The Calling
Chapter 42

Francis winched as he felt the cold embrace of the siren stroke his neck and the pressure against his neck increased. Her talons pressed hard against his skin and he could feel the sharp clawing at his head as she ran her fingers through his head and grasped at his head, pulling it back and exposing his soft naked neck. He could hear shouts and rustling from the other end of the boat and the two Knight struggled under the weight of their own armour and he closed his eyes, and turned his head under her weighty pressure. The image of her teeth sinking into his exposed flesh dominated his thoughts as she bore down on his neck, her warm breath fleeting across the surface of his skin as coldness embraced...

“My Lady!” snapped Agravain.

“Not now!” she said testily.

“But My Lady” insisted Agravain, “It is Mordred”

“What has thoust imbecile done now!” she raged and took her eyes away from the crystal ball.

Francis felt a sudden release in the creature’s grip, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hazarded a quick glance and saw Lord Kay standing astride the creature, one hand firmly in the siren’s hair pulling it up off the boy, while his other hand held firmly the hilt of his sword, which swung through the air connecting with the creature. The siren twisted and writhed for a moment as the body fell onto the floor of the boat, blood pouring from the open wound on its body. Lord Kay stood panting, legs akin either side of the writhing body and the head dangling from his hand, blood seeping from the severed neck and onto the floor of the boat. Francis could see pearls of perspiration on his forehead and forced a smile at the Knight. Kay frowned at the boy and threw the head over the side of the boat and turned to Bedivere and thrust out a hand to his fellow Knight.

“We have lost much time” he said gravely as he leant forward to grasp the body. Bedivere copied his actions and grabbed at the corpse, hauling the creature over the side and into the water.

“We have lost more than time” remarked Bedivere sadly gazing into the water as the creature disappeared beneath the waves, sinking from view.

“We can mourn for our loss later” commented Kay and looked disapprovingly toward Francis, “thine foolishness almost cost all our lives” he said harshly, “thoust has a responsibility not just to yourself or us, but to England. It is time thou lived up to it”. Francis watched as the Knight sat in his seat and stared out across the sea into the distance.

He stared at the back of Kay for a moment and looked at his feet covered in water and blood and sighed. “I’m sorry...” he whispered as he hauled himself onto his small seat and gripped the rudder as the boat turned under its own pressure.

“Damnation!” snapped Morgan as she glanced back into the sphere and brought her fist down onto the cold stone by the plinth.

“My Lady?” asked Agravain.

“It matters not” said Morgan softly, “what of Mordred? What has the idiot done now?”

“It is the two Knights, Lord Percival and Lord Tristan”

“What of them?”

“He questions them at this moment”

“To what end?”

“The purpose of their expedition”

“Oh, the idiot!” snapped Morgan, “but we know why they are here” she said looking at Agravain, who said nothing. “Am I surrounded by idiots!” she raged, “the girl! They have come for the girl”

“My Lady...” Agravain bowed and he could feel the suspicious glare of her eyes bore into the back of his skull.

“Tell me my dear Agravain...” she purred as she approached the Knight Commander and ran her fingers through the back of his hair, “what has my idiot of a nephew done now”

“It is his intent to torture the girl before the Lords” Agravain whispered quietly, almost flinching in anticipation to her reaction. It came as almost as suddenly as his reaction as she pulled him up by the hair and slapped him hard against his face. He recoiled to her touch as the bitter sting of her hand played in his cheek.

“And thoust thought nothing of it!” she screamed in his face. “Have at thee!” she fumed and swung her hand at his face again, catching him across the eye and turning his head with the momentum of her vicious thrust. “Come with me!” she instructed and stormed from the courtyard, Agravain hurrying at her heels, a burning sensation swelling in his face and bitter seething growing in his soul.

Gwen felt the coldness of the stone flagstones as she fell heavily onto the ground. Her face was buried in soil as she lay face down from the rough treatment of her arrival. Only moments ago, she had been quietly mourning her position in her cell, then any hope of escape or rescue had been robbed and exposed as a travesty as the door to her cell had been flung open and two burly guards had pounded into her room and pulled her from the confined cell and out into this...this nightmare.

