Prince Gaylord was thrown from his saddle, as his horse crashed to the ground and lay still. He landed on his feet, almost elegantly, and laughed unpleasantly inside his sealed helmet. The Prince advanced on me, long butcher’s blade of a sword in hand, clearly expecting me to give ground. But I’d had enough for one day. I stood there, silver dagger in hand, and waited for him to come to me.
Prince Gaylord slowed his advance at the last moment, mistaking my bad temper for confidence. If there’d been anywhere to run, I’d have been half-way there already; but as it was ... Besides, I couldn’t leave Suzie. So I stood my ground, waited until Prince Gaylord was towering over me, then feinted one way and dived to the other. I knew his heavy armour couldn’t match me for speed and manoeuvrability; thus while he was still reacting to my first move, I was inside his guard, and slamming the silver dagger into his side. Doubly blessed, the leaf-shaped silver blade punched right through his blood-red armour, and Prince Gaylord screamed inside his helmet. He tried to strike at me with his sword, but I ducked the blow easily and yanked the dagger out of his ribs. He screamed again, as crimson fire shot out of his side, like a gas jet under pressure. He clapped one red metal hand over the wound to try to smother the flame, but it shot past his fingers. And while the Prince was busy doing that, I got behind him, jumped on his back, and stabbed the silver dagger right through his featureless metal face, right where the eyes should have been. His scream became a series of horrible noises, and he staggered back and forth. I jerked the dagger free and jumped down again. More flames blasted out of the hole in the front of his helmet.
But while I was preoccupied, his demon horse had been hauling itself along the bloody ground, leaving a long trail of guts behind it. It rose up suddenly, bared its huge pointed teeth, and lunged forward. I spun round and slammed the silver dagger into its one remaining eye. I jammed it in with both hands this time, hot viscous fluids spilling over my bare fingers, but the horse went down and stayed down.
Prince Gaylord staggered this way and that, flames shooting from two great holes in his armour. I circled him silently, looking for another opening. He was howling constantly inside his sealed helmet, words and sounds that made no sense at all. He’d thrown aside his sword and acquired from somewhere a massive double-headed battle-axe. Blood dripped steadily from both blades, and hissed and spat when it hit the ground. Prince Gaylord surged forward inhumanly quickly and swung the axe round in a vicious arc that would have cut me in two if I’d still been standing in the same place ... But armour exaggerates every move, making it easy to anticipate, and I started moving almost the moment he did. The axe hissed through the air where I’d been standing, and buried itself deep in the ground. And while the Prince stooped over it, trying to pull it back out again through brute force, I stepped in and slammed the silver dagger into his blood-red neck and jerked it all the way across the metal throat, opening up a long, jagged rent, and flames roared out.
I quickly retreated as Prince Gaylord flailed wildly about with his arms. He screamed again, the volume rising and rising, the sound of it increasingly inhuman. And while he was doing that, Suzie stepped up behind him and let him have both barrels in the back of his head at point-blank range. The whole helmet exploded, and I ducked out of the way as fragments of crimson metal flew on the air. I stood ready to go again, the silver dagger in my hand; but the whole front of the helmet was gone, a great jet of crimson flames shooting out of it. Prince Gaylord was still screaming, but the sound seemed to come from further and further away, until suddenly it was gone. The flames snapped off from all the openings we’d made, and the armour fell forward, hit the ground, and shattered into a thousand pieces.
It was all very quiet. I nodded my thanks to Suzie and put the dagger away. Suzie put her gun away and looked round at all the death and destruction she’d wrought with a quiet air of satisfaction. Dead horses, looking much more like horses now that their possessors were gone; and dead knights in armour, many of them headless. When Suzie finds something that works, she tends to stick with it. I breathed deeply, trying to get my heart rate back to something like normal. I’m really not one for the old hand-to-hand combat thing, especially against heavily armed and armoured demon knights out of Hell. Suzie came over and looked down at the scattered pieces of Prince Gaylord’s armour.
“Sent him home with his tail between his legs,” she said. “Probably to tell his daddy we were mean to him.”
