Authors: David Wind
He is the earthly embodiment of the dark powers, the priestess had told her. But she hadn't understood what she'd meant. Morgan was evil, but he was just a man. Yet now he spoke to her in her mind, and, at last, she understood. She was not facing Morgan alone, but those dark forces that used him and his body to gain what they wanted.
Instinctively, Gwendolyn knew they had not asked to join Morgan, but had taken him as their vassal. As long as Morgan's body walked the earth, she and Miles would never be safe. But was she strong enough? Could she defeat him now?
"Never!" came the voiceless challenge. Then he was on her, and Gwendolyn smelled the taint of hell he carried with him. She moved like fluid lightning, giving herself over to her instincts, reinforcing them with her sword, and calling for their aid.
The powers flowed through her mind as she called upon the purity of the silver light to help her against the blackness that controlled Morgan.
And then it happened, and Gwendolyn sensed she was no longer alone. To her left stood a giant. His long flowing blonde hair reached mid-back, his massive chest rose and fell easily, and in his hand was a giant metal bludgeon that glowed with unearthly light.
She watched Morgan suddenly stop. The dark aura that had radiated around him like a noxious cloud began to waver and expand. Darkness flowed from him in a billowing cloud, and then it coalesced, forming another entity. She shivered but faced the entity that held no human shape. Dark red eyes glowed from a misshapen head. Long scaled arms ending in claws grasped a curved and blackened blade.
We meet again, Son of Thunder, came the dark thoughts into Gwendolyn's mind.
As we shall through eternity, anathema of my father, replied Gwendolyn's sire.
Gwendolyn saw her father pull himself taller and lift the giant hammer in the air. But suddenly the dark being raised a clawed hand toward the towering Norseman. She saw a blood-red flash leap from the claws and instinctively she swung her sword upward. The silver blade screamed when the force struck it. Darkness raced through her mind and pain threatened to take her life. Nothing in the world moved. Everything was frozen in the instant that the dark energy struck the sword. Yet Gwendolyn knew she must stop this attack, fighting both the force of the blow, and the consuming darkness that drank of her soul. She called on everything she had learned, building a picture within her mind of that special place she had flown to in search of Miles, where she had challenged the priestess, and the powers that created and ruled the universe. Then she forced back the darkness and pain until suddenly her mind was free.
"Filth!" screamed Morgan, breaking the frozen tableau by charging at Gwendolyn. Just then, her father, the son of thunder, drew back his arm and flung the metal hammer at the wavering shape of vileness.
Gwendolyn rolled forward, tightening her body into a ball, letting Morgan's blade go through the empty air where she had stood.
An unearthly roar shook the ground, but Gwendolyn heard it not as she stood to face Morgan again. Then the powers that had conceived her set her free, and the silver blade shimmered with undisguised iridescence. Behind her, her ethereal father was joined in battle against his ancient race's enemy, while Gwendolyn faced her own.
Morgan's insane scream echoed in her ears, and he came at her. Gwendolyn deflected his stroke, but pain raced along her arms. Morgan was more than what he'd been earlier, and the force of his madness, combined with the powers of his vile master, lent even more strength to his arms. Gwendolyn swung her blade, calling upon it to sever Morgan's, but Morgan's unearthly ally aided him, and the blade stayed whole.
It was then that Gwendolyn let herself become one with her sword. She called not upon the priestess or otherworldly powers for her aid, but to Miles, who had trained her and had shown her the true path of a warrior. Since their first joining, Gwendolyn had known they had become as one. Now, that part of her that was Miles grew within her, and his essence and hers became one, as her body flowed with her glowing sword and she attacked Morgan mercilessly. She fought with all the expertise of her training and sensed her husband's presence within her mind, guiding her hands and arms. She fought like one possessed, backing Morgan against the wall of sand and earth his malignant master had created to veil them. Suddenly she saw an opening.
Again all the world stood still—except for Gwendolyn.
