“No, stop!” Morgana said, trying to warn him but it was too late. Angus had a full head of steam, blindly moving forward, and there was no turning back now. They met just as the knight made his way to solid ground, Angus taking the first wild swing at the dead man’s heart with his thin blade.
The Templar had been trained well, and dropped to one knee in a defensive position, the goon’s knife sailing high and wide. Before Angus could strike again the knight came up to his full height, bringing his sword up with him through his assailant’s right forearm, severing his knife-wielding limb just shy of the man’s elbow. Although not a killing blow, the Templar’s attack left his opponent defenseless. Angus’s thin-bladed weapon dropped harmlessly to the grass still clutched tightly in his spasming fingers.
Where mercy might have been given in a fair and honest fight, today there would be no such compassion offered. The emotionless knight grabbed Angus around his throat and lifted him high off the ground, blood soaking into the front of the Templar’s white tunic as the goon tried to grab the dead man with his missing limb, only now noticing it was gone. Seconds later, the knight ran his sword up and through Angus’s chest, sliding the blade in under the helpless man’s ribs, directly piercing the heart, and pushing out through his right shoulder. Impaled on the sword, Angus was already dead; dying without so much as a whimper, never mind a scream. The knight released his grip on his opponent’s neck and allowed Angus’s large body to drop heavily to the bloody grass. All total, the one-sided battle was over within thirty seconds.
* * *
“What’s going on?” William said, turning to look at Merlin, bewildered and more than a little shaken by what he’d just witnessed. He’d killed men and women with Billy, but he’d never witnessed violence and bloodshed such as this. Merlin seemed unfazed, a slight smile on his weathered face.
“If you don’t know by now, you never will.”
“But even with the Grail’s magic, I could smell his flesh rotting. That knight had been dead for hundreds of years!”
“He still is, fool. I’m not really a necromancer…I can’t reanimate the dead. If I can get to them before they die, I can sometimes heal them, but not once they’ve crossed beyond the veil like our brave Templar here.”
“Well he’s moving around awfully well for a dead man.”
“Aye…just pray he doesn’t decide to move in our direction.”
“You mean you’re no’ controlling him? He’s running wild.”
“Course not. I just cast a spell that called his soul back into his flesh. He’s a weapon of the Lord now.”
A few weeks ago William and Billy would have burst out laughing at such a ridiculous statement, but now Burke was dead, Hare’s life had been turned upside down, and the seven-foot-tall walking dead man with a blood-smeared sword was ample proof that powerful magic was still at work in the world.
“Will he kill the witch?” William asked.
Merlin seriously thought his response over for a moment, and then regretfully said, “I highly doubt it…no.”
* * *
The knight took a moment to wipe the gore off of his sword and then nudged Angus’s fallen body with his leather boot to make sure he was really dead. He obviously was, so the Templar turned his glazed, jaundiced eyes toward the witch. Morgana actually seemed more annoyed by what had transpired than afraid. When the warrior charged toward her she simply uttered a few secret words and conjured a bright red ball of energy into her open hand. The witch hurled the glowing sphere into the chest of the dead man and it hit and drove him backwards almost thirty feet, the Templar tossed like a rag doll through the air and landing on his back.
Unable to be injured since he was already dead, the warrior climbed to his feet and once again began his attack. His sword held on high the Templar moved in for the kill, only to be met with another energy ball that hit him with the strength of a charging warhorse at full gallop, sending him sprawling onto his back again. Twice more the knight regained his feet and twice more the witch knocked him back down, neither side giving an inch but neither finding any advantage either.
“Enough of these games!” Morgana screamed, her frustration reaching the boiling point. Using her thumbnail she gouged a thin cut in the palm of her left hand and let some of her corrupted blood dribble into the Holy Grail. Like Merlin had done earlier to cast his spell on the Templar, the witch began to speak in a long-forgotten tongue, waving her free hand in circles above the golden chalice.
“Mehatta suchem terra terra…kono de basilisk metta saron…”
Within a heartbeat there was a deep rumbling noise that at first could have been mistaken for more thunder in the stormy sky but instead was coming from the ground beneath Morgana’s feet. She continued to chant and became more animated with her hand gestures and gyrations, backing up a little as something monstrous began to push itself up and out of this desecrated burial ground’s soil. Whatever it was, it was huge.
And incredibly angry…
* * *
The first sign of the emerging creature Merlin saw from his vantage point was a huge blast of fire that erupted out of the upheaving ground. Following the flames came the elongated snout of a massive reptilian beast, its green scaly mouth opening to reveal row upon row of razor-sharp teeth. The animal’s impossibly long front claws burst out of the dirt to furiously scratch and claw its way out of its earthly prison.
Just the sight of the creature made Merlin’s blood run cold. The power it must have taken for Morgana to conjure a beast such as this was truly mind-boggling. Her magic had always been impressive but the witch had never been this powerful before. Obviously she’d tapped into the power of the dark side of the golden chalice, her evil abilities growing stronger the longer she possessed the Grail.
“Mother of God!” William screamed. “Look at the size of that monster! It’s some kind of crocodile thing. Got to be forty or fifty feet, nose to tail.”
