Area 51: The Legend (31 page)

The glory for the winner was a place at the massive table that Merlin, the king’s adviser, had had built for him. For the loser, the price was death. Arthur knew of the army being raised across the channel and he knew he needed the very best close to him to fight the Guides that surrounded Aspasia’s Shadow, who went among the humans under the name of Mordred.

Arthur leaned forward as one of the knights, a newcomer named Gawain, blocked his opponent’s blow, stepped inside of the other man’s shield, and slammed the point of his bladeinto the man’s unarmored armpit. The blade sank in, severing the artery, and Gawain stepped back as blood spurted out, joining the muck on the ground. The wounded man tried to lift his sword to continue fighting, but Gawain moved backed several more steps, letting the fatal blow run its course. The knight collapsed, not quite dead yet. He struggled against both the weight of his armor and the suffocating muck seeping into his helmet. Gawain moved forward, kneeling next to the man, lifting his head out of the mud.

“Let him die like the pig he is,” Arthur yelled.

“He fought bravely, my lord,” Gawain yelled back. “He should die like a warrior.”

Arthur smiled coldly. A romantic. Merlin was one too. Foolish humans. They didn’t understand it was all about power. Still, that feeling—and others—could be used.

“Go and get cleaned up,” Arthur ordered Gawain.

“My lord.”

Arthur turned in his seat. Merlin was in considerably better condition than he had been when Arthur first came to Tintagel. His beard was trimmed and his clothes were clean. Arthur often contemplated simply ripping the truth about the Grail’s location out of the self-proclaimed sorcerer with the point of a red hot knife, but the man had proven to be useful and it would be a precipitous action. Of more interest to the programming he had received under Qian-Ling was the desire to rip the truth out of Aspasia’s Shadow as to the exact location of his lair.

Arthur had enough consciousness and awareness to understand the plan he had been imprinted with, even if he had no control over following it. If he could uncover the location of Aspasia’s Shadow’s hideout, then kill the creature, hurry to the location, and get to the regeneration chamber before the next version was unleashed, that could tip the scales of the subversive war being waged between the two Airlia factions.

Merlin cleared his throat.

“What is it?” Arthur demanded.

“My spies report that Mordred will sail once he builds an Army.” Merlin unrolled a map. “They plan to land here.”

Arthur noted the location. Along the southern coastline, in an area controlled by a minor lord who had not yet sworn allegiance to Arthur.

“Is the Grail between here and there?” Arthur asked.

Merlin rolled the map back up. “The Grail is safe, my king.”

“It would be safer inside the castle walls.”

“Perhaps,” Merlin allowed, but said no more on that topic. “More have rallied to your cause,” he continued. “Soon all of the country will be united under your banner. There is much good you can do for the people.”

“Yes. I suppose there is. Call a meeting of the Table.”

Despite washing as vigorously as possible in the tub of water provided him, Gawain still could smell the scent of death on his skin. He buckled on his breastplate and tucked his helmet under one arm. Gaining entry to Arthur’s castle and inner circle had been relatively easy, if one considered having to fight to the death easy.

He followed the other knights through the narrow passages of the castle until they entered the large chamber that had once been Uther’s throne room and now housed a large round table constructed of numerous planks bound together with iron spikes. Arthur was already in the room, seated in the highest chair, with Merlin behind his right shoulder. Gawain stared at the “sorcerer.” A Watcher who had betrayed his oath.

Gawain had seen the
ka
that hung around Arthur’s neck as soon as he had entered the arena to fight. He had to assume that Arthur was Artad’s Shadow, as they had seen Aspasia’s Shadow years earlier.

“The invaders from across the channel will be on our shores in several years,” Arthur began without preamble. “Between now and then I am sending you all on a quest. There is something I want you to find. Many of you have heard of it in myths and legends. But it is real.”

Arthur paused and Gawain could see the look of consternation on Merlin’s face.

“I want you to find the Grail.”

