The Poison Rose: A King Arthur Tale Page 15
Dani laughed and smiled, “You are the fool Arthur—a noble fool perhaps—but a fool nonetheless.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I could have killed you any time Arthur.” Dani suddenly drew her wand, lifted it up in the air, and released a powerful spell that blew out all the torch lights and filled the room with a light just as bright as the sun. “You see my magic is as powerful as the sun. I could have entered your precious city anytime and killed you in an instant, but that wouldn’t be as fun. That wouldn’t be revenge. Whether or not you fell for me I had a plan, an infallible way to take your heart. But to do so I first had to kill your wife.”
“My wife...” mumbled Arthur. “What are you talking about? She died of a disease, not some spell.”
The witch laughed again. “She was sick, yes. But it was a poison, a poison that I devised and my servant, Mordred, gave to her that killed her.” Suddenly Dani revealed the black phial with the label “DEATH.” “I like this potion because it kills very slowly, and without any remedy. I think that you saw this phial before and you now know that there is no potion that can bring anyone back from the dead. Your Guinevere is dead forever.”
“But why have me come here? My heart was already broken after the death of Guinevere.”
“Why? Because I wanted revenge against the kingdom of men, and you, as the king, were the primary representation of the wickedness of men and their abuse of power. Death by the magic of my wand is simple, quick, and painless. But I didn’t want you to just experience death. I wanted you to feel the pain that I felt so long ago when, as a young child, I lost all my friends and family and was forced to live in a world that had not only abandoned me, but turned against me. I wanted you to feel the pain of a world that had turned against you. That is why I let you watch your kingdom corrupt itself with nothing you could do about it. I let you think that you were loved, that you could actually have a woman like me. But then I would crush you where it hurts the most—in your heart. Then, when you could endure no more pain or suffering, I would reveal the truth to you. After all that I wouldn’t even need to kill you. You wouldn’t be worth a drop of my magic. Instead, I would simply let you die, slowly and painfully in the darkness. But it is not too late Arthur! I will give you a weapon…”
Suddenly Dani drew from her dress a sharp, curved dagger and threw it on the ground in front of Arthur. Its handle was thick and black and its blade sharp and shiny. Arthur was confused at the witch’s move yet again, but he slowly bent down and picked up the blade and aimed it up at the witch. “Now is the opportunity to do what you failed to do previously. You failed to have the courage to use my potions, but now I give you the opportunity to kill me—to end my life. All it takes is a stab in the heart.”
Arthur looked down at the blade and then back up at the witch. He felt a rush of anger flow through him. He knew he should have killed her—he wanted to, he wanted to take that knife and stab her with everything that he had. But he couldn’t. He knew who he was.
He then tossed the blade back at the witch’s feet. “No…I will not kill you. I am King Arthur, the noble, virtuous king who established a free and prosperous kingdom. I strive to protect the rights of all the people and will not succumb to the demands of a witch.”
There was a long moment of silence. The witch peered down on Arthur, but she did not look surprised. Then, eventually, a smile grazed her face. “So, even after everything I have done to you—after I killed your wife, after I corrupted your land, divided your kingdom, and even took your own daughter. Even after all that you still will not kill me. That could only be true love. Admit it Arthur! You have fallen for a witch and don’t have the heart to kill me!”
In this moment everything seemed to become clear for Arthur. In this abyss of a basement in the witch’s palace he finally understood this woman. She did not care about killing him. She didn’t even really care about making him suffer. All of these were great, but this was not her primary objective. Ironically her primary objective was the same primary objective possessed by any man who ever met her, to get someone to fall in love with her. But this was not all. She wanted proof from Arthur’s own mouth that he loved her. This is what she wanted and everything she had done was to prove that she was loved and could get anyone, even Arthur, to love her unconditionally.
So, although the situation was dire and Arthur’s hope was almost completely faded, he at least knew one thing—the witch respected and feared him. She knew somewhere deep down that he was great and to have respect and love from a great man was very rewarding.
“You love me Arthur! You wish to lay yourself up on that altar and give me your heart. So do it! Go on the altar and remove your own heart. Bind yourself to me and you will live as long as a witch lives! Then you will be as Mordred and will have all my love!”
She pointed to Mordred, who nodded and bowed in agreement. Arthur found Mordred’s actions appalling. He would never willingly give himself to this witch.
“I do not love you, nor will I ever love you,” replied Arthur. “And I certainly will never give you my heart.”
There was a short moment of silence. “Fine!” she snapped. Dani suddenly looked upset, but Arthur couldn’t tell what she was going to do next. She then picked up the knife. “Well, excellent, then you won’t feel anything if I do this…” She moved towards him gracefully, inching her lips towards his. “Now I will give you that kiss,” she said as her lips finally met his.
Arthur wanted to run away, but he didn’t know where he would run and no matter where he ran he couldn’t get away from the fact that she was evil, but that he loved her. Did that mean that he loved evil? He felt nothing but confusion, but he supposed this was the nature of a witch—a creator of confusion.
