Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  He shook his head.

  Don’t be hasty with your decision, think it through. More than your life hangs in the balance and if you make the wrong choice, then many more will perish before all of this is over.

  “I know what makes me who I am and cowardice is not part of it. I will not run and hide while you take over my body and rush off on some foolish quest of redemption. Why am I here? Because I was shot by one of my own people in service to the Phoenix. That woke me up to the evil in the world and I will not tolerate it affecting anymore innocent people if I have anything to say about it. My father gave his life so that I can be here and I will not disrespect his memory by handing over my body to a lost soul using logic to hide his own pain and suffering,” he answered back.

  He looked Lancelot straight in the face as he continued. “I may not be who I once was, but I know who I want to be, and that is a good leader to my people, a warrior strong enough to fight the hordes back and keep them safe, and a loving father to my wife and future children. Nothing you can offer will change any of that and I refuse to let them go out of fear of failure. I know I can do this, I have never felt more determined in my life to see this to the end. Not for my safety, but for that of my wife, my children, and my grandchildren. To give them all a better world to live in than the one that will come from my selfish inaction.”

  “In short, go screw yourself.”

  The silver knight leapt to his feet, his sword sliding free and held in front of him. I had hoped to do this the easy way, but if we must fight, so be it. Get on your feet and draw your sword.

  He laughed. “I’m not fighting you.”

  I said on your feet. Die like a man, you pathetic weakling.

  He just shook his head. “You want to kill me, then do it. But I’m not going to fight you, because no matter what you say, I know the truth. You are and always have been a part of who I am. Whenever I wanted to do something crazy or courageous, it was you pushing me on. When I saw that vision of the Elven King screaming on his knees, it was you that rushed out of me and tried to run to his aid. I don’t know if there is such a thing as reincarnation, but if there is, then you are a reflection of my soul and I’m staring at the person I used to be.”

  He rose to his feet. “You are not Lancelot du’Lac. I am.”

  II

  He was standing just outside the third sliding door and he felt weaker, winded. He stumbled forward and sat on the dais, a white stone shimmering into existence just under the place he put his hand. Raising a hand to his head, he tried to focus his thoughts, but he couldn’t.

  Memories began to flood through him of a life he had once lived and emotions he had once had. He was a small boy by a lake, learning from a timid old man how to fight. The instructor was cruel and violent, but the innocent youth kept pushing on, not allowing the man to abuse anything other than his mortal form.

  He had been young when he left home with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small pony to ride upon. His mother had died of dysentery and the old man had a malady of the mind that made him forget who he was for long spans of time. Putting his past to his rear, he rode north towards the tournaments, determined to put his skills to the test.

  Over the years, he won tournament after tournament, his armor slowly coming together, and a giant stallion replaced his pony. He was unmatched with the sword or lance, and soon many of the noble ladies in court tried to pursue him and tie him down. He had refused, combat the only true love of his life.

  When things had become stale, he had set north and left Paris to take a boat across the isle to the land of Britain, where tales of a new King beckoned him from afar. Proud and sure of himself, he even did battle with the young King, and for the first time in his life, had been put flat on his back. Recognizing that he’d been beaten by a superior foe, he bowed on one knee, feeling that he had finally found the one place he might call home and offered his sword to the hovering monarch.

  Arthur had accepted him and embraced him as a friend. Their journeys together strengthened their bond and when the Knights of the Round Table were formed, he was named the First Knight and honored by all that met him.

  Then Arthur met Guinevere and all it went to hell rather quickly.

  It was an arranged marriage, but he could see that his best friend was head over heels for her. The problem was, so was he. Though he fought it constantly, he could not stop the feelings he long thought dead rising to the surface. He had forsaken any thoughts of love and companionship for the perfection of his skills, and now his whole life was thrown into chaos by the love he felt for his best friend’s wife.

  He forced himself away from court, journeyed the back roads and offered his services far from Camelot and the love that kept pulling him back. Yet no matter where he went, who he saw, it was Guinevere’s face that looked back at him.

  He was driven mad and with a sudden impulsive move; rushing back to Camelot and straight into her awaiting arms.

  It had been madness and though his heart ached and yearned for it, his soul despaired at the betrayal he was committing.

  When he awoke the following morning next to her naked body, he realized the stain upon his soul and screamed in agony. Quickly gathering his clothes, he left his armor and sword and fled into the forests depths, purposely throwing himself into harm’s way in order to end his miserable life.

  Though he eventually saw Arthur again, and words of forgiveness were exchanged, he never could forget what he’d done or forgive himself for the treacherous act. And when he died fighting Mordred’s army, he went willingly into Death’s arms and welcomed the void.

  He could remember it all and felt gravity twisting within him. The memories faded to the background, but if he tried, he could recall them easily.

  A voice spoke from his unconscious mind, what skills I had are yours. You are more worthy of them than I ever was. Get Excalibur, save Arthur, and tell him once more how sorry I am.

  “How sorry we are,” he corrected, for truly Lancelot was as much a part of him as he was of Lancelot. They were two but were now one, and he felt his soul rejoice at the healing of his broken soul.

