Sword of Camelot

by Gilbert L. Morris

  Something in the strong, clean features of her visitor took away the apprehension that had filled Elaine. He was very tall and had light brown hair that fell to his shoulders. His age was indeterminate. Though he was not old, he seemed mature beyond his outer appearance. Something in the depths of his gray eyes spoke of wisdom and calmness like the mountains far to the west—solid, steady, immovable.

  He waited as she regained her composure, then said, “My name is Goel.”

  “Goel!” Elaine felt the power of the presence of the one about whom she had heard so much. She could not speak for a moment. Then she curtsied deeply, and from that position, bowing her head, she whispered, “I welcome you, my lord.”

  Goel approached and put out his hand. When Elaine took it, he lifted her to her feet. “You have been a faithful handmaiden of your father and mother, Princess.” His voice ran deep, and there was surety in it and gladness despite its tone. “Now,” he added, “I have come to ask that you be my handmaiden.”

  “Me!” Elaine gasped. “But, my lord, I am not worthy to be the servant of Goel!”

  “Every woman and girl I call to be my servant,” Goel said. Sadness came into his fine eyes as he added in a grieved tone, “Not all I call will answer. But all women are called, as are all men.” He studied her face, then smiled. “I see that you are ready, and I am pleased with you, my daughter.”

  Elaine felt that his eyes were going past her outward form, that he was reading the impulses of her heart, and she experienced a flash of joy as she said in wonder, “Why, I have waited for you all my life, Goel, but I didn't even know what I was waiting for!”

  “I am glad you feel that way,” he said quietly. “Now, I have come to call you to a difficult task—one that many strong men would hesitate to dare.”

  “What is it, Sire?”

  “You are part of a plan that I have devised to save your father's kingdom. The Dark Powers are a foot, and now the danger is great.”

  “You mean the dragon.”

  “The beast is only a part. The Dark Lord's arm is long. He has many deadly servants—and unless something is quickly done, Camelot will fall under his sway.”

  “I will do anything you command, Lord Goel,” Elaine said at once. She saw a smile come to his lips. “But I am not able to do much.”

  “You are able to believe in me and to obey my word,” Goel answered, “and that is more than you know, Princess.” His face grew very serious. “Listen carefully. I will tell you what you must do.”

  * * *

  At the moment Goel was visiting Elaine, Bob Lee Jackson, too, had a visitor.

  He had risen early and was preparing his equipment to ride out of Camelot. He had determined to take no squire with him but to go alone. He finished saddling Thunder and was about to swing into the saddle when suddenly Mogen was there.

  He started. She had the habit of appearing seemingly out of nowhere. But he was glad to see her. He had reached the point where he grew apprehensive when she did not appear. Once he had said to himself, Reb Jackson, you're getting to be pretty bad. If you don't see Mogen regular, you're afraid of your own shadow

  This troubled him, for he had always been a self-sufficient young man. But now, this woman had grown to be something of an addiction for him. He had to see her, and he felt uncertain when he could not.

  She came at various times, sometimes in dreams and visions, often speaking strange things into his ear that he could barely remember when he came out of sleep. His dreams when she came to him were troublesome, frightening, and filled with shapes that he could never quite remember but that would have been nightmarish had he seen them in his waking hours.

  “Sir Reb,” Mogen said.

  Her gown surprised him. Oftentimes she wore black, but this morning she was clothed entirely in a white garment that gleamed in the morning sun. Her eyes were shaded by some thought, and he felt again the power of her glance.

  “It is time for you to prove yourself and the power that is in you.”

  Even as she spoke, Reb felt the medallion begin to glow against his chest. He had taken it off the night before to bathe and was shocked at the fear he felt when it was not around his neck. Quickly he put it on again and drew a sigh of relief.

  Now he touched it. “What is this medallion, Mogen? Why do I feel so powerful when I wear it and SO . . . so lost when I take it off? It's as though it has become a part of me.”

