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I’d forgotten how far out of the city I had to travel to reach Excalibur. I would have to call Norman and make up some sort of excuse; I didn’t want to lay all the responsibility on him, but I couldn’t abandon the call of the sword. Yes, it called me now, sort of. At least I could hear it calling, even though its voice was not clear to me at present. I had to lay eyes on it, handle it. Was it in danger? Perhaps Merlin awaited me? After all, he had brought me to Excalibur in the first place, along with the Lady of the Lake.
I pulled onto the narrow dirt road, which was nothing more than an old pig trail. A strange sense of calm washed over me. This had been Nimue’s cave once upon a time. I saw no signs of life but could feel traces of the old magic lingering. I believed it still protected this place because there was no vandalism, no empty beer bottles or cigarette butts. No graffiti. A kind of holiness hovered over the hillside. I parked the van, turned off the lights and made the call. Wheeler didn’t answer, but I left a message that was apologetic but brief and as vague as possible.
“Hey, Wheeler. It’s Ryan. Listen, I don’t mean to put you in a bad spot here, but I have to make a stop before I can come in...it’s some business for Mer...Buddy. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sorry, my friend. Just tell whoever asks that I’m on the way.”
I slid my phone into my jeans pocket and got out of the van. The sun would be going down soon. Where had the time gone? It was as if it had gotten away from me completely. I slipped into the cave and used my phone as a flashlight. Nimue and I were never close friends, but I respected her; she had loved Merlin as surely as I loved Guinevere. I didn’t know why, but I bowed my head at the darkness ahead of me as if Nimue were truly waiting for me.
Guinevere! I swear sometimes I hear you calling me.
No matter what passed between us, my love for her had not diminished. But was the woman I’d seen in the Cavanaugh Mine, the creature with glittering eyes and my wife’s face, actually her?
I’d lain beside her after our escape from the mine and watched her as she slept, the blood still on her lips from the life she took—the life she took to save my own. I feared her, and I had never feared her before. Not like that. Guinevere, my warrior queen, the Great Beauty of Camelot, the mother of my children, was not the same woman now. And what of our children? Were they changed as well? I never had the chance to ask her.
Alwen! Lochlon! Where are you, my children?
How could I explain all this to Michelle? She would think I was crazy. I couldn’t do it, and I wouldn’t try. Some things weren’t meant to be. She and I were one of those things.
After a few more steps, I made it into the inner room. It was carefully hidden, just beyond the main room of the spacious cave. There were no mystical trappings in here now, just a stone floor and walls. No candles, no fires burning, no colorful tapestries or rugs. I stepped through and entered an even smaller room. No one was here. Nothing had been disturbed.
Merlin was not here waiting for me. No one was. Once again, I was alone.
Everyone is gone now. Even Guinevere rejects me...perhaps it is time I let the past lie in the past. The bones of yesterday should remain undisturbed.
But then I heard a voice, a voice I knew as well as my own.
Guinevere!
I could feel the hum of the sword, a single note that echoed inside me. The sword was unsettled, and its magic vibrated at my approach. It knew I was near, yet it did not reach out to me.
It did not want me to claim it. It called to another. To Guinevere.
Guinevere!
Putting the phone on the stone floor beside me, I slid the rock out of the way and removed the wrapped sword from its hiding place on the floor. The power of the sword surged, and the note grew louder. I had no explanation for any of this. How long had it been since I’d felt it hum with such desire and power?
Guinevere!
Unwrapping the sword, I beheld a strange blue glow—the blue light surrounded it. The blade appeared polished, much brighter and shinier than when it was newly presented to me, the Pendragon of Camelot and all Britain. I turned the blade over in my hand expecting to see my face staring back at me, but it reflected the face of my queen.
“Guinevere!” I exclaimed in surprise. She was young and beautiful and wearing her wedding dress. This was the Guinevere I knew, soft and hopeful. Not fierce and bloody. There were flowers in her braids, and I watched as she kissed the sword. Yes, I remembered this moment, and then she kissed me. Then the image vanished and I was left with the sword. The weapon was now quiet, waiting and anxious.
“Is it Guinevere you now serve?” I asked as I held the blade in shaking hands. Could it be true? It did not answer me. I saw nothing else, no more images. Excalibur had said all it wanted to say. It now had one purpose and one purpose only—find the queen!
I knew what I must do. I would serve the sword as I always had, even with my last breath. Again.
I had to find my queen, and Excalibur would lead me to her.
