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King Arthur's Legacy: The Camelot Prophecies #1
King Arthur's Legacy: The Camelot Prophecies #1
King Arthur's Legacy: The Camelot Prophecies #1
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King Arthur's Legacy: The Camelot Prophecies #1

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It was a time of darkness. Upon the shining land of Bretunia the blood of Arthur Pendragon had been spilt, and the mighty sword Excalibur fallen from his cold hand. Arising to seize the throne of the fair city of Camelot came the dark witch, the Dragon Queen, the Fairy Morgan, come to claim the prize in the wake of the King’s death. Morgan Le Fay had with her the poverty-stricken and anarchy-maddened; the weak-minded and mercenary; the cruel and avaricious dragonarmies, minions under the powerful Dragonlords. With this army, she tore through the land and swallowed it, and the shadow of her power crept closer and closer towards weakening Camelot.

Upon that ailing throne sat a monarch troubled and weary - Constantine du Cador, named King after the death of Arthur. His son, Uriel Loron the young prince resolved that it will be he, who would save the kingdom - and so he set off on a quest for Excalibur, and the Archmage Merlin. One night he saddled his horse, gathered his effects, and left the castle under the cover of darkness. Henceforth he called himself, not the Crown Prince Uriel Loron, but merely a humble young knight, Sir Aubriet.
In another part of fair Bretunia lived a young man not so splendid, nor so grand - in a poorly home he lived, deep in the distant forest of Edela. A makidon, young, talented, trained by old Sir Ector in the ways of life and death - Tosham was his name; he knew no other. In search of the venerable master and his young apprentice came the noble Sir Delyus, and his companion Sir Claude, to urge them into aiding King Constantine; Sir Ector being old and weak, Tosham alone was sent with them. But the gallant company was waylaid by Lord Breune and the sorcerer Pleonodis; Sir Claude was captured, Sir Delyus killed. Tosham alone escaped.

In the humble town of Northshire did the makidon find a haven; while there, the young makidon met a strange little personage who called himself Riadok. Hardly over adolescence, this odd, clumsy young mage, apparently talentless and somewhat foolish, later encountered - also seemingly by chance - the travelling Sir Aubriet. The three traveled together to Old Yew Forest to seek Excalibur, only to be bid to perform a task in return for the great sword.

Yet, a darker secret awaits the heroes, for the conflict ahead is much more than meets the eye, as the Armor of Light has foretold...

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 29, 2012
ISBN9781476182988
King Arthur's Legacy: The Camelot Prophecies #1
Author

Lady Antiva

I am Lady Antiva, the new Makidon Guildmaster, recently promoted from being a Senior High Guildman (a too masculine term in my view). I live in Camelot city, and play a crucial role in chronicling various lore of Bretunia. Hence, I have been bestowed the honor as being the co-author of 'The Book of Lore', deputy to Porthios, the Loremaster. I am entrusted with the Guild Fellowship Staff, a tall slender rod of gold metal, encrusted with complex runes, impeccably carved, some small enough to cover with a finger yet more complex than a spider's web. The top of the Staff is curled into a fanciful hook, a symbol of unity and brotherhood.. I welcome you to write to me at ladyantiva@gmail.com and I will happy share with you my notes, drawings, sketches and previews!

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    King Arthur's Legacy - Lady Antiva

    King Arthur’s Legacy

    The Camelot Prophecies #1

    by

    Lady Antiva

    SMASHWORDS EDITION

    * * * * *

    King Arthur’s Legacy

    The Camelot Prophecies Series

    Copyright © 2012 by Camelot Hobbies

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

    * * * * *

    In the month of Tammuz, I, Porthios, Lore Master and Chief Scribe of Bretunia, entrusted the chronicling of Armour of Light to my worthy scribes, fearing this manuscript might never be written. the Crown Prince, Uriel Loron, departed from the castle at the turn of that fateful season, and with summer blazing upon us, so didst the fury of Morgana.

    My Lord Elohim is an ever-faithful god, who shall not abandon Camelot to Morgana’s Legionnes. the coming together of the new heroes of Camelot — Aubriet, Tosham, Estella and Riadok — has heralded hopes for the coming of the Knight of Light. Each passing day brings us closer to assembling the Seven Articles of the Armour of Light. Each dreary night harkens a new cry of death.

