Return to Camelot, Jeffrey Allen White [red scrolls of magic TXT] 📗

radiated throughout his body. It filled it with an intense heat although was not an unpleasant one.

“Something is happening to the king. Quick, summon help. We must find someone to help him”. The guard ushered out the servant. He went back to Arthur. The disk had become brighter now and it was if its heat had traveled throughout Arthur’s body.

The guard was terrified. He ran from the room in search of help. Arthur was alone now. He felt the empty room. The disk’s heat felt good. His body was reacting to it.

He could feel the sensation. Maybe he could move. The more he tried, the more frustrated he became. “Merlin, help me! Where are you?”

The heat from the disk had built up and was now flowing freely through every part of his body. Something was happening in his room, he could sense it. The warmth of the disk competed with a sudden coolness in the surrounding air. The room was growing colder.

“What is happening? I must get up. I must find my son!” Arthur felt a presence near him. Was it the guard and servant back with help? He heard no one speak. Someone was there with him but it was not the guard or servant.

Arthur felt helpless and vulnerable. “Who is there?” Arthur suddenly realized he could speak. He had heard his own voice ask a question. “Who is there, answer me!”

Arthur did not hear a response. He was sure he was speaking now aloud and he was sure he could hear. His throat ached with every wood spoken. He could make out the sound of shuffling and movement. However, he was still blind.

“Tell me, who is there? I command you to tell me!” Arthur was screaming now. He was sure of that. The disk in his hand was still warm to the touch.

“Is someone there? Please answer me. I am...I am begging you to speak.” Arthur changed his tone. Maybe he was frightening someone who had come to help. Maybe it was Tolemac, he thought. “Tolemac, is that you? Answer me. Do not be afraid. Please just answer me.”

“No, it is not Tolemac.” A voice returned.

Arthur took a sigh of relief. “There is someone here. Thank God. Who are you? Is there anyone else here with you?”

“No, you and I are quite alone.” The voice had moved to the other side of the bed.

“Where did the servants go? Please call for them. I need their help.” Arthur did not recognize this stranger’s voice.

“They are off busy trying to find you help. I am afraid it is too late. You see, I have...Oh, I am sorry, you cannot see. Isn’t that correct?” The voice moved again to the foot of the bed.

“Who are you? Where are my servants? Why are you here?” Arthur felt a coolness travel over him as the voice spoke.

“Look at the great and mighty ruler of Camelot. What a sight. He was broken and blinded. Perhaps you are thirsty?” The voice brought a cup of water over to the king. He held it up to his lips. Arthur could smell the liquid. It was not water. It had a pungent odor and was foul.

Arthur turned his head away from the odious offering. He had moved his head. Arthur had moved his head! He had movement, of a sort.

“Very well done. You are regaining your capabilities”. The voice was now beside him. “You have been a big problem but that will soon be over”.

“Who are you, I demand to know!” Arthur followed the voice with his head.

“You are in no position to be demanding anything.

What will you do? Subdue me and force me into a dungeon? Maybe the gallows are another solution. In addition, there is no on to help you. No one is here. It is just you and me. They were together again. The voice enjoyed this statement.

“Together again? Who are you? Why are you here? Do I know you?” Arthur could feel his arms now. He almost could move them just a little.

“Of course, you know me although you may wish you did not. It was always that way.” The voice touched Arthur’s leg.

Arthur reacted and was able to pull his leg away from the touch. “Guards, guards!” Arthur called for help.

“There is no one here to help you. The servant and guard are dead. I killed them.” The voice spoke calmly and seemed to be delighted and a bit smug.

“What? What did you do to them? They were no threat to you. What do you want of me? I am old and cannot even fend for myself.” Arthur could move his fingers. He could feel the disk in his hand.

“But you are not defenseless. Not nearly as much as I would wish you to be. The voice was now on the other side of the room, near the window.

“What do you want of me? Why are you here?” Arthur pulled his free hand up and under the blanket, sliding it up to his chest.

