Return to Camelot
King Raymond of the Palms sat mounted on his steed, facing the large company of knights. The Palm banners - bright green palm frond on white background - fluttered in the early spring breezes, and the sun glinted off dozens upon dozens of steel helmets.
As a child, Raymond had given inspirational speeches countless times, to countless numbers of eager, loyal, imaginary knights. Now, it was almost surreal to be standing in front of a real army looking to him for motivation. Ray removed his crowned helmet and walked his horse down across the line of knights as he addressed the company.
"Knights of Camelot! Today, we ride to battle to defend our people from a reign of tyranny!" The knights cheered. "Mordred's forces are many. But we have something they don't have. Our honor!" Here, the men cheered again. "Our fighting spirit!" He nodded at Constantine, who smiled and led another cheer. "And our name! For we are not just any army! We! Are! Camelot!"
"We are Camelot!" The company raised the cry twice more, and Ray felt a swell of pride. He put his helmet back on, drew his sword and led the march to the battle field.
As Ray feared, Mordred's numbers were greater than Ray had been able to muster, even with the company of knights Arthur had sent to aide them. But as Ray had promised, the army of Camelot swept through them like a storm, ripping furiously through the waves of Mordred's men. Ray fought fiercely, with Constantine, Tristan and James by his side, and the bravest of his knights close by, except for Gawain and Percival, who led part of the company around to flank Mordred's men, and cut them off from any further help.
Before long, Ray lost his horse, and was forced to continue the fight on foot. He could no longer focus on anyone but the knight in front of him at a given moment. Ray fought his way through men, one by one, until he came face to face with Mordred at last.
The so-called prince actually smiled when he saw Ray. "Finally, we meet! Now we shall see what the usurper is made of!"
"I told you before, Mordred. Your pride will be your downfall."
Ray wasted no further words. He raised his sword and prepared for battle. Mordred lunged, and their fight began.
Ray was encouraged at first. Mordred was pushed back easily, and Ray was able to get in more than one slashing stroke without taking a single hit. After a while, though, Ray started to think Mordred's moves were calculated. Suspicious, he started to conserve his energy, keeping up with Mordred, but taking fewer opportunities to strike.
They passed through a narrow patch of trees and down a slight hill to a secondary clearing. Ray was concerned that he couldn't be seen by the rest of the company. He'd barely articulated the thought to himself when Mordred started to attack in earnest. He had definitely been holding back while leading Ray away from the main battle. Ray was glad he'd caught on and done the same, or he would have been exhausted by now.
Mordred fought harder now, but even with his new-found energy, Ray was able to push him back. After only a few more minutes, Mordred fell backward to the ground. He had his sword up the next second, and Ray raised his blade over Mordred's head and started to advance.
"Now!" Mordred shouted.
Ray froze, torn between wanting to keep his eye on Mordred and wanting to look around for whoever Mordred had called out to. The next instant, Ray felt a searing, white-hot pain under his right arm. He staggered left, but managed to keep his feet. Ray looked down and was horrified to see a dark arrowshaft jutting out of the vulnerable spot in his armor. Diagonal slant - shot from behind to his right - from the trees.
Mordred was on his feet in a second. Ray instinctively blocked right, knowing Mordred would strike at his weakened side. His sword connected with Mordred's, and the reverberations sent staggering pain through his side and chest. Bad. No, no, no.
Mordred reared back and swung again. Ray tried to block again, but the pain was too much, and he staggered and crashed to the ground. Ray struggled to keep his sword up, gripping the hilt with both hands. He heard Mordred laugh, and glared up at him as he came into view. "Dis...honorable cur," Ray spat.
"I may have no honor," Mordred sneered. "But I have my life." He struck ferociously at Ray's blade until Ray could no longer keep hold of it. Mordred kicked the blade away and pulled off Ray's helmet. He smiled triumphantly at Ray. "And I now have your crown. Camelot is mine!"
"Even if...you k-kill me... you will NEVER rule Camelot!"
Mordred laughed, a nasty, sneering sound. Then, he sliced through the ties on Ray's breastplate, cutting a gash into both Ray's sides as he did it. He ripped the armor away and stood up. Grinning, Mordred pressed his foot on Ray's chest and forced him fully onto his back. Ray tried, but couldn't keep from crying out as the arrow was forced further up through his side and chest.