    The looming war beckons. The Keeper of the Castle has been roused. the Dragonlords have amassed and encamped about us. Yet I labour on, knowing this chronicle will outlive me — and be a beacon of hope to the generations to come. I have painstakingly corrected what my scribes have in haste penned in the first chronicle, separating the factual events from rumours and inaccuracies, and annotating the early adventures of the quest for the Armour of Light.

    The future of Bretunia remains cloaked in darkness. May I be granted the privilege to complete the subsequent manuscripts and see Camelot free from the clutches of Morgana.

    Dated this 20th day of the month of Elul, Anointa Annum 1510

    * * * * *

    Greetings Adventurer!

    I am Lady Antiva, the new Makidon Guildmaster, recently promoted from being a Senior High Guildman (a too masculine term in my view). I live in Camelot city, and play a crucial role in chronicling various lore of Bretunia. Hence, I have been bestowed the honor as being the co-author of 'The Book of Lore', deputy to Porthios, the Loremaster.

    I am entrusted with the Guild Fellowship Staff, a tall slender rod of gold metal, encrusted with complex runes, impeccably carved, some small enough to cover with a finger yet more complex than a spider’s web. The top of the Staff is curled into a fanciful hook, a symbol of unity and brotherhood. I welcome you to write to me at ladyantiva@gmail.com and I will happy share with you my notes, drawings, sketches and previews!

    * * * * *

    The torch flickered, outlining a solitary figure seated on an impressive throne. Around him, the one hundred and forty-nine chairs of the once-glorious Knights of the Round Table had become tainted with dust. Resting his elbows on the table, King Constantine buried his head in his palms. Images flashed through his mind of the knights slain in battle against Mordred, the treacherous fiend. Constantine shuddered at the recollection of blood-smeared swords and tattered shields, strewn about the corpses of the countless knights who fell on that single accursed day.

    The Eastern door creaked ajar. Against the dim light of the hall, Queen Variana’s silken hair glistened, her stately figure silhouetted against the soft moonlight. Her calm expressive eyes momentarily dispelled the gloom that hung low over Castle Camelot. Meeting her eyes, King Constantine heaved a sigh of relief and, for the first time in days, relaxed a little. Had he been too tense lately waiting for news from the knights he had sent on mission? he wondered.

    Still no news from them, my Lord? Variana asked in a soft comforting voice. Constantine stirred at the question.

    Not yet, my love. I expect they should arrive soon… I hope.

    Placing a reassuring hand on King Constantine, Variana whispered, Rest you a while, for it is almost dawn. Constantine sighed and nodded heavily.

    Even as he did so, he noticed a figure with a clouded visage standing behind Variana. Ah! My newly knighted son. Has not the night overcome you yet? Come here, young lad.

    Though barely eighteen years of age, the crown prince, Uriel Loron, had proven himself well in the various arts of war. The great Sir Lancelot had once commended the prince for his remarkable talents and, with proper guidance, felt he was destined to become a notable warrior. Though Constantine never doubted Sir Lancelot’s words, he feared that he might not live to witness it. The grave look of anxiety quickly returned to Constantine, but he turned away before the prince could detect it.

    Can I be of any help, father? Uriel inquired. I could try to…

    Constantine patted the prince on the back. Certainly my child, but daybreak is nigh. It will be well to discuss this tomorrow.

    Uriel scowled. His father had recently denied him the chance to ride with the messenger knights and, countless times, had evaded the topic of his leaving the castle to retrieve the lost Excalibur. Uriel decided that tonight he was not to be deterred. For once, he thought, I shall assert myself.

    No, father. You will not have time tomorrow to discuss matters with your little child. I have decided. I shall go in quest of the legendary Excalibur and will set off tomorrow, with or without your mandate.

    Constantine gasped in disbelief. Uriel had never yet been this defiant. The initial shock drew an irrepressible frown, and then exploded into an outburst of wrathful indignation. May I remind you that it is to the King you are speaking, young knight, Constantine said, his body quivering. And your insolence puts you in danger of violating the Knight’s Code of Servility! His voice trembled with each word, breaking the oppressive silence which only moments ago pervaded the room.

