The Madman #2
Would he find Galehaut again? How long would it take? For all he was desperate to see his friends again, to stop Maleagant once and for all, his heart ached most for the other half of his soul.
Sighing, he grabbed a quick shower and pulled on comfy clothes. Pleading sick, securing confirmation from a doctor friend always happy to provide such things, he had an entire week off now. Plenty of time, hopefully, to find and wake Merlin.
Find the lake. Then the sword. There will be a fight. I will be there, but I won't know it.
Not the most helpful of directions, but that was Merlin. Even when he tried to be clear, he was at best mist instead of fog. Lancelot still could not wait to see him again.
He ate a quick breakfast, made a last trip to the bathroom, then grabbed his sword and settled into his chair. Taking a deep breath, he logged in.
He appeared at the tavern, the usual starting point unless there was an active quest or something. He'd redone the kitten quest the previous day after working out his sick time, so that wasn't straggling—and to see if anything happened.
The entire trip had been unremarkable, just another day spent gaming. Somehow, that hadn't made him feel better. They'd come for him so quickly the first time, as though lying in wait. This time…nothing. Maybe now that he was awake, they were being more careful.
More than likely, they were lying in wait for him to lead them to Merlin, since he was the linchpin in all of this.
They had died together to cast this spell, to give them all a second chance, but that meant the success of the spell rested on the two of them.
Lancelot to set things in motion, Merlin to see it through.
Now that Lancelot had survived the attempts to kill him, Maleagant's only chance to stop this war before it began again was to kill Merlin.
Lancelot had never felt so alone in his life. The burden of his role as Arthur's primary knight had always weighed heavy, but never as much as it did right now. One mistake, one moment of weakness, and he would cost them everything.
The very moment they woke Arthur, Lancelot was going to clobber him. If Merlin didn't do it first, anyway.
He petted his horse and fed it some carrots and apples, then swung into the saddle and rode off. He'd reviewed the map the previous night and marked the nearest lakes. The most promising of them was the one called Marlborough Lake.
The day was sunny, but there were storm clouds in the distance that seemed to be drawing closer. Promising, both because rain was water, and Lancelot thrived in water, and Merlin the Wild had always loved a good storm.
It was seeming more and more like he was on the right path. If only he knew what waited for him at its end.
Find the lake. Then the sword. There will be a fight. I will be there, but I won't know it.
Damn it, he was stupid. He should have thought about that one a little harder.
Calling up the primary menu, he switched from solo engagement to group engagement.
That of course took him all the way back to the tavern, and with a sigh, he headed out again.
The clouds were even closer now, coming up from behind at what seemed an ever-increasing pace.
Lancelot pushed harder, hoping to reach Marlborough Lake before it hit, so he had at least a few minutes to look around without the obstacle of a thunderstorm to impede him.
The map had shown it as a lake of three crude circles joined together, but as he drew closer, it was to see the lake was far more than that.
Standing at the top of the hill that led down into the valley where the lake was located, he stared with a racing heart at the triskelion laid out in front of him.
This was it. This was the place.
Lake, check.
Next he had to find the sword. There were actually three swords: Excalibur, Caliburn, and Arondight. He of course had Arondight; Caliburn would be with Mordred.
So Merlin must have meant Excalibur, which made sense. More than any of the other weapons wielded by Arthur and the Knights, Excalibur was bound to Camelot, to all of them. He hoped it turned out to be a rapier, so he could see Arthur sputter in offense right alongside him and his katana.
The lake and the sword combined would call to Merlin…
He just had to get through another fight, and this one would be far more difficult than the previous.
One step at a time.
He traveled along the edge of the lake, eyes ever sweeping, but nothing caught his eye, nothing stood out.
There was no weird glitching kitten or some other tell.
No useful sword in the stone. Wasn't looking for that sword anyway.
Everyone thought Excalibur was the sword in the stone, but that was Clarent, which was bound to Mordred.
Still, would have made this much easier.
Of course, not having to do all of this in a video game would also have been easier, but he wasn't even going to start asking those questions.