  Mogen's lips curved upward. “Do not fear. It has become a part of you, but it has given you power, and that is what you need.” She came closer. “The hour has come for you to prove yourself and the power of the medallion. You will see soon the source of this great power. You and I, together, will do marvelous things in Camelot, once you have done this.”

  Reb said hoarsely, “What will we do?”

  “We will rule together, you and I,” Mogen whispered. And then she stepped back. “Now, one more task. You will go to meet the dragon, and, when you go, remember the power that lies within the medallion.”

  She spoke to him for some time, then put her hands on his cheeks and began a chant, using as usual words he did not understand. But as she spoke, they flowed over him, touching the deepest springs in his heart. They frightened him and yet exalted him at the same time. Finally she stopped.

  “Let's go now. To the Valley of the Stone. Do you know it?”

  “I know where it is. Sir Gwin said it is best not to go there.” He added hastily, “He said the place was haunted, but I thought that was just superstition.”

  She did not answer at once, then said, “There are strange things in that valley, but there you will meet the dragon, and there you must overcome. Remember, when you meet the dragon, hold up the medallion and cry out with all of your heart that which I have given you today. Go quickly now, and when you return, Camelot will be ours.”

  She stepped back, and Reb watched as she turned and disappeared around the comer of a building. He thought, I can't figure out where she stays. She's always there, but it's like she suddenly appears from nowhere.

  Quickly he arranged his armor on the packhorse, mounted Thunder, and started to ride out. When he reached the city gate, he was met by someone he had never seen before.

  “Who's that?” Reb asked sharply.

  “I'm your squire for this journey, Sir Reb.” The speaker was mounted on a small gray horse and was clad in Lincoln green. The rider's cloak covered his form, and his face was hidden by the cowling that was drawn over it.

  “I need no squire,” Reb said. “Who are you?”

  “I am sent by Goel,” was the answer.

  “Goel?” Reb started. The sound of the name sent a sudden shaft of fear through him that he could not explain. He had always loved Goel, had been the most interested of all the Seven in the stories of the leader they followed. “Where is he?”

  “He will not be far away. Now his command is that I follow you.”

  Reb leaned forward, trying to look into the face of the speaker. He hesitated. Something in him said to refuse the offer, but he could not refuse Goel. He wondered why Mogen had said nothing of this. Finally, unable to decide, he said gruffly, “Come along if you're coming. We're going to the Valley of the Stone. Are you afraid?”

  “No,” was the quiet answer. “I am not afraid.”

  “Come on, then.” Reb spurred his mighty horse forward. Deliberately he tried to outdistance his follower, but every time he looked back, there the smaller horse was with the rider cloaked in green.

  * * *

  The Valley of the Stone was so called because of a massive stone, a black rock, that pointed toward the sky like a huge finger.

  As Reb rode past the stone, he felt a vibration that seemed to shake the earth. If he had been apprehensive before, now he knew that this valley was not a normal place. But he touched the medallion on his chest and felt its familiar power flow through him, and once again he pressed forward.

  The valley was filled with many stones and small clumps of trees�
��scrub oak mostly—and deep gullies that cut across its surface. Carefully he guided Thunder along the lips of the ravines, always alert, scanning the sky, for he knew that from there the dragon would appear. From time to time he glanced back and saw the rider in green silently following.

  I wonder who that is? he asked himself. Then he shrugged. He won't be any help in a fight, that's for sure. He had noted that the rider carried a bow and a quiver of arrows but was aware that they would be of little use.

  What Reb himself carried was a long lance that Mogen had told him was charmed. “All you have to do is pierce the beast with the tip, and he will die.”

  The sun was high in the sky when Reb suddenly heard a faint whistling to his right. Looking up, he saw a speck just over the trees. That speck grew larger, and the whistling grew louder, until he recognized it as the keening noise that many witnesses of the dragon had spoken of. He held his lance firmly and urged Thunder forward.

  Then he decided to fight on foot. Stepping off his horse, he looked back and called to the squire, “Hold this hoss while I kill this varmint!”

  The rider in green came forward and dismounted but said nothing.

