The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) (37 page)

Arthur’s lively mind launched
him in another direction. ‘You said there was a kingdom here long ago.’

‘I did.’

He had him now. Even Merlin
couldn’t think of everything. ‘Then,’ said Arthur, ‘the island must be recorded
on old maps and charts.’

‘It was,’ conceded Merlin,
‘until quite recently.’ ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Some years ago there was a
disturbance in the Atlantic. Ships and planes reported seeing strange lights
and explosions in the area. Quite a show it was, apparently but no one knows
exactly what happened. It was a mystery; some said it was a huge volcanic
eruption, others were convinced it was an earthquake, some even thought it was
caused by the impact of a meteor. Scientific opinion was divided. Only one
thing was certain: the island disappeared without trace. No, I lie. They did
spot some debris floating in the ocean fifty miles west of its original
location: fragments of rock, vegetable matter, that kind of thing.’

Arthur saluted the master.
‘You think of everything, Merlin.’

Merlin grinned happily. ‘Good of you to say
so.’

Now came the most important
question of all. ‘What are you doing here, Merlin? What is it all for?’

Merlin took Arthur’s empty mug
and set it down with his own. Fastidiously, concentrating on the small task, he
washed the mugs and laid them upside down to dry. ‘There,’ he said, satisfied
with his work. ‘Now what was the question?’ Arthur had the strong impression
that all this was a performance contrived to heighten tension. ‘Ah, yes. What’s
it all for? I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.’ The magus took
Arthur by the hand. ‘Come, I have something to show you.’

The control room was flanked
by rows of monitors. Moving slowly down the long lines of screens Arthur was
sickened and horrified to find himself confronted by images of suffering and
misery on a massive scale; skeletonic children, sharp bones thrusting at their
skin, starving to death somewhere in North Africa; hundreds of dead and injured
people littering the streets after a suicide bombing in South East Asia; a
Russian hospital, wards and corridors crammed with men, women and children
suffering from radiation sickness; mutilated bodies in a Middle East desert;
unarmed civilians being battered to death by men in camouflage gear somewhere
in South America. The walls of the control room were covered with scene upon
heart-rending scene of brutality, torture and murder.

For a full minute Arthur was
in shock. ‘When did all this happen?’ he asked, turning away, unable to stomach
the horror any longer.

‘What you are looking at,’
said Merlin, ‘is happening now as we speak. All these pictures are being
transmitted live.

‘How is that possible?’

Merlin perched on a stool and
signalled Arthur to do the same. ‘The basic technology is quite simple, it is
the extent and efficiency of the coverage that is unique. The pictures are
beamed back to us in various ways – by satellite dishes, unmanned air vehicles,
miniature robots and many other devices, some large, some microscopic. Some of
our electronic ‘spies’ are detected and destroyed, but there are always others
to take their place. We know where to look, and what to look for. Very little
escapes our attention as we scan the world, and our coverage is infinitely more
comprehensive than anyone else’s. We are not the only ones of course. The USA,
Russia, China, Japan, the United Kingdom and some other European countries all
have highly sophisticated observation and tracking systems. They know pretty
much what is going on, though they do very little about it.’

Arthur knew that was true, and
not just about his father but about many world leaders. ‘Why do you think that
is?’ he asked.

‘Many reasons,’ said Merlin.
‘Inaccurate intelligence, the wrong weapons, incorrect strategy and a shortage
of appropriate personnel all make it difficult, if not impossible, to deal
effectively with terrorists. But there are other, even more serious problems.’

‘Such as?’

‘The ones you know of, Arthur.
Lack of unity, lack of will, and a tendency to make shabby and cynical deals
with terrorists instead of confronting them.’

Arthur nodded. This was familiar territory.
‘Surely it’s not all doom and gloom? The United States, our own country, Russia
– they are all trying to fight terrorism in their way. And they have their
successes from time to time.’

Merlin looked at the monitors.
‘From time to time isn’t good enough, is it? This is a war, and we are losing
it. The world is in mortal danger.’

‘You really believe that?’

‘I am certain of it,’ said Merlin solemnly.

‘Even if that is true,’ said
Arthur, ‘how can we defeat the terrorists? They have the advantage of surprise.
They strike when and where they choose, and they have the most powerful and
sophisticated weapons.’

