By Atticus Hogan
We need help. Because—to put it frankly—the world has gone to crap, and we need a hero to save us. That’s why I went searching for that forgotten island, somewhere between the Old World and the New—Avalon. On this island I would find a mountain, and the king sleeping beneath it.
Earlier that day I had almost given up on finding it. All my study in Wales, Arthur’s home, had amounted to nothing. So, I just looked out into the sea, towards my home on another continent. I decided to take the next flight back to America, telling myself that I would come back and search again.
“Ride for a penny?” an old voice said in an unfamiliar accent.
I followed the voice. To my right was an old man standing in a boat and holding a long oar. He wore a patchy coat, and his long white beard waved in the breeze.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Where you need to go,” said the ferryman. “I can bring you to that place you have been searching for.”
A stranger offering me a boat ride to an unspecified location is something I would have typically turned down. Despite his near skeletal frame, he held the girthy oar with ease. It would have been easy for him to hit me on the head and dump my corpse into the ocean. The madness in his eyes told me not to put it past him. But something about the way he spoke—in a perfectly toned voice that didn’t quite match the movements of his mouth—made me forget my fears. I hopped on the rowboat, tossed him a coin, and we began our voyage.
I sat at the front of the ferryman’s boat and stared into the fog, the smell of seawater ever permeating around me as I hoped against hope to see something. Then, from beyond the fog, a mountain took shape.
My heart was racing at a million miles a minute. I felt like I was having a dream I never wanted to wake from. I had found Avalon.
As our boat scraped onto the shore, I stepped off. The ferryman dug his oar into the sand just beneath the water’s surface, his mad eyes watchful.
“I will be waiting for your return,” he said. “But not for long; it is too easy for someone to get lost here. It is the reason few chance even looking for this island.”
I nodded and ventured forth. If I couldn’t find the Once and Future King in time, the world would be doomed. The danger of becoming lost was a risk I was willing to take.
Beyond the beach shore loomed a forest. It seemed unassuming at first—I could practically see through to the end. But the deeper I went, the darker and denser it became. I got turned around at least a half dozen times, I couldn’t tell where I was, I just had to get out of there. It took all my willpower to keep pressing forward and not collapse in fear. Suddenly, I found myself on the other side of the forest. In front of me stood the base of the mountain. And at the base of the mountain there was a cave. And in the cave, a staircase.
I descended the dark staircase. I had to keep my hands pressed against the wall to hold my footing in the pitch black. But the stairs must have been truly immaculately crafted, for to my surprise, I never even came close to tripping.
At the bottom I came to a round room illuminated by torches with eerie green flames. This was it, I had surely found him. This was my moment of truth, this validated my struggles. I felt like a boxer who just got a shock knockout for the championship. I shook my head and brought myself back to this… unreal reality.
In the middle of the room was a long pedestal, and upon it laid a redhaired, red-bearded man, dressed in golden robes. On his chest sat a golden circlet, and his hands grasped a gleaming sword. It was him, no mistaking it, sleeping peacefully.
I approached him, ready to push against his shoulder, to gently shake him awake. Yet he seemed so peaceful. The wounds from that battle with Mordred, which had forced him into this sleep, had long since healed. He could have woken up at any time before this, but he remained in his slumber. I suppose he didn’t think the world needed some savior yet.
Maybe a lone hero would never be enough.
A small glimmer of hope ignited. Perhaps he hadn’t come back yet because he believed we could still handle things ourselves. So, I respected the hope he had for us and left him to rest, now more than certain he would come if we truly needed him.
Until then, I won’t lose hope.
I started to turn away, then stopped as my eyes fell upon the sword. I had come all this way. It would be a shame to not bring back something to help the world. Just because I held hope for the future didn’t mean I couldn’t act on my own. So, I slid Excalibur out of King Arthur’s grasp. It’s not like he was using it anyway, and I promised to give it back if he asks. Until then, I am sure I can put it to good use.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This one was well-done. I enjoyed it quite a bit. :)
Excellent ending.