Camelot Enterprise: A Contemporary Arthurian Epic

by GR Griffin

  He didn’t stand a fucking chance.

  ♦☼♦

  “What the hell?!” Gwaine yelled, pushing himself ferociously from Lancelot’s firm grasp. Lunging for his teleporting system, he glared at the two men beside him. Leon sighed, holding a hand to his own mouth in shock.

  “Why didn’t you let me go after him!”

  “Gwaine. What use is it?” the tanned man responded in a severe tone. “It’s getting dark. There’s only three of us-”

  Retaliating in frustration, the rugged man paced back and forth, and then aggressively kicked the metallic bin beside them. It fell over violently, its clang echoed throughout the room.

  “-There’s fucking one of Arthur! He won’t survive the night with that creature-”

  “-what creature?” a new voice shrieked in horror, eyes wide and long raven curls draping down her back. Clamping his eyes shut for a moment Leon held up a hand, nausea flooding into his system. Things couldn’t have got any worse, and to think Arthur had been just minutes from getting back to the base safely. To think they had been engaged in light-hearted conversation a few minutes ago, the irony of the whole situation pelted him in the face.

  “Where’s Arthur?” the voice screamed, vehemently walking towards the trio.

  Leon and Lancelot exchanged solemn looks and remained deliberately silent. Clenching his fists, Gwaine threw his device on the floor in rage.

  “We got ambushed-“

  At these words the multitude of voices in the room all resounded in chaotic unison, creating a shower of confusing shouts.

  “-we were just minutes from returning-“

  “-Ambushed by what?!-“

  “-I tried to save him-”

  “Let’s think about this realistically he-“

  “-So unexpected it went away-“

  “-Why didn’t you bring him back-“

  “-Morgana you have to listen to-“

  “-It looked very much like-“

  “-could be dead-“

  “-a Bastet from what we could see-“

  “-How could you let this happen-“

  “-We tried-“

  “-No I tried-“

  “-you abandoned him-“

  “-What in Gods name is going on here?” the demanding, familiar voice carried through the room, instantly silencing the four squabbling people. Uther’s footsteps resonated loudly as he approached them. Beside him the beady-eyed blonde woman stood, arms folded over her chest. Narrowing his eyes, Uther studied the group of people before him.

  “Where is my son?” he asked sternly, his intense gaze resting on Leon who tried not to flinch at the Pendragon’s threatening eyes.

  Taking a step forwards, Leon failed to meet the man’s eyes, unsure what exactly to say. Eventually nervous words spluttered from his mouth.

  “It…it was an accident. W-e could have never foretold t-that this-“

  “-You mean to tell me that my son is out there.” The man bellowed in outrage, looming over Leon ominously.

  “With all due respect sir,” Lancelot spoke with haste, rescuing a shaken Leon heroically. “There is nothing we could do. The night is too dangerous out there, you said so yourself-“

  Morgana’s nostrils flared, her overwhelming anger seething from her reddened face.

  “-Damn what was said! We have to find him now-“

  “-We can’t act irrationally-“

  “-Irrationally? It’s Arthur’s life.” She spat darkly, glowering at whoever dared meet her eyes consumed in a raging inferno.

  “We don’t have the sufficient equipment to enter the forests at night-“

  “-I can’t believe you’re all wiling to abandon him.” She whispered, her voice cracking octaves. Glancing between the solemn faces around her, Morgana turned to Uther. In turn, Uther turned towards the blonde woman beside him, expression severe.

  “Arthur,” The woman began assertively, placing a hand on Uther’s shoulder. “will be fine Uther. I know these lands; the only dangers out here are the ones you put yourself in-“

  “-And what about the creature that ambushed them?” Morgana interjected heatedly.

  “-Arthur is a smart young man, he will find shelter for the night. Sending a search party out at this time will do no good; it will merely put more men at risk. It may even put Arthur in more risk. As Leon said, we have not yet developed the equipment and defences needed to enter the forests at this hour.”

  The raven-haired woman shook her head as she watched Uther Pendragon stroke him chin pensively.