  Reb said, “Those arrows won't help you none—not against that thing.”

  “I will do what I can,” was the answer.

  Reb again tried to see his face but could not.

  The monster drew close. Reb ran forward a few steps, and then the air seemed full of the sound of the screaming beast. Suddenly it was in front of him. Fully twenty feet high, the beast reared up, slender of body but with flaming red eyes and a mouth full of gleaming teeth—white and sharp as sabers.

  Fear tried to creep over Reb, but he advanced toward the dragon.

  The beast reared again, its glinting scales catching the sun. Its white underbelly was revealed, and Reb picked the spot where he would plant his lance.

  Got to get close enough to put this spear in that varmint. He held his shield high, and when the screaming creature started toward him, tail whipping madly and venomous froth falling from its fangs, he muttered, “Can't let him get those teeth into me, but got to get closer!”

  The beast suddenly lunged. Reb threw up his arm and took the driving force of the serpentlike head on his shield. But the impact drove him backward. He dropped both shield and lance and fell sprawling.

  The beast reared up over him. There was a scream of victory from its open jaws.

  And then Reb remembered. The medallion! The moment had arrived. He thrust a hand under his shirt. Bringing forth the amulet, he held it high and cried out the formula that Mogen had given him.

  He fully expected to see the beast fall down dead—but nothing happened! Again he cried the words, but the medallion, he saw, had grown dull.

  Then, to one side, the form of Mogen suddenly materialized. She was dressed this time in black, with her hood thrown back.

  Reb cried out, “Mogen, help me!”

  Mogen did not move, and somehow she seemed to grow older, her face lengthening and her eyes turning into mere slits.

  What's happening? Reb thought wildly, and he called out again. “Help me! The medallion isn't working!”

  “You fool!” Mogen laughed, but it was a cackle, not the smooth laugh of the girl he had come to know. She seemed transformed into an old woman! Her fingers had grown into long claws, her face was wrinkled, her mouth twisted into a cruel sneer. “Now you know who I am. You were such an easy prey. Now you will taste what it is like to be under the power of the Dark Lord!”

  “The Dark Lord! But you said you were from Goel!”

  “No,” Mogen sneered. “I have nothing to do with Goel.” Then she cackled again. “Now taste the teeth of the dragon.”

  Reb turned quickly and saw the beast move toward him at a sign from the witch—as he now knew Mogen to be. He rolled to his feet and seized his lance. And, as the dragon dropped his evil head forward, Reb struck.

  But the point of the lance slid off the breast of the beast. The monster's teeth snapped at him. Reb threw up his arm and felt searing pain as the teeth sank into it. The poison—I'm a goner!

  He tried to retreat, but the dragon, with a powerful sweep of its head, threw him rolling in the dirt. He saw that his arm was torn. Already he felt the poison beginning to work, going quickly through his whole body like molten fire. I'm dying, and it's too late!

  At that moment Mogen cried, “Stay away! Who are you?”

  Reb opened his eyes to see the squire who had followed him. His eyes were swimming now with pain, but he saw the squire stop and nock a silver arrow into his bow.

  “Very well, you fool. You can die with him!”

  “I won't die,” the youthful voice said calmly.

  Mogen shouted, “You do not know the ancient prophecy! No man can stand before this beast!”

  And then Reb heard a clear voice cry out, “But I am no man! I am Princess Elaine, daughter of the king of Camelot!”

  Shock coursed through Reb's body. He struggled up onto one elbow. Dimly he saw the green cloak thrown back, and there was the face of Elaine. Reb could scarcely breathe. “Go back,” he whispered hoarsely. “Go back, Elaine. He'll kill you!”

  “No, I shall slay him,” Elaine cried. She cocked the bow with the silver arrow in it, and as the beast rose up with a mighty scream, preparing to launch himself forward, her voice rose clear. “Die by the power of Goel!” And she released the fully drawn bow.

  The arrow streaked through the air and struck the beast on its underside, piercing the armor and disappearing down to the feathers.

