Camelot’s Tower (Tales from the Tarot)

Prologue

The Fall

Arthur

T he light from the setting sun bathed the hillside in red. Even the waters of the twisting river beyond appeared as though filled with the blood of the fallen.

Cries of the dying were drowned out by the cries of war, for though my knights were outnumbered severely, their bravery did not falter in the face of such insurmountable odds.

Yet bravery alone would not win us this battle. For without control, we’d all be food for the birds and beasts come morning.

Fire consumed my veins, boiling my blood and scalding my flesh from the inside as the rageful brute within me fought for dominance. My curse lashed out, a physical presence all around me now, and caused those stationed near me at the mouth of the hillfort to keep their distance. Its red glow sizzled and crackled along my skin, nipping in agitation.

It wanted to consume me. To take the reins of my body and unleash its mighty fury upon the battling knights on the hillside below.

The blood and screams of the slaughtered incensed it ever further, and the beast raged in crazed excitement. Its snarls bled through my focus, urging me to attack. To set it free so it could devour these men. These foes who’d taken what was rightfully ours.

And I could do it.

It would be so simple to allow the curse control, to let this berserker hidden inside of me possess my flesh and end this battle before the evening light waned. It took everything in me to fight my internal war and not set the fiend free.

Release me , the demon hissed into my mind, as if aware of my thoughts. Release me! I shall rip and bite and devour .

Staring down at my shield gripped in my left hand, my gaze caught on the image of the Virgin Mary painted upon its interior. Her soft, angelic smile mocked me as I inhaled a breath tinged with the scent of war and tried to ignore the beast. But I could not help the small part of me tempted by its offer. Could not deny the toll this curse had caused upon my kingdom. For I was so very tired of fighting. Of fighting the curse. Of fighting for my honor, for my knights’ loyalty, for my wife’s fidelity. I lived in a constant state of anger, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t seem to let it go. I was helpless to this unbridled fury, and it was only a matter of time until my hold on the curse slipped and I couldn’t take back control.

My other hand moved to my side, the familiar weight of Excalibur a comforting presence where it remained in its magical sheath. My fingers twitched on the grip, almost as if of their own accord. Because I wanted to fight, needed to fight. But if I drew Excalibur with the monster this close to the surface, I wasn’t sure if I could hold it back.

Still, I almost drew my blade, the sword whispering its own promise of victory.

“Steady now,” Merlin said, his hand coming to rest upon my shoulder. “Thou must fight it, Arthur.”

The weight of his hand agitated the beast further, and I shook it off. The demon within had never liked Merlin nor his magic.

But just as I was about to speak, a commotion at the bottom of the hill garnered our attention, different from the prior sounds of bloodshed.

A man tore through the ranks of my soldiers, felling them with a silver sword stained with their comrades’ blood. He rode on a horse whose black coat shimmered in the light as if covered in spilled wine. The red and gray of the man’s armor glinted in the dwindling daylight, and though his helmet hid his face from view, I knew him immediately.

Mordred.

The man behind all of this. Someone I’d allowed into my court despite my better judgment and Merlin’s counsel.

My son who thought to claim the throne.

We’d had our struggles, and Merlin had even warned me what could happen by allowing him into my inner circle. But despite the trickery that brought him into being, Mordred was still of my blood.

I’d watched the man he became, listened to the words of others so that I might know his heart. He had his faults, but so did I. I had yet to meet an unblemished man, such as Christ, our Lord and Savior. Though Gawain’s deeds had caused him to be likened as close on many occasions.

Besides, overall, Mordred was passionate and had much courage for a man so young. I’d knighted him, then made him one of my Knights of the Round Table. I’d put my faith and trust into him. Had been convinced I could rely on him to protect Camelot in my absence as I tracked down Lancelot after his betrayal. Instead, Mordred had taken over my court and my people and declared himself king.

And what he’d done to Guinevere... How he’d forced himself upon her.