“I think the armour was the only thing that could keep him here,” I said. I looked at Suzie. “I could have taken him. I had a plan.”
“What were you going to do, whittle him to death? I keep telling you, John, you need to invest in some serious weaponry.”
“Don’t need them,” I said. “I have you.”
“Of course you do,” said Suzie. “Always and forever.”
We started up the path to the castle, leaving all the mess behind. My heartbeat was almost back to normal, and my hands had very nearly stopped shaking. Suzie pretended not to notice. She seemed perfectly fine and was actually whistling something she clearly thought was a tune. The path made its way round and round the hill, rising slowly upwards. I kept a careful eye on the castle above us. It felt like it was looking back at me, daring me to approach any closer. After a while, I gave in to temptation and raised my Sight, just enough to give me a clear view of what lay ahead, in case there were any hidden defences or booby-traps I ought to know about. I had to limit my Sight; I didn’t think I could bear to See this land too closely, for too long.
I checked the path ahead but couldn’t See any traps or protections, as though the castle believed no-one in this land could present any threat, any more. All I could See were ghosts, armies of them, filling up the country-side for as far as I could See. All round the hill, angry and desolate faces stared up at Camelot, howling silently. I saw ghostly elves, proud and disdainful even in death, and hundreds of other magical creatures, standing still and silent in ghostly ranks—all wiped out by Merlin. Because he wanted to be the only magical thing in the land. I could See dead dragons, deep in the ground, and the ragged remains of slaughtered elementals, drifting on the sky above. So much death and suffering, so much sorrow, all because of one man.
One anti-Christ down, one to go.
I concentrated on the castle, so I wouldn’t have to See any more death, and my Sight stirred my gift, enough to give me a Vision of what was happening, deep inside Castle Camelot. Stark was there, in his armour, talking with Merlin, though I couldn’t hear what they were saying. They seemed to be arguing, which was good news. It implied that Stark had yet to make a deal over Excalibur. I couldn’t See the sword anywhere in the Vision. It might have been that Stark had enough sense not to bring the sword into Merlin’s presence; or it could have been that the sword was still invisible to anyone except its bearer. I felt distinctly jealous. It was my sword, dammit. And then Merlin turned his head abruptly and looked out of the Vision right at me, his blazing eyes widening in recognition. I shut the Vision down immediately, along with my Sight. I’d Seen enough.
I told Suzie about the Vision, and she nodded thoughtfully as we continued up the hill towards Camelot.
“No protections?” she said finally. “No defences at all?”
“Nothing magical,” I said. “But who knows how many more dark knights Merlin has at his command, now that he’s made himself King.”
“And he definitely Saw you, through the Vision? He knows we’re coming?”
“Yes. Which could be a good thing ...”
“Oh, do go on. I can’t wait to hear this one.”
“If he knows we’re coming, it could distract him from making a deal with Stark.”
“That’s what I love about you, John. Always the optimist.”
We laughed briefly together and continued on up the hill. The higher we rose, the further I could see out across the land. The rows of Wicker Men were still burning fiercely, pumping black smoke and ashes up into the sky. Huge bat-winged shapes
flapped slowly through the clouds, lean and vicious things. They weren’t dragons. Something else Merlin had summoned up from Hell? I pointed them out to Suzie, and she smiled and said something about target practice.
When we finally got to the castle, we found ourselves facing two huge steel doors, great featureless slabs of gleaming metal, thirty feet tall and twenty wide, that were the only way in. I looked the doors over, but there was no knocker or bell-pull anywhere. The blank metal walls on both sides seemed to stretch away forever, towering high above us, without so much as a single arrow slit to relieve the monotony. Suzie did offer to try her shotgun on the door, and I said some very loud things about ricochets. While we were still arguing, the great metal doors swung slowly back, opening wide enough to allow a single knight in dark armour to march out to join us. Suzie and I immediately stopped arguing and glared at him, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Behind the narrow slit in the front of his helmet, his gaze was suddenly uncertain.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m John Taylor, and this is Suzie Shooter. Be impressed, or we’ll take you apart with a can-opener.”
