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and spurted with escaping fumes.
As we stared at the horrific sight, a stench like that of rotting entrails rose from this swiftly liquefying
coagulation. All around the clearing, the corpse heaps were dissolving into a stinking mass as once-firm
flesh turned into a sighing, quivering mass. Amidst the muck, I could see long, pale bones protruding -
here a slender leg bone, there the twinned lengths of an arm, or the swept curves of a rib cage - and all of
them sinking into miry dissolution.
The vapours gurgling from the vile quagmire hung in the air, giving off a faint, noxious glow. The air was
so rank with the stink and belch of the putrid slurry, I gagged and wretched, vomiting bile onto the
ground. Dragging my sleeve across my lips, I tried to wipe the bad taste from my mouth, to no avail.
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'I think I preferred them when they were trying to kill us,' Bors said through clenched teeth.
Retreating into the chapel, we sank down upon the cool stones. I lay there drawing clean air deep into
my lungs, grateful for the peaceful sanctuary of this holy place. Exhausted from our ordeal, we rested
then, content to simply await whatever should befall us. I slept and awakened some while later much
refreshed; the pain in my side had eased a great deal, and I found I could move without difficulty. Leaving
the others to their sleep, I got up and went to the chapel door and looked out to find that the vile heaps
of putrefaction had vanished.
I roused the others and we went out.
Not a scrap of bone or a shred of clothing was anywhere to be seen; gone, too, was any sign of the
battle we had fought: no splintered shafts or broken blades; no dented helms or discarded shields...
nothing. The ground was as smooth and untrammelled as we had first found it.
'It is a wonder,' Bors declared. 'Not so much as a footprint remains.'
'The holy ground has done its work,' I replied, and was reminded of the Grail Maiden's challenge: Think
you the Great King requires the aid of any mortal to accomplish his will? Is the Lord of Creation
powerless to protect his treasures?
No, the High King of Heaven required nothing from us but obedience. It was for us that his gifts were
given, his commands likewise. What we did, we did for our own welfare, not his.
We had been commanded to guard the Grail, and it was to secure the boon of blessing that we obeyed.
Thus, we stood before the chapel, weapons drawn and ready, waiting, listening. But no sound greater
than the wind whispering in the bare treetops met the ear.
I felt the first faint breath of a breeze on my face, and Bors said, The wind is rising.'
Even as he spoke, I felt a gust of cold air and the thorny hedge wall began to quiver, as the sighing in the
treetops became a moan of regret for the storm to come.
We stood before the chapel, listening to the wind gather strength, gusting in the treetops, making the high
boughs creak and groan. Far off, I heard the keening howl of a storm wind sweeping towards us, and I
could feel the air growing steadily colder. Something was coming that despised all warmth and light, and
it advanced on the wings of a storm.
THIRTY-NINE
Morgaws is showing signs of weakness. When I have established my reign, I will teach her the true uses
of power. She must learn, as I did, how to harden her heart and bend all things to her will. Sympathy,
compassion, mercy - what are they, but weakness by other names? The Queen of Air and Darkness is
beyond weakness, beyond frailty, beyond all human imperfection. Morgaws will learn this, or Morgaws
will die.
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She denies she has made any mistakes, and in the same breath informs me that Llenlleawg has failed, the
Grail has not been recovered, and three of Arthur's warriors have mounted a pitiful resistance. It is of no
consequence, I tell her, but she insists they have succeeded in finding the chapel and suspects they may
have regained the Grail.
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