Stephen Lawhead - Grail

'Morning?' I wondered. 'You amaze me, Bors. Do you even now believe that this foul night will end? I am thinking it never will.'

Stalwart Bors regarded me placidly. Then let us rest a little at least, for I grow weary of stumbling through this godforsaken wood in the dark, bashing my shins at every turn.'

Seeing no harm in the suggestion, I agreed, and we settled the horses and sat down to rest before continuing the search. 'I did not mind the fire,' Bors said after a time. 'At least it was warm. My clothes are still wet.' He yawned, and added, 'I am starving.'

'We best not dwell on that,' I said, and suggested that we should try to sleep instead.

'I will take the first watch,' volunteered Gereint.

'Very well,' I agreed. 'Rouse me when you get tired and I will take the second watch.'

'Wake us if you hear anything,' Bors instructed through a yawn. In a few moments I heard the gentle burr of a soft snore as Bors drifted off. Though weary to the bone, I could not sleep, so I merely closed my eyes and let my mind wander where it would.

I thought again about my dead swordbrothers, and a pang of grief cut me like a spear thrust in the heart. Great Light, I thought, using Myrddin's term, gather my fallen comrades in your loving hands and bear them safely to your strong fortress. Give them the welcome cup in your halls of splendour, and make a place for them in the forerank of your Heavenly Host. May they know peace and joy and feasting forever in your company, Lord of All, and grant me the strength to abide my trials until I, too, lay down my sword and take my place among them.

This I prayed, not as the brown-hooded priests pray, but as a cry from my own bruised heart. I felt better for having unburdened myself in this way and, though I still rued the deaths of my swordbrothers, was in some small way comforted by the thought that they would be welcomed and received in Heaven's bright hall. So I lay back, listening to Bors' soft snoring.

Here was a wonder: a man who could sleep in the midst of the enemy's camp, untroubled by fear or the frets of an uneasy heart. Here was a man so secure and peaceful within himself that he could forget his troubles the instant he lay down his head. Like a child, with a child's trust in the moment – here, surely, was a true soul.

'Gwalchavad,' came a quiet voice in the darkness. 'Are you asleep?'

'No, lad,' I answered.

'I have been thinking.'

'So have I, Gereint,' I replied. I heard him shift in the darkness as he moved closer. 'Have you thought of a way we might find our lost companions?'

'No,' he said. 'I have been thinking that it must have been difficult for the Pendragon – seeing all his men killed like that, and then being attacked by his own champion.'

'I should think that would be difficult, yes,' I agreed. 'But Arthur has been in many a difficult place, and he has never been defeated. Think of that.'

'He is the greatest lord I have ever known," Gereint confessed. There was nothing in his voice but awe and praise -as if the distress of our present adversity, and all that went before it, were nothing at all to him.

'When did you join the Cymbrogi?' I asked the young warrior.

'Cador came to us and said the Pendragon needed help to defeat the Vandali. Tallaght, Peredur, and I answered the summons and joined the warband.'

'Then you are Cador's kinsmen?'

'That we are,' Gereint confirmed.

'He was a good man, and a splendid battlechief. I was proud to call him my friend. He will be sadly missed.'

'Indeed,' the young warrior replied, 'and we will lament his death when we have leisure to do so.' He paused and added sadly, 'Tallaght and Peredur also.'

My forgetfulness shamed me. In truth, the deaths of my own friends and swordbrothers had driven poor Tallaght's demise completely from my thoughts. We fell silent, each to his own bitter memories, and I recalled the time Peredur, Tallaght, and I had gone to inform the people of Rheged of their lord's rebellion and the resulting forfeiture of their lands. It was on that errand that we had found Morgaws. Would that I had never laid eyes on Morgaws! And now Tallaght was dead, along with so many other good men, and probably Peredur, too.

Silent was the wood, and dark, as I say – dark as the night when the moon has gone to rest and the sun not yet risen. The air did not move and there was no sound. The darkness and unnatural quiet put me in a mournful mood, and I began to think about my dead swordbrothers: Bedwyr, and Cai, and Cador, and all the rest – dead and gone. I ached for the loss of them. The darkness seemed to gather me into itself and cover me over. I would have given myself to my black grief, but something in me resisted – a hard knot of stubborn wariness that refused to yield itself to either sadness or acceptance.

So long as we remained in the realm of the enemy, I would not indulge my grief. In duty to my king, I must strive through all things for the enemy's defeat. Thus, I determined to remain alert to any danger lest I, too, fall victim to the evil which had stolen the lives of my friends. When battle is done, I told myself, I will deliver myself to grief. One day soon I would mourn. Soon, but not now, not yet.

The thought gave me some consolation, and I took what solace I could. Arriving on the heels of my determination, however, came that sound which, once heard, can never be forgotten: the strange, tortured bellow of the loathly Shadow Beast. The eerie baying cry seemed to come from ahead of us, though still some distance away. Bors came awake with a start. 'Did you hear?'

'The creature,' Gereint said in a raw whisper. 'It must be the same one that attacked us before.'

'Same or different, I will kill the vile thing if it comes near me again,' blustered Bors. 'God is my witness: that monster will not escape this time.'

The bellow sounded again, farther off this time, and in a slightly different direction. It was moving swiftly away.

'You may not get the chance, brother,' I told Bors. 'The creature is going away from us.'

Bors grunted his disdain, and we roused ourselves and resumed the search of our lost companions. We set off on foot, leading the horses. Lest we become separated from one another, we held tight to all our bridle straps; Bors led the way, and Gereint followed, and I came last – wandering a hostile wood in the dark of a never-ending night. Less a search, I considered, than an exercise in forlorn hope.

In the silence that pressed in around us once more, I heard Myrddin's words: In the quest before us, none but the pure of heart can succeed.

The thought had scarcely formed when I felt a thin quivery shudder pass up through the soles of my feet and into my legs. I froze in mid-step. The reins in my hand pulled taut as Gereint, just ahead, continued walking. I drew breath to speak, but even as I called for the others to halt, the sound of my voice was lost in the weird screeching bellow of the baleful beast.

The monstrous creature was closing swiftly. I could feel the drumming of the earth in my very bowels. Bors and Gereint stopped on the path ahead. In the gloom I saw Bors turn; his mouth opened.

'Fly!'

In the same instant, there came a crashing sound as the trees directly before us snapped like twigs and burst asunder. The monster was upon us.

My terrified mount reared, snapping the bridal strap that bound it to the others, and all three animals plunged into the wood. Branches and tree limbs scattered and fell around me. I glimpsed a massive black shape like a molten hillside charging towards me and knew the monster had found us again.

I threw myself into the dense brush and scrambled for my life. Branches tore at my face and hands. I heard Bors shouting, but could not make out the words. Crawling like a frenzied snake, I dragged myself through the tangled undergrowth.