“Want of you? Why, I want nothing of you! That is just it. There is too much of you. There always was.” The voice sounded angrier.

“You speak in riddles. I have no idea what you speak about.” Arthur tried to move his legs. They shifted.

“You have always been a thorn in my side. Always the good and kind, King Arthur. Always the just and kind ruler. You were too good and no one else mattered. Now all this is about to change. I have waited a long time for this day Arthur.” The voice seemed vaguely familiar to Arthur now.

“I have waited and waited for this day. I dreamed about it. The ways I have killed you. The tortures I have devised for you. No mercy, no kindness.” The voice came closer.

Arthur could feel the strength return to him, but not as fast as he wished it would. He was still too weak to defend himself and he was still blind.

“You speak of vengeance. You want me dead? What have I done to you? I know not your name. I cannot see you. Tell me who you are. Speak to me!” Arthur could feel his legs and feet move.

“Of course, I expected you to not remember me. You never really cared for me much anyway. I was always in your way. Why were you jealous of me? I had nothing you wanted, except your blood. You didn’t want to share that with me.”

Arthur suddenly realized the face behind the voice. “Mordred!”

“Yes, it is I, dear brother. The baby brother, I have returned to visit you. I am sorry you are so ill. Then, that is what I intended. My mother left me with many potions. Some to make a man weak, some to blind...” Mordred was inches away from Arthur’s face.

“It was you who did this to me! You have blinded me. Nevertheless, why? I have done nothing to you.” The realization of having Mordred so close to him while he was in this state frightened Arthur.

“You will pay for my mother’s death.” Mordred grabbed Arthur’s throat. “You will pay for the years I spent in exile. Is it to be that I am not able to claim my rightful place? Not able to live as your brother and share your incredible wealth. You have taken much from me.” His hands closed in on Arthur making it almost impossible for him to breath.

“Aaahhh!” Arthur struggled to free himself. He could only move a little more than before. His arms and legs were far too weak.

Mordred released Arthur. “Now the tides have turned. You see, I have something of yours now. It is something of value. I only found out about it recently. I was traveling through France when I came upon a young priest. He was bringing in his sheep for the night. I befriended him and spoke with him over supper. He told me of his life and we drank through the night. The priest liked his wine. So much so, that he spoke of secrets and hidden trusts. I, of course, being intrigued, gladly poured him drink after drink until he confessed to me all his dirty little secrets.”

Arthur knew of Mordred’s evil ways and what he intended. “What does this all have to do with me?”

“Patience brother, you were always too eager. Merlin, you remember him do you not? Merlin always said you were too inpatient.” Mordred sat on the bed near Arthur. “Where was I? Oh, yes, you speak of my conversation with the talkative holy man. He had drunk so much by this time; he started to speak of more secrets and vows he had taken to protect and hide from the world. Being the inquisitive soul that I am, I prodded him to unload his heavy burden. The priest spoke of a woman who had come to a convent years before. She delivered a child and simply gave him to another. She thought it was not her husbands but that of his closet and most dearest of friends. Ashamed and guilt ridden, she entered the convent life giving her life to God and her son to a knight and his wife.”

“Tolemac”, Arthur realized Mordred had been speaking of Tolemac. It was his son. Tolemac was Arthur’s son or was he the son of Lancelot?

“How can you be sure of his story and that the boy is my son? What proof do you have?” Arthur wanted this boy to be his son; Merlin told him he had a son. Could this be Tolemac?

“At one point in conversation with the priest, he told me of the boy child and of a mark on his body. He felt he had said too much already and the wine had stopped his outpouring of words. I then tortured him and brought him back to his senses. He died hours later but not before, he told me of the proof of the child’s parentage. The boy had a mark on his back. It was a strange mark but clearly visible. No one in the convent noticed it. His mother only saw the boy for a few minutes before he was taken away.” Mordred delighted in recounting this tale of deception.

Arthur wanted to know of the mark on the boy. Could