“That’s not the worst of it…look!” Merlin said, watching in awe as the great beast finally gained its feet and unfurled thick twenty-foot-long leathery membranes along each side of its body.
“Bloody Hell! It’s not a croc, it’s a…a…”
“A dragon,” Merlin said, finishing the sentence for the grave robber.
“But that’s impossible. They’re no’ real.”
“You said the same thing about the Grail, if I remember correctly. Stop doubting everything. The sooner you learn to let go of reality and just believe, the better your chances are of getting out of here alive.”
Together they watched as the sword-wielding Templar attempted to battle the dragon, silently charging the beast. The dragon let the warrior get quite close and then let loose an eruption of smoke and fire from its throat, engulfing the valiant knight in a devastating cloud of flames. He was dead so he didn’t scream, but when his tunic and hair ignited he dropped his sword and tried to protect himself; perhaps a memory of self-preservation from before his premature burial. When the flames died away, the knight’s skin was charred black, his clothes, hair, eyes, fingers, toes, and genitals all gone – burned to ashes. Even with all that damage the brave Templar tried to stand and fight some more, still swinging his scorched fists into the beast’s mouth as the dragon swiftly flowed across the grass and swallowed the dead man whole.
Its appetite barely wetted, the winged creature picked up the scent of Angus and Big Josh, the other recently killed men, and went in search of more human meat.
“How can we fight something like that?” William asked, equal parts fear and awe in his voice. “It’s like something straight out of a nightmare.”
“We can’t fight the dragon,” Merlin said. “But I know someone who can! Quick, come with me. We’ve no time to waste.”
The white-haired magician took off at a run, not bothering to check and see if William was going to follow or not. The last thing Hare wanted to do was race after the wizard but there was no way he was staying here to take on the dragon on h
is own. No matter where the wizard was headed, as long as it was away from the fire-breathing dragon, it was a step in the right direction, as far as he was concerned. With no other options to choose, William swallowed his fear and gave chase.
* * *
While the dragon was busy feasting on the remains of Morgana’s henchmen, Merlin ran back to the twelve-foot-tall statue he’d sculpted for the city council, William Hare hot on his heels. From out of nowhere, a massive shape flew over William’s head and he dove to the grass, sure that the dragon was about to attack but it was only Merlin’s Snowy Owl, returning to its master’s side. In its hooked claws, the bird carried an eight-foot-long scepter made of a dark gnarled wood. There were strange symbols and pictures carved into the staff and at the top end, a large orb was attached, made from some type of smoky-green glass. William watched as the owl dropped the wooden staff into Merlin’s hands and then immediately banked away from the cemetery and flew out of sight.
“Thank you, my friend,” Merlin called after the bird, but immediately turned his attention back to the statue before him, his mind back on the task at hand. The wizard walked completely around the stone giant twice, thinking as he walked, trying to convince himself his plan might just work.
“What are you doing? I doubt that stick will save us from the dragon. We should run, take a lesson from that damn bird of yours and try to get clear of the city and—”
“No, we don’t run. We can’t. Morgana’s beast will hunt us down.”
“What do we do, then?” William said, panic in his voice.
“King Robert made his final stand at the Battle of Bannockburn and many of the brave men buried right here in this cemetery stood with him. We’re going to make our final stand here too.”
“Oh, bollocks to all your talk about bravery and heroes. I don’t give a damn about Robert the Bruce…I just want to survive and get as far away from here as I can. That monster is going to burn us alive!”
“Precisely why we can’t fight the dragon ourselves. Luckily we have someone with us who can’t burn.”
William looked up at the towering Scottish King and had to ask, “So you’re going to bring the soul of Robert the Bruce into this statue, like you did with the Templar?”
“Aye, something like that, only this isn’t a statue of the Bruce. A few minutes ago I told you to stop doubting everything you see…well you also need to stop believing everything you hear! I lied to the city council.”
“Who is it, then?”
Merlin rubbed his hand against the leg of his beautiful sculpture. “Many lifetimes ago a great king fell beneath his mount when the horse’s legs slipped out from under it. It was a freak accident but the king was mortally wounded…crushed and dying in front of my eyes. Before he passed on, I was able to cast a spell that let me keep a tiny bit of his essence, to allow most of his soul to travel on to its reward in Avalon, but to let me keep some of him alive within me. I took a vial of his blood that day too.”
“When we finished constructing the statue that day, I used his blood along with some of my own and added it to the wash bucket with a dozen other herbs and potions. I soaked the entire statue in the potion, smoothing and polishing the stones with old magic to what you see before you now: The once and Forever King, Arthur Pendragon, Ruler of Camelot! If anyone can slay the dragon, it will be him.”
“King Arthur!” William said, shocked but no longer doubting anything the old wizard told him that might get him through this day alive. He could still remember the stinky smell of whatever it was Merlin had coated the statue in that day. “But the statue is made of stone, not flesh like the knight. How can a soul be put into rock?”
“Have you ever heard of a golem? A doppelganger? A soul can be reanimated into any likeness of the original host. It will be King Arthur in every aspect other than his flesh. He’ll be even more powerful this way…and practically indestructible!”