A.D. 523: FRANCE

Mordred considered the woman who had bribed and bartered her way into an audience with him. There was something about her that was vaguely familiar but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“You have one minute to speak,” Mordred announced. “If what you say does not please me, you will be crucified as have those before you.”

She stared up at him, piercing black eyes challenging his. “I can get you aid once you land on the other side of the channel.”

“What kind of aid? From whom?”

“Intelligence and force of arms.”

“From whom?” he repeated.

“The Druids.”

“And these Druids are?”

“They worship the Earth mother. They have hidden in the hills many long years, oppressed first by the Romans and now by the lords who rule in England, including the new king, Arthur.”

Mordred drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne.

“And I have a spy in Arthur’s court.”

The fingers stopped their tattoo. “Who?”

“Someone in the inner circle of knights with which the king has surrounded himself with.”

“Interesting,” Mordred said. “When we land, can you contact this spy?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want to know what Arthur has planned.”

A.D. 529: ENGLAND

Years passed as Arthur built his kingdom. Gawain spent his quest shadowing Merlin. The wizard rarely left Tintagel—which had been renamed Camelot by order of King Arthur—but when he did, Gawain was not far behind. The other knights had branched out across the countryside tracking down rumors of the Grail, but Gawain knew the quickest way to find the Grail was by following the man who had hidden it.

A good plan, but it never came to fruition. The few times Merlin left the castle, he did not lead Gawain to the hidden Grail but rather to a secret meeting he held with men he had recruited. Gawain was dismayed to see two more Watchers among the group, discernible because of their medallions. The others were those simply drawn to someone who now had a reputation in the land for magic powers and having the king’s ear. While Gawain could never hear what was said at these clandestine meetings deep in the forest, he had no doubt that Merlin was plotting his own course of action, one that was at odds with whatever Arthur had planned.

After seven years, word came that Mordred had built up his own army and was about to set sail. Merlin disappeared from Camelot one last time. Gawain was right behind him as the sorcerer sneaked away in the middle of the night.

FRANCE

As the years passed, Morgana had also begun to realize that Mordred had his own agenda. He dispatched several Guides with parties of local knights, not toward England but rather south and east, searching. Searching for what exactly, remained a secret between Mordred and the Guides. Morgana knew better than to try to get a secret out of a Guide. Their programming was such that a blood vessel in their brain would burst first, killing them, before they gave up secret information. She had seen imprinted humans on her own planet suffer the same fate.

So she bided her time and boarded one of the many boats drawn up on the French shoreline. It was a calm, sunny day, unusual for the area. Mordred’s army set sail, heading for the island across the channel and for battle with the forces of Arthur.

Other than the Guides, none of the humans who followed Mordred had any clue as to his true nature. They thought him a strong, albeit vicious, warlord who was promising them victory and plunder. She had little doubt her husband was experiencing the same thing in Arthur’s camp.

As her boat turned to the north, Morgana reflected on this. There had been a time during the Revolution on her planet when the Airlia had forced hundreds of thousands into contact with the guardians, imprinting them, directing them to fight against their own kind. But there had also been many humans fighting on the Airlia side who had not been imprinted. They had fought for a variety of reasons, some good, some not so noble. There were those who thought the Airlia held out the best hope for mankind’s development as an intelligent species, as the aliens were obviously superior in technology. There were just as many who fought for the Airlia simply because there they wished to be on what was obviously going to be the winning side.

The survivors of both groups were tremendously surprised when the Revolution was successful. The former when they found out the real reason the Airlia had planted humans on the planet; the latter when the humans won.

Holding on to the railing of the ship, Morgana looked at the flotilla of small vessels around her and knew that she could not tell these humans the truth of the Airlia. Their level of advancement in technological areas was so low that they would not be able to understand the concepts. First that the Airlia came from the stars. What little she had heard so far indicated that these people thought the sun revolved around the Earth, and the concept of other planets was beyond them. They believed the world was flat. The thought of aliens would be almost incomprehensible to them. They would have to put it in terms they understood and that would make the Airlia some sort of demon, which then would necessitate a God or Gods in response, something the Airlia had already used to their own advantage. As her husband was known to say, it was not yet time to tell the truth. For Morgana/Donnchadh, the scientist, withholding the truth grated at her nerves.