Fire bloomed in my veins, and I couldn’t hold back the beast any longer after that.

“Arthur, halt!” Merlin shouted.

But it was too late.

My shield fell to the ground, and I screamed as my bones snapped and cracked, rearranging themselves into a massive, towering form. My nails and canines lengthened to sharp points, and my skin...

It was as if I was tossed within the mouth of a volcano and its lava had replaced the blood flowing through my veins. The liquid fire blackened my scorched skin, and patches of fur sprouted all over. I roared in utter agony as the devil surged forward, its thoughts entangling with my own.

As our thoughts melded into one, the monster’s snarling thoughts of pain and fury overwhelmed me. I could barely decipher which thoughts were my own, let alone stop this.

Did I even want to stop this?

These men had planned this coup and come for me. They’d tried to take my crown, my wife, my knights, my home .

They played their part in my downfall, in this deep-rooted anger burrowing into my very flesh. Because they’d betrayed me. Had switched loyalties despite everything I’d done for them. Despite the blood I’d spilt in their names and the oaths I’d made to protect them—whatever the cost.

And what a cost it had been in the end.

Oh, how the beast roared a song of bitter betrayal at that.

Voices called to us, asking us if we were all right. But we could sense their fear, their desire to flee from us. We needed to extinguish this pain, to drown this fire and make it stop.

Our eyes snapped open, our red gaze locking onto the men surrounding us.

One man stepped before the others, his narrowed stare on us as he raised glowing hands. We knew this man. Knew the taste of his magic, the way it trapped us, controlled us.

Before he could use his magic, we bolted from the fort entrance and out onto the hillside below.

Fighting ceased as we rushed toward the men who had been battling on the hill.

We saw the moment they realized they were about to die, saw how the pulse in their necks sped faster and their eyes widened in alarm when they found themselves with nowhere to hide.

We unleashed ourselves upon the battlefield, our rage palpable as we barreled through the masses now fleeing for sanctuary behind the fortress walls. Our elongated canines pierced our lip as we snarled at them, not allowing them to escape.

We quenched our fiery pain with their blood. Calmed our anger with their screams as we tore and ripped and devoured.

Time slowed as we charged through the ranks of soldiers, no more than a common beast fueled by pure rage and instinct.

I witnessed the massacre through a vision of red, but somewhere in the back of our mind, I was pleading for us to stop. Because these men did not need to die. They had betrayed me, yes, but that did not mean I wished them dead, to lay waste to every knight and creature in our path. Some, I knew distantly, were innocent of our wrath.

Men begged us for mercy. Some prayed to God to save them. But their prayers went unanswered because God had forsaken us all.

This was no longer a fight between men but one of survival, and we roared as more and more knights escaped inside the fortress.

We sprang after one of the men attempting to flee, clawing through his armor and sinking our sharp teeth into his flesh. The man’s screams invoked more of our animosity, and it wasn’t until he lay bloodied, broken, and silent in the grass that we lost interest with him.

We didn’t stop, ending anyone and everyone in sight. When no more remained, the hillside quiet save for our growls, we turned our focus back toward the fortress behind us.

They’d sealed the gates, and there were terrified shouts from those within. But we were stronger than they knew, and that gate could not keep us out.

We rammed against the wooden barrier, grinning at the sound of wood snapping beneath our might.

We crashed through their false security with a mighty roar, sending several knights flying through the air. The putrid scent of piss and fear corrupted the air as we leapt on those closest.

We did not stop. Did not hesitate as we scoured the grounds within, searching out every man we could.

One knight tripped over the bodies of his fellow men in his haste to retreat, and we growled in victory as we set our sights upon him.

But just as we crouched to lunge, pain lanced through our head. We roared in agony and outrage, but...

But that pain...

I blinked, and the red clouding my eyes disappeared. I blinked again, and it was back. But I could feel myself again. And it was enough to snap me out of my rage, enough to give me the strength needed to take back control of my body and mind.

