The Calling
Chapter 49

Francis walked through the long tunnel, his feet echoing along the damp condition. Kay and Bedivere walked slowly behind Francis as they stepped into the vast cavern. Francis walked around the stone altar where he was greeted by Merlin and he presented the sword, still encased within the heavily bound leather scabbard. “Merlin...” he whispered holding the sword toward the old man.

“My Lord” Merlin bowed his head in respectful discord, before placing his hands on the scabbard. “Excalibur” he breathed closing his eyes, “it has been so long”. Despite himself, a smile broke his lined wizened face, breaking through his whiskered features. Francis watched as his two comrades avoided contact with Merlin and instead joined their fellow Knight; Gawain at the rear of the cavern.

“What now?” he asked Merlin.

“We await the return of the Fisher King” stated the old man as he handed the sword back to Francis, “he will tell us what you need to do”

Francis nodded, “do you know anything of the curse?” he asked

“Nay...only what thy hath been told by my Lady”

“Couldn’t you have just told me all of this”

“My Lord...it had to be the Lady, she held Excalibur and I am bound by my oath to act only as counsel”

A shuffling noise from the mouth of the cavern alerted them to the presence of another body heading down the tunnel. Francis looked through the darkness of the cavern and could see a gorged shape shambling along the long passage. He frowned at the figure; it didn’t seem as large as it had last time and its body seemed to contort in a variety of ways as the shadow pulled its way along the corridor. The sound of dragging feet was joined by heavy breathing as the figure neared the main body of the cavern.

“Percival...” the whisper from the throng of Knights behind Francis, broke the silence as the figure...figures broke the dim light and stumbled into the expanse of the central cavern. Gawain broke free of his two comrades and grabbed at the body in Percival’s arms.

“He is close to death” whispered Percival, holding his own ribs and struggling against the exertion of the journey.

“Rest” eased Gawain as he took the weight of Tristan beneath his own body, hoisting the figure upon his shoulders and carrying him to the altar. Percival sank to the floor, his back sliding down the wall until his body sat slumped in the patches of water which lay across the uneven floor. “Merlin...” he looked at Merlin as he rested the Knight upon stone, “can ye assist”

Merlin cast his gaze across the crumpled body of Tristan and sighed heavily, “his injuries seem severe” he said at last, before running his hands across the swellings and cuts which protruded through his broken body, “but they would appear only superficial...” his words drew blank looks from the Knights and Merlin spoke again, “I mean...he should survive. Thoust has lost a lot of blood, but with rest...” his words were disturbed by violent coughing from Tristan. Merlin frowned and pressed his hands against his chest softly, pressing his fingers gently against his body. Tristan coughed again and flinched under the pressure of the old man, dousing his lips with flecks of blood as the air was expelled from his body. “Rest...” eased Merlin and he turned from the Knight, his head bowed and a resigned look crossing a worried brow.

“What is wrong...?” asked Bedivere looking at him from his position across the cavern.

Merlin shook his head, “his wounds are worse than I thought” he admitted, “from the injuries I have felt broken bones within his chest...I cannot do anything for him”

“But you must.... your Merlin!” shouted Francis.

“I cannot defy death” he said sadly

“But the Lady said...”

“We can still die” stated Merlin, “the curse means we shall be reborn”

Francis looked about the cavern and frowned, “where’s Bors...” he said quietly.

“Bors is dead” whispered Percival from the floor, his head lolled and sagged onto his chest through exhaustion.

“No... he can’t be...” wailed Francis, “not another” he looked at the question in Percival’s eyes and added, “Galahad...”

Lord Kay knelt by Percival and placed his head in his hand, gently rising it, “Percival...” he whispered putting his head close to his friend’s, “how?”

“They were waiting...” he coughed as he spoke, “they followed us to the dungeon...”

“Did you replace Gwen?” interrupted Francis. Kay shot him a ferocious look and Francis lowered his head ashamed of his outburst.

“Yes...she is safe, but still a prisoner”

“Bors...” urged Kay, “what about Bors”

“They were waiting...they knew we were coming. I was jumped by the mouth of the tunnel, Bors and Tristan made it through into the castle. They found the girl and...” Percival coughed and his eyes closed slightly, “so tired...”

“Percival!” snapped Kay, “what about Bors”

“Mordred...” he whispered, his head sagging forward with exhaustion.

“Sleep my old friend” said Kay easing his head against the wall and he stood, his eyes remaining on the resting body of Percival against the wall. “Damnation!” snapped Kay

“It’s my fault” whispered Francis staring at his feet. All eyes on the cavern were drawn toward him as he spoke. He looked at each one of the Knights in turn before finishing on Merlin. “It’s all my fault” he said again, “Galahad...Bors, I sent them both to their death”

“We fight with honour...” the voice was crackled and strained. Francis looked toward the injured form of Tristan on the altar, “we fight to die...and we die to fight” he said through rasping breaths, coughing between words. Blood dribbled from his mouth and stained his teeth as he smiled through the pain of talking.

Francis leant by the stone altar, “but you shouldn’t die for me” he said desperately looking at the Knight.

“We...do...not” said Tristan, “we...die...for...glory” he coughed violently again, and grasped at Francis’ arm looking deeply into his eyes smiling through reddened teeth, “what...better...way...to...die...than...for...a... maiden” he coughed and fell silent.

“Tristan!” shouted Francis, “Tristan!” his words echoed through the cavern. “Tristan!”

“My Lord...” said Merlin softly, “he is gone”