    M…M…My Lord, please—calm down, Variana quickly interjected, torn between her pained husband and her defiant son. Aubriet, apologize to your father, at once, she spoke sternly, deferring in Constantine’s favor.

    Aubriet, thought the prince. The name I have been called since infancy. Hardly anyone even remembers that name now, he noted bitterly. Yet, to my parents — the King and Queen of Bretunia — I am but a child. How can I tell them that Aubriet has grown up; that he is now Crown Prince Uriel Loron and has been sworn in to the Knighthood? Uriel clenched his fist and stood his ground.

    In the silence, seconds trickled by tensely. But on seeing his father’s hurt look, Uriel conceded. I’m sorry, father…I spoke out of turn, he said in a subdued yet bitter tone. I know I’m inexperienced, but…

    Constantine waved his hand, silencing the prince. Return to your chamber. I wish to be left alone. Uriel was about to continue but the urgent, pleading look on Variana’s eyes kept him in check.

    Yes, father. His head bowed, he strode out with quick, resolute steps.

    Please don’t hold this against Aubriet, Variana whispered. She could feel him gasping for breath and shivering involuntarily. But her own suppressed emotions soon overwhelmed Variana, and tears began forming in her pale blue eyes.

    Now it was Constantine’s turn to comfort her.

    What is to become of him, sobbed Variana. Our kingdom is in imminent danger. We have lost all of our best knights, and now is Aubriet to join them too? WHY?

    The question boomed in Constantine’s head. Why? Why indeed, his mind swirled. He pictured Morgan Le Fay, the Queen Morgana, smiling mockingly at his feeble attempts to stop her. He saw her forces sweeping across the land, bringing with them death — slow, agonizing death. He shuddered. The only thing that had kept his sanity at bay was his queen, his beloved Variana. Gently, Constantine bent forward and kissed her lightly.

    Let us retire to bed. Things may yet take a turn for the better, he muttered weakly as he placed his arms around her. Quietly, they walked out the Eastern door. But as the door closed, a gust of wind suddenly swept through the hall, extinguishing torches on the northern wall, leaving the hall darkened. In the distance, the ominous baying of hounds rose with the moon. Constantine and Variana entered their bedchamber, shutting out the enveloping darkness that was better left forgotten, for now.

    In the southern wing of Castle Camelot, Prince Uriel tossed restlessly in bed. Sleep was not forthcoming; the prince’s mind was fed by an obsession and fascination with the Blade of Excalibur. He imagined the ecstatic moment when the magical hand clutching Excalibur would raise it from the legendary lake within the enchanted forest and offer him the power to banish all evil from the land! Yes! Excalibur would be his, and with it, he would save the city of Camelot. No…he would do more…much more! He would restore peace to the kingdom and across Bretunia! His heart began beating furiously. Elated, he longed for the arrival of dawn. The prince smiled. His young and innocent mind saw only hope and love for tomorrow. Tomorrow, thought Uriel, I shall disguise myself as Knight Aubriet and seek out the mystic blade. Tomorrow…come quickly, tomorrow…

    * * * * *

    Dawn broke over the dark horizon, but brought forth no warmth. The first rays of sunlight spilled through the old Edela forest as Sir Delyus, Knight of the Dolorous Blade, reined his steed to a halt. He had been riding north without pause for two days. Wiping off the accumulated mud and dirt from his face, Delyus saw their destination in the distance. There’s Bedegraine castle at last, he exclaimed, his exhaustion dissipating at the sight of the golden-tipped spires. His companion, Sir Claude, a Splitspar Knight, riding a few paces behind him, gave the ancient castle a dispassionate stare. So this is the castle where King Arthur was besieged some years back, he groaned. He silently vowed never to face similar defeat. He was sure that the new generation of knights would not be so easily vanquished. Even so, Claude trembled at the thought of having to battle the dark forces of Morgana. There must be an easier way to victory. He brushed these thoughts aside quickly and clicked his horse to a trot alongside Delyus.

    Can Sir Ector still be alive? And even if he were, what good can an old man like Sir Ector do, anyway? He frowned and muttered something about being sent on a wild goose chase under his breath. Delyus remained silent, his mind preoccupied with matters of greater concern.