Screaming through clenched teeth, I pushed the beast back beneath the surface. Each snap of bone retracting and shifting had me crying out in pain, but I persevered.

Sweat coated my skin and forced the remnants of my smoking tunic to stick to me as I lay there on the slick ground. Slick with the blood of those I’d slaughtered.

My head throbbed and burned, and I pressed a hand to the deep wound at the side of my head. It did not weep like the wounds of the fallen around me. And my hand dropped swiftly to the magical sheath holding Excalibur, knowing it had just saved my life, for I could not bleed with it on my person.

Before I could truly focus on what I’d just done, Mordred appeared above me on foot, sword raised, and armor clawed open. He slashed the blade down, and I twisted out of the way just in time. With his next attack, I drew Excalibur. However, with the advantage of fighting me from above, his strikes hit with more force, keeping me from gaining the upper hand.

His next blow knocked Excalibur from my grasp, and I bared my teeth at him as he grinned victoriously down at me.

“What hast thou done, Arthur?” Mordred screamed, slashing at me over and over, forcing me to roll to avoid his attacks.

I swallowed down bile as my bloody hands slipped on the grass. “I...” My gaze scanned the destruction we, no , the beast had caused. “The blame lies with the curse, not I.”

Mordred sneered through his helmet. “Thou art a blight upon this land, and each day thou breathes is another day closer to Camelot’s damnation.”

“I am thy king ,” I growled, my fingers scrambling to grab something to protect myself with as Mordred stalked closer. They snagged on a splintered, broken spear. “Whether thou wish it to be so or not. ’Tis I who wears the crown, not thee.”

“The crown may rest upon thy head, but ’tis not the crown that makes a king.” He swiped his blade toward me, and I bolted to my feet, narrowly dodging it. He sneered at me in disgust as I took several steps backward, spear hidden behind my back. “Look at the death caused by thy hand! Thou art not worthy to wear the crown, and thou shalt never be my king.”

Bitter hatred coated my tongue at his words, and my world reddened. And I did not think of the consequences when he barreled toward me for his next attack, his sword raised with both hands. I did not think through the haze of red as I swung round the spear and braced it in front of me.

I saw the moment he’d realized his fatal mistake, for he was unable to slow his momentum quickly enough, and skewered himself upon my makeshift pike.

He gasped, a choked, retching sound. Sword still raised high, he peered down in disbelief at his stomach, to the spot in his armor that had peeled open earlier. When his gaze lifted once more to mine, his sword slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground beside us.

When he staggered, I caught him in my arms. Holding him gently, I dropped the both of us to the soil. My blood rang like church bells in my ears as I tore off his helmet and threw it to the side. Blood trickled from his lips, and each breath that passed through his mouth was pained and wet.

Fear sat like rotten meat in my belly as my son lay dying in my arms. Oh, God, what had I done?

“Help!” I pleaded, but my words fell only on the ears of the dead. Dead by my hand. When I realized that no help would come for us, I turned my attention back to Mordred, reaching for the shaft in a panic. But when I went to put pressure against the wound, his hand gripped mine with surprising strength, stopping me.

“Nay, leave it be,” he said, those green eyes, so much like my own, glaring up at me. “Nothing more can be done for me now.”

I stared down at him in dismay, watched this boy just shy of 16 as he struggled for breath. God, he was so young, the same age I’d been when I’d been crowned king.

“Forgive me,” I said, hating that it had come to this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to be like this. I hadn’t meant to kill him, but in that moment, I’d lost myself to my fury.

“Take heed of my words,” he rasped in a pained hiss. “Thou shalt be the end of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon.”

More blood poured from his stomach, the spear lodged deep. His chest stuttered a few more times before those damning eyes, still fixed on mine, glazed with death.

Ravens and crows alike screamed a song of grief and hunger from above as they momentarily blocked out the sun, bathing the battlefield in twilight.

