Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls (13 page)

“Hey,
I think I’ve found something,” Josh said, his face beet red from his exertions.
“Just a second…looks like gold!”

As
soon as the fat man touched the knight’s hands Merlin shouted, “Now!” and the
normal fabric of the world began to come undone. Inside the grave, the dead
man’s eyes snapped open and the corpse of the knight reached up and shoved Big
Josh backwards with the palm of one massive hand. Josh started to scream,
trying to climb to his feet and out of the hole as fast as his overweight body
could move but he wasn’t nearly fast enough. The Templar sat up in his box and
drew out his long-unused sword in the blink of an eye, savagely swiping the
razor-sharp blade across the exposed neck of the fat man. Death obviously
hadn’t stolen much of the warrior’s strength as he effortlessly lopped off the
goon’s head, a geyser of blood shooting straight up into the air and falling
like hot crimson rain. Big Josh’s headless body continued to try and climb out
of the hole, and very nearly succeeded before tumbling backwards onto his back
and wedging himself against the dirt wall and the outside rim of the casket.
His bald head spun end over end, finally coming to rest at the feet of his
mate, Angus Brooks.

Angus
was shocked into silence for a moment, not sure what the hell had just
happened, but when he saw the huge Templar rise to his feet and start to climb
free of his grave he snapped out of his reverie and started to scream. “You
bastard!” he shouted, running toward the ancient soldier clutching his knife,
revenge on his confused mind.

“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 his 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.”