    As they rode on towards the castle, the mighty fortress came into view, looming majestically above the canopy of Edela’s treetops. Suddenly, the horses began showing signs of nervousness and refused to proceed further. Suspicious, the knights quickly dismounted from their steeds. Claude hurriedly reached for the sword at his side as Delyus tied their mounts to an oak tree, soothing them with tender strokes. Cautiously, they made their way on foot, their shadows lengthening in the growing light. Searching squirrels scurried away as they approached the dilapidated castle. The moat had dried up, although the draw-bridge looked hardy enough. The rampart and crenellations had long fallen into ruin, but the postern gates stood stubbornly against the assault of time. They advanced into the inner bailey, Delyus walking nonchalantly ahead while, sword in hand, Claude swung his blade, startled at the slightest movement. The corridors led to a large hall. One of the chambers lining the hall glowed, lighted dimly from within. In the dead silence, Claude heard his heartbeat thumping thunderously in his skull. His palm was wet from gripping the sword as he nervously followed Delyus’ lead. The door was but ten paces ahead. Light from a slit-hole behind them guided their steps.

    Delyus now gripped the hilt of his well-worn sword, his pace slowing to a crawl; he arched like a prowling panther, ready to face any threat lurking behind the doors. Rays of light cast long, eerie shadows on them both. Delyus reached for the door and it creaked open. Perspiration beading his brow, Claude prepared for an attack, his eyes darting around for possible escape routes. But the open door revealed only a hollow chamber; barren except…

    Claude suddenly froze. The shadows…instead of two shadows on the floor, he noticed a third — someone had been behind them all this while! He let out a shriek and swung his blade around with all his might. But it sliced through thin air, the effort causing him to tumble over. Stunned by the cry, Delyus spun around, his sword poised for attack. But all he saw was Claude sprawled on the floor. Delyus’ trained senses, however, picked up a presence behind him. Instinctively, he gave a back thrust with his right foot, aiming a powerful blow at the unknown opponent, but he hit nothing. Instead, he felt his left foot being swept cleanly off the ground and he too fell forward with a great thump.

    They remained immobile; Claude out of fear, Delyus stunned. Whoever or whatever their assailant was, they were no match for it. Then, from the twilight darkness, a figure appeared, his back facing them as he casually spun, with one hand, an elaborately carved twin-globed scepter. As Claude turned, a bright burst of light greeted him. Stunned, he blinked, and in an instance, the figure was no more. From another corner, a youthful voice rang out, Who are you and what business have you here? I charge you by your knighthood, speak! A young man stood proudly before them. He was of moderate build and, from his complexion, could not have been more than twenty years old. He was wearing a grey robe and was totally unarmed. One could not possibly have guessed he possessed such skills.

    Seeing it was but a mere mortal they were confronting, and one of such a tender age, Delyus quickly picked himself up. We are here by order of King Constantine to seek the noble Sir Ector, he returned, trying to hide his humiliation at having been defeated by one so young. Claude had been cowed into silence and only clutched his sword in contempt.

    The youth slowly turned around and replied, So you are from King Arthur’s Court… his eyes shone with sincerity and warmth, but Claude remained unimpressed. With a firm voice, the youth remarked, My master has no wish to speak to anyone. Therefore, please leave, noble knights, and fare thee well.

    As the youth turned to leave, Delyus cried out insistently, We would rather kill ourselves than leave this place without seeing Sir Ector. Claude gave Delyus a horrified look, hoping he was not serious. But Delyus continued, The whole realm of Bretunia is veiled under the threat of the dark legions of Queen Morgana, led by the Dragonlords and their master, Na-Sheol. Many of our strongholds have already fallen and unless you help us, there will be no hope for us… for all of us!

    Delyus concluded with a determined plea and, in a desperate attempt, roared, Where are you, my Lord…Sir Ector? Where are you… his voice reverberated around the antechamber and echoed through the castle until it finally died down. For a few moments only silence reigned until a low voice boomed from within one of the rooms, Tosham, send the knights in.

    Delyus felt hot blood course through his veins. So, Sir Ector is still alive! This young man must be his apprentice; but of which order? Delyus wondered, as the youth led them into the deep recesses of the antechamber. The origins of Tosham’s skills were difficult to discern, but Delyus was certain it was neither the order of Wizardry nor of Knighthood.