The clouds above darkened, a magical storm of mourning brewing in the sky.

Panting, I rose to my feet on trembling legs as the wind whipped my tangled hair into my face. The remains of my torn and bloodied armor fell to the earth, and all around me in a circle, massacred bodies lay strewn about. Some of them were Mordred’s men, yes, but there were those bearing my crest, their armor stripped open to reveal the blue and white of my knights’ tunics stained in blood.

Their blood.

Because I’d killed them. I’d done this.

I couldn’t breathe, not with the stench of blood saturating the air.

“ Why ?” I screamed toward the turbulent heavens. “Why hast thou forsaken me?”

There was no answer, no sign that God had heard me or even cared. Just the rapid increase of rainfall and the growl of distant thunder.

“My King!” a voice cried, breaking through my panic and anguish.

Even from far away, I knew that voice. Knew it all too well.

Merlin.

“Arthur!” Merlin called again, closer this time, but I couldn’t face him. How could I after what I’d done?

So with one last look at the massacre, of my son bloody and dead at my feet, I forced myself to run for the tower.

No one guarded the entrance, and I dragged my worn and weary body up each stair, ignoring Merlin’s shouts somewhere below.

Once I reached the last step, I staggered into the tower. Several narrow windows lined the curved, exterior wall, and violent rain slanted through their openings. As I took a step toward them, the tower shook with warning as thunder sounded from outside. I gripped the window’s ledge with trembling fingers, needing to see the damage for myself. I just needed to see...

Lightning struck the tower with a powerful blast, and the force sent me sprawling backward. Wood and stone crashed down upon me as the roof fell apart, revealing the angry sky above. Despite the downpour, flickers of flame licked at the remains of the roof and filled my nose with the scent of fire. Water poured down from the heavens, as though attempting to cleanse my skin of my sins.

Though some sins were etched into the very marrow of our bones and could not simply be washed away.

Crawling out from the rubble, I once more stood on unsteady legs. But before I could take a single breath, my blood chilled at the view presented before me.

Below, bodies of men and horses dotted the morbid landscape. Rain flooded the ground around them, washing the blood of the dead down the hill.

Tears filled my eyes as I witnessed the carnage below, and desolation gripped my heart in its clutches, refusing to surrender at such a sight.

I hadn’t intended this to happen. These were my men, my knights, my friends. No one deserved such a cruel death.

Mordred was right. I was a blight upon this land, and as long as I still drew breath, my people would suffer.

My curse raged, and swirls of red magic crawled over my skin as I took a step toward the edge. Because I knew what I needed to do now. What I should have done long ago.

It wouldn’t change the death I’d caused, but it would prevent it from ever happening again.

Stone crumbled beneath my feet as I lingered on the tower’s open ledge. My eyes closed, though the image of the massacre remained emblazoned upon my lids. Rain washed away any trace of tears where they streaked down my face, and my grief overwhelmed me and robbed me of breath. A sob fell from my lips, thinking of my failure. But I wouldn’t fail anyone again.

So I took a breath. Then another.

Then I leapt.

“No!”

Just before I shattered upon the ground, prepared to join my men on the shores of Annwn, magic coated my body, causing me to feel as if I’d taken a dip in that fateful lake. With a jerk, it lifted me back up into the air before setting me gently on the ground, and its icy fingers remained wrapped around me in a protective hold.

No! No, no, no, no !

I’d been so close to finally putting an end to all of this!

I whipped my head around to find Merlin standing at the base of the tower, his expression devastated.

“Damn thou, Arthur!” He dropped his raised palms as he approached, and his voice came out hoarse and scared. “Why did thou jump?”

“Because I have forsaken my oath, Merlin. Look around! Look at all the innocent lives I have taken.” I hung my head as Merlin’s magic eased enough so I could drop to my knees. Frustrated, shameful tears streamed down my cheeks as I refused to look at him. “Something must be done; for if I’m not stopped, I fear the entirety of the kingdom, if not the world, will be destroyed.”