“Doesn’t it get hot inside all that armour?” said Suzie. “You can take it off if you want. It wouldn’t protect you from us anyway.”
“Please don’t kill him yet, Suzie,” I said. “He’s the only guide we’ve got. I don’t want to end up wandering through this bloody place with a map in my hand. You are here to guide us, aren’t you? Speak up!”
“Yes,” said the knight. “I’m ... uh ...”
“Get on with it,” I said ruthlessly. “And get a move on. We’re expected.”
“Merlin Satanspawn demands you attend him in the Great Hall,” said the knight, getting the words out in a rush so as to be rid of them as quickly as possible.
“Good,” said Suzie. “We want to see him. We have a lot to talk about. Don’t stand too close, and you won’t get blood and innards all over your armour.”
“He’s going to kill both of you,” said the knight. “And I’ll get to watch.”
“And you were doing so well,” I said.
“How do you take a piss in that outfit anyway?” said Suzie, looking the armour over critically. “Have you got a trap-door, or something? Doesn’t it get rusty?”
The knight turned his back on us and stomped off through the doors. Suzie and I wandered after him, taking our time. The courtyard beyond the gates was full of men, women, and children, all of them impaled on long metal spikes. Hundreds of them, filling the courtyard from wall to wall. All of them still alive, kept alive and suffering. Suzie and I stopped short, and the great metal doors slammed shut behind us. The knight looked back at us, smirking behind his helmet.
“See? Not so funny now, are you?”
Suzie and I surged forward and hit him together, bowling him off his feet and slamming him onto the courtyard floor. Suzie knelt on his chest and stuck the barrel of her shotgun right into the slit opening of his helmet. I put a hand on her arm.
“Don’t kill him, Suzie. Not yet.” I looked at the knight. “You—arsehole. Tell me what’s happening here.”
“You wouldn’t dare shoot me,” said the knight.
“You really don’t know her,” I said. “Trust me. I am the only thing keeping you alive at the moment. Talk.”
“They spoke out, everyone here. Against the way things are. Someone overheard them and turned them in. Now they’ll squirm and rot on those spikes forever, kept alive by Merlin’s magic. Or at least, until the next batch of traitors get hauled in.”
I stood up and looked round me. Sharp metal points protruded from mouths and eyes, and blood and other fluids ran down the poles to pool on the courtyard floor; but all of them were still alive. Dying by inches, over and over, but never getting there. Agony beyond belief ...
“I can’t help them,” said Suzie. “I don’t have enough ammunition. Please, John. Do something.”
I raised my gift, and, powered by my rage and disgust, it only took me a moment to find the magic that made all this possible. I could See it, hanging across the courtyard like a spider’s web, every strand an artery, pulsing as it fed on the pain it made possible. I grabbed the whole web in my mental hand and crushed it. Something far away cried out, in pain and fury, and I smiled. All round me, men, women, and children slumped forward on their spikes, dead at last. I looked at Suzie, still with one knee pressing down on the knight’s breast-plate.
“Get his helmet off.”
Suzie wrenched the steel helm off and threw it to one side. It didn’t travel far in the shit and gore crusted on the floor. The knight’s face was pale and sweaty, and very young. Barely out of his teens by the look of him. He tried to glare defiantly up at Suzie, but he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end. He couldn’t meet the cold fury in her eyes. He was close to death, and he knew it.
“What’s your name?” I said.
“Sir Blaise.” He licked his dry lips. “I am a knight of the land, and it is death to threaten me.”
“Never stopped me before,” said Suzie.
“Get him on his feet,” I said.
Suzie hauled him back onto his feet again through a combination of brute strength and intimidation. I walked up to Blaise, kicking his helm out of the way. I smiled at him, and he flinched at what he saw in my smile, in my eyes.
“Blaise,” I said, “you only think you know scary. Look at me, and look at Suzie. See that gun she’s holding? She just killed Prince Gaylord with it. If you say one more word to piss either of us off, she will blow your head right off your shoulders. Won’t you, Suzie?”
“Love to,” said Suzie.
“Lead the way, Blaise, and don’t waste our time with the scenic route.”
