Sleepless Knights (14 page)

“The Master formulated the best plan he could, to preserve the Eternal Quest,” I said. “Now that circumstances have changed, we simply need a new plan.”

“We need to clear up this mess, that's for sure,” said Sir Lancelot. “Everything else is secondary.”

“Whatever we do,” said Sir Kay, “I suggest we do it quickly.”

The dragon had caught our scent and was now frantically clawing at the rock, intent on pulling the remaining half of its body up through the gap. A gust of wind ruffled my hair as two leathery wings unfolded and gave an experimental flap.

“First, I suggest we remove the Master to a safe distance,” I said, keenly aware of the boiler-room gurgles coming from the dragon's stomach.

“Agreed,” said Sir Lancelot.

“Then, we attempt to find Merlin and send him back, and hope that doing so will close up the Otherworld portal.”

“No arguments there,” said Sir Lancelot, not taking his eyes off the dragon. “Any ideas how to get us out of here, before our new friend claims an easy supper?”

“How about a boat?” said Sir Kay.

“A boat would be ideal, Sir Kay,” I said, “but failing that —”

“How about
that
boat?” Sir Kay added.

I looked out to sea. Clearing the headland was no less a sight than King Arthur's old ship, its unfurled sails and dragon-head prow silhouetted against the setting sun. Even more remarkably, its small landing boat was floating rapidly towards us on the rising tide.

“Holy nuns o' Glastonbury,” said Sir Gawain. “The Prydwen!”

“But how on earth did it get here?” said Sir Kay.

“Aye, the last thing I remember, we sailed her to bits,” said Sir Gawain.

“Who cares how it got here?” said Sir Lancelot. “Lucas, you and Kay grab the landing boat and get the King over to the ship.” The air temperature around us rose by several degrees, as if someone had suddenly opened an oven door.

“But what of Sir Pellinore and Sir Perceval? And the Grail?” I said. “We cannot abandon them.”

“We won't. I'm staying here.”

“No, Sir Lancelot —”

“If we all get in that boat, it'll be a floating funeral pyre before it's halfway to the ship. Go, Lucas. Get the King away. I'll follow as soon as I've dealt with the dragon and found Pell and Percy.”

“Lancey's right, for once.”

“Thank you, Gawain.”

“In fact he's so right, I'm staying with him.”

“Gawain —”

“You're not taking all the glory this time, big man, so think again.”

“If I might interrupt this tournament of testosterone, and draw your attention to the rapidly filling lungs of the dragon behind us?” said Sir Kay, struggling to lift the Master by the arms. I quickly took up the Master's legs, and together we placed him and ourselves into the landing boat and pushed off from the shore. The miraculous little vessel seemed to be already moving on a homing course for the mother ship, and so I threw the superfluous oars to Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain. The two knights caught them just as the dragon pulled its hind legs out of the hole.

“Ah, it's been a while,” said Sir Gawain, twirling his oar in one hand like a baton. He ran straight at the beast, dodged a jet of flame, and used the oar to pole-vault up onto its back.

With a loud roar the dragon took to the air, swiftly followed by Sir Lancelot, who jumped and grabbed its departing tail. Up over the cliff and out of sight they flew, towards the lights and sirens of the emergency services approaching on the main road, as I had predicted.

From within the portal to the Otherworld, a second dragon had already started to emerge, claws scrabbling in its haste to join its companion. Reluctantly Sir Kay and I turned our gaze out to sea and the fast-approaching outline of the Prydwen.

 

“Calm down, Sir Kay. Take your time.”

“That's just it! There is no time left. Hours, perhaps! Days, if we're lucky!”

“Left before what?”

“The end of the world.”

The Prydwen was heading out to sea. When we had first boarded her, I was filled with a horrible feeling that the ship was setting out on the exact same voyage she had made when we last set sail in her, all those years ago. In vain I wrestled with the ship's wheel, while my trembling companion sat hunched up against the mast. “It's all here, in the
Prophecies
,” said Sir Kay. “Everything that happens after you open a gateway to the Otherworld. The first stage: creatures fanged and foul, winged and woeful. Stage two: the dead shall rise. And as for the third and final stage? The Dark Queen of Annwn shall return. Morgan Le Fay, Lucas! She's going to bloody kill us. We never should have left Lancelot. We're on a ghost ship, on a one way trip to Hell!”

