Sorcerer from Another World

We faced hundreds of warriors on the backs of horses or standing from their wagons each armed and armoured for war.

One wagon and two horse riders rode up to meet us at the base of the barge.

It seemed their side was as keen as ours to not provoke a military response. Clearly a floating barge and us levitating meant we appeared powerful (but not nearly close to my true strength).

Warriors and horses alike were of great stature with armoured and painted bodies relaxed, but ready to act.

Morgana called out to them in a firm voice, “What news from the North?”

“Who are you, magic men who float stone and what is your intent in travelling these lands?”

It was the man in the wagon who spoke.

He was tall, of fair face and had a large warrior’s build. He had stored between his wagon and person a bow and arrows, spears and an axe. Perhaps chariot rather than wagon would be a more fair description of his ride. He reminded me of Galen, not in features but in presence.

Morgana squinted at the man, “You seem familiar to me, stranger, may I ask your name?”

The proud man did not take well to having his question ignored. About as well as Morgana had. Two egos clashed. Morgana's experience was quickly growing, she had me at her side and the delusion of those who seek to rule (she believed it was her destiny).

He stepped off from his wagon, passing the reins of the horses to one of the riders. He kept his axe steadily in a firm grip and stood face-to-face with Morgana. I did catch his eye, wandering to me with a shadow of suspicion.

He answered first, submitting however slightly to her, “I am Erec son of Ector and we have not met before, fair lady.”

“Ector as in the man who raised Arthur.”

“The very same, my father's brother is the one of the Kings of Gelt. He ventured south to ensure peace between the family. He happened to raise Arthur Pendragon, a son closer to his heart than his own flesh and blood.” Erec told.

Another connection to Arthur. Seems too odd to be coincidence. Can it possibly be destiny? Is destiny but the workings of subtle magics? There is much I don’t understand.

“I see.” Morgana said with a wince of awkwardness.

“Who, if I may be so bold to ask, are you?” Erec asked Morgana.

“I am Morgana Pendragon.”

“Morgana Pendragon indeed. I should have known by your eyes. Strange too is your armour and sword, I have never seen their equal.”

“They were a gift.”

“No common gift, but you are no common person. So, Morgana Pendragon, are there any other thorns you wish to cast on these already dark days?”

“I wish only for peace between us Erec, son of Ector, and news from the north.”

Erec, however, liked to walk to the beat of his own drum.

“At first I thought you were Unseelie and the name Morgana Pendragon has long been shrouded in fell rumours. My ears are keen and we have travelled far and wide. Just recently we razed a pack of Unseelie scum. They spoke, before they demise, of a new power.”

“A new power you say.” Morgana, for all her strength of will, still cast a glance at me.

“A sorcerer who challenged a Lord.”

“You seek news from the south, Erec. I am happy to tell, but I think it is rude that you have ignored my question.”

Erec’s voice rose and he swung his axe in a circle: harmlessly, “I am the rude one, you say. Yet, for all the renown that comes from the Pendragon name, why do I have a pull in my stomach that tells me I am speaking to the mouthpiece.”

Morgana forced a smile. No one likes to be called a mouthpiece. Let alone a contender to the throne of Camelot.

Erec continued, “When the true power keeps quiet and watches on.”

Erec looked at me now.

Morgana answered, “I assure you that you speak to the leader of our group.”

Erec turned his head back to face her, and he stroked his fair beard, “Leader maybe. But the power, I think not. Are we not worth the sorcerer’s time? Us lowly riders.”

He was a proud man, and that force was as much a boon as it was a curse. I did not wish to offend him, but I struggled with what to say.

I said after a drawn out pause, “I am here, am I not?”

“I have given you my name, Sorcerer. Yet you keep silent.”

Tara, however, spoke before I did. “Erec, son of Ector, let Tara, daughter of Terid warn you of your arrogance. You make demands of one who is great and beyond your understanding, ignorance nor stupid can excuse you.”

We weren’t lovers, but, Tara was loyal. A bond that had more trust, a platonic one, than I realised. Everyone seemed quicker at knowing what to say in these situations than I did.

Me, a call centre worker, and I am fumbling for words to throw up.

Erec turned to face Tara, noticing her truly for the first time. He had overlooked my warrior protector, a foolish mistake. I judged that with one of my weapons he would fall first if it came to blows.

His eyes blazed and he stood imperiously tall. The horse riders grumbled and tensed behind him. They looked ready to fight and willing to draw blood to defend the honour of their leader.

“A mere warrior dares to challenge a chief among chiefs? I would cut you down if only there was value in slaying a nobody, daughter or no one.” Erec insulted.

