Meeting of Two Worlds.

Gawain and Galahad