  “No.” she snapped. “Morgause is wrong Uther this is Arthur!” her voice became frenzied, syllables blurring. “He’s your son, he’s out there by himself. He could die-”

  “-I believe you are overreacting.” Morgeuse deduced calmly. “The Bastet creature that ambushed them is less intimidating than it looks.”

  “If Arthur has any sense he’ll climb up one of the trees and make a shelter.” Lancelot supplied steadily, trying to conceal his own anxiety.

  “Morgause is right.” The powerful figure in the room sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose tightly and inhaling a deep breath. “There is nothing we can do to help him. We must pray that he makes it though the night. If he has not returned by dawn, I will send an emergency search party out to find him-“

  “-NO!” a vicious scream echoed through the room. Lowering her voice, Morgana shook her head in despair, eyes watery. “You don’t even care.”

  “Of course I care he’s my son,” Uther dismissively replied, as if tying up a business agreement. “If I could do anything I would but the truth of the matter is that I can’t until sunrise.”

  Snarling at the words, the woman barked back fervently.

  “That’s almost twelve hours away! What if he’s injured or hurt?”

  “My decision is final.” Uther said loudly, silencing a distraught Morgana. Dejectedly, the man diverted his attention towards her, pressing a hand onto her shoulder.

  “This is not an easy decision for me to make Morgana. Arthur will be safe. He has enough initiative to find a safe place to stay.” Tightening his face, he met her eyes. “But if you dare question my judgment again, I will restrain you.”

  Releasing her, he continued.

  “Morgause, Leon. Follow me. We need to assemble a precautionary plan for the morning.”

  Morgana stared blankly after the three of them who quickly left the room. The brown-haired male and tanned man left in her presence remained silent. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what they were thinking to themselves. Running a hand through his disordered hair, Gwaine took a step towards Morgana.

  “He’ll be okay.”

  Chuckling darkly at these words, the woman vacantly fixated her vision towards the teleporting device. She half expected Arthur to pop out from nowhere, sweaty and full of adrenaline, a blinding grin swathed over his face. The negative, and hopelessly realistic network of thoughts consuming her mind painted a completely different picture.

  Arthur didn’t stand a chance.

  Chapter 10

  The forest was dark, and cryptically silent. Any trace of sunlight shooting through the gaps between the thick leaves had withered away, leaving a shadowy ominous sky with a thin crescent silver moon. Although the trees were so vast and tall that Arthur Pendragon couldn’t even see the sky. His clothes were damp and cold, his body still shuddering from the collision with the perfidious waters. He couldn’t really complain though, because the odds were remarkably in his favour. It had been a choice of either an assumeddeath or an assured death via the jaws of a demonic cat. Naturally, he had taken his chances of an assumed death. Yes, the blonde man had recklessly jumped over the edge of that towering cliff, expecting to land headfirst on a rock and bleed to death, or get steered into the rapids and die by drowning. To his surprise he had hit the water and managed to hoist himself onto one of the large rocks before drifting into the strong current. From there he slowly made his way across to the other side via
the slippery stones.

  It had been a difficult process, drenched head to toe in icy water with no jacket or means of keeping warm. His body was resiliently battling through the cold. He knew if he passed out now he would be dead for sure. When he reached the other side, he had foolishly tried to reboot his teleporting device. The machine choked water out and a small popping sound erupted from its back, indicating he would not be going anywhere. He had almost been tempted to chuck the stupid thing into the water, but decided against it. He was now lost in an endless forest. The only chance he had of making it back alive to the base was that device. Maybe he could fix it.

  An hour later, deep inside the real forest of colossal trees, Arthur was even more lost then he had been. He was now wandering aimlessly around the labyrinth, attempting to keep calm. The large flashlight in his hands revealed that above him was a hazy mesh of verdant plants and leaves that were bigger than plants back in his world, intertwined. This immense jungle was far more complex than he had first believed it to be. Beneath his feet, a turquoise spongy moss coated the soil, creating a decently stable terrain. Shrubs and effervescent bushes, some taller than himself, were all around. There appeared to be no clear-cut pathway. That didn’t surprise him as much as it did earlier. According to Leon in a discussion many days ago, the druids walked upon the canopy layer, sometimes even stretching as high up as the emergent layer of the lush, archaic forest. Arthur shuddered at the thought. Some of the trees here reached up to at least one hundred metres in height, many with thick trunks stretching wider than the length of Arthur’s car.

