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Chapter 9, Chronicle III - David's Prophecy By William Black Light-hearted and with Morion's kiss still fresh on his lips, Will strode out into the evening sun. He was momentarily distracted by the brilliance of the sunset, shafts of golden light piercing the deep violet of the sky. His heart thrilled. He barely noticed the shadow leap at him from behind the right corner of the tent. Something huge struck him with such force it sent him sprawling onto the ground in a flurry of flaying arms and legs. Dust blasted into his eyes blinding him. Attempting to stand he felt more then saw the blade screaming down at his unprotected head. He quickly rolled to one side striking out with his legs. Whoever was attacking him cursed cruelly. The voice should have been familiar. It was distorted not by hate, but rather... Will jerked up and left. He fought desperately to focus his dirt-filled eyes. "Why didn't someone come to his aid?" His mind hollered the question. His dusty tears made it difficult to see, but he could still hear. What he heard sent sharp lightening chills through him. Chants! The attacker circled like a deranged wolf, waiting for the perfect opening. Why not just attack? The bloody fellow had a broadsword, for crying out loud! Why not just whack away? The sword gave the assailant a distinct edge, Will thought sarcastically. Eventually the enemy was bound to get lucky. But the attacker waited. The chants continued. Will's vision cleared enough for him to see two rings of swordsmen an inner ring facing him and the outer facing the camp. A good forty men, Will estimated. Sir David's tent being right in the centre. So that was the trick. The swordsmen were stationed to keep aid from reaching Will and to keep him trapped inside the rings with his attacker. Once again, he was on his own. The enemy took a step closer, apparently thinking now was as good of time as any to finish the Druid off. But instead of attacking, he spoke. "Will, do you recognise me? It's been so long." Will's vision cleared abruptly. He was starring into face of Sir David. But it wasn't David's voice. It was Morlyn's. A flicker of doubt in Will's eyes was all David needed. He charged into the Druid, sword flashing downwards. But Will didn't let doubt hamper his reflexes. He swiftly jumped to the side allowing the larger man to be carried forward by the force of the strike. Will balled up his fists, and hammered down on the unprotected back of Sir David. A sharp grunt escaped from the First Knight as the blow struck home. David, little affected by the blow, whipped around agilely swinging his sword wide, his handsome face contorted with pain. Will barely escaped the strike as the blade whizzed past his chest. He turned full circle, bending low, striking at the other's legs with his own. His leg caught the First Knight behind the knees. Sir David's legs flew out in front of him, sending him flat-backed to the ground. Will felt the force of his enemy's fall as he himself was trying to stand. Strong but tender hands helped lift Will to his feet. Morion's gaze held both shocked amazement and fury at she looked at her First Knight. "Sir David, what is the meaning of this outrage?" For a moment Sir David appeared ready to respond as he got up heavily. But his smile was cold and deadly. He swung his sword up at Will, his eyes focusing on the Druid. Will shoved Morion hard, sending her stumbling back into the doorway of the tent. The force pushed him away from Sir David's attack. Will's mind raced desperately. Even a bad plan was better than no plan. And he had no plan... David continued to stalk him; the First Knights' eyes filled with hate not his own. "Sir David, can you hear me?" Will didn't know what else to do, but talking seemed a bit lame. He was without weapons, save his magic. And he would not resort to its use. "David, it's me...William of Annsbury. Do you recognise me?" The older knight just grinned and watched for a sure opportunity to strike again. "David, you are under the influence of Morlyn. It's a spell. Fight it!" At this the First Knight stopped, clarity filling his eyes. "Will? Where the hell am..., oh God NO!" For a moment the internal struggle waged more fiercely than anything David had experienced before. His face contorted with rage, loathing, and....and sorrow. Then he saw Morion standing in the doorway of the tent. The evil smile shined forth again, his face relaxing. "Yes Druid, I know you." He spoke calmly. "I told you it wasn't over between us. Now it is time to finish you. You've brought nothing but pain to this realm and Morion. Arrogant, selfish, and self-righteous you are." But David still didn't attack. He just circled, smiling cruelly. The swordsmen's chant was increasing in volume drowning out clinking of steel from the outer circle. Will tried again while keeping his distance. "David, this isn't you. It's Morlyn who's in control! Fight him!" Then in a surge of anger, "Fight him you big overgrown puss-ball!" "Puss-ball is it?" David let out a genuinely amused laugh. "Why, my little Druidling, if I didn't know better I'd think you were getting upset. Tsk, tsk...how unbecoming of you. What will Morion think? You want me to stop so you can have the Lady all to yourself? Is that it? Is that why you want me to stop our little game so I can fight Morlyn? You know," David said rather leisurely, "I'm sure she's woman enough for both of us, but once I'm through with you there'll not be enough of you left for her to even put on the tip of her little pinkie! Yet just to reassure you, I'll make our Lady sing...the melody of her moans will carry to the rafters when I take her." Again the demonic laugh reverberated from the body of David. His eyes were growing wilder each passing moment. Will glanced back to the door