  Reb felt himself slipping away fast, but he heard the beast utter an awful, screeching cry and saw it fall to one side, thrashing about as it died.

  He also heard Mogen screaming in rage and Elaine's clear challenge, “Begone, foul witch! Or you will meet the fate of your creature!”

  Then Reb felt cool hands on his face, and even as blackness was overwhelming him he heard a voice saying, “Reb, Reb! Do not die!”

  He opened his eyes one moment. Elaine's features swam into focus, and he tried to smile. “I reckon it's too late for me …”

  16

  The Darkest Hour

  He—he looks so pale, and he's hardly breathing at all.” Josh stood beside the still form of Reb. The rest of the Sleepers circled his bed. They had been admitted to his hospital room only a few minutes before and now were in shock at their friend's condition.

  Josh swallowed hard and looked up at the man in the blue physician's coat who stood back by the wall. “How is he, Doctor?” he asked.

  The doctor, a tall man with dark eyes and olive complexion, studied the young man on the bed and shook his head. “Not well—not well at all, I'm afraid.”

  “Is it the poison that he got from that beast?” Dave asked. His brow was furrowed, and he bit his lip. He had said some rather harsh things about Reb. Perhaps now he was sorry for them. “He'll be all right, won't he?”

  The doctor gave him a steady look before answering. “Some things we doctors can treat—a broken bone, a sword cut, an arrow wound, sometimes a fever.” Then he looked down at the pale face of his patient and seemed to think hard. “There's more to his illness than the poison from the dragon.”

  “What do you mean, Doctor?” Jake asked quickly. “I thought it was just that wound in his arm and the poison that must have gotten into it.”

  “That's bad enough, but we've done what we can for that. What worries me is that there is something else that I can't exactly put my finger on—he just won't come out of that coma.”

  Wash picked up Reb's limp hand and held it tightly. There were tears in his eyes, and he dashed them away with his sleeve. “I should have stayed with him. I shouldn't have let him go out alone.”

  Josh patted the small boy's shoulder. “Not your fault, Wash,” he muttered. “It wouldn't have mattered if all of us had been there. I don't think we could have done a thing.”

  “What was it that happened?” Abbey asked. Josh knew she neve
r liked sickness and, if she had had her way, would have fled the room. She feared illness, and now alarm was in her eyes. “Did anyone hear what actually happened out there?”

  “We can tell you that.” Elander entered the room, accompanied by Elaine. He came to the head of the bed where Reb lay, rested his hand on the boy's forehead, then pulled it back. “I knew all the time,” he said steadily, “that there was something going on in Reb, but I didn't know what it was exactly. That is, not until Wash told me the story, and then Princess Elaine confirmed it.”

  “Well, what was it?” Jake demanded. “We couldn't get a word out of Wash.” He looked angrily at the boy.“ He acted like he was withholding information.”

  “That's exactly what he was doing, Jake.” Elendar nodded. “He told me what had happened, and I required him to keep silent. But I can tell you now. Reb encountered one of the most evil beings in the kingdom of the Dark Lord. She calls herself Mogen, and a more foul spirit never set foot on this earth.”

  “What is she—some kind of a witch?” Jake asked.

  “I suppose that is what you would call her. She traffics with evil in every known form. She puts spells on people. She knows of all the worst poisons and herbs, and time and time again I have tried to trap her, but she has avoided me—so far.”

  Josh looked down at Reb and felt a sudden spasm of fear as he noticed the clamminess of his face.

  “He's—he's so sick,” Sarah said. “What did she do to him?”

  “Well, for one thing, she put this on him.” Elendar reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled forth a metal disk. “This is the amulet of the Dark Lord. You see this strange device carved on it? That is his sign—the bent cross. If you ever see that, you know at once that evil is behind it.” His voice was grim, and his eyes flashed.“ Anyone who wears it is in danger of his spirit being overwhelmed by the powers that would destroy Camelot. I will destroy the amulet, but I wanted you all to see it so that in your future travels you will be aware of the bent cross.”