    His thoughts were cut short by a simple, here they are, master, uttered in reverence by the youth as he bowed before an aged but magnificent man, seated on an oak chair beside a small wooden table and a bed. There was something impressive about this person. Delyus recognized the air of splendor that surrounded him. He beckoned Claude into the room and they gave a crisp knight’s salute in deference to the old knight — former Knight of the round table.

    So, why has Cador’s heir sent you here? the wizened figure asked as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then, regarding the duo, he queried, And are you the new Knights of the Round Table?

    Sir, we are knights in King Constantine’s court, but are not as yet worthy to be made Knights of this highest rank. Many of the magically carved names on the seats of the round table have disappeared, including the Siege Perilous. Presently, there are only about a dozen knights left.

    Sir Ector shook his head, and let out a series of dry coughs. Hastily, Tosham tried to soothe Sir Ector but to no avail. With the deaths of the great Lancelot and the noble Galahad, there are no longer any knights capable of opposing the evil Queen, Sir Ector uttered despairingly. The land is under a curse, and this cloak of darkness will continue to remain so, unless…

    Unless? Delyus and Claude queried in unison.

    Unless Merlin can be freed again. But where he is imprisoned no one knows. I once heard Sir Gawain mention that merlin is trapped within a magical cavern, guarded by a race of mystical creatures from beyond the Lands of Erets. But exactly where, we know not.

    Sir, may we not communicate with the great merlin through his crystal mirror? Claude asked as his eyes brightened with hope. Legend has it that an archmage has an artifact through which he may choose to manifest himself. Such an artifact must surely be kept in his tower. King Constantine has commissioned us to locate merlin’s tower, and we hope to seek him through this means.

    Sir Ector rose heavily to his feet. The location of a mage’s tower is always a secret to all untrained in the magical arts. Moreover, Merlin is the supreme archmage. How then, can they hope to find it, much less gain access to it?

    Tosham, standing quietly beside Sir Ector and listening intently to the conversation presently suggested, Master, perhaps we can find a wizard of the same alignment of the order of merlin to aid these knights in their quest. An archmage always adopts at least one proselyte to be his apprentice through whom he allows access into his chambers. If we search for this person through the magi’s guild, we may with some luck obtain some assistance…

    Excellent, my dear Tosham. You have certainly grown in wisdom, Sir Ector noted proudly. There is only one problem. We must find merlin’s apprentice before Queen Morgana does. Do not forget that the dark Queen is also an accomplished sorceress herself, and therefore far more knowledgeable than any of us in these matters. Moreover, magi are elusive figures and extremely suspicious of the knighthood. To gain their trust is not going to be an easy task. We would need someone who is both skilled in magic as well as in the art of war on this mission.

    Delyus frowned. Claude was flabbergasted. Surely there must be a way round this difficulty. Ector lifted his head just in time to see the apprehension in Tosham’s eyes. Yes, it has to be thus. Perhaps it is his destiny after all.

    From the day Tosham was entrusted to him, Ector had been more than a mere guardian to him. His heart ached at the thought of letting him go. He certainly did not care two straws for Constantine except for the fact that Arthur had entrusted the kingdom to Constantine’s father, Duke Cador, who was unfortunately killed before the ceremonial coronation. Ector could not bear to see the great peace wrought by Arthur shattered while he still breathed God’s air. In memory of his beloved Arthur, Ector had to make this painful decision.

    Their eyes met again. The look of apprehension had left Tosham, only to be replaced with one of resignation. But Ector had felt it — the warmth of understanding radiating from Tosham was unmistakable. The indescribable look of pain in Tosham’s expression baffled Delyus and Claude. A torrent of emotions passed between Ector and Tosham while the two looked on. The candle on the wooden table began flickering unsteadily.

    Ector slowly removed the broken jeweled pendant he was wearing and gave it to Tosham. The design on the pendant resembled the right half of a great gryphon — the symbol of the Pendragon legacy. Tosham meekly bowed to receive the pendant with both hands.

    Deep within Ector, anguish and love whirled in a furious rage. He motioned for the two knights to leave his chamber, and turned his back to Tosham. The aged knight moved heavily, taking one step at a time towards

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