With fangs, blazing orange eyes, and horns atop his head, Arthur's father was a fearsome visage. Merlin dove under a piece of furniture and the dog backed away with a whimper. Lancelot's eyes were blown wide. Lancelot tried to scramble away, but Uther clamped a meaty half paw, half hand around the back of his neck and lifted him off his feet. I just wanted to help him and then send him on his way. Uther gnashed his teeth at his son. After everything you know about the outside world? Arthur hurried after them, wanting to stop this but knowing it was no use; his father couldn't be reasoned with.
Uther hauled Lancelot all the way down to the dungeon and tossed him into a cell, then slammed the door shut with a raucous clang. Arthur grimaced and gave Lancelot a remorseful look. He almost opened his mouth to apologize, but his father snapped his fangs at him, and so he obediently followed him back upstairs. Uther whirled on him, spittle flying from his snout.
No one can be trusted! You should know better, Arthur! He can't be allowed to leave and tell others what he's seen. We would have an army on our doorstep! Arthur nearly sagged in sheer relief, but he also felt even more horrible for what he had just condemned Lancelot to. He'd only wanted to help the young man, and now they both were to be prisoners of this place for eternity. Plain text with limited HTML?
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Get an Invitation. Chapter 1. Chapter Text It was a cold, blustery day that found the lone wanderer Lancelot trudging through the woods. The cat looked out at the distance. My father would be furious. But Arthur couldn't do that. He was, after all, still the prince. Leon reached down to pick up the boy in his armored arms and carry him. His father usually kept to himself, so there was a chance he'd never find out about this… They went into the common room where a servant stood ready at the hearth.
Leon pivoted sharply with a metallic clink and marched to the door. I'm Prince Arthur. Arthur eyed him warily. Lancelot shifted in discomfort. Arthur felt bad for tossing the boy out again so soon, but he really needed to leave. Other Works at Roy Glashan's Library. Other novels and short fiction are available from Roy Glashan's Library in various formats. Additional stories, under the headings listed below, may be available from Roy Glashan's Library.
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Kildare's Search Dr. Kildare Goes Home Dr. Kildare Takes Charge Dr. Kildare's Crisis The People vs. The Compass Points East 5. Southward 6. Kilgharrah 7. An Old Wanderer 8. A few steps ahead, Elyan bursts into laughter. He makes camp in a small cave near a lake, and Merlin was pleased to see how well his father seems to do for himself out there, aside from the lack of company. They said their farewells and kept moving, Balinor pointing them in the direction of an old town.
Out here, the trees along the path are gone; parched earth and blowing dust are poor replacements. This far from the haven they have built inside the castle walls, their easy camaraderie feels tangible, essential. As integral to their well-being as the water and provisions they replenish at outposts along the way. When darkness begins to fall and damp their spirits, Merlin has taken to whistling.
They make camp underneath a lone, skeletal tree. Its spindly branches are bone dry. They roast some meat that Gwen caught before they left the forest, and put up torches around their open camp to fend off beasts and shadows alike. As they turn in for night time, Lancelot taking first watch, Merlin shivers in the cool plains air. A quick spell encourages the torches to stay lit through the night. They awake with the fresh light of dawn.
The sun slides his way across the sky towards them, as if racing them to the Western horizon. He is just about to overtake the group when they see it: a small town lies ahead, empty houses scorched and slumping.
But, picking their way carefully through the rubble, small signs of occupation become apparent. Here a house cleaned up and re-thatched, there a verdant garden with the looks of a mirage, something unreal painted overtop the drab landscape.
The double doors creak endlessly in the wind. This building is more intact than most, and they cautiously go inside. Daylight gives way after just a few feet; their torchlight, newly conjured, casts a flickering glow down the hallway.
Footsteps can be heard up ahead — and stop. JOHN W. H UGH B. LEVI H. PAUL W. Jones, [PDF]. Larry M. Harris [PDF]. MARK S. AND C. DALE R. J OHN H. NEIL R. CARL G. KANE, M.
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