  How the hell you would begin to climb anything here, or have the stamina to- it perplexed him. Everything here was big, beautiful and ancient; he guessed a large amount of the trees to be thousands of years old. The Mercia forest he had dreamt of seeing as a child was a mockery compared to this. Not too far up was the understory, with trees ranging from normal non-magical world height to small dainty trees. Then, there was the canopy a little higher – which was where Arthur’s flashlight gave up in trying to distinguish branches from other ones or one tree from another.

  It didn’t take long for him to realise that he was most definitely in the wrong place. Somehow, before the night fully sunk in and whatever other nocturnal demons lived in Albion emerged, he’d have to get his arse up into those trees and make a shelter. Quickly, he tired his teleporting device once more. As expected, it made the same unresponsive buzzing sound. Slamming it into his pockets in frustration, Arthur sighed heavily. It was no use. He knew there was no way anybody would be coming for him now – and there was no way he was getting back to the safe, secured base anytime soon. He had to survive the night.

  Damn that stupid winged-cat creature…thing.

  Suddenly, the forest became a hue lighter, etched in shades of sapphire, emerald and an array of astounding colours. Gazing down at the ground, Arthur staggered backwards in surprise; the moss was glowing, emitting its own light. His eyes widened as he realised that the whole lower surface of the forest was bioluminescent. The vines draping over thick branches were dusted in speckles of brightness. The undergrowth, shrubs Arthur had insolently overlooked, were now dazzling displays of pure beauty. The small delicate flowers decorating the area were glistening in neon. Gazing around in awe, the blonde male felt the corners of his lips twitch slightly. It was the first time he had smiled; really smiled since the day they had flown over the landscape when they first encountered Albion.

  The smile didn’t last for long, because something in Arthur’s peripheral vision movedrather swiftly. Shining his flashlight over towards the spot, he narrowed his eyes at the crunching of the trees around him. Something was here with him, possibly hunting him. Judging by the stillness around, it resembled very much an ambush. Great, another carnivorous monster was out to get him. Instantly, Arthur’s fingers reached for the vine knife in his pocket. Another sound from the opposite direction had him turning, weapon raised in caution. He saw it then.

  It was a strange creature, clearly of magical origins merged with the qualities of a hound- only spanning the length of Arthur’s forearm. It had three rows of jagged teeth, which unsettled him, and jet-black skin that was less like fur and more like rubber in the dim light. Before he could establish more about it, it had left his sight and darted back into the shrubbery. A high-pitched howl resonated to his right, followed by several more. Pacing backwards in trepidation, Arthur shoved the flashlight into his pocket. The forest had made enough light for him to see reasonably well, he grabbed the gun in his pocket as a substitute. He’d never really wielded a gun properly before; he preferred older weaponry like swords more. For reasons he couldn’t understand, it felt more natural to him-

  -Another howl sounded, metres from him. Slowly walking in a circle around the small perimeter he was in, Arthur held his breath. He put the gun back into his pocket. With his hands trembling, he figured the gun wasn’t going to be much use, particularly in one hand. Clutching tightly onto the silver blade, he bit his lip fiercely, trying to relax his heartbeat. So this is what it felt like to be a vulnerable creature, stumbling into imminent death. Yes, the dog-like creature was small, but what if behind those trees was a bigger version?

  Arthur lashed out blindly to his right, narrowly missing the vicious dog that landed at his feet. Another five appeared seemingly out of nowhere, trapping him in a circle. Well, he swallowed-hard, teeth gritted; now he was ultimately screwed. For a few moments there was a stalemate. Neither force moved. The pack of magical dogs remained motionless, clearly sizing up their opponent. Arthur stayed still in hope that they would redirect their attention elsewhere. It was a stupid notion – lumbering about lost in an endless maze of vegetation hardly gave him an edge some other prey may well have had. There was one thing Arthur did have. Breathing slowly, his eyes were focused on the hound in front of him. Speed. Arthur could run. Fast. He’d always been the top of the top at sports day – which admittedly wasn’t something he could boast about right now. Yet he still trained whenever he had time to. If he had managed to escape unscathed from that giant cat, then he definitely had a chance against these animals too.

