Ruins of Camelot

Chapter 13

It was near sunset when Yazim and Thomas crested the hill and saw the tiny hamlet below them. The village was hemmed in on one side by dense forest. The other side was marked by sheer granite cliffs, broken with crags and cut by a ribbon of falling water. The waterfall was so tall that it was reduced to mist by the time it dropped beyond the roofs of the village.

The travelers stopped on the crest of the narrow road, overlooking the sight.

"You knew this was here," Thomas said, somewhat accusingly.

"I did not, I swear it," Yazim replied calmly. "But I had long wondered." Thomas frowned aside at his friend. "Why?"

Yazim shrugged vaguely. Together, they spurred their horses onwards again, descending into the shadow of the trees and approaching the village. It was still some distance off, its roofs burning bright with the glare of the setting sun. In the centre of these, a small stone church stood, its flat bell tower rising above the other structures.

Thomas sighed. "I thought you said that you did not know the ending of the Princess's story."

Yazim nodded. "I did say that. It is true."

"Forgive me," Thomas commented, shaking his head, "but that sounded like the ending to me."

"That, my friend, is because you lack imagination. You resemble your namesake in that sense. You doubt the bigger plan."

Thomas accepted this as if it were a compliment. "I see things for what they are, if that is what you mean. We live in a much different age than did the Princess Gabriella. We cannot all simply bow a knee and pray to overcome obvious evils. In our time, there is far less black and white. Only thousands of shades of grey."

"It is popular to believe that, yes," Yazim acknowledged.

"So what is the great mystery then? What part of the Princess's tale am I missing?"

Yazim was silent for a long moment. The declining sun made amber beams through the trees, throwing dapples onto the road before them.

Finally, he said, "There is the question of the vampire armies for one." Thomas smiled and shook his head. "Fanciful embellishment. Come, Yazim. Even if you believe the rest of the tale, you do not believe that detail, do you?"

Yazim responded with a smile of his own. "Perhaps," he sighed. "It is said that there were indeed many rogue armies in that day, not just the one that conquered and destroyed Camelot. The legends say that none of those other armies succeeded in their marches however. All of them, for reasons no one knows, simply halted in their tracks. Some tales even go on to suggest that great numbers of the evil soldiers simply fell over as dead. There, they were left, lying in their ranks and divisions, to rot on the nameless hills and fields."

Thomas still smiled crookedly. "Such things do make excellent stories, Yazim. I shall admit that."

"You are correct," Yazim nodded. "Many tell such tales even today. They say that remnants of the villain's undead remain still. Some of the vampires, they claim, were not beholden to the black candle. These were the wizard's earliest dark creations, and they live still today, haunting the shadows and hunting by night, infecting their prey with their own horrible curse." Yazim laughed lightly. "Such things do indeed make for good midnight tales," he finished, turning to his friend, "do they not?"

Thomas blinked at him and then shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Yazim went on. "Then, of course, there is the question of the Little Prince."

"But the Prince was killed," Thomas reminded him reluctantly. "Merodach sent his forces to both hiding places. Whether the woman Sigrid had believed the Princess's warning or not, she would have been confronted by the villain's assassins in either event. Surely, you do not suggest that she might have fended the brutes off?"