‘The answer to your question
is here, Arthur,’ said Merlin. ‘On Camelot we have what it takes to destroy
those who threaten the very existence of the free world. When they talk, we
shall hear them. When they move, we shall track them. When they hide, we shall
find them.’

That word again. ‘We?’

‘There will be no more than a
hundred and fifty of us – excluding the robots.’ Arthur expected a smile, but
the magus was serious. ‘On this small island will be based the most highly-
trained and motivated military force on the planet. They will confront the
forces of darkness, all those who threaten the peace of the world and the
future of mankind.’ The green eyes glowed. ‘Of course they would need a leader,
and not just any leader but a man of integrity, a man of heart and soul, a man
of cunning who knows how to outsmart the enemy, a man of courage who fears no
one but God himself, a man, in short, much like that ancient king we were
speaking of just now. Can’t you see them, Arthur?’ said Merlin, his eyes
shining like green moons, ‘can’t you see them riding out to do battle, just
like King Arthur and his knights of old? But instead of horses they will ride
air and sea craft, Nimbles and Scuttles, Eclipse and Kraken, and the weapons
they wield – one in particular – will be far ahead of their time.’

‘Can force really solve the problems of the
world?’ asked Arthur.

‘Sometimes force is the only
way,’ said Merlin. ‘History has shown that appeasing the wicked invariably ends
in disaster. Evil men must be confronted, or the good will be destroyed. But
being more powerful than your enemies is not enough. The greatest power does
not come from armies and weapons.’ The green eyes glowed brighter and brighter
as the magus was inspired by a vision of things to come. ‘Imagine, Arthur,
imagine a kingdom founded on love and respect and justice, imagine a small,
dedicated band of men and women ready if necessary to sacrifice their lives,
not from envy or hatred, not for a country, not for a religion, but to create a
peaceful world, a just and happy world, a world that the meek truly can
inherit. What a cause, what a noble cause that would be.’

Tears stung Arthur’s eyes. For
a long time he said nothing. ‘This weapon you speak of. Can you tell me more
about it?’

‘Come with me,’ said Merlin.
Outside Command Control he faced Arthur, ‘Describe something you see. Now, at
this moment.’

‘Anything?’ ‘Anything.’

Arthur looked around. ‘I see a
tall, white building, some kind of office block it looks like.’

‘Where exactly?’

‘About two hundred metres
away, there at three o’clock.’ Arthur pointed and turned back to face the
magus.

Merlin looked in the direction
Arthur had indicated and shook his head. ‘I don’t see it,’ he said.

‘Stop playing games, Merlin.
It’s over there.’ Arthur swung round and pointed, frowned and looked again. ‘I
don’t see it either. It was there just now. Where has it gone?’

‘Where indeed?’ said Merlin,
his face expressionless. Even as he spoke the office block reappeared. ‘Why
there it is,’ he cried. ‘It must have been there all the time. Or was it?’ he
mused.

‘What do you think, Arthur?’ asked Merlin, eyes
wide and innocent as a child’s.

Suddenly Arthur understood.
This was no game, this was not one of Merlin’s illusions. ‘The silver sphere,’
he murmured.

‘Quite so,’ said Merlin.

‘Demat, Remat, Elimat.’ This
had to be the ultimate weapon.

Merlin nodded, his expression
solemn. ‘We call it Excalibur.’

‘Terrifying,’ said Arthur.
‘The very thought that someone might use it scares me. Excalibur could destroy
the world.’

‘Every weapon developed by man
from the beginning of time has had the power to destroy, to a lesser or greater
extent,’ said Merlin. ‘Some, like nuclear or chemical or biological weapons,
are as destructive to the environment as they are to man. Excalibur is
different, not just in degree but in kind. It has infinitely more destructive
power than any weapon ever invented, yet it can also immobilise life in order
to preserve it.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Arthur.

‘It’s really quite simple,’ said
Merlin. ‘Let me explain. And please pay attention,’ he added sternly, as if
Arthur were still his pupil at Glastonbury School. ‘It is true that Excalibur
destroys matter – whether people or things – but only in Elimat mode. In Demat
mode Excalibur merely suspends matter; it does not destroy it. The proof of
that is Remat, the mode in which the suspended matter is rematerialised. You
have seen both Demat and Remat in operation.’

