Merlin's Gold

Merlin's Gold - Chapter 1 - Homecoming

Chapter 1 - Homecoming

Grayle tightened the cinch on his horse's saddle and glanced over at his foster father. Percival's pale blue eyes met his son's and a smile broke through the normally taciturn expression making him seem younger for a moment.

"Almost there lad," he said.

The boy nodded and surveyed the camp to see whether anything had been left behind. He held the hilt of the sword belted at his waist with his left hand, making sure the scabbard didn't tangle his legs; a lesson he'd learned early on in his training. Excited anticipation seized him, this was to be their last day of travel before they made it home to Tintagel Castle.

"Ready?" Percival's voice snapped him out of his reverie and Grayle nodded and reached for the reins of his horse. He stopped as five men stepped out from the shadows of the small wooded area that had sheltered them overnight.

"Val," he said softly to Percival, who watched their approach.

"Be ready," said the man quietly, and strode to meet the group of men who fanned out as they came closer.

"Good morning gentlemen, may I help you?" called Percival as he closed on the men. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grayle move further behind the cover of his horse.

"Give me your weapon," said the man without preamble, pulling a blade from his belt. As he did, the other men in the party pulled blades of varying descriptions, and a lone archer stepped into view to Percival's right, an arrow nocked and ready on the string.

"I take it you're not in the mood for a chat then?" noted Percival, reaching for his sword.

"Use the other hand," said the man.

Percival stopped, and clumsily removed the sword, which was scabbarded on his left hip, with his left hand. Once withdrawn, he held it upside down by the hilt.

"Now, tell your cowardly friend to come out from behind the horse."

"Time to come out and play Grayle."

Grayle leapt out from behind his horse, bow in hand, an arrow nocked and ready on the string. There was a soft thud and the arrow punch the opposing bowman off his feet, the other man's nocked arrow falling impotently to the ground. Percival changed his grip on the sword and backhanded it through the open mouth of the man who'd first spoken, dropping him to the ground in a gurgling bloody heap.

An arrow appeared in the shoulder of the man to Percival's left, spinning him to the grass, howling in agony. Grayle moved closer, nocking another arrow to his bow as he looked for a clear shot. The remaining three rushed at Percival, who drew a long knife from his boot and rushed to meet them, blade in either hand. Grayle watched as his father lost himself in the haze of battle, marveling as he always did at the speed and suppressed anger that marked the man's fighting style. Within seconds, a third man was down, another injured. The two remaining men tried to run then, bumping into each other as they fought to get away. An arrow took one, Percival's sword the other. 

Grayle lowered his bow and watched as his father approached. His dark hair flowed to his wide shoulders and, as always after a fight, he grinned hugely.

"Well lad, now that we've warmed ourselves up, shall we wander on?"

Despite the slate coloured sky and threatening clouds, the castle perched on its wave-battered isthmus brought a smile to Percival's face as his horse crested the ridge a few hours later. Hair dancing around his face in the slight breeze, the last of the autumn leaves played restlessly around the hooves of his mount as he turned to look behind him. Grayle smiled back at Percival as he came in sight of Tintagel.