“My dear girl” purred Mordred as he stood over, his hands on his hips and his legs either side of her body giving off a sense of power and domination over his captive. “So glad you could make it”

Gwen looked up from her position and clawed at the dirt beneath her body, her fingers digging into the soft ground, “go to hell you bastard!” she spat.

“Your words are strange...” said Mordred amused by her actions, “But I understand the meaning”, he said laughing. He knelt down close to her face as she looked up and smiled softly at her, “you are...after all the main attraction” he said softly.

Gwen pulled a face and spat into his face, smiling in quiet satisfaction at his change in demeanor. His sickly smile faded as the saliva ran down his cheek and toward his chin and he brought his hand to bear savagely against her face. “Whore!” he spat and pulled her hair, hauling her to her feet. His grip was tight as he turned with her and he pulled her face close to his, “Look!” he ordered, then when she refused, closing her eyes tightly he shook her head and yelled in her ear, “Look whore” he raged, “Look at what a wanton slag like thee have brought”. Her hands desperately pressed against his as his hand entwined in her hair and shook her head further, “Look at thine saviours" he cooed as she opened her eyes and gazed across the darkened room at the two Knights, bound and chained to varying degrees of objects. “Thine debauchery has brought them to this!” he sneered and licked her ear, running his tongue around her organ, then down her neck. He pressed his body against her back and with his free hand grasped at her breast roughly. She gasped and winched in pain as the savagery of his touch pulled at her flesh beneath her tightly fitting T-shirt.

“Leave her be” whispered Percival meekly from his chained position on the wall.

“Thoust does not care for it” remarked Mordred glancing toward the Knight. Gwen could see the hatred in Percival’s eyes even from this distance, but it was his body that made her recoil. She could see burn marks scattered across his chest, with the redness and swelling accompanied from a beating. His torso was swollen and discoloured bruises littered his face and body, while his wrist was bloodied from his incarnation. His legs were limp and struggled to maintain his weight against the constant pull of gravity and she briefly wondered how he was still standing. “I promised thee girl, in the hostelry that I would have my fun” he glared at her through vengeful lustful eyes and pulled at her hair, forcing her into the corner of the room. Mordred glanced toward Percival and grinned sickly at him, “thoust has the pleasure to witness her taking...” he smiled and brought the back of his hand viciously against her face. The sound of the slap resounded across the chamber and caught the echo off the wall. Gwen bit her lip, determined not to scream or cry as she felt her face swell from his touch.

Mordred pouched on her and used his body to pin her hips to the dirty stone floor. She writhed and struggled beneath his frame, kicking and punching at his body, before a second strike connected with her face. Her head recoiled as he clenched his fist and struck for a third time, and she felt the rush of blood flowing from her nose, and the release of a sob from her throat. Her body fell limp from the third blow and the energy she had displayed suddenly ebbed away in utter defeat, “thoust is a fire hearted vixen” laughed Mordred, as his hands clawed at her shirt, pulling the material over her head and revealing a small white simple bra. “I shall enjoy taming thee...” he laughed and pushed the clothing up over her breasts and exposing her breast. Mordred smiled as he gazed down on her naked chest and grasped at her already erect nipples, squeezing them hard and reveling at her moan of pain. “I shall have thee, again and again” he said lustfully as he burrowed his head into the chest, his tongue flicking at her nipples and across the expanse of her small cleavage while his hand snaked down her body, across her waist and beneath the elastic line of her jodhpurs.

Gwen tensed as his hand slid beneath her knickers and a tear escaped from her eye as he smirked at her, gazing into her face. He pressed down with his body against her slender frame and pressed both hands down toward her trousers, pulling at the material and forcing them further down her thighs. His hands worked at his own crotch and she could feel an ever increasing bulge growing as he lay on top of her, expectant of his pleasure and his heart filled with lust.

“Please...” she begged softly.

Mordred laughed as he pulled at his own clothing, “see how she begs for me!” he laughed, “see how the whore wants me to take her” He leant over her for a moment and surveyed her half naked body as he forced his own breeches down his legs, exposing himself fully to her and lunged forward laughing as she screamed at his touch.