X-Calibur: The Trial (15 page)

Thinking like her father wasn't going to work, not this time. It was time to think like her new friends. They seemed to act before they thought of the consequences, doing something bold and confident and hoping for the best.

Disconnecting her scanner from the console, she made her mind up there and then to do something rash, something foolhardy and hope it was enough. It was risky, yes, and certainly dangerous, but a single thought decided it for her.

Would Arthur, Gwen or Lance do any less?

*****

A guard had brought clean water and bandages, just as Gwen had asked. She did her best to clean the sticky blood from Lance's face and torso, but the continued sight of the burnt stump where his left arm used to be made her feel sick every time she glanced at it.

Lance hadn't moved, hadn't stirred since the guards had dropped him unceremoniously at her feet. Why had the jailer done that to him? Had he been interrogating Lance for some reason, asking Lance questions about the hive or Earth, or was he just hurting him for the sake of it? Why did it have to be him? Why hadn't the jailer chosen her instead?

A sudden exhalation from Lance made her start, but he failed to move again while she watched. She checked again for a pulse, willing it to still be there, and after what seemed like an eternity she felt the faintest flicker of movement beneath her fingers.

He was still alive, still holding on, but there was no way Lance could survive another round of torture. She made a pact with herself, deciding that no matter the consequences, she wouldn't let the jailer take Lance again.

He'll have to kill me
, she thought.

Gwen considered contacting Arthur, letting him know what had happened, but eventually decided against it. Arthur was searching for the Grail, the one thing that could save them, and knowing what had happened to Lance wouldn't help. Gwen realised it could make things worse, make Arthur turn back and return to Camelot or distract him when he needed to be focused. She had no idea what obstacles Mor-Dred would have put in his path, but she knew the insane AI wouldn't make their quest easy. She didn't really believe Mor-Dred would let them go when Arthur and Merlin returned but it was all she had, all any of them had.

Where was Caran Doc? Why hadn't he arrived to free them from that nightmare?

Gwen felt lost, empty and alone. Why was this happening? What had Lance ever done to anybody? He was a good man, perhaps the best of them, always looking to help others, no matter the cost. She was the one who said they shouldn't come, should wait or even leave the hive to fend for itself. She should be the one being punished, not him, not the man who had only wanted to do the right thing.

Gwen broke down in tears, sadness overwhelming her. She'd failed. Lance, Arthur, even Merlin, she's failed all of them. Bowing her head she let the tears fall, let the sobs rack her body as she let it all go. There was nothing she could do now, nothing at all.  All she could do was wait.

Wait, and hope.

*****

The fourth door Arthur opened revealed a winding stone staircase descending into murky, torch-lit darkness. Arthur called to Merlin before beginning his descent, his eagerness soon leaving the older man behind.

“Arthur, wait,” Merlin called into the gloom. The stairs were narrow, especially near the central pillar, and smooth from use. Even with his left hand on the wall for balance, Merlin lost his footing more than once.

“I'm sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said, offering his hand. “Here, let me help.”

“Thank you,” Merlin replied with a smile.

They descended more slowly, Merlin grateful for Arthur's balance and sure-footedness. The combat programming had given him an exceptional sense of coordination and control over his muscles and posture.

And being young and nimble doesn't hurt either
, Merlin thought.

Arthur quickly lost count of the number of steps they took. The continual droning sound was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate, and he was more than a little worried that Merlin couldn't hear it. It was so loud and seemed to be coming from right beside him. If Mor-Dred could manipulate his senses like that, what else could he do?

“You really can't hear that?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin replied with concern. “Tell me again what it sounds like?”

Arthur made a low, deep humming sound, trying to emulate what he could hear. “The tone goes up and down a bit, but it's just there, all the time,” he said.

“Could it be the capsule you and Gwen have?” Merlin suggested. “Malfunctioning again?”

“I suppose so,” Arthur said, relieved. “It hadn't worked for days and then it was so painful. I was able to speak to Gwen but I still haven't heard from Triltan, which makes sense if it's broken.”

“I suspect it's self repairing, like most Teleri technology,” Merlin said admiringly. “The time I spent exploring the computers aboard the Ardent Dawn, the knowledge and advances they've made. They're such a remarkable species, and to check me over as thoroughly as they did? I'm confident if there was anything wrong they would have discovered it.”

“You're right,” Arthur said, feigning a smile as he tried to ignore the knot in his stomach. “You're absolutely fine.”

“Tell that to my knees,” Merlin remarked, returning the smile. “I'll say this for Mor-Dred; sometimes his simulation is a little
too
realistic.”

Arthur chuckled. “If you want me to carry you, I will,” he offered. “I'll try not to throw you this time.”

Merlin laughed loudly. “Yes, yes, I won't be forgetting
that
anytime soon,” he remarked. “Let's just keep going as we are, it can't be far now.”

They continued on in companionable silence. Merlin began to notice a pattern in the stone steps, the same grooves and indentations repeating every thirty steps or so, just like the stone bricks in the walls. It was a remarkable and detailed simulation, but Mor-Dred had apparently only had so many pieces with which to build it.

The steps led to a large cavern, deep within the foundations of the house above. The dim light from the final torch did little to light the way ahead, and Arthur wrestled it from its mounting and carried it before him. The light was insufficient to fully illuminate the extent of the cavern, but the shadows of stalactites and stalagmites could be seen all around them.

“Merlin, that droning sound,” Arthur said suddenly. “It's stopped.”

