The Sword In The Stone

The Beginning

Arthur

  The sun bore down on the small city below, the broken cobblestone path hot despite all the weary travelers standing upon the settled rocks. The shadows of strangers did nothing to break the searing heat. People chatted quietly amongst themselves, and the animals seemed to be having conversations of their own. They all watched impatiently as man after man and boy after boy walked up to the sword standing proudly lodged in a stone, each awaiting their turn. It seemed to be beckoning each callused hand to its hilt, yet did not yield to any pull no matter how determined. There it sat, radiating tells of powers new and untold waiting to be unleashed, yet remaining untouched. Even with new hands reaching for the gleaming hilt.

  Arthur watched quietly as a wiry old man struggled to try and pull the sword free. He was thin, and his spine stuck out below his sweat ridden clothes. It was bad enough that Arthur could see this old mans spine where the cloth exposed his muddied skin, but the sweat made it cling to his body in the most disturbing of ways.

  "There's no way that old man is pulling the sword out.." He mumbled, leaning over to another young boy next to him. He wasn't sure why he leaned, considering this boy was taller than him. He looked to be about Arthurs age, 15 perhaps. Maybe older. The boys hair shagged over his eyes in a way Arthur believed would have rendered him blind, if he wasn't watching the sad excuse for a sport with him.

  The boy let out a quiet laugh. "3 pounds says he keels over before they can make him move on." He replied, leaning down to Arthur. His breath smelled of spoiled milk and stale bread, and Arthur did his best to not recoil or show it on his face. He stood straight again, standing on his toes to see through the crowding line.

  Arthur gave the boy a sideways grin. "10 says he's dragged off screaming 'bout being the true Pendragon heir." He stood on his toes, occasionally jumping in an attempt to see over the people surrounding the stone. "Despite him being over 100 years old." He retorted. Sweat stuck his unkempt auburn hair to his furrowed brows as he watched, the world starting to go quiet.

  All except for a singular whisper in his ear.

  Arthur stayed unmoving for a second, thinking it to be milk boy. But it wasn't his voice. He tensed, whipping around to find the source, only to find no one standing close enough to be whispering to him. All focus was on the old man still trying to free the sword. He spun around on his heel as the whispers continued. The voice was that of a woman, quiet and sickly sweet. Softly spoken, yet demanding. He couldn't understand her words but she demanded he listen to her expressions.

  The voice kept humming, "Excalibur.... Arthur.... Free...." being the only words that could be heard. A demand, a pull, a plea. The voice got louder as he ignored it, her whisper thundering in his head. Arthur began pushing through the crowd, his small body allowing him to slip through the people he couldn't elbow aside. The womans voice urged him on as he swam through the sea of gathered people as they gasped, yelled or swore at the young boy. Shoulder after shoulder, elbow after elbow, and shove after shove. He finally got clear of the crowd, his body heavy with sweat, his clothes clinging to his thin body. Arthur made his way up to the stone and, despite his better judgment, grabbed the sickly old mans shoulder and pulled him aside.

  "Sorry sir.. But your turn is up." He warily placed his hand on the hilt after wiping the sweat onto his shirt, doubt filling his mind as his fingers closed around the sword. He felt a surge of electricity flow through his body, forcing him to tighten his grip. For a magic sword, it sure felt more cursed than magical. The overwhelming whispers, the electric feeling flowing through his body, the raw power he could feel radiating off excalibur, and into his hand.

  Arthur began to wonder how this old man even kept his hand on the sword without passing out, when he himself could hardly handle the surges. He tightened his grip and with one swift movement, freed Excalibur from its prison of stone.

  A bright light filled the sky, and suddenly the sword felt too hot to touch, too heavy to hold. Arthur fell to his knees using the blade to steady himself, and, despite the pain, could not let go of the sword. Screams erupt around him, some of joy, some of pain and most.. Of rage. Knights and stupidly brave or cocky townsmen began to surround the boy, blocking him from the rest of the crowd as they tried to break through the barricade. To steal the relic, or simply to get a better look at the small, thin peasant boy who pulled the sword from the stone.

  Arthurs vision began to swim and the shouts began to become distant. He knew he was close to unconsciousness, but the swimming never came. Instead, a soft voice filled his head, beckoning him to follow. A sickly sweet promise of glory filled his veins, as the voice called louder. It wasn't that of the woman before but instead.. A male called to him. Arthur definitely wouldn't call it that of a man, but it also couldn't be a womans. It was soft and soothing, and he wanted to follow his call, but every time he tried, his knees gave out.

  "Come now, Arthur. We must continue your journey." He called, just barely in Arthurs grasp. "Get up.." The voice cried. As the light began to fade from Arthurs vision, so did that beautiful voice.. And so did everything else. The young king collapsed, excalibur falling to his side.

Merlin

  The scent of myrrh filled the stone laboratory, no trace of daylight even dreamed of entering through the drawn curtains. The only sense of light being candles arranged in a neat circle, formed around a young teen. In front of him sat a large lifeless crow, death only claiming its soul hours ago. The teen lifted his hands above his head, taking a moment to blow fabric out of his face. He then took a deep breath, slowly dropping his arms in a slow, wide circle.

  "Tseread tnias, raeh ym llac. Tnarg siht nevar efil ni ym edutivres ni egnahcxe rof siht telbog fo nevle doolb." He chanted, picking up a silver goblet filled with elven blood. The boy then dipped two fingers into the liquid as he spoke, and began carefully drawing the symbol of rebirth on the bird. Then, he dipped his fingers again and placed then carefully over his forehead, down his nose over his lips and down to his chin. The red smears began to glow purple with a gust of wind, blowing out all candles. The laboratory went cold as the spell took hold.

  Moments later, the candles burned brighter than before and there stood the crow alive and well. The crow squealed, opening its wings and flapping them wildly.

  Master, I am ready to serve! The crow folded his large wings, and bowed his head to the wizard.

  Merlin smiled, pushing his raven locks out of his eyes.

  "Careful darling, we don't want to spoil your voice too soon." He replied, placing his hand on his knee for support while standing. He dusted the dust off his clothing and opened his mouth to speak before screaming interrupted him.

  The crow startled, taking off into the air. Danger! Danger! It screamed, circling over Merlin's outstretched hand before carefully landing on his wrist. It hopped up his arm, settling on the wizards shoulder.

  "Relax, I'm sure its just another street fight." Merlin mumbled, walking over to the covered windows. He grabbed the curtains and threw them open, only to immediately be temporarily blinded. When his vision cleared, Merlin laid eyes upon what had caused the screaming.

  A boy, no older than 15 had pulled the legendary relic, Excalibur. And sat in the middle of the square on his knees. How this boy pulled the sword was a mystery to merlin, he looked malnourished yet somehow his features weren't sunken. From what he could see from his laboratory at least. A little peasant boy pulled the stone Merlin had sealed in stone.

  How was this boy the breaker of the spell? The one that is meant to wield the holy sword, and lead Camelot, along with the rest of the world to peace? Merlin looked at the crow on his shoulder, his face twisted with confusion while his heart felt lighter at the same time. This boy was the key to freedom for the realms and.. Merlin's stomach dropped to the floor. The crowd was closing in on this barely conscious boy.

  "Come now, Arthur! You have to run!" He yelled desperately. "We must continue your journey!" There was no point.. He was unheard, but Merlin kept trying. "Get up! You need to get up!" He cried out, but it was too late. The other boy had lost consciousness, and excalibur hit the broken cobblestone with a deafening series of clashes of metal against stone.

  The crowd charged, and Merlin could do nothing but watch as they closed in.