  He broke into a run the second one of the hounds made a pounce towards him with an alarmingly wide mouth. Shoving the branches savagely out of his way with his hands, he established if he’d remained where he was that dog would have most likely already had him to the ground by his neck. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, pushing his weary body forwards. Jerking his head back for a second, he saw the dogs were behind him. Shit. Come on Arthur run! Mentally pushing his legs harder, he leapt frantically over a branch hanging over his path. The bioluminescence of the forest was hardly helping him see now. He thought to reach for his torch but knew fumbling around would slow him down drastically.

  A chord of dissonant howls echoed behind him, sounding closer than ever. Giving up pushing the thin arms of trees from his face, Arthur ploughed forwards allowing them to brutally whip his face. Sparing a quick glance behind him, he noticed there were only three dogs, meaning that-

  -A force rammed into his side, and a sharp pain seared in his arm. Flailing the arm around, Arthur continued running, crying out in pain. He was not going to die here. He hadn’t even been here a month. He’d be the laughing stock of Camelot. If Valiant and Cedric found out he died now by the hands of what they’d probably call ‘rabid terriers’- it would just prove that they had been right all along about him. Besides, he was Pendragon. The word dragon wasn’t thrown in there for nothing. The hound luckily had missed its chance to sink its teeth in properly, and lock its complex jaw. To the man’s relief, it fell off him, unable to sustain itself.

  Panting, Arthur felt his legs shaking beneath him, heart pounding inside him, body throbbing in exhaustion. He wasn’t stupid. Those bloody dogs hadn’t jumped him again for a reason – they knew he’d tire soon. He simply didn’t have the stamina to gallivant in these forests, especially at this pace. Panic paralysed him when he saw the sight ahead: a fall
en tree trunk obscuring the way, at least three metres in height. He faced the approaching dogs, back slumped against the wood, knife held out feebly. He could probably kill about two of them. But as for the rest-

  -His knife met the flesh of the first hound, it shrieked in agony. He hit the second one, propelling himself off the trunk. If he was going to die from these rabid terriers, he’d give them a damn good fight. Something unexpected then happened. As the third dog leapt into the air, and Arthur realised his knife was still wedged into the second’s, a jet of purple light flew over his head, hitting the dog in the chest. The other two dogs halted in their tracks, evaluating the situation. One of them daringly inched closer, and collided with an orb of condensed mass. The final dog fled, howling as it went.

  Arthur tightened his grip on the knife, allowing the breath he’d held for the past five seconds to be released into a series of heavy pants. That was…that was magic. He’d never really seen magic up-close before. He could understand his father’s fear of it. But for a brief moment, he was in awe of it, in awe of how druids could (his eyes flashed in comprehension)-

  “-Who’s there?” he called out weakly, a hint of anxiety in his voice.

  A few seconds later, the figure that had concealed themselves landed elegantly on the ground beside him. Arthur blinked slowly, no way. No fucking way! Examining the figure in front of him to ensure it wasn’t trickery conjured by poor lighting or magic, he found himself gaping. Yes. It was definitely him- the defiant fool who’d called him a dollophead. Those ears were surely one of a kind, and that stupid neckerchief was unmistakable. He concealed his shock with a sardonic tone, rolling his eyes in disapproval. To think he’d been almost ready to show appreciation towards a druid for saving his life!

  “So, you actually are a druid.”

  For a moment, Arthur pondered the possibly of this man being deaf, as he walked past obliviously, crouching over one of the dead dogs. The druid’s hands smoothed over the rubbery flesh gently, and his eyes closed. Arthur didn’t really care what this imbecilic moron was doing, but he still leant forward in curiosity, only to have a long string of incoherent, foreign words flung into his ears. Without warning, the druid turned to Arthur, face full of hurt and anger.