I let a spark snap and crackle from my staff. Harmlessly the electricity discharged into the ether.

The tension between us was palpable and things may have gone south.

I broke the tension with the truth, “My name is Damian Grey. Ally of the Seelie, gift to the Druid Iris, Champion of Morgana Pendragon, Protected by Tara hero of the battle at Ferisdarm, Slayer of Maradon and much more besides.” I was tired of word games, so I spilled everything. “At the moment, I am guiding refugees from Ferisdarm, etc to Elkilbour.”

“I see.” Erec said. I could have been wrong, but he seemed less sure of himself now that I was speaking.

I continued, “What is your purpose Erec with all your warriors and horses? There are far graver threats than mere wandering bands of Unseelie. It seems a strange use of your army when there are Romans and worse about.”

“A keen insight you have Sorcerer to already judge our circumstances.”

It was a wild guess. I had consumed enough fantasy and war media in my past to have a feeling for these things.

He scowled, it was a fierce expression showing great bitterness, “The Kings of Gelt cower before the Romans behind their stone halls and do nothing about the Unseelie raiding bands that slaughter up and down Alba unchecked.”

We nodded in understanding.

“We cannot act or prepare for foreigners creeping at our borders, but not even the highest rulers of our land can deny a quest to hunt down Unseelie pillagers.”

“You need an army for that?” Tara asked. She seemed unfazed by Erec’s earlier insult and treated him with the same no nonsense attitude she did everyone.

“No, but I was not leaving home without one. Friends, ones I grew up with and loyal to the Seelie court have been dying under mysterious circumstances of late. I have gathered all who I trust and had the courage to march out to join me.”

I continued to listen to his speech.

“We have crushed the enemy without our walls. But enough hide to threaten the villages and people scattered across southern Alba.”

“And yet there are always more, we just slaughter a host of them ourselves attacking one of the Druid cave.” I said.

“It does not surprise me, The Druids twiddle their thumbs terrified that their Lords have fallen. They await their doom with a determination that if brought to war could reshape the board.

“Board?” I asked.

“Like a chess board.”

They have chess here? That didn’t seem right of pre-roman celts, but what did I know. They also didn’t have magic in my world’s history.

“That makes sense.”

The Circle of Druids had acted, they had sent out Làidir. Maybe factions within the circle? Politics was fast becoming a sharp focus in my life.

Suddenly as last time, Morgana’s eyes glowed dark yellow. Shadows thickened and blocked out the light. Morgana rose in the air and her voice deepened.

“Doom comes for the White City, in the shadow of hope lies disease and traitors. Rome comes, Camlann awaits and Sorcery will Rise!”

“Well that one was a lot clearer.” I said sarcastically.

Clear except for who she was talking to. Herself, me or Tara? Maybe one of the Horserider or Erec.

Well I had learned one thing. The Romans were following us to Elkilbour. Somehow, I knew they would.

Why they weren’t fighting Arthur and attacking Camelot, I don’t know. Maybe they could do both?

I sighed.

Morgana dropped in a daze, I caught her and held her in a Princess Carry.

“I can stand.” She complained with blushing red cheeks.

I kissed her sweaty forehead, “I know, rest now.”

Erec spoke, “We cannot return to Elkilbour. We are outlaws, in all but all name. Nor can we beat the Romans in open battle. My warriors are restless to be away from the hunt. Go to Elkilbour, you have your peace from us.

“May you be safe and victorious in your pursuit.” I said clumsily, taking over Morgana’s position as diplomat.

“There is a village up the river you will pass it. Try and persuade them to flee to Elkilbour if you can. I fear no matter how hard we pursue the Unseelie there is always another band that can escape our hunt. For a shithole like that all it will take is one band to raze it to the ground.” Erec asked of us.

“We will.”

“I take it you had no luck.” Tara said, matter of factly. The stoic woman seemed unfazed by Erec's harsh glare. A well warranted anger in response to her statement.

What is it with warrior women and being to the point? Làidir and Tara were two peas in a pod in that regard.

“You are right, bodyguard to a magic man.” Was that supposed to be an insult? “We did not. Should you fail then they will all die.”

“Until next time.” Tara said with a cheeky smile.

“Do not fail.” He demanded of me, then he rode off his warriors following suit. They kicked up a storm of dust in their wake.

I floated us back up to the barge. Leaving Morgana in the care of her lovers Iris and Byrette. Samiya was an effective moral support, if not skilled healer. Morgana pretended to be exhausted when I could sense she had already recovered thanks to her enhanced stamina.