeline’s proposed course seeped through his consciousness like red-hot lava down a barren mountainside, leaving only grim acceptance.
“I…I do not hate Lancelot,” Mallor admitted hesitantly, his hands twisting where they gripped the steering wheel. “I hate that I am not Lancelot.”
Madeline pulled Mallor’s right hand from the steering wheel into both of hers, pressing her lips to his palm before pressing it to her cheek. “You are my Lancelot.”
* * *
As the four walked into the restaurant, Lancelot noted Mallor’s careless attitude. With Madeline clinging to his hand, Mallor led the way inside, his body language denoting some aspect Lancelot picked up on but could not identify. He looked to Vivian questioningly, and found the same uncertainty in her eyes. A waitress gestured at Mallor with a smile. She guided the group to a table near the window. When they were seated, she took their orders for coffee, and left them menus. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, scanning the menus until the waitress arrived with their coffee. She took their orders for breakfast and left.
“Before you begin,” Mallor started, “Madeline and I had nothing to do with what has transpired. We plotted to take the young Guinevere as you suspect. I knew nothing of Weston’s taking people as cattle and using the gang connection I fostered. My orders were for the vampires to use the blood I obtained and to keep a low profile.”
Lancelot nodded, surprised at the admission. “What of the vamps who attempted to kill Guinevere’s parents and take her last night?”
The stunned look with which Mallor met this information threw Lancelot off stride. He could tell that Vivian was as surprised at Mallor’s obvious confusion as he was.
“We knew nothing of this,” Madeline added, taking Mallor’s hand in hers.
“Okay…we’ll give you this, then, and see where it takes us,” Vivian said. “An ancient vamp, supposedly a son of Lilith, is in the process of creating an army of vampires and shape-shifters. His name is Dunkan.”
“Weston led me to his crypt in some God-forsaken place in Romania. He was entombed. It was no mean feat to uncover the sealed chamber,” Mallor said. “I thought it too much trouble to go there and free him, but Weston said Dunkan would be a powerful ally to have. When we reached the States, Dunkan disappeared.”
“You’re saying we’ve been played?” Madeline asked, jumping slightly as the waitress arrived with their food.
“It is said that Dunkan can control the mind of any creature,” Vivian explained after the waitress left. “Only entombing him long ago prevented the enslavement of the human race.”
The four lapsed into silence for a time, picking at the food and contemplating the information exchanged so far. Lancelot perceived an unknown variable in Mallor’s demeanor – one he found perplexing. Mallor’s arrogant tone had disappeared. He and Madeline appeared resigned to some fate as yet unshared with Lancelot and Vivian. Lancelot noted Vivian’s curious glances at their two erstwhile enemies, as if she, too, could not fathom the nature of what had transpired.
“Why was he not able to control me?” Mallor asked, as he wiped his mouth and sipped the coffee in front of him.
“You are the bearer of Excalibur,” Vivian answered, “which is the only weapon able to defeat him. I believe also that members of our peculiar Camelot fraternity are immune to Dunkan’s mind-control. I am unsure as to why he didn’t try and kill you immediately, unless he needed time to gather information. Did you have any communication with him at all?”
“No. He was just another tool. I allowed Weston to handle everything pertaining to gathering the creatures I needed in my fool’s errand,” Mallor answered with obvious bitterness.
“We are done with this,” Madeline stated. “All is changed. Somehow, you have altered the visions, Lancelot. Through your care, Arthur has come into his own, and we have no way to oppose you, other than seek our own destruction. The legend is dead.”
“I seek terms of surrender,” Mallor added, meeting Lancelot’s amazed look without blinking. “Madeline helped me realize that it was my hatred for you and our pursuit of power that led to Modred’s death. I have envied you since the beginning of our time on earth. Instead of following the example you set for so many, I sold my honor so as to destroy you, but in doing so, I became a pitiable creature, unworthy of even simple human decency.”
“If what you say is true,” Lancelot extended his hand across the table, “we will murder the legend together. If you will but give up Excalibur into my hands until I can kill this scourge of Lilith, I vow to put it back into your hands when my mission is done.”
Mallor gripped Lancelot’s hand, hope of a kind unknown to him easing the lines set in his grim features. For once he envisioned honor again. It was a fearsome aching need he had harbored for a very long time. “Excalibur will be yours. Give the cursed sword to Arthur. I want no part of it. As you say, let us end this farce so long held sacred by so many.”
“I am sorry for the loss of your son,” Lancelot said, still clasping his former enemy’s hand, his eyes never wavering from Mallor’s. “This rift between us will take time to close. It is a miracle to see the black cloud over you gone. I hope to dispel my own in the days ahead.”
“I…I have conceived,” Madeline said, tears of relief welling up in her eyes, as the two men released each other’s hand. “My son will live again.”
“This will be the end of days for Dunkan.” Lancelot smiled, reaching over to cover Madeline’s hand on the table. “I vow that your son will have his day. For what you accomplished with words, perhaps even heaven will allow us to end our personal plague.”
Vivian watched the two men in utter disbelief. In the space of days, Lancelot had joined the Arthurian legend’s original participants, ignored its edicts, forced new rules upon both friend and foe through sheer strength of will, and forged a bond with his most hated enemies. Even the bitterness of loss in being plucked from heaven had faded with each moment Vivian spent at Lancelot’s side.
“Are there more shape-shifters?” Lancelot asked Mallor.
“You killed the last one I sent against you at the park,” Mallor answered. “I’m sorry-”
“Let it be, Mallor,” Lancelot interrupted. “The past is past between us. Is it possible that Dunkan could have gained shape-shifter allies through Weston, without your knowing?”
“I’m afraid so, considering how well Weston hid his dealings with Dunkan.”
“They’re the most dangerous unknown at the moment, until I can reach Dunkan.”
“No disrespect meant, but are you certain this offspring of Lilith can be defeated?” Mallor asked. “Is there something about Excalibur he fears?”
“Excalibur was created to defeat Dunkan,” Vivian replied. “No one man could wield the damned thing long enough to corner him without falling under the sword’s darkness. In pursuing Dunkan, Mages of the Fallen gave the sword to each succeeding warrior, in the hope that one would be able to last until Dunkan fell. Although triumphant against Dunkan’s army, primarily due to the warriors’ trust that they were led by divine rule through the sword, the Mages feared that the sword-bearer would be defeated by Dunkan, thereby allowing Excalibur to fall into Dunkan’s hands. They settled on entombing Dunkan, rather than confronting him.”
“I have felt the darkness you speak of,” Mallor said.
“It was the shadowy ingredient fashioned in Excalibur’s creation, which was necessary for Dunkan’s destruction. Unfortunately, no warrior at the time could bend the darkness to his will. The illusion of invincibility cost them their lives.”
“I know of this illusion first hand,” Mallor admitt
ed, grinning at Lancelot. “Have you ever used Excalibur in battle?”
“No…and I’d hoped never to lay eyes on it again after giving it into Vivian’s hands a thousand years ago. Arthur never felt its pull. He told me once, long ago, that Excalibur inspired the men under his command, but he held no illusion that it would make him invincible.”
“Partly because you nearly killed him with Excalibur in his hand, when first you met,” Vivian reminded Lancelot.
“Point taken,” Lancelot agreed. “Without your timely appearance, Arthur’s reign might never have come about. As to your question about whether Dunkan can be defeated with Excalibur, I have no clue. Failure is not an option to be considered, nor is hesitation arising from considering defeat. I will trust that you three and Merlin will come up with some other plan, if I fall to Dunkan in battle.”
LANCELOT Page 28