Merlin’s fingers lifted my chin so he could study my eyes, reading the devastation within. Then he turned his shrewd gaze toward the death around us, and his mouth thinned. “Thou mustn’t give up hope yet. Once we find the Grail, the curse will be lifted, and thee shall be free.”

My lips quivered as I peered up into his saddened face. “How shall I ever be free of this blood on my hands?”

“Thou cannot take the blame for actions that are not thy own.”

A bitter laugh rose from my chest, and I yanked my face from his fingers. The beast writhed within me, and I bared my teeth as I forced it back down. “But it and I are one and the same now. It feasts on me. On my anger, my selfishness, my dishonor. I am the curse upon this land, Merlin, and I fear not even the Grail will be enough to save me now.”

My cold fingers brushed over Excalibur sheathed at my side, and with the last of my strength, I ripped my sword free. Before Merlin could stop me, I slashed off its magical sheath.

Almost immediately, blinding pain seared hot through my skull, and if it hadn’t been for Merlin’s magic still holding me, I would have collapsed to the ground. Blood flowed down the side of my neck, scalding my cold skin. My lungs struggled to suck in a breath as the pain overwhelmed me.

Pushing through the pain, I aimed Excalibur toward my chest, planning to end this here and now.

Merlin shouted in alarm, and just as the tip of the blade pierced my skin, a magical force stopped me.

I glared at Merlin, desperate for him to stop this. “I beseech thee, allow me to put myself out of my misery,” I said, even as the demon thrashed in protest. “I am not worthy of the crown. Of living another day.”

“I’m afraid I cannot.” His hands were raised as he cast a spell around me, binding me in place. My limbs grew numb, and I cried out as my sword fell from my useless fingers to land on the ground beside its sheath.

And I was so angry. I just wanted to do the right thing. Why couldn’t he just let me put an end to this?

As my anger rose to the surface, so did the beast.

The shift took hold of me faster than any time before, and the transformation into the demon barely even hurt this time. It roared in uncontrolled fury, and tendrils of red curled off its, our , skin. Our body shook as we struggled to escape Merlin’s magic, and we saw the flash of fear in the sorcerer’s eyes when he realized how close we were to breaking free.

Rushing forward, he grabbed the sheath and Excalibur from where it had fallen. We growled at him as Merlin inched closer, releasing a shaky breath as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to ours. The blood from our head wound stopped as Merlin affixed our sheath back to the belt on our waist.

“I am sorry, My King. But I swear upon my blood, the Grail will be found and thee shall rise again,” he whispered, before speaking an incantation we could not follow. Yet, as he cast his spell, our left hand stung, and we glanced down to see a mark burned into the back of it.

Excalibur pulsed brightly in his grip, distracting us. And when his words ceased, he stepped back enough so he could thrust the sword through our heart. The blade pierced us without resistance, as if aided by some unseen force.

My breath caught in my chest, and my body immediately returned to normal as the beast retreated, crying out in pain. I couldn’t think beyond the absolute agony as the demon within raged at being forced back once more, and the burning in my chest seared so intensely, black specks spotted my vision.

Then, that freezing feeling from earlier intensified. Only, the spell no longer seemed to hold my limbs captive like it had before, and I stumbled backward until my spine met the stone base of the tower. Heaving for breath, I glanced down at my chest where Excalibur had speared me through. No blood dripped from what should have been a fatal wound. Only a soft, white glow emanated from where the sword met skin.

Carefully, I touched the space where metal met flesh.

Magic.

Then my body grew heavy, and I leaned wearily against the tower as my skin hardened, my lungs stiffened, and my blood congealed. The process was utter agony, but I couldn’t find the breath to scream.

And then my heart took its last beat as my body solidified into a stone prison.

But instead of the darkness of sleep or death, my mind remained alert, begging for someone, anyone , to save me from this pain.

But no matter how much I screamed, no one heard.