Her arms moved with the speed of a striking viper. The glowing blade slid beneath Morgan's and struck his side fully. Light exploded from his maille, and the cry of protesting metal spewed loudly, overshadowed only by Morgan's own scream of defeat.
Gwendolyn freed the blade and spun, letting the sword create a glowing path of silver light shooting toward Morgan's heart. The tip of the blade touched maille, and Gwendolyn put her entire body behind it, pushing it through Morgan, until the quillons rested against the crest of Guildswood.
The earth shook again, and blood began to seep from Morgan's lips while his dark eyes stared at Sir Eldwin.
Behind her she saw her father standing over the misshapen mass of darkness. Then she turned back to Morgan and saw the life begin to leave his eyes. She bent quickly, and when her face was but inches from his, she lifted her gauntleted hand and pulled the mask up for a brief moment.
Morgan's eyes widened and his mouth opened. "No!" he screamed, and his voice shook the branches above him.
Slowly, Gwendolyn stood. She drew the silver blade from Morgan's body and watched his eyes glaze over. Then she turned and saw her father stand, the giant hammer again gripped in his hand. She looked at him for a moment and stood proudly under his caressing gaze.
We have won
, she stated to him.
For the moment, daughter
, he replied, his voice gentle in her mind.
But you have much left to accomplish.
Miles.
Your husband is first. See to him.
Then his shape began to dissolve, and as it did, the whirlwind which had surrounded them ended, and Gwendolyn found herself staring into the eyes of Richard Coeur de Lion.
To those who had witnessed the strange events, they neither heard nor saw what had transpired within the whirling wall of sand. Yet each of them had stood tensely by, waiting to go to the aid of the two knights should they call out.
When the strange storm ended, they saw but one knight standing. Arthur and James glanced at each other with sighs of relief, while Justin and the other knights ran to the fallen body. But it was Richard who walked to Sir Eldwin.
Sir Eldwin bowed before the king and then rose to point to the slain body of Morgan.
"I have never seen the likes of what I witnessed here today. We thought you both dead and carried off by the strange desert storm. Yet you seem unaffected by it."
"He is dead!" cried Justin, who had gone to Morgan's body when Richard spoke to Gwendolyn. Sir Eldwin merely nodded.
"You have served me well today. In two days we meet Saladin. I ask you to fight at my side."
Sir Eldwin gazed at Richard through her mask and slowly and carefully knelt again. This time she held the blade of the silver sword within her hands, its pommel extended to Richard in a silent pledge of fealty.
"Join my council tonight, so that you may hear my battle plan. None will call upon you to violate your oath." With that, Richard walked to his horse and, a moment later, rode from the grove.
Silently, Eldwin walked to Morgan's body, bent, and ripped his surcoat. When she stood, she held the coat of arms of Guildswood in her mailled fist. Then she motioned to James for her horse. After mounting the stallion, she turned and stared at Valkyrie. Without a word or gesture, the golden eagle left its perch and settled on to Sir Eldwin's shoulder.
Gwendolyn spurred her mount out of the grove, and headed toward the sandy desert that stretched endlessly before her.
Half an hour later she saw a high sandy hill and urged the stallion upward to its crest. There, above the unending desert, she dismounted and removed her helmet and mask. Reaching into the neck of her armor, Gwendolyn took out a thong of leather. Carefully, she tied the ragged piece of garment she'd ripped from Morgan's surcoat and then looped the leather around Valkyrie's neck.
"Seek Miles. Give him my message," she told the eagle.
Valkyrie left her shoulder and walked along her arm until he was again perched on her wrist. With a deeply drawn breath, Gwendolyn pulled back her arm and, as she had for so many years, released the golden eagle.
Valkyrie fought the pull of the earth as he followed the downward slope of the hill, his wide wings seeking currents as he skimmed along the ground. Gwendolyn drew her sword and closed her eyes. She built a picture of Miles in her mind and sent a message with her thoughts.