“Excellent!” Merlin replied with a smile. “Perhaps things are looking up?”

There was a burst of static in Arthur's ear before Triltan's message began to play. “Arthur, I'm here,” Triltan's voice said, sounding as though she was stood right beside him. “I think the capsules are malfunctioning but I'm here now. I've spoken to my father and he's on his way, but that will take a week or more. If I just unplug you it might kill you! What do you want me to do?”

Arthur relayed the message to Merlin, the older man's brow furrowing deeper with every word. “She's right,” Merlin said at last. “Unplugging you from the pods could kill you, or worse, trap your minds inside the hive network.”

“I don't understand why Caran Doc is so far away,” Arthur said. “Why would Triltan wait so long to contact him?”

“Perhaps an error in the translation?” Merlin suggested. “Triltan herself said the capsules are malfunctioning.”

“Maybe,” Arthur agreed. “What shall I reply?”

Merlin considered his words carefully before making his suggestions, which Arthur relayed to Triltan. Once the message was sent they continued forwards, torch held before them to light their way. Merlin still had the overwhelming sense of dread that had been slowly building up inside him, warning him that something was coming, something terrible.

“What do you think the test will be here?” Arthur asked, whispering without realising.

“Hard to say,” Merlin replied, grateful for the interruption. “So far the trials have tested you more than I. Perhaps this is one for me to deal with?”

A sudden sound from the darkness made them freeze. It was a scraping sound, long and grating, followed by a gust of wind. Arthur transferred the torch to his left hand and drew the sword with his right. They stepped forward more slowly, tentatively, moving the torch left and right in the hope of catching anything or anyone ahead of them.

The cavern ahead was suddenly illuminated by a column of flame, roaring towards them. Arthur grasped Merlin and rolled aside, taking cover behind a rising stalagmite as the hot jet of fire scorched the ground where they'd stood.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, eyes wide. “What
is
that?”

“That, my King,” Merlin replied apprehensively. “Is a dragon!”

*****

Triltan was running down the ramp from the security station when a further high pitched burst of noise interrupted her. She stopped and instructed her scanner to play the message.

“Triltan,” Arthur's voice said, his tone desperate. “The capsules are malfunctioning, it took several hours for your message to come through. Don't unplug us, Merlin agrees we'd likely die in the process. He suggests you use the resources on the Ardent Dawn to override the network first and make sure it's definitely down before removing us from the pods. Find him, once he's out of the simulation he'll be able to tell you himself.

“The message you sent said Caran Doc was still days away. I know that can't be true, we've been in here over a week already and I know you wouldn't have waited so long to contact him. Whatever's happening with the capsules, we can sort it out when you get us out of here. We're counting on you, Triltan, I know you won't let us down.”

Triltan stood in the darkened corridor and played the message again, increasingly confused by its content. She checked the translation, considering alternate words that might make more sense, and performed diagnostic tests on her capsule, but each time she came to the same conclusion.

Arthur's message made no sense.

She played it a third time, listening more to the tone Arthur used, wondering if he was perhaps under duress, giving her a message
within
the message, but she couldn't identify anything. As far as she could tell, the message was exactly what it seemed.

If Arthur and Gwen's capsules were still malfunctioning, the message would be garbled, confused. Arthur's voice sounded clear enough, and her capsule was working perfectly. So why did he think it had been hours since she contacted him? It had been minutes at most since she responded to his message. She wondered if he had meant minutes, but why did he seem so distressed by it if he did? A minute or two between communications should be expected, especially under the current circumstances. And then he said they had been trapped inside the pods for over a week? Something was very wrong but she had no idea what.

Triltan checked her internal chronometer and then checked with the Vanguard to ensure that she hadn't been drugged or knocked out, anything that may explain lost time. The Vanguard chronometer agreed with hers. She had been aboard the hive ship for a little over seventeen hours, no longer, and the rumbling in her stomach and occasional pangs of hunger seemed to agree.

Triltan began the walk back to the birthing chamber, her mind a flurry of activity as she considered more and more outrageous possibilities. She even considered that she may be the one inside the simulation, but a check of her capsule determined that the only activity in her brain was her own.

Unless the simulation is mimicking the capsule too,
she thought worryingly.

No, something else was going on, she was sure of it. She just didn't know what, at least not yet. All of a sudden her insane plan didn't seem so crazy. Without another thought, Triltan broke into a sprint.

*****

“Fe fi fo fum,” a terrifying voice boomed from the shadows. “I smell the blood of an Englishman. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

“How do we fight it?” Arthur whispered to Merlin at his side.

“With an army,” Merlin replied breathlessly. “And an awful lot of luck!”

“Merlin?” Arthur said angrily.

“I'm sorry, Arthur,” Merlin continued. “But without my magic I don't see how we can.”

“Are you an Englishman, Merlin?” the voice continued, a little closer than before. “I know you think you are, but have a good sniff. What do you smell of, hmm?”

Arthur gripped the hilt of his sword tightly as he thought, his mind blank. “An army,” he said absently, looking at the sword in his right hand and burning torch in his left. “Merlin, that book you got me to read about fighting, by that Sun something?”

“You mean the Art of War by Sun Tzu?” Merlin whispered. “What about it?”

“What would he do?” Arthur asked.

“Arthur, is this really the time?” Merlin continued, his voice showing increasing signs of agitation.

“He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious,” Arthur began, sliding the sword back into his belt.

“Arthur, please,” Merlin said. “We have to keep our wits about us.”