  He glanced down at the dais at the one empty slot and his eyes flickered towards the last remaining door.

  Water. Mind.

  He dreaded what he’d find within, which is one of the reasons he had held it off til last. He felt a surge of courage and smiled in response. The man that he used to be was forging him into the better man he could be.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to the fading soul and reached down to pick up the last remaining sword.

  Without hesitation, he thrust Madera into the slot and watched as the door suddenly splashed to the earth in a torrent of water. The shadowy depths beckoned him forth, as if taunting, and with new found confidence, he stepped forward and greeted it willingly.

  It was time to end this.

  He opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in a cell and when he looked over to his left he saw Selene standing there smiling at him. He couldn’t move his body, but his soul reacted and he screamed in absolute terror.

  III

  His body was frozen in place, unwilling to move and strike out at the witch sliding her clothes off and commanding his hands to do the same. He was trapped within his mind, unable to fight her off. The woman that had assaulted him was once more stepping his way, a wider smile upon her face.

  “You didn’t think I’d given up, did you?” she purred as she straddled him, forcing her hips upon his uncontrollable body. “That’s right, just like before. Obey.”

  He inwardly screamed as his body began to move with her. He was not going to let this happen, not again! He fought with every core of his being, using his mind to wrestle her thoughts and win control of his alien limbs.

  “Oh, I do love that you are stronger now, better formed. You are a much better specimen and donor than you were before,” she cooed as she leaned forward and forced her tongue into his mouth.

  He willed images o
f Willow to the surface, letting his newfound strength in their love come fully to bear and focused solely on the last time they had been together. Allowing himself to let everything else go, he pursued those images with renewed strength. Only their love existed in the world and nothing else would intrude to destroy that.

  He bit down and he felt his teeth slice through her extended tongue.

  In anger, Selene whipped backward, one hand over her mouth, the other clawing him across the face. “How dare you!”

  She was still working her hips but he had managed to stop his own motion as well. Laying there completely still, he focused once more on the elven woman that would be his wife, and thinking of nothing else, he willed his hand forward and grabbed the witch by her right arm. Squeezing tightly, he used all of his regained strength to fling her sideways and off the bed.

  His mind was free from her control and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel vulnerable, like his inner sanctum had been returned to him. He slowed his breathing and kept focused, not letting the struggling tendrils rip him away from what had finally won his freedom; his love for Willow.

  Naked, he got to his feet and approached the witch struggling to get into a sitting position. “How did you? You couldn’t—?” she stuttered.

  But he simply sneered in answer and picked up her clothes; flinging them at her. Taking her by the other arm, he drove her to her feet, tossed her through the cell door, and back into the corridor beyond.

  Token was snoring and he could see the surprised looks on the three women’s face across from him and though he knew that he was stark naked, he felt no embarrassment as he grabbed the cell door and slammed it shut.

  Walking back over to his bed, he began to throw his clothes back on as the witch got to her feet and charged the bars, claws reaching for him. He knocked them away as if they were flies and calmly sat down on the bed. He knew how this would end and why rush a good thing?

  “You think this is over? I’ll have the guards come in here and physically restrain you while I take what I want! You aren’t strong enough to deny me forever!”

  He suddenly laughed. “I don’t have to deny you forever, only for a couple more hours. Then we’ll see which of us is the stronger.”

  She roared in rage and tried to claw him one last time. But he slowly turned his head and looked straight into her eyes. The newfound confidence that filled him drew her short and he saw a brief look of terror cross her face. “I—,” she began.

  “Am going to turn around and go to your King. We’ll see each other again, real soon,” he stated flatly, then turned and looked away; ignoring her completely.

  He felt another tug on his mind, but he refused to let her in. Now that he knew what it took to block her, he found it easy to shield his thoughts from her probes and remain free of her attempts to control him once more.

  With a scream of frustration, she fled down the corridor and he laughed harder. The slam of the door really did it for him and he just couldn’t stop himself from laughing; the sound echoing off the cell walls. Kylee was shaking her head in confusion and Melissa was eyeing him thoughtfully, but he ignored both of them and turned to look at his fiancé, who was staring at him with worried eyes.

  “I love you,” he mouthed and he saw her face relax and the fear replaced with reciprocation. “We’ll be free soon and this will all be behind us, I promise.”

  He had won, he was finally free.

  IV

  He knew what to expect when he stepped free of the door and he paused to let his mind catch up to his body. He could feel an inner strength and confidence that he had been lacking, since this entire thing began, surge forth and envelop him to the core. From Merlin’s first intrusion to Selene’s in the castle, he had never been able to protect himself from their prying probes and rapes.

  He could now.

  His love for Willow had not truly been the reason he had been able to block her out, it was the focusing on it and nothing else. His willpower and mind holding onto one train of thought at the exclusion of all others, making it impossible for anyone to get a handhold on his thoughts and rip him apart for their pleasure.

