Prologue

Prologue

     The woods near the Mourning Fields burned strongly, igniting the battle below, fueling the spirits of the Arthurian army. The once lushful fields, sporting its abundant greenery and a wide range of wild flowers, was but a bloody mess by now. What started as a battle between soldiers resembled a brutal massacre between savages. Arthurian soldiers had found their way to the rebel general hours ago, and the enemy army was only a disorganized mob, easy picking for the overpowering soldiers.
      "I hope this sends the message to any other fool prospecting a rebellion, my king." A tall, blond man said as he entered the royal tent. An ugly scar ran from his left ear to his nose, and made his face a sight to be avoided, or grimaced at.
      "Good work, Mordred, albeit a bit too cruel for my tastes." A  male voice said from behind a stream of courtains. A female moan followed soon after.
      "It had to be done, milord. If we don't show these rats who is in control, your reign will never see peace."
      "Oh, Mordred... You are such a bore. Stop overthinking things and go find a girl to warm your bed tonight. This day is already yours." This time it was the female voice who spoke.
      "Lady Morgana, please keep your thoughts to yourself. You've already caused enough trouble as it is."
      "That's enough, Dred. Come with me for a walk." Arthur said, leaving his bed in a  casual robe. People would think that the man of so many legends would be more than a man, maybe bulky and extremely tall, with a face that could charm any lady across the world. What stood before Mordred, however, was only a shadow of what Arthur once was. Streaks of grey could already be seen in his usual jet black hair. The stress had caused it to fall in abundance, making him seem years older than he really was. His face was plagued by wrinkles, something that shouldn't appear on someone who had only lived for 28 winters.
      "No armor, my lord?"
      "You know it won't be needed." He said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
 
     The woods nearby provided a welcome relief from the day's battle. Only this small fragment of the forest had escaped the fire, and Arthur felt it acted like his personal sanctuary. A place to think, strategize, reflect. He hoped Mordred would feel the same, considering what was to come.
      "Give me a moment, Mordred." Arthur said, stopping by an old oak tree. The tree towered above the rest of the forest, and its branches comprised a gigantic web of life, giving shelter to dozens of animals, and a multitude of insects. You could see the cycle of life develop in these branches, a cycle that could so easily come to an end with nothing but a torch. Arthur smiled at the thought.
      "You know...I never really thought it would come to this."
      "Milord?" Mordred turned to his liege.
      "Everything was going so well. I had friends, the queen of my dreams, a thriving kingdom, where all citizens, short of a handful, loved me. Thinking back now, it was all too perfect to be true. But the way things delevoped...it was all so wicked. So many times I thought of taking my own life, escape this reality."
      "You are more than that, Arthur. A normal man would have self-destructed with much less. You stood proudly as everything was taken from you, and as the world stopped making sense. You lost your queen, your best friend, your loyal knights. Your people came to despise you, until they were too hungry to care about anything but the sounds coming from their empty stomachs." Arthur noticed Mordred was fighting his tears as he said that.
      "It wasn't all for the worse. I discovered the truth. Discovered who my real enemies and allies were. Made true friends, such as you and Morgana, that I know will never betray me. But there's a gash in my soul, Mordred. A gash that can't be closed, a gash created from seeing the real evil in the human heart. See it develop, betray, kill. I fight it, I fight this gash everyday, with all the force that I can muster. But as you can see, I grow weak...too weak, perhaps. I can't fight it anymore, I'm having thoughts no sane man would ever see. Hearing voices, voices that whispers such profanities to shun even God from me. Today...while Morgana slept peacefully in our bed, I was slicing us some fruits. And the thought overcame me. I held that knife, and slowly walked towards her. The only thing that stopped me from hacking at her was the serenity I found on her sleeping face. No, Mordred. I'm no more than a man. I may have been, but not anymore." Arthur grunted and started walking again. "Come, we still have ways to go before we arrive at a good place.
      "Milord..." Mordred was going to say, but stopped himself. Nothing coming from his mouth would appeal the king's despair.
     Soon the woods started to grow thicker and thicker. The moisty air penetrated their lungs, and seemed to make breathing an impossible task. The simple act of walking started to take its toll on them, and constant stops had to be made, mainly for Arthur. No words were spoken between them, though. This was a solemn march for the king, one in which he tried to purify his soul, to prepare for what was soon to follow. He communed with nature and the spirits he once contradicted. Finally, they came upon a clearing. As soon as they stepped in it, they felt a burst of fresh air, as if the tiredness and moisture were prohibited of entering the place. The clearing was crossed by a river, and in it's center, a pond had formed. The water was crystal clear, and one could see the fishes swimming around, uncaring for the two beings that had just invaded their personal sanctuary. Near the pond were two flat stones, as if the deities in the forest had been awaiting for Arthur and Mordred's arrival. Mordred had rather stay up, but as Arthur sat, he was compelled to do so as well. A lackey should never be looking down to his king.
      "There is one thing that's been botheting me. What happened to Lancelot?" Arthur asked.
      "Still running rampart, spouting maddened words to whoever cares enough to listen. Guinevere did a real job on him, and most people don't even recognize him anymore."
Arthur sighed.
      "You know why we are here, Dred. You've been a wonderful  friend and a loyal knight, but this has to come to an end."
      "It doesn't have to be this way, Arthur."
      "Yes, it does, me friend. I can't fix the things that happened these last few years. I ruined the country I loved, betrayed its people...betrayed myself. But I can make sure this doesn't continue. You know as well as I do that as long as Arthur of Excalibur is around, England will have a miserable existence, and no amount of wars or dead rebels will change that. I know that what I ask of you is a heavy burden to carry alone, and I won't hold  it against you if you refuse."
      "Milord...Arthur, for you to trust me to this extent. It honors me, and I'll do what you asked of me, even if it means living the rest of my life in shame, knowing I was the one who killed my king."
      "Mordred of Avalon, I release thee from thy duties. From this moment all, you lose your status as Knight of the Round Table. No longer do you align yourself with your king, but with your land. No longer do you live your king's will, but your own. Live the life of a man, from now and forever."
     Arthur stood up, dusted his robes off and walked to the pond, standing in the edge. Mordred unsheathed his sword and lifted it until it pointed at his king's heart.
      "Let's get this over with, dear friend." Arthur said, hugging the his friend and his blade.
      "Thank you." Mordred managed to say, tears streaking through his face.
Arthur took a long breath, and as he released it, and his best friend's sword left his lacerated his heart, Morgana's voice cried for his name. Then the world went black.
 

Reviews

[Marie]

I wasn't going to read this, because I don't do books. But Arthur of Excaliber has always fascinated me, and so did this.