Doctor Who - 02 - The Art of Forgetting

.2. Of swords and Screwdrivers

Ace paused at the lakeside, on the shore paved with smooth stones. The water weaved gently, pebbles rattled under his feet. Ace stood at the very edge of a narrow beach; slim, fair-haired, a light-blue tunic over his chain mail, and a black cloak clasped on his shoulder with a fanciful, gold fibula. Letting the wind to cool his sweaty, flushed face, he watched the lake with a triumphant smile.

A faint layer of haze, maybe two foot high, was rising from the water. Lakeside reeds were spearing through its veil like weapons of an invisible army. In the distance, above the water and the wisp of fog, there was a rocky island set against the darkening sky and adorned with a crown of a foreboding castle.

Ace burst into laughter and tapped his tights with his gloved hands.

"Didn't I tell you we were going in the right direction?"

Gold only shrugged. He cautiously put his helmet down on the felled tree trunk. His round face under the chain mail's hood was flushed and gleaming with sweat as well. He took off the hood, wiping his forehead with the back of the hand. He had light-brown hair, now clinging to his neck and temples.

"I prefer the stone version anyway," he said. "We've wasted two hours wandering in the forest. You'll see, we'll run out of credits before we'll manage to play it to the end."

"Geee, stop moaning." Ace pulled an irritated face, looking at Gold over his shoulder. "And stay in the role, will you?"

"How am I supposed to stay in the role? You have picked one person scenario; I don't even know who I am here!"

"Just be glad you're here at all."

"Yeah, I'm glad, your grace, that you deigned to insert me into your bloody fantasy! As a halberdier number three. Cut out in postproduction. These are my bloody credits we're playing for. And it was me who had to get around the software. Without me you'd be stuck in the Fables or in the School."

"Great, I am ever so thankful, and now shut your gob!" Ace turned away angrily, the breast-plate and other elements of his armour clattering.

"You shut your gob! Leech!" With a clang of iron Gold slumped down on the tree trunk, next to his helmet. The pommel of his sword hit the inside of his upper leg. He swore and tried to make himself comfortable.

Ace cleared his throat, faced the lake and opened his arms.

"Eerm... The Lady of the Lake?" he said uncertainly. "It's... It's me... I mean... King Arthur."

„It's me, I mean, King Arthur," Gold, shaking his head, mocked him silently, just mouthing Ace's words. "What a dork! Freak, the High Prince of Freaklandia. The Emperor of Cretinia. Why do I let him take all the leads?"

Regardless of his irritation, he intently watched the lake's surface. Even if the best and, all things considered, the only part fell to Ace again, the moment was fantastic and touched Gold's imagination more than tournaments and battles. He was curious of how the Emporium's supercomputer would develop a simple scheme of their adventure. Emporium's visualisations were unequalled, and when supported by cybernetic genius of Gold, who was slightly tweaking the software, the results were usually terrific.

For a moment all was completely quiet. Even the gentle breeze died out. Then, with a slightest splash, a sword's blade slid out from the mercurial surface of water. A glimpse of steel cut through the haze, which then spiralled into barely visible, subtle vortexes, tangled round the blade.

Gold held his breath. He could see a hilt now; fingers closed around it; an arm wrapped in a glimmering fabric. The Lady of the Lake rising from the depth had silver hair, quicksilver eyes and curves of a perfect hourglass. The cleavage of her dress extended almost to her waist; deep slits revealed her legs, wet fabric telling the rest of the tale.