The Dragon: A Short Story

Merlin swung his arms cautiously. Although he’d worn chain mail on a few occasions, it weighed his arms and legs down. He feinted with Excalibur a few times while trying to get its flow. He tried to use a shield in concert with the blade.

Everything felt so foreign.

Despite everyone’s protests to the contrary, he still would have preferred to take out Meleagant’s forces with overwhelming magic. He had a vial of his aging elixir hidden in his side pouch in case of need. He feared the injuries to his followers, himself….

…and his wife….

Amidst a few sparks dancing like fireflies on a summer evening, Mithian inspected her armor meticulously. Under an emerald sur coat, her protective breastplate gleamed where the light touched it. Hard leather

Thank you, Milady.” Britomart whipped her sword in front of her. “Master William outdoes himself yet again. It amazes me how the blade is so balanced!” Her eye skimmed the gleaming metal in her hand. “I hope Sir Gawain would have his weaponry checked here before we set out.”

“He has attachments to Camelot. Their armorers and blacksmiths are first rate as well, Lady Britomart,” Master William noted. He hoisted a red hot helm with his tongs before setting it to cool in a bucket of water. “If it sets your mind at ease, Good Lady and Your Highness, I have checked his armor and blade upon royal wish.”

“Royal wish? I didn’t…” Mithian started before realizing the source. “Of

Her heart beat a tad bit faster at his irreverence.

“I’d say you both will drive the rest of us insane yet,” Galahad groused. “This is a battle not a tawdry banquet rehash. We will all be fortunate to emerge unscathed from the bloody affair ahead.”

“Those emotions will guide us home yet, Sir Galahad. We must have faith,” Mithian declared from the top of the stone stairs leading to their number. She carried her bow in her right hand. Her left clasped Merlin’s right. Along with them, Lancelot and Ywain proceeded reverently. Behind their numbers, Malodius escorted Elaine who was carried on a bier borne by four courtiers. She turned to Lancelot. “Say your good byes, Lancelot, ere we depart.”

“Thank you, my Queen.” Lancelot bowed graciously to them. Then he descended step by agonizing step toward the awaiting Gwen. His heart quickened in tune with each step. His eyes glistened into hers. “Queen Guinevere, it seems the time is upon us again.”

“It seems so.” Gwen shivered with Dread’s icy chill. She inspected the chain mail and emerald sur coat. “I am glad we still had your armor in the armory if not your robes. I am sorry for not having the latter. Arthur missed you and your