“In which case, perhaps you might help me to change our course, by taking down the sail,” I said, for the ship's wheel still refused to budge.

“Save your energy. You'll need it for the end of the world.”

“Try to remain calm, Sir Kay. It will not come to that. Even now, Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain will be attending to
the matter of the dragons. By this time tomorrow, we will have found Merlin and closed the Otherworld portal.”

I abandoned my struggle with the wheel. Clearly, whatever forces had guided the Prydwen to us also had a very clear idea of where we were going. A jet of dragon fire lit up the cliffs behind us like an infernal lighthouse beacon. I turned my attention back to the Master, lying flat upon the deck. If only the ship
were
taking us back into the past, I thought. Then we might return to Camelot as it was in its glory days; a shining refuge, not the moss-covered ruin it had become.

The boat creaked and strained. The sails turned. I tried to see what had caused the change in direction, and gasped as a dark shape loomed up out of the water ahead. At first I fancied it a sea monster loosed from the Otherworld depths; then I realised it was only the shape of the headland. We were not sailing out to sea any more, but up to the mouth of the estuary where the river Teifi met the ocean. On reflection, this seemed like a wholly sensible destination. Nobody would be looking for us in Cardigan; by now all attention would surely be focused on the cataclysmic events unfolding on the coast. Granted, our ship made a strange sight, but with a bit of luck perhaps it would take us up to the town bridge without attracting attention. The old walls of Camelot might once more provide sanctuary to their lord and master.

But it was not until we approached the upper reaches of the estuary and the outskirts of the town that I realised how literal such protection would be. From within the town itself there came a sound like a small earthquake, which whipped up the water around us and set the boat rocking from side-to-side. Sir Kay stood up in the prow. “Oh my sweet Heaven, what is it now? Some kind of aftershock?”

“I doubt it,” I said, for this noise had an entirely different tone to the cliff-side eruption. For one thing, it was nowhere near as sudden or violent. It sounded as if the earth had taken
on an aquatic quality and was gurgling like a gentle brook. I joined Sir Kay in the prow and stepped up onto the carved wooden dragon-head to get a better view.

The streetlights of Cardigan illuminated a most curious sight. The very structure of the modern town was changing even as we approached the quayside, in front of our very eyes. A house was being dismantled by some unseen force. A pub was demolished from the roof down, slate by slate and brick by brick. In the empty plot created by this strange resettlement, a new construction was being built. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that an old construction was being re-built. For, out of the very depths of the earth, there began a steady bubbling up — a rubbling up, one might say — of a vast walled town and castle.

“Camelot,” whispered Sir Kay. “Lucas. What dream is this?”

†

The Master's chamber in the Royal Tower was exactly as we had left it. From the well-made bed to the fire burning cheerfully in the grate, all was as I remembered it to be, as was everything else in Camelot. Not that memory could be wholly trusted after so long an absence, especially given my state of mind at that moment, which was, to put it mildly, a babbling bedlam of questions. I waited until they died down and picked the two most prominent conundrums. One: where were the people who lived and worked in the town of Cardigan that had, only moments ago, occupied this very spot? And two: had the former citizens of Camelot — its knights, staff and citizens — also returned along with the buildings, to take up their places in their home of old? This second question filled me with a sense of anticipation that was half excitement, half fear. I wasted no time in putting
the Master to bed and leaving him to the care of a reluctant Sir Kay, while I made a thorough exploration of the premises.

A walk along the outer town walls answered the first question. All of the modern town of Cardigan lay just outside the Camelot walls. It was as if a giant child playing with bricks had pushed aside the town to make way for his Camelot construction, but still cared enough about his old models to leave them intact. My relief at this sight was quickly overwhelmed by the thought of an angry mob of locals seeking an explanation, but a thorough scan of the reconstructed streets of Cardigan outside showed them to be as deserted as Camelot within.

