Page 2 of The White Knight

I don’t know how to respond. I have a son. Of course I had known all along. I can feel his soul inside me, growing stronger and stronger every day. He would grow up under the teachings of Arthur, so of course he would become all that Elnaril says. I am suddenly terrified at the idea of bringing him out into the world. I don’t want my son to live a life that has been written for him. He will try to rewrite it like I did. I don’t know if my heart will survive witnessing my son suffer the same fate.

“Guin, I know this is much to take in. But I promise, your son will be fine. I will protect him. When you give birth to Galahad, you will awaken an immense power within Excalibur. That power will only grow stronger each day of your son’s life. I will help him learn how to use that power. So will Merlin. With our help, your son will summon Excalibur on command and wield its power.”

“He’ll be so little. A newborn baby cannot possibly survive this power. It would be too much.”

“Galahad is strong enough.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have been waiting for this moment for an eternity, it feels like. I sacrificed myself for Excalibur, for Galahad, for the future of Britain. When I found you, I awoke inside the sword I forged. And though I do not know what the future has in store for you, I can promise you that Galahad will live an incredible life. He will change the world.”

The pain in my stomach grows stronger. It will soon be time to say goodbye to Elnaril. “Why can nobody see my future?”

“Because you are still writing it, Guin,” Elnaril says, her voice just above a whisper.

I laugh, thinking of all the stories I’ve read of Guinevere. Perhaps those are all lies. After all, I am Guinevere and my story is not over. And though the story I had attempted to write didn’t work out the way I wanted, I still have an entire life to live. A son to birth, to raise, to love.

Another contraction hits. I stifle a grunt, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Elnaril still has a grip on me, helping me to stay upright. I look into her deep blue eyes. They are glowing from a light within. I place my hands in hers as I say my farewell. “I will miss you. My constant companion. My friend. Take care of my son.”

She embraces me tightly, weeping against my neck. I close my eyes, feeling her warmth for the last time as she says, “Goodbye, Guin.”

Chapter 1

Lancelot

I cannot say howmany years have passed, but I have lived through several winters without the warmth of my Guinevere. The wilderness where that blasted dragon dropped me was impossible to navigate through. Untouched by man. Swarming with creatures I had only heard tales of.

I was barely holding on, surviving on small forest creatures and unusual vegetation. With every bite, I prayed to any god who would listen that I was not unknowingly poisoning myself. Every morning, I woke up not knowing if I would see the light of tomorrow’s sun. And now I am certain I will not.

The first village I came across was nestled in a valley, far enough away to keep safe from the beasts within the forest. Forgetting caution, I was eager to finally meet another human. I strolled into the center of the village with confidence, sword hanging at my side and the hide of a black furry beast wrapped around my shoulders. Otso is the name the villagers called the beast. A creature of divinity. And I had killed one.

If I had known the death of this hideous black beast would be the death of me, I would have let it kill me in my sleep. Claws aslong as my hand. Teeth sharpened to rip into flesh. And black, beady eyes that flashed with pure hatred. Its hide had kept me warm during the winters and offered me a soft bed at night. Now, I am marked as a killer of gods. At least that is how I have interpreted the situation I am in.

I could have swiftly overpowered the people of the village when I arrived, even though they gave me no warning before attacking me and removing the hide from my back. They are small people, even the men, with pointed ears and eyes larger than any man I know, sitting close together on a round face.

They threw me into a hole in the ground and placed a latticed roof made of sticks on top to keep me from escaping. I sit in this hole, listening to them mill about their day, speaking in their strange guttural language. I wonder if Guin could understand them with the gift of tongues given to her by Excalibur—one of its many mysteries.

Guin. It has been an eternity since I have seen her, felt her, been inside her. So long that my memory of her feels like a fading dream. I must hold on to her image in my mind, or I will lose her forever.

Every morning, I wake up missing her wild copper locks strewn across my chest. Every afternoon, I crave a glance from her dark emerald eyes. Every evening, I listen for her laugh. Every night, I fall asleep wishing she was in my arms.

With every breath I take, I am more determined to return to her. My love, my life. I left her confident that I would return. Hopeful that I had given her enough of my seed to sire a child. Before Guin, I had never thought about settling down and starting a family. I gave my life to Arthur, for his kingdom, and for his dream.

I never imagined my life could be domestic and serene. The few months Guin and I had together were the greatest of my life. My heart was whole. Our love was raw. Our life together wasbliss. I need to go back to that life. I need to hold my wife in my arms again. And when I do, I will never leave her again.

Tears fall freely down my face. How will I get back to her? How the hell will I escape this open grave? I scream in agony. Raw from the emotions coursing through my body. I am tired. Exhausted from lack of food and lack of sleep. I am weak. My body, overworked from years of fighting my way out of an endless dark forest. I am doomed, captured by halflings who want me dead for killing a divine creature.

I let myself go, yelling to the sky, tearing at the walls of my prison. As I punch the dirt wall, a loud crack of thunder sounds overhead. An instant later, it rains. A downpour so strong it could be the death of me in this tiny hole of a prison.

Though I am not religious, I pray to God, the gods, my mother’s goddess, anyone who will hear me, asking for them to grant me one more chance with Guinevere. To save me from this place.

The trench fills with water, rising above my ankles and is at my knees in what feels like only a few minutes. I look up at the sticks loosely held together with rope. I could break my way out of here with enough force. If I jump, my fingers just brush the doorway to my freedom. I could use the water to my advantage. The rain is making the ground softer, which means I could slide the roof out of the way.

I just need to reach it. The rain can help get me there. Perhaps one of the godsdidhear my prayers. I steadily wait until the water is at my chest, then submerge myself. With all the strength I have in me, I launch myself up and out of the water. The makeshift roof slides out of the way as I knock it with my fists. One more jump and my hands reach the top of my prison.

The mud makes it difficult to pull myself out. My fingers slide around the slimy earth, searching for something to grab hold of. I lose my grip when my hand finds a loose stick from the roof.As I tear it off, I fall back into the water, which is now at my shoulders. An hour or more has passed since the deluge of rain began, but I have only just attempted my escape plan. I know this will work. It has to.

Submerging myself one last time, I jump, gliding through the cold water. When I breach the surface, I am high enough to grab onto firmer soil. I take the stick I had pulled from the roof on my last attempt, stab it into the soft earth, and roll myself out of my prison.

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