Simon Green - A Hard Day's Knight

“Oh don’t, Jerry. Don’t do this. Let her go.”

Stark’s hand fell to the spun-silver cage at his belt, and at the touch of his fingers, the image of his dead wife became firm and clear. Her white dress was soaked in blood, all the way down her front. Her face was sharp and distinct now, but it held no expression at all. She looked dead. She turned her head slowly to look at Stark.

“Let me go. If you love me, let me go.”

Her voice gave me chills. I’ve heard the dead speak before, but never like this. Her voice was a whisper, as though it had to travel unimaginable distances to reach us. And it was full of all the despair and suffering in the world.

“I can’t let you go,” said Stark. “I can’t. You’re all that matters to me now.”

She reached out a hand and took his arm, and Stark shuddered despite himself. The living and the dead aren’t supposed to be close.

“Come home, Jerry,” said Sir Gareth. “Stop tormenting yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No. It was your fault. You let her die.”

“There must be something we can do for you ...”

“There is. Give me Excalibur.”

“What would you do with Excalibur?” said Sir Gareth. “What possible use could it be to you?”

“I don’t give a damn for your magic sword,” said Stark. “But my allies want it. And they want it so much, they’ve promised to bring my Julianne back to life in return for Excalibur.”

“They lied, Jerry,” Sir Gareth said sadly. “They can’t bring her back. No-one can. She’s gone. Accept it.”

“Never! They can do it, Gar. I’ve seen them do it. I’m going to take Excalibur from you and give it to them. And then I’ll watch and laugh while they wipe you all out, down to the last man. Because that’s all you’ve left me.”

The portrait was suddenly only a photograph again. The dark and driven knight was gone and his dead wife with him. There was a distinct chill on the air, and Sir Gareth and I both shuddered a little, despite ourselves.

“New allies,” said Sir Gareth, after a moment. “That can’t be good. Who the hell could he have found who can bring the dead back to life? Only one man could ever do that, and that was our Lord ...”

“Well, the dead can return,” I said. “As zombies, in various forms. Dead bodies possessed by various beings. Not actually alive but better than nothing.”

“Jerry wouldn’t settle for that. But, he says he saw proof ...” Sir Gareth shook his head angrily. “Jerry is out of his depth.”

“Who do you think these new allies are?”

“There’s someone we’ve been keeping an eye on ... Prince Gaylord the Damned, Nuncio to the Court of King Artur, of Sinister Albion. He turned up in the Nightside three days ago by a means we couldn’t identify. Apparently, his Merlin sent him to the Nightside to search for Artur after he disappeared. I’m surprised you don’t know about him.”

“I’ve been a bit busy the past few days,” I said defensively.

“Well, when Prince Gaylord couldn’t find King Artur anywhere in the Nightside, he got it into his head that we must have him. He’s been trying to find or force a way into Castle Inconnu ever since.”

“Could he do that? Is he powerful enough?”

“Who knows anything, where Sinister Albion is concerned? If he has his Merlin’s backing ... maybe.”

“Do you have Artur?” I said carefully.

“No. He seems to have disappeared. No-one knows where he is. And given everything that’s happening, the last thing we need right now is another major player in the game.”

And that was when every alarum in the world went off at once. Bells, sirens, electronic alarms, and what sounded very much like a cloister bell. Sir Roland’s photograph on the wall suddenly came alive, replaced by an angry and seriously worried face.

“Castle Inconnu is under attack! Our security has been breached! The enemy is within our walls, dammit!”

“What? How the hell is that possible?” Sir Gareth’s face was almost colourless from shock. He looked like he’d been hit.

“It’s Stark. Somehow he’s used his old access rights to force a way through our outer defences and hold open a door for the enemy. They’re inside the walls, Gareth; inside the castle! Stark has brought an army in past all our protections! They’ve invaded the outer layers, and they’re heading inwards!”

“What army?” said Sir Gareth. “Who are they?”

“Elves!” said Sir Roland. “Stark’s allied himself with the elves!”

“No ...” Sir Gareth shook his head dazedly. “No, he couldn’t ... Oh, Jerry, you bloody fool. What have you done?”

“How many elves are there?” I said, pushing in beside Sir Gareth. “What kind of numbers are we talking about? Have they any elven weapons?”

“Hundreds of them,” said Sir Roland. “And more flooding in all the time. There’s a lot of magical armour, and enchanted swords, but no major weapons that we’ve seen—no Airgedlamh, or Sword of the Daun.”

“Well, that’s something,” I said. “Do we know which faction? Who do they serve: Oberon and Titania, or the returned Mab?”

“What the hell difference does that make?”

“I’ve had dealings with the Puck,” I said. “Through him, I might be able to negotiate with Oberon and Titania. But if these elves belong to Mab, we don’t have anything they want. Except our deaths. And Excalibur.”

“Elves in the castle?” Sir Gareth was abruptly himself again. “John and I will be with you as soon as we can, Roland. Get the knights moving and organised; put up a wall between the invaders and our families; give them time to get to the safety of the Redoubt. Stop them with cold steel and pile their bodies high.” He looked at me, and suddenly he was grinning, his face full of the joy of battle. “Stark is here for you, John. He wants the sword you carry. Will you fight alongside us?”

“Of course,” I said. “Never could stand elves.”

“Good man. Roland, see that our families are safe. And if worst comes to worst, see they have a dead man’s switch so they can take the enemy with them.”

“Of course,” said Sir Roland. And his face disappeared from the portrait.

“Was that last bit really necessary?” I said.

“Yes. You know what elves do to women and children. Death would be a kindness.”

I nodded. I knew. “You should never have kept your families here in the castle.”

“We thought they were safe here, where we could protect them! No-one’s ever got past our defences before! Never! No-one ever anticipated elves inside the castle. Let’s go.”

“Sir Roland jumped pretty fast there, when you gave him orders,” I said. “Are you in charge here, or something?”

“Something,” said Sir Gareth. “You didn’t think they’d leave you with just anyone, did you?”

We sprinted back through the stone corridors, and I had to work hard to keep up with Sir Gareth. Even though he was wearing full plate armour, and all I had was my trench coat, he still led all the way. Because he was a trained warrior, in the peak of condition; and I wasn’t. But I pounded grimly along after him, and all too soon we heard the sounds of fighting up ahead. We rounded a sudden corner, charged into one of the great open halls, and found it full to bursting with elves and knights in their armour.

Sir Gareth plunged straight in, sword in hand, but I made myself hang back in the archway, so I could study the situation. Excalibur was burning on my back, urging me on, but I’d had enough of that. I wasn’t a warrior or a hero, and acting like one would get me killed. If I was going to take on an army of elves, it wouldn’t be by running straight at them. I’d do it my own way.