  Walls were built and he felt peace slide its way through his soul. He had the privacy to think what he wanted without fear of anyone hearing anything he didn’t allow them too. He didn’t have to wince whenever he made an observation that might offend someone, or try to align his thoughts to someone else’s thinking just for their approval.

  He was his own man once more and felt stronger because of it.

  Stepping from the door he walked to the platform that held the three stones and watched as a light blue gem shimmered into place. The ground beneath him began to shake and he thrust his arm out to try and steady himself. Gripping the dais, he spun his head around and watched as the four doors began to shimmer. The door holding Dragonslayer burst into an intense fire while Justice’s disintegrated in a large gust of wind. Water was rushing out of the doorway Madera had been guarding, and the mud being slung at his feet had fallen forth from Richter’s doorway. All four swords were gone and as the water began to rise, his heart began to ache with fear. Was he going to drown here?

  He moved to step away from the dais, but it had begun to shake as well and before he could take a step, the platform he was on shifted violently upward in a burst, then began to lower. Water slipped through the newfound cracks as the circular platform descended slowly into the floor.

  Wide-eyed, he watched as the cavern he’d been in slowly receded out of sight and water splashed down upon his shaking frame. The statue near his hand had begun to glow white and the sword held within the hand to shimmer with life.

  The walls lifted upward and he was being lowered into a much larger cavern. He could see no barriers that denoted the size of the room except the one to his rear; the rest were cloaked in darkness and unable to be made out. The statue’s light flared brighter and he saw the calm blue lake lying across the cavern’s shifting floor. Fifteen feet from where the platform finally came to rest was a beach and a boat, a pair of oars awaiting inside.

  He stepped off the platform and was surprised when it didn’t start to rise and leave him stranded by this underground lake. He looked at the statue one last time, the light searing his eyes, then smiled as he turned and climbed into the awaiting boat.

  He had passed all the test and now there was only one thing left to do; retrieve Excalibur.

  Epilogue

  Shirl’s wings fluttered quickly as she sped through the forest; a sudden updraft lifting her tiny body skyward and forcing her to quicken her wing speed in response. Her instincts kicked in and she folded her wings back, lowered her head, and dove straight into the wind. Blond hair whipping in the current buffeting her, she shot like an arrow towards the forest ground below. Her slightly pointed ears tingled with the gusts; her legs angling her descent. She wore skin tight dark green pants and a wrapped short sleeve tunic, each of them giving her only a slight degree of drag.

  The ground closed in on her and in the last second, she spread her wings and the lift sent her soaring forth at great speed. She banked to miss an oncoming fern and as she got clear of the updraft. She slowly angled her feet; gaining altitude once more. Elder trees zoomed past and she dodged a low hanging branch as she altered her lower wings to produce enough drag to slow her flight.

  The Spirit Mother had sent her on an errand earlier that morning and she felt burdened by how much time had passed in seeing it completed. A summons had been issued to the Fairy Queen and when the Spirit Mother called, no station was high enough to refuse an audience. The old wood nymph was revered amongst their people; her visions having steered them safely through the turmoil of the last three thousand years.

  Shirl knew that the time was coming when the Spirit Mother would leave this world and begin her journey to the next; which made the tedious nature of her errand all that more important to see swiftly done. Many had tried to deter her request and only after realizing who had
sent her had she finally been granted audience with the Queen. She knew they’d be a few hours yet to her rear; she wanted to get back and move on to her next task before they arrived. She had no patience for the glamour of court life and had been impatient to get back to her humble home in the forest; away from the raised eyebrows of her kin.

  She was a pariah amongst her people, and that didn’t bother her as much as it did them. She liked the freedom that came from being free of cultural bindings and intrigue. The peacefulness of the forests calmed her while the bustling chaos of the Fairy Glen exhausted her quickly and made her head ache for days after. There was always some new scheme or drama playing out and she shook her head at how idiotic it all seemed to her.

  Such a waste of life.

  The wild was where they truly belonged, not in the stylish trappings of societal life plagued with gossip, mysterious deaths, and glamoured trysts of sexual play. She saw the desperate need for her people to return to their roots and forsake the chaotic lifestyle they had evolved into. If it didn’t change, they’d eventually end up destroying themselves, and that would be the end of their race.

  Not that it would be the first time.

  Fairy was a name that encompassed a wide variety of creatures, lumped together by the larger races in the world to define a type of life, not describe who they truly were. Many of the races had very little in common and rarely interacted with one another. The last time the “Fairy” race came together was in the Freedom War, when their elders had convened an emergency council, and for the first time since ancient memory, unified the races in order to help drive the Phoenix into oblivion.

  Quickly after the war, they had separated once more and spread across the lands. Many lived amongst the other races, unknown for who or what they were; yet always there somewhere in the background.

  Shirl was a sprite and was born with her other eighty brothers and sisters to the current Queen of the Fairies. It did not afford her any entitlement; she would never be an heir to the throne. Their rules of succession were of magical means and not blood related like the other races that populated the world. When she was old enough to feed, and clothe herself, she had been given quarters in the glen and expected to start contributing to society.