The two lips met there for several seconds. Arthur could feel her wet, soft lips against his and he could not deny that he liked it, no matter how uneasy it was for him. It was as if the powerful connection that existed between the two beings was suddenly sealed. To Arthur it seemed as if the heavens had touched him and bestowed upon him a little of their divine joy.
Suddenly, however, Arthur felt a rush of pain come from his side. Looking down he could see her hands on the handle of her dagger, the dagger that she just plunged deep into his side. He let out a moan of pain and fell to the ground. “Now you will feel the pain of those who fail!” She quickly ripped the dagger from out of his flesh. His hands reached down to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. The dagger had gone far too deep.
Arthur struggled to breathe for several seconds. Although the witch could have used any weapon to hurt him, it was the short, but sharp blade of unreciprocated love that hurt the most—that went the deepest. The physical blade was only a reminder of the pain he felt in his heart.
Arthur looked up into the witch’s eyes, eyes that now seemed to glow a bright, insidious red. Her expression was one of supreme joy. The good woman that he thought existed was not there.
He then found himself getting weaker and weaker until he began to drift away, deeper and deeper into the darkness. The last thing he remembered seeing was the witch’s insidious smile, along with Mordred, the traitor knight holding her in his arms. Then his world suddenly went black as he felt himself drifting away from all consciousness. Hope, he feared, had finally left him.
Chapter 12: The Devil’s Wasteland
Arthur woke up slowly, as if from a nightmare. Everything in the past seemed like one awful dream, and indeed Arthur hoped it was a dream. But almost immediately upon awakening he knew it was no dream. Looking up he immediately knew that he was no longer in the basement of the witch’s palace. He could feel the open air against his body, the wet ground and vegetation on his bare hands and feet. And, looking around all he saw was an intense fogginess. The land was so foggy that he couldn’t even see his own hands in front of him.
He first thought that this was heaven—that he had died and gone to some mysterious world of spirits. But a few moments after he awoke
out of his unconscious state he heard the treading of feet and looked back to see the witch, now wearing all white and an elegant white sapphire crown on her head. Standing beside the witch was Mordred, who pulled Llamrai behind him by a rope. Arthur’s hands felt like they had been bound, his skin still red from the rope marks. Now, however, Arthur’s hands were free and he thought it odd.
The pain of the wound in his side returned with veracity as he gradually gained complete consciousness. For several moments Arthur did not speak. A part of him was puzzled at why the witch had kept him alive. Surely her plan was complete, or at least Arthur’s role in it. He knew she wanted to make him suffer, but he thought that he had already sunk to the lowest depths of pain and despair possible. But perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the witch was trying to prolong the pain and suffering even more.
“Where am I?” Arthur asked, looking up at the witch and then back out over the fogland. “I don’t know this place.”
“Oh, you should Arthur, for you are still within your kingdom. You are where many women of the past became witches. Your records and maps were written by men and for men, and so they do not mention this place. I call this land the ‘devil’s wasteland’, but you may call it what you wish, for it is here that you will die, as have so many women in the past.”
“What are you talking about?”
The witch laughed. “Oh, how ignorant is man! This land was not always this way Arthur, but is what it is now because of man’s meddling with nature. This land was created anciently by men to punish women. Long ago, when the kingdom first became dominated by men, women were considered too unruly and disobedient. So what happened? Secretly the ruling men found and molded a land, the land in the kingdom most to the south-east, and there they found an appropriate way to punish women for their disobedience—to discard of them, if you will. There used to be massive and beautiful trees in this land, but evil men secretly cut down all the trees. Then they dug massive holes. These holes are called ‘death traps’ because they were so deep, over twenty feet, and so wide, over ten feet, that no person would be able to get out. The fog made it even more difficult to cross, forcing the woman to literally cross blindly and hope to not slip or fall into the death traps scattered across the land. Any wrong step could make them fall into the pits. Then, if they felt it necessary to dispose of a woman without themselves being accused of murder or torture they would bring the woman here. They would place the women on the border of this terrible land and make them walk forward to their death! Dying here was a terrible death because once you fall into one of the pits, which you no doubt will because the land is so wet, slippery, and foggy. You are left to wither away in the darkness where nobody will find your body. In essence, once you fall into these pits you are in a state of living without hope, where only the darkest of creatures live. In these pits you have no hope and your memory also becomes erased because nobody will ever find your body. Death for the people who fell into these pits was a terrifying and long death, a death of the spirit and the body as the body slowly died from thirst and starvation and as the spirit slowly died because of lack of hope. It is a death fitting for you Arthur, and it is for this purpose that I bring you here now, for now you will die this horrible death. And now you will know that I will go back to Camelot and take your kingdom from you! Everything that once was yours, everything that you loved so dearly, will be taken from you. Before you had everything, but now you will have nothing. Consider this our goodbye ‘Great Arthur’, for your failure is now complete. Your kingdom is now mine.”
“No, you will never take my kingdom. I will return.”
“Foolish Arthur! Nobody has ever successfully navigated this land and escaped it alive…oh and that reminds me…” The witch suddenly drew her wand from her side and pointed it back at Llamrai. Llamrai looked at Arthur with alarm, and bucked her head up and down as if she knew what evil the witch was capable of. “And just so I know you will not be able to ride your way out of this one…” The witch suddenly shot a powerful beam of magic that killed Llamrai upon impact.