Morgana felt a chill and looked toward the rear of the boat. Mordred, dressed in fine armor and surrounded by Guides, easily recognizable because of the large feather that capped each of their helmets, was standing there. And he was staring directly at her as if he could read her thoughts. A cold smile sliced across his lips.

Morgana met his stare. Mordred raised one hand and crooked a finger for her to approach. Morgana made her way sternward and bowed her head.

“My lord?”

There were no humans in earshot, only Morgana and the Guides. Still, Mordred kept his voice almost to a whisper as if were afraid of being overheard. “There is something you must do for me as soon as we land.”

Morgana waited.

“You will go and find your spy.”

“Yes, my lord. I will ask him—”

“Wait,” Mordred hissed, cutting her off. “Troop strengths and deployments and plans—yes, ask all that. But first and foremost, I want the two of you to arrange a clandestine meeting for me with this Arthur.”

Morgana looked up, surprised, peering into Mordred’s black eyes.

“He may bring a dozen knights and I will bring only four of mine. That should make him feel secure. It must be at a secret place where none can see us.”

Morgana hesitated, then asked the question she knew she must in both her role as adviser to the king and as spy. “Why should Arthur agree to such a meeting?”

“To save much bloodshed,” Mordred said.

Morgana’s expression must have changed ever so slightly, for Mordred gave a bemused chuckle. “You do not believe me?”

“Bloodshed has not seemed to bother you up to this point,” Morgana said, reluctantly adding: “My lord.”

Mordred nodded. “Have your spy tell Arthur that he and I have much in common. A similar history, so to speak. And that we might have a similar future, which we ought to discuss before we act precipitously. Do you understand?”

“The message, not the content.”

“That is good enough.”

MARS

The guardian hidden at Cydonia on Mars had been tracking the key to the Master Guardian ever since it had been activated several years previously. The vast majority of the time the key was once more shielded, but every sooften it was activated, on what appeared to be a random schedule. There had been no contact with the Master Guardian, so this continued action was confusing.

The guardian from Mount Sinai had reported that the Shadow was investigating the activation and was planning to retrieve the key and Grail and return them to their proper place in the Hall of Records, as required by the Atlantis Truce. Yet much time had passed with no further word from the Shadow and no obvious resolution of the problem.

The alien computer analyzed various possibilities. The Shadow might have been killed; its replacement was not scheduled to be cycled up for another three Earth cycles, which would mean there was a void in Aspasia’s presence on Earth. The Shadow might be unable for some reason to communicate, in which case its mission might be compromised. The Shadow might be on mission and unable to communicate. There was a fourth possibility—the Shadow might not be pursuing the course of action it had been directed to follow.

The computer had no feelings about any of these possibilities. It was designed to analyze available data and take courses of action. It came up with one solution to all four. Deep underground, in a chamber lined with dozens of deep sleep tubes, a green light came alive on two of them. The tops swung open.

Two Airlia exited the tubes. They quickly dressed, then went to the guardian computer, splaying six fingered hands against the sides. They were quickly updated on the situation on Earth and issued their orders. Going to a console, one of them pressed a code into the hexagonal array. A small door slid open on the console, revealing a scepter with a lion head with glittering ruby-red eye. The Airlia grabbed the scepter and slid it into a metal case, which it then tucked into its belt.

Leaving the guardian chamber, they made their way viapassageways to a massive underground hangar. Nine lean shapes, two hundred meters tall by twenty wide at the base, were parked in the hangar—Talon spacecraft, warships that had traveled into the system on the sides of Aspasia’s mothership. They entered one of the Talons and powered the craft up. As the hangar roof slid to the side, the craft rose up and accelerated into the Martian sky.