All right. If he was the reincarnation of a half-incubus warlock who once went mad and lived in the woods alone for nearly a decade, how would he look in this modern day? Well, in this fantasy escape from the modern day.
He was giving himself a headache.
Thunder cracked and boomed, and what little sunlight remained was hidden by black clouds flickering with lightning that had not broken free quite yet.
All around him, other players were exclaiming, wondering how this artificial storm would hold up when storms were still one of the hardest things to build.
Others were ignoring it entirely, more interested in their quests or battles.
"You said 'after this' like three fucking quests ago," a voice said, clearly peeved, but it was the kind of voice that would be soft and pretty normally, what people called melodious. A jolt ran down Lancelot's spine, and he drew his horse to a halt, gaze sweeping frantically for the source.
There. His breath lodged in his throat, eyes stinging as he realized he was staring at his oldest and dearest friend, the only person in the world who knew what it was like to snap, to be consumed by rage that turned to madness.
Even back in the days of Camelot, Merlin had looked like what present day described as a nerd.
Even in this fantasy world where you could literally look like anything, he was unmistakable.
The pale olive skin, the dark brown hair and dark green eyes, freckles that gave him a deceptively winsome look, like he could seduce a statue if he felt like it.
Honestly, Arthur was so dense Merlin may as well have seduced a statue.
Mouth twitching in amusement at the fond memories of his friends, Lancelot then turned his full attention back to the matter at hand, even as the rain came down…
…and dark, slimy creatures emerged from the lake. Game or Maleagant? Dismounting, Lancelot urged his horse back out of the way and drew his sword.
"Is that a katana? You know those are Japanese, right? Knights didn't use them."
Lancelot cast the speaker a scathing look. "It's the sword the game gave me, scale it."
The man laughed, and beside him, Merlin's unknowing reincarnation rolled his eyes. "Sure, pose."
"Get crashed," Lancelot muttered, and then the slimy things were upon them.
He removed the head of the first one with ease, but got tangled up as the following three pounced him simultaneously.
Since they were water creatures, his personal magic would be of no use, and in-game, he didn't really have magic yet.
He managed to shove one back, stab the second, and behead the third before the first one came back for more—and was dragged down to the ground by countless vines and crushed.
Lancelot whipped around and saw Merlin standing there with a cocky grin that was so familiar it hurt. "Good to have a mage around, aye?"
Lancelot laughed, almost crying. "Aye."
"What in the fuck!"
They both turned toward the panicked shout of Merlin's friend, and followed his gaze to…
An enormous knight in dark gold armor and a green and gold surcoat. For the barest moment, Lancelot thought of Bertilak, the famed Green Knight who'd won the heart of frosty, impenetrable Gawain.
But Bertilak had worn a very different green, and while large, he wasn't this large. He wasn't giant.
Lancelot's heart seized. It couldn't be. It couldn't. Galehaut had never truly been his enemy. There was no way he could be now. This was just an oversized game creation.
Except that as the knight drew closer, the crest emblazoned on his chest was as clear as day: a green lion against a white background strewn with gold stars.
Around the knight's throat was a black collar gleaming with purple-red sigils, marks of Maleagant's foul magic. Maleagant had stolen Galehaut. No, no, no.
"What's wrong?" Merlin's reincarnation asked. "You look like someone just died."
"It would be better if he had," Lancelot said on a sob.
"Is there anything I can do? Uh, my name is Martin. Who are you?"
"Lance. I'm trying to find a special sword that's supposed to be hidden somewhere around here."
Martin's friend laughed. "What, like Excalibur? This game is riff as hell, but it's not that lame."
"There's nothing wrong with King Arthur," Martin muttered. "Look out!"
Lancelot moved just as he screamed, avoiding the new surge of slimy water monsters that came up on them suddenly, the captured Galehaut and a horde of knights in black armor right behind him.
"Stand down!" Lancelot bellowed, throwing out his magic, sending the black knights back with a wave of bone-breaking water. Then he turned his attention to the water creatures, cutting them down one after the other.