“Well, whatever you’re going to do, best do it quick…look!”
Off to the south, Morgana’s winged beast had taken to the air and was wildly circling the cemetery blasting mouthfuls of flaming death thirty feet long. Its feast of its master’s goons apparently over, the dragon was still hungry and on the hunt for more. It wouldn’t take long before it zeroed in on Merlin and William and moved in for the kill.
Merlin set his staff aside, turned to the statue and started muttering in that same strange language he’d used before, a sweat breaking out on his wrinkled brow as he used his own energy to draw the Forever King’s soul away from Avalon. It taxed the wizard incredibly, twice causing the old man to fall to his knees but both times Merlin regained his feet and carried on. A low rumble shook the nearby headstones and an emerald glow started leaking from the ends of the Merlin’s trembling fingertips, seeping into the dark stone until the entire statue was bathed in a magical green light.
And then King Arthur opened his eyes.
William watched helplessly as Merlin collapsed to the ground, exhausted from his efforts, and raced over to help the old man back to his feet.
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Merlin said, his strained voice indicating anything but. “Look…he rises!”
True enough, impossible as it seemed when William looked back up at the twelve-foot-tall statue, it was stretching its neck and flexing its left arm. With a thunderously loud CRACK, the golem broke free from its pedestal base and stepped down onto the damp grass.
“But how…?” William started to say. “How can stone bend and move like—”
Merlin dropped back down on one knee and pulled William down beside him. “On your knees, man! And lower your eyes. Have you no respect? You’re in the presence of the King, for God’s sake.”
William felt a bit foolish kneeling in front of a stone statue but did as he was told. He very nearly wet his pants when the towering warrior began to speak.
“Merlin? Is that really you my friend?”
“Aye, my King…it is I, your humble servant.”
“And who are you, young man?”
When William remained silent, Merlin nudged him hard, whispering, “Answer the King when he speaks to you!”
“William Hare umm…sire. I’m nobody really.”
“Your soul is tainted, boy. Your heart and mind impure. You will have much to answer for when your days are done.”
William had no idea what to say to that so simply said, “Yes sir.”
“Where am I, Merlin? Why have you summoned me from my place of peace? And what type of armor is this? I feel…strange.”
“My apologies, but I could only work with what I have. You’re in Edinburgh…in Calton Cemetery. The important thing is I’ve finally found the carpenter’s cup, my liege, but it has fallen into Morgana’s evil hands. We need your help to get it back.”
“Morgana!” Arthur shouted, his gravelly voice suddenly loud and angry. “The witch is here?”
“Yes, and she’s conjured a hideous fire beast from the pit of Hell to destroy all that we fought for, sire. I didn’t want to disturb you but I couldn’t think of anything else. I need you, Arthur. Your people need you!”
“Then they shall have me. You’ve done well, Merlin. I feel bigger…stronger than ever before. Where are Morgana and this beast of hers?”
William risked raising his head and meekly pointed a finger up into the air. King Arthur and Merlin both followed his finger skyward just in time to see Morgana’s dragon swoop by fifty feet over their heads, bank to its right and ignite a wooden tool shed on the ground with one giant ball of its fiery breath. Morgana was headed toward them as well – umbrella twirling in her right hand, the Holy Grail held casually in her left – walking like she was out for a pleasant morning stroll. The cold, hungry look of anticipation on her face told a different story though.
There was no more time to waste.
“Stand aside, Merlin,” the stone king said, striding off into battle. “I’m going after the beast. You keep
an eye on the witch!”
Merlin retrieved his long staff from the grass and the semi-transparent sphere at the top end immediately lit up to a bright emerald green, pulsating with an internal power in the magician’s hands. Merlin smiled and moved toward Morgana. “With pleasure, sire!”
William Hare just stayed where he was and kept his mouth shut, perfectly content to be left out of whatever madness was about to happen…
* * *
King Arthur moved quickly into position, getting a better feel for his newer, larger stone body with each powerful stride. He felt impossibly strong but he also felt angry, the witch ultimately responsible for his death. There was no way he could allow her or her minions from Hell to use the power of the Grail to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world. She needed to be stopped and she needed to be stopped now. Once and for all.
Above him, Morgana’s dragon caught sight of him running toward it and circled lower to the ground, sweeping past the reanimated king close enough to see what it was up against. The beast raced by less than six feet over Arthur’s head, its reptilian eyes open wide, its huge nostrils flaring, probably not smelling any of the normal smells associated with these human creatures. The beast flew higher into the stormy sky, looking confused but not in the least bit bothered.
Not what you were expecting, huh, big guy? Arthur thought, smiling.
On its second pass the massive dragon came in low, scaly belly scraping the grass as it rocketed straight at Arthur, its mouth opening wide and preparing to unleash its unholy inner fire. The king stood his ground, unflinching, as the beast roared and spat out a thirty-foot-long inferno, the flames hitting him in the chest and engulfing his entire body for at least five seconds. When the dragon closed its fearsome jaws and banked skyward again it surely expected to see its opponent on fire, burnt black like the last knight it had faced. Arthur wasn’t going away quite so easily.
Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls Page 12