Arthur nodded. ‘The silver
sphere disappeared and reappeared. So did the building just now.’

‘Correct,’ said Merlin. ‘You
said Excalibur could destroy the world. I say that on the contrary, it could
prevent the world being destroyed by the most deadly weapon of all.’

A weapon more powerful than
Excalibur! How could that be? ‘What weapon is that?’

‘Man,’ said Merlin. ‘In the right hands,
Excalibur could save the world from mankind for mankind.’

‘The right hands?’ ‘Your
hands.’

Arthur shook his head. ‘No,
Merlin, not me. I am not the man you think I am. I am a man like other men. I have
the same hopes, the same fears, the same desires. The same sun warms my back,
the same wind blows in my face. I am just an ordinary man.’

‘That you are not,’ said Merlin positively.

‘I have seen men die,’ said
Arthur. ‘I want no more deaths on my conscience.’

The tour of Camelot over,
Arthur stood by the Hovercart and gazed across the island at the elegant white
buildings radiant in the sunlight, and at the slender columns waving their
hands at the sky. Here was a city built for the benefit of generations yet
unborn, a space-station that was not in space. Here it was in the middle of an
ocean on planet earth, the most thrilling, the most incredible, the most
magical sight he had ever seen.

And the most frightening. He
had known fear on the battlefield, and he knew fear now. This, though, was a
different kind of fear, the fear that he was being led down the wrong path.
Merlin had spoken the truth. To be more powerful than your enemies was not
enough. You had to be better than they were. But if he fought fire with fire,
would he be any different from his enemies? Would not his face become the
monster’s face?

Without knowing he was doing
it he touched the scar on his left cheek where the eagle scratched him when he
was a boy. ‘Let me go, magus. Find someone else.’

‘There is no one else – you
are the one. It is your destiny. Listen to me, Arthur. In the long history of
the world there have been many times when mankind was in mortal danger. By some
quirk of fate, or if you like, by divine intervention, a saviour was always
there to pull us back from the brink – a soldier or a saint, a humble peasant,
or a supernatural being. But in whatever guise the saviours came, they all had
one thing in common. They believed in themselves. That belief was what gave
them the courage to confront the wicked.’

For a moment Arthur was almost
convinced. ‘Help me, magus. Help me to believe.’

‘Only you can do that,’ said Merlin.

That night Arthur slept
fitfully. In the small hours he was suddenly wide awake; he got up, opened the
window and looked out into the night. A soft breeze touched his face bringing
music the like of which he had never heard before, played on instruments
fashioned in an age long gone. In the distance he could hear the muffled beat
of a solitary drum. Here and there in the darkness, as if the countryside were
rousing itself from sleep, sparks flashed and flared to fires, filling his
nostrils with the acrid smell of burning wood.

He could hear voices now, at
first a confused murmur, growing more distinct the nearer they approached,
until they slipped through the window into his head, and it seemed that every
man and woman in the world was repeating over and over again, “Arthur! Arthur!
Arthur!”

In the darkness appeared a
great castle with towering turrets and buttressed walls, lit by a forest of
torches. On the ramparts soldiers stood by great pyramids of rocks and steaming
vats of hot oil, preparing to repel the enemy. In the courtyards below, horses
neighed, shifting nervously on the cobblestones, held on tight reign by
squires, as a hundred and fifty knights, their armour winking red and gold in
the torchlight, assembled to do battle. On the battlements there was a sudden
agitation of soldiers, swords drawn for battle, or no, swords drawn not for
battle, but in salute. A knight appeared, his golden armour shining so brightly
that for an instant Arthur was dazzled; and in that instant, the hubbub of
noise ceased.

In the silence the knight
turned his head in Arthur’s direction. Something about him seemed familiar. A
moment later and he had turned away again. Drawing his sword he raised it high,
and from the walls and ramparts, from the courtyards and corridors and
stairways, from every door and window of the castle, cheer upon cheer erupted,
every cheer answered and overwhelmed by a defiant and much louder cheer from
the huge army drawn up a few hundred yards beyond the castle. For as the first
light of dawn appeared, there, silhouetted against the sky, were a thousand
knights on horseback and fifteen thousand or more foot soldiers. The enemy
outnumbered the small band of knights in the castle’s courtyard by more than a
hundred to one.