“No!” yelled Arthur, with all the strength he had left. It pained Arthur to be forced to see his valiant, innocent, and loyal steed killed in an instant by such a merciless evil.
The witch, seeing Arthur’s tears and pain, rejoiced even more. “Arthur…your fate will be death. I have mended your wound so that you may have time to fall into one of these pits, suffer, and then die. But know that your wound will soon return to all its former pain and power. So live here as long as your miserable God lets you live!” The witch then motioned for Mordred. “Mordred, push him out into the wasteland!”
Mordred nodded and heeded her orders. He took out a long spear and pushed Arthur forward into the land. Arthur looked out towards the wasteland but could see only a white, blurry fog. There he used all the remaining strength he had to inch himself forward until he was so far into the fogland that he looked around but couldn’t figure out where he was. He figured that the witch intended for it to be this way, however, and he heard no more words or sounds from either her or Mordred, assuming that they both sped off back towards Camelot.
There Arthur was now completely alone, stuck in a maze with no compass, star, or sun to help show him the way out. He didn’t even know what time it was, or how long he had been out.
But everything seemed to make sense now. Mordred was in charge of the kingdom to the south-east and he must have kept the location of this land hidden from him intentionally. Arthur figured that all along, perhaps even since becoming a knight, Mordred was working for the hands of that evil witch in keeping this land a secret. And now it seemed like he had nothing—that his kingdom would have no memory of him. Indeed, he could picture himself trudging through this wasteland and dying, the witch then taking over the entire kingdom, with the world then going into darkness and all records of the kingdom of the past destroyed.
But Arthur could not let that happen. He used all the strength he had to crawl back towards where he felt was north-west, out of the weedy land of fog and mud, and hopefully, into the light of a land he knew. In order to help him avoid the deep pits he placed his hands on the ground in front of him and felt his way forward. He noticed several pits as he crawled because, with his hands ahead of him, he could feel some kind of hole beginning to form. He knew that this way may perhaps work, but it was much slower and he did not have long before the wound in his side would again begin to bleed or he would simply die of thirst. Arthur crawled forward and around these massive pits for about fifteen minutes until he suddenly felt the ground beneath him give way. He then felt himself sliding uncontrollably headfirst into the darkness. He knew he must have gone too close to a pit.
“Wait!” he yelled. Arthur tried desperately to grab some kind of plant, or anything really, to stop him from falling into the pit. But it was no use. The ground was breaking beneath his feet and he didn’t have enough strength to get himself out. Arthur felt himself falling, falling faster and faster into the wet darkness.
Chapter 13: The Witch Enters Camelot
A powerful stench of darkness lingered over the entire land and even though it was yet day, the clouds were thick and prevented the sun from fully pouring down its powerful rays. Now the fierceness of the land did not just extend to the forest surrounding Poison Rose Mountain, but the entire land now felt his pain—the pain of a lost leader.
Knowing that Arthur was now lost in the wasteland, the witch and Mordred moved quickly through the darkness, away from the wasteland, until they arrived at the witch’s chariot. The chariot, led by eight of her finest horses, was a masterpiece of construction. Its wheels were made of solid gold, while the carriage itself was hand-crafted and made of solid white oak. The interior was all white and extremely comfortable, and it was here where the witch sat, with Mordred in the seat in front of her guiding the horses as they moved through the terrain.
Her horses were locomotives, built to withstand any obstacle. Originally bred by the witch and her servants i
n her stables they were far superior to any horses that Arthur’s kingdom had ever known. Her horses were a bright white, and had the ability, like mountain goats, to move up any terrain. And like oxen, they had strength superior to any horse, being able to pull thousands of pounds. In addition, they had the speed of a cheetah, able to move rapidly through the landscape.
The only effort the witch made to this journey was to use her magic to provide the reigns of the horses and chariot with powerful bright white lights for their journey through the forest. Everything else, however, Mordred and the animals could do on their own and this pleased the witch.
The witch was sure to make a grand entrance into the kingdom of Camelot. It had been so long since she had actually entered the city, since she was a young child, that her memory of the place seemed so dark and mysterious. But now she hoped everything would be different.
The chariot sped quickly towards Camelot, where they would ride into the city just before the sun began to set.
There, in Camelot, was a certain spacious courtyard in the center of the city where people would often gather to be entertained or hear speeches. The courtyard was perfectly square and massive (hundreds of feet wide). In the center of the courtyard there was a large open stone arena surrounded by hundreds of cold, hard stone stairs. The center arena could hold thousands of people and Mordred knew it was the perfect location for the presentation of the witch to the people.
The witch’s chariot approached the city and from the top of the wall Galahad was the first to see it. “Something approaches!” he declared loudly enough for the guards at the top of the wall to suddenly get up from their nap and investigate.
“Why yes, but what is it?” one of the guards asked.
“It is some kind of chariot,” said Galahad. “I must give word to the other knights.” And so Galahad quickly departed to inform the other knights of this mysterious visitor.