Michael Spradlin - Trail of Fate

The room was full of bright light with a glare so intense that I closed my eyes. A long table draped in a pure white linen cloth sat in the middle of the room. In the center of the table sat the Grail. It was out of my reach, and having it so far away made me nervous.

Sir Thomas sat quietly at the far end of the table, dressed in his familiar white tunic with a bright red cross across his chest. Smiling, he bade me to sit in a chair next to me. I sat.

Sir Thomas spoke. “You’ve done well, lad.”

I snorted.

“Sire, I have failed. Completely. I did what you asked. I made it safely to Tyre and found a ship, but a storm rose up, and now I have drowned and the Grail is lost with me,” I said, bowing my head, ashamed to have disappointed him.

“Tristan?”

I looked up.

“You’ve not failed me. The Grail is safe, as you can see,” he said.

Glancing at the chalice on the table, I shook my head, knowing I should not be in this room. I was drowning in the sea, and the Grail would perish with me. How could Sir Thomas say I had not failed? The only thing worse would have been for Sir Hugh to have taken it from me.

“Sir Thomas, I have no idea how I came to be here, but this is not right. The Grail has sunk to the bottom of the sea, and me with it. I am sorry, sire. Very truly sorry.”

He smiled and the white light of the room surrounded him. I heard a familiar humming sound, but now, instead of coming from the Grail, the noise surrounded me from all directions.

“Do not worry, lad,” Sir Thomas said. “You are safe. The Grail is safe.”

“Sire. .,” I replied, but Sir Thomas was no longer there, just the light and the sound.

My chair was gone and I was standing again, the Grail still in the center of the table. I grasped at it, but it remained out of reach. Sir Thomas now appeared beside me, holding a bucket of water in his hands. He said nothing, but dumped the bucket over my head, causing me to choke and sputter.

“Sir Thomas. . what. .,” but he was gone again.

The room shifted and I was thrown to the floor. Sir Thomas stood above me with another bucket of water. This time he threw it directly in my face and I swallowed a great deal of it. It tasted salty. When I looked up again, Sir Thomas was gone.

What had happened to me? Why didn’t he help me? I needed to reach the Grail and he was interfering. Was this some kind of test? Had I failed again?

I struggled to my feet, but the room was unsteady, as if some giant had picked it up and delighted in shaking it about. I lurched across the floor and crashed into the table. The Grail wobbled back and forth. Oh no.

In vain I tried to clamor forward. If I could reach it, I would secure it in my satchel where it would be safe until I figured a way out of this room. Then I would find the giant shaking it and slay it with my sword.

As suddenly as it started, the room ceased its tossing about. Sir Thomas was back, this time holding the Grail out to me.

“Good luck, Tristan,” he said. I took the cup in my hands, clutching it to my chest.

He was gone. The room was gone. Only the bright white light remained.

What had become of me?

Awall of ocean pushed me beneath the surface. I fought my way up into the air as the water rose and twisted violently, and tried to remember where I was. The tossing of the ship had swept me into the sea. I had no idea how long I’d been in the water but recalled seeing the broken mast come hurtling toward me. But I could remember nothing else. Over the sound of the wind I thought I heard Robard screaming, but it sounded faint and far away. Also, I tasted blood in my mouth.

The moon was completely obscured by the storm clouds. It was so dark that I couldn’t see anything. As I came to my senses, I was completely disoriented by the sensation of the angry sea rising and falling. I could not tell up from down. I only knew I was wet. And frankly, a little tired of it all.

Bursting through the water’s surface, I sucked in fresh air and felt for the satchel around my neck and shoulder, relieved to find it still there. The rushing sound of water behind me rose again, and I hollered out a curse. But the water was on me now, and I dipped violently in the trough before the wave threw me into the air. I hit the water on my back with a smack, and the breath was pushed from my lungs.

Another wave carried me up and then dashed me down again, and I collided with something hard. At first I thought it was a rock, but when the wave subsided, my feet touched the sea bottom. More waves crashed into me, but when they returned to the sea, I could stand. I didn’t know which way to turn in the darkness with the howling wind and rain pelting my face. But then, as if God wanted to give me a fighting chance (or else keep me alive a bit longer to further torment me later), a flash of lightning flickered across the sky, and in a brief instant I saw land ahead of me: a shoreline, with trees and rocks in the distance.

Shouting in glee, I scrambled in the direction the lightning had shown me, the water growing shallower with each step, and before long it reached only my waist, then knees. With every last ounce of strength I splashed forward until the sand was under me, and I collapsed to the ground.

I woke to the taste of sand. It was salty and gritty, and light was coming from somewhere. Where were Robard and Maryam and the dog? Why couldn’t I see them? But then I couldn’t really see well at all, as my eyes were full of sand. I blinked to clear them and only partially succeeded.

It was relaxing to lie so peacefully, but I made the mistake of trying to lift my head, and the world spun away from me. I sank into unconsciousness.

When I came to again, I was no longer moving, but was still very wet.

Opening my right eye, I wiggled my fingers, delighted to see that they worked. I’m not sure how much more time passed before I tried to move additional body parts. I clenched a fist. No pain.

Sore everywhere, I drove my fist into the sand, lifting myself up on one arm. It was daytime now, and the sun was high in the sky, so it must have been nearly noon. There was a line of trees about two hundred yards farther inland.

Pushing myself up to my hands and knees, I winced when pain shot through my left knee. I had a vague recollection of hitting it on something the night before while thrashing about in the waves. My right elbow also throbbed, but didn’t feel broken. When the dizziness passed, I finally stood.

My back wouldn’t straighten all the way, and I wondered if my ribs were broken. I looked at the now calm sea. There was no indication of the fury it had unleashed on me the previous night.

Looking up and down the beach, I could see only a league or so in each direction before the shoreline bent out of sight.

“Robard! Maryam!” I shouted, but no one answered. Only the squawk of a few shorebirds disturbed the quiet.

“Captain Denby!”

“Little Dog!” Nothing. No answering bark.

With every intention of walking along the beach, I stumbled to the ground after a few steps, too tired to go any farther. Dropping on the sand, I quickly fell asleep.

When I woke, there were six people standing around me. Two of them were young women, four were men. Each held a horse by the reins.

All of them were pointing swords at me.

They stood silently, swords in hand, studying me intently. I was unbelievably sore, but tried to make a quick assessment of my situation. Lying on my back, Sir Thomas’ battle sword dug into my spine. Good; I hadn’t lost it. The satchel was still around my shoulder. I could also feel my belt and the weight of my short sword. I had fought Mother Nature and clearly lost, but I was lucky I wasn’t injured more seriously.