of the tent. Morion wasn't there. Where had she gone? Damn, why worry about that now? Will mentally kicked himself. The chanting grew disorganised and faltered. Will heard the clash of steel on steel. Help was fighting to get through the outer ring. Will noticed some of the swordsmen in the inner ring moving to reinforce their comrades in the outer. The First Knight's smile faded. That determination Will had seen before entered the cold dark eyes. For an instant, David the First Knight was back. Not the friend Will had come to know, but the warrior equipped with all the battle-hardened skills he'd ever learned. This wasn't Morlyn's rage; it had turned into a personal vendetta between the First Knight and Will. Will understood. The Druid struck quickly, doing a quick somersault into Sir David. Coming out of the roll at the exact moment his legs were posed to strike at the First Knight's stomach. Will kicked hard sending the larger man towards the tent. A resounding crash was heard as Morion came down on David's head with a large ceramic pitcher. But instead of water spilling forth over the head of her First Knight, dirt rained down upon the now sagging body. David hit the ground, his eyes closed in unconsciousness. Morion looked at her Knight, then at Will. Will stood momentarily panting and stunned by the actions of his sovereign. Yet not as stunned as the First Knight. He walked over to Morion and gently removed what remained of the pitcher from her clinched fist. Looking down at David he said without emotion, "Works for me." The soldiers making up the ring had stopped their chanting letting their swords fall to their sides. They looked around as if in a mist. Some stood starring at their fallen leader. Others dropped their swords and began to weep, the gravity of what just happen slowing sipping into their understanding. Will and Morion knelt down to the stricken night, Morion gently cradling his head onto her lap. "My Lady," Will began tentatively, "Sir David is dangerous even now. Morlyn has used him as a conduit to channel his will into our people." "Why, Will? Why David?" Morion's eyes filled with angry tears as she pondered the ramifications of what just occurred. "I think I've worked it out." Will spoke gently as he looked into the unconscious face of the First Knight. "This didn't begin here. It began when Lord Banon's champion gave the challenge to you and your knights. Remember, Sir Gardain didn't want Sir David to fight?" Morion nodded, her tear-stained face reflecting confusion. The Druid continued, "Gardain insisted that David not enter the joust because the First Knight had knowledge of magic." Will shook his head sadly. "Mind craft again. David knew he could best the Knight of Damtree and secretly fondled the idea, relishing the flattery he'd been given. It grew in his heart...along with other desires." He looked at Morion hard. "He loves you in the only why he knows." "The perfect receptacle" Morion said quietly. "Indeed. All Sir David needed was a bit more shoving. A push he himself desired believe it or not. I was that nudge. Before I came along he had an open field. No apparently rivals close enough to your affections or the power you held, or so he thought. It is easy to blind one's self to the realities of life." "Sir David was the conduit for Morlyn's magic. It flowed so easily through him into those others. Their chanting acted as a kind of amplification to the magic, thus Morlyn didn't have to expend a lot of energy. All he had to do is control David, and even then the power actually came from the First Knight here. Did you know that David practiced magic privately? He did so to keep his edge, just in case." Morion caressed the dark hair of her First Knight, her eyes reflecting more confusion than ever. "He is a great and noble man. I don't believe he'd do anything to harm me, or you for that matter, under his own free will." "That's the point isn't it," Will retorted, the sarcasm too apparent in his voice. "Morlyn knows human weaknesses all too well, so it wasn't just David. However, David certainly didn't resist. I sensed it when he 'welcomed' me into this very camp. He allowed himself to be used. His guilt remains." Will felt a familiar mental nudge and suddenly regretted his words. "Oh God, forgive me..." he muttered more to himself.... The game continues. Will shook himself and stood, looking down at a bewildered Morion. "My Lady, my deepest apologies, I'm not immuned to Mind Craft. And I feel that I too am seriously infected. But the main art in healing is recognising you are ill." He paused and watched as Robert, Morgan, Alan, and Tactus, bloodstained swords drawn, strode to stand over the fallen First Knight. Will looked at Sir Robert, who was starring down at his commander. "Take Sir David to the hospital tent and bind him securely to his bed. Fetch Dr. Laroux for me also. As for these swordsmen, they'll be of no use to us further. They've been touched my Morlyn's magic and are now all suspect. Keep them bound and under constant guard." Then in a gentler tone, "My friend, you are now in charge." Before they carried Sir David off, Will knelt low touching the First Knight's forehead. The damage to his skull by Morion's pitcher was not permanent. And there was something else. Something no one standing around the tight little circle could feel. Even Morion looked perplexed by the Druid's actions. Will stood up without looking at any of them, but waved vaguely to Sir Robert, who signalled to some men to carry the First Knight to the hospital tent. The air had grown cooler with the coming night. Men were resuming their normal activities while trying to figure out what just happened. Some were lighting torches and building cook fires. The Druid walked out of the camp to pray. William Black © Continues... Chronicle III, Main page |