A moment later, Valkyrie's loud call echoed over the sandy hills of Palestine, and then he was gone.
<><><>
A dry, arid breeze washed across Saladin's face as he gazed at the two hawks circling high above. Of all sports, Saladin loved hawking the best. He enjoyed and admired the grace of the large birds and had learned much of his warfare from them.
Before the sun had risen, and the desert was still cool, he, with ten of his men and his English prisoner, had ridden from their new encampment to spend the morning in sport.
Soon sport must be put aside, he realized, as the time to renew his attack against the Franks drew nearer. He had been fortunate in defeating Richard twice when the infidel forces had attacked Jerusalem, and the next few months could mean the difference between years of fighting or a suitable peace.
His battle plan was simple. Meet and defeat his enemy as many times as possible. First, take Ascalon, and then Jaffa. With no strongholds left, Richard must sue for peace, or be driven from the land. Yet Saladin recognized the fierceness of his enemy, and knew that if he drove Richard from the land, the king of the Franks would return with a larger army. He did not want this; he wanted peace.
Turning, he glanced at Miles and forced himself to think not of the future of this gallant man. Since their confrontation before the winter battle at Jerusalem, Miles had refused to accept any of Saladin's hospitalities. It hurt him, but it also reinforced the respect Saladin felt for this man.
"I understand hawking is widespread in your homeland," he ventured.
"It is," Miles replied, looking at Saladin and then up at the circling birds. "Why have you brought me here today?"
"Must I have a reason?"
"For almost a half a year I have watched you, Master of the Chosen, and never once have I seen you do something without purpose.”
Saladin laughed and shook his head slowly. "You are astute, Miles of England. Yes, there is a purpose. Your king's spies are nearby. I wish them to see us sporting, not preparing for war. It lulls the enemy to think us wastrels."
"And you would have them report that I join in your sport?"
Saladin's features hardened for a moment when he looked into Miles's face. "Above all, I must rule my kingdom, and keep it whole and safe from those who would take it from me. I use you to taunt Richard, that is true, but I have no choice. It has nothing to do with my personal feelings."
Miles held Saladin's gaze for a moment before he looked up at the circling birds of prey. Since arising this morning, he had been in the grips of a strange mood. Something had disturbed his sleep, something that had reached to the very core of his mind. Throughout the ride from the oasis encampment, Miles had been unable to rid himself of the feeling. It was there, as if a warning, or perhaps, a feeling of preparation for something about to happen. Whatever it was, Miles let his instincts rule and held himself ready for whatever this day might offer.
A sudden overhead screech broke through their words, and both men looked skyward just in time to see a giant eagle diving earthward. Both of Saladin's hawks seemed to pause in midair, and then the eagle cried out again as it struck the first hawk.
Large talons sunk into the smaller body, and the birds spun in the air. A fraction of a second later, the eagle straightened its flight with the hawk securely grasped in its talons. The eagle circled the group of men and then dove at its leader. When Valkyrie was within five feet of Saladin, he released the dead hawk.
The hawk landed with a low thud at Saladin's feet. Then Valkyrie circled the group once more, before gliding to a stop on Miles's shoulder.
As soon as he'd heard Valkyrie's first scream, Miles knew who it was. He watched the giant eagle strike the hawk and smiled when he dropped the bird at Saladin's feet. When the golden eagle flew toward him, he braced himself for its landing, and when Valkyrie was settled on his shoulder, he gazed into the eagle's amber eyes.
"Hello, old friend," he whispered. Then he saw the leather strip, and the piece of cloth attached to it. Slowly, he slipped the message from Valkyrie's neck and opened it. He unrolled the cloth and was unable to hold back his laughter.
Turning slowly, he met Saladin's deep eyes and then pointed to the dead hawk. "You have been challenged," he stated. Then he threw the coat of arms of Guildswood on top of the hawk. "As has been Morgan, who is no longer of this earth."