The view from the Gatehouse was slightly more informative. Here, several men and women had attempted to gain access to Camelot, but had barely got within three feet of the main gates before collapsing in a deep sleep, their snoring the only sound to be heard in the unnatural stillness of the night. And so it was that, when a high and desperate cry came from the direction of the Royal Tower, I heard it with a dreadful clarity, and ran with all haste to the source.

 

The Master was sitting up in bed and clutching the scabbard around his waist, as he tended to do at moments of high stress. Sir Kay's relief when I ran through the door was palpable.

“Lucas, there you are! I've tried explaining, but he won't listen.”

“Sire?” I said, attempting to remove the Master's hands from the scabbard. “Sire, it is Sir Lucas.”

“What is this trickery? Is it Merlin's work?”

“It is no trick, sire. This is very much Camelot.”

The Master took in the room in its entirety, ending with the empty space beside him on the double bed. “If this is Camelot, then where is…” He swallowed hard. “Where are all the people?”

“The old population do not seem to have returned along with the town and castle. As far as I can gather from my investigations, the three of us are the only ones here.”

At this, the Master released his grip on the scabbard and a little colour returned to his cheeks. “Sire, it is my belief that Camelot's return is a side effect of summoning Merlin from the Otherworld,” I said.

“Then do not trouble me with details,” said the Master. “Bring Merlin to me at once.”

I glanced at Sir Kay for assistance, but he was busy looking in every direction save mine, whistling a tuneless melody. I cleared my throat. “I am afraid that will not be immediately possible, sire. Merlin was expelled from the gateway to the Otherworld with some degree of force.”

“Then, what are we doing here? Why were you not immediately on his trail?”

“Because Camelot's return was not the only side effect of summoning Merlin, sire.”

“The end of the world is nigh!” said Sir Kay. “The creatures of the Otherworld have been unleashed! Morgan Le Fay will return to lay waste to the earth!”

“Morgan?” said the Master, turning pale again. “She will want the Grail! She will want revenge.”

“We are doomed!”

“No… Take heart, Sir Kay,” said the Master. “The power of my half-sister is nothing compared to the magic of Merlin. He will reverse this mishap, and make everything right again.”

Sir Kay opened and closed his mouth several times before he spoke. “That is commendably optimistic, sire —”

“Three of us?” said the Master, suddenly.

“Sire?”

“You said the three of us are the only ones here, Lucas. We should be seven.” The Master's eyes narrowed to slits. “Where is Lancelot?”

“I was coming to that, sire,” I said. “I regret to inform you that Sir Pellinore and Sir Perceval are missing. When the portal was opened there was something of an explosion —”

“It blew them to bits, and the Grail too!”

“We do not know that for certain, Sir Kay. It is true that they suffered a most dolorous blow from the blast. But we were separated from them by the landslide following the explosion, and do not yet know how they fared.”

“Where is Lancelot?” repeated the Master.

“Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain stayed at the cliff-side,” I said.

“There was a dragon,” said Sir Kay.

“They remained behind to ensure our escape from this dragon, and to see if they could bring aid to our fallen comrades.”

“I see,” said the Master, swinging his legs out of bed. “Yes. I see it all now.”

“In which case, sire,” I said, “perhaps you might turn your mind to our next course of action. This new Camelot seems to be protected by some kind of sleeping enchantment, but we cannot stay here for long. Soon the envoys of the modern world will be at our door.”

“Treachery,” said the Master. He began to pace back and forth in front of the hearth. “I knew this day would come. I have been lenient, yes, I have been very lenient with Sir Lancelot, allowing him to pursue the Eternal Quest with a certain degree of freedom. And this is how he repays me.”

“Forgive me, sire, but Sir Lancelot's actions enabled us to escape. Even as we speak, I am sure he will be searching for Sir Perceval and Sir Pellinore.”

“Yet again, Sir Lancelot's actions have endangered the Eternal Quest. You want my orders, Lucas? Go and find Merlin, so that by his arts he might close up this portal, and return the Eternal Quest to its previous state of secrecy. Well? What are you waiting for?”