Mordred stood back and raised his sword. "Your Grace! No!"
Ray could have wept with relief at the sound of James' voice. The next instant, he was terrified. He twisted to look back at his squire, running full tilt toward them. "James! Archer!" James stopped, but before he could drop, an arrow struck him in the side. "No!"
"James!" Constantine crested the hill and raced through the tree line to the right, where the arrows had come from.
Meanwhile, James rose to his feet and pulled the arrow from his right arm. Ray saw now, it hadn't penetrated the tripple-thick armor. James looked up, and a look of pure horror crossed his face.
The next second, Ray was shocked by a blinding pain in his gut. He cried out in agony, looking up into the wild face of Mordred as the sword plunged deep into his stomach.
"No!" James slammed into Mordred, forcing him away from Ray.
Mordred held onto the sword, and it jerked away with a horrifying sound. Ray cried out in agony and looked down. Oh God. He averted his eyes from the sickening sight of his own blood blooming across his ripped tunic. He struggled to remain conscious, and kept his eyes on James and Mordred.
Mordred was stunned by the fury of James' attack, but that couldn't last forever. In a few moments, Mordred recovered and started to gain ground. Ray forced himself to watch, though he was terrified of seeing James killed.
Suddenly, a wild cry came from somewhere on his right, and Constantine raced into the fray. He fought with a fierce but controlled rage, and together, he and James pushed Mordred further and further back. Mordred seemed to grow desperate and burst into a fiery wave of blows, knocking James down, and gaining ground on Constantine.
Ray felt sick when he saw Constantine forced to his knees. Mordred managed to slam Constantine's sword out of his hand. Ray cringed, but forced himself not to shut his eyes against the sight of his good friend being cut down.
But Mordred didn't strike immediately. He laughed and raised his sword. "Now, you pathetic worm! Look upon the face of one who shall send two kings to their maker in one-"
Mordred's gloating cut off and he let out a sharp cry. James had recovered and he drove his sword deep into Mordred's exposed torso. Constantine acted swiftly. He rolled, grabbed his sword and struck Mordred fiercely, severing his head with a single, powerful blow.
The two combatants turned away before Mordred's body hit the ground, and ran back to Ray. Constantine stopped a few feet from him, and looked down at Ray with deep sorrow. If Ray hadn't already known, his friend's expression would have been enough to tell him he wouldn't walk away from this. Ray blinked back tears of pain and fought hard against the desire to shut his eyes and rest now that James and Constantine were safe.
"Your Grace!" Ray focused on the agonized, sheet-white face of his young friend. "No, no, no!" James fell to his knees and put his hands on Ray's open wound. "Oh God. God's grace please, please!" He looked up at Constantine. "Help me!"
"Nay, lad, " Constantine said, his voice sounding hollow. "It's no use."
"No! Help me, please, please, you must help me!"
Constantine shook his head sadly. "Leave it, son."
"James." Ray struggled to reach for him. Weeping, James stopped trying to close the wound. He moved up to Ray's head and took him into his arms. "It's... all right, James," Ray whispered.
"I'm...s-so sorry, Sire. I should have been by your side! God curse me for a useless squire!"
"No." With great effort, Ray laid his hand on Jame's head. "You... have done... well... fought bravely. You saved Constantine's life and... h-helped kill... Mordred. You.... are no... squire. Rise... Sir James of... the High Woods." James started to sob outright, and Ray touched his face gently. He turned his eyes to his other friend. "Constantine."
Constantine came forward immediately and knelt beside James. "At your service, my king," he said, voice heavy with emotion.
"Protect him. And... protect Camelot, High... King Constantine."
Constantine's eyes shone, and he bowed his head. "You have my word, Your Grace."
Ray smiled and started to relax. "No," James whispered. "Sire, no, no!"
Ray struggled to open his eyes and looked up. There was no more pain now. Just an intense drowsiness that he fought hard against. "I'm sorry, James." He coughed, a rough sound, and felt warn blood trailing from his mouth. "If... he c-comes... tell N-Nate... l l-love... him."
James nodded, too upset to speak. But the nod was enough. Ray stopped his fierce struggle against the drowsiness and let himself drift into the warm comfort of sleep.