He led us on, through the courtyard and out the far door. Suzie paused there for one last look at the bodies on their spikes.
“That is it,” she said. “Merlin is dead.”
“You get a decent chance,” I said, “go for it.”
Blaise led us into the dark interior of Camelot, and we went with him. Guards in dark armour lined the corridors all along the way, but none of them spoke to us, only sometimes standing aside to let us pass. They looked at Suzie and me as though they were seeing something utterly alien. I don’t think they were used to seeing people who still had their pride. Who weren’t afraid of them. I felt like killing them all, on general principles, and given the fury that was still burning so very coldly within me, I think I might have used my gift to find a way to do it ... But I kept reminding myself, that wasn’t what I was here for. I had to concentrate on keeping Excalibur away from Merlin, or everything was lost.
“How much further?” I said to Blaise.
“It’s a big place, Camelot,” said the knight, looking straight ahead. “Don’t talk to me. You’re nothing but dead men walking. Merlin will make you suffer and die, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Because that’s what happens here.”
“Someone’s getting snotty again,” said Suzie. “Let me shoot him somewhere painful, John, for the good of his soul.”
“And death won’t be the end of it,” said the knight. “No-one stays dead here. No-one escapes Merlin that easily.”
Suzie looked hopefully at me, but I shook my head. We still needed a guide.
The interior of the castle grew steadily more awful the further in we went. Camelot was a place of fear and horror and endless suffering. The floors were covered with flayed human faces, there to be stepped on and crushed under metal boots. The faces still had eyes in them, alive and aware, and the mouths moved constantly in whispering pleas for death and an end to pain. More faces had been stapled to the walls, the eyes following us as they passed. The mouths moved, but their tongues had been torn out. Further in, people had been buried alive in stone walls, with their hands left to protrude, still feebly moving. Bloody organs and human viscera hung from the ceilings in intricate displays, dripping blood and other fluids—still alive, pulsing, twitching. I asked Blaise about them.
> “Works of art,” he said.
I couldn’t stop to set them free. There were too many. I had to save my strength for the fight ahead and hope there’d be time later.
Finally, after so many horrors and brutal indignities that I’d actually started to become numb to atrocity, we came at last to the Court of Camelot. And, of course, Merlin had kept the worst till last. Two huge doors of beaten brass stood before us, covered in deeply etched satanic workings and blasphemous designs. Severed hands and feet had been nailed to the doors, in patterns that made no sense. The doors opened slowly before us, and Blaise crashed to a halt. Suzie and I stopped and looked back at him.
“Aren’t you coming?” I said. “I thought you were going to watch, while Merlin did nasty things to us.”
“I know better than to enter unless invited,” said Blaise. “He’ll send for me when he wants me.”
I looked thoughtfully at the slowly widening gap between the two doors. “What’s in there, Blaise?”
“The dead and the damned.”
“Ah,” said Suzie. “Knew I should have dressed up formal. And brought more grenades with me.”
“We’ll have to improvise,” I said. “Shall we go?”
“Let’s,” said Suzie.
“But first things first,” I said, and punched Blaise right in the face. He reeled backwards, blood spurting from his ruined mouth. Suzie stepped in behind him and cracked him round the back of his head with the butt of her gun. He bent forward, as though he were bowing to me, and I rabbit-punched him. Blaise hit the floor hard and didn’t move again.
“Shouldn’t have been a mouthy little shit, Blaise,” I said.
“Got that right,” said Suzie.
We marched into the Court together, smiling cheerfully, our heads held high. It was a huge open space, full of a dull, murky, blood-red light. The smell hit me first; bad as the outside land had been, this was worse. Blood and offal and filth, but concentrated, as though someone had chosen to make perfume out of it. The massive walls were covered with the flayed bodies of all those who had defied or spoken out against Merlin or sought to change the world he’d made. Thousands of them, with their skins sheared away to show glistening red muscle and splintered bone. Pinned to the wall like so many trophies, so many mounted butterflies. Still alive, enduring agonies that should have killed them, maintained on the very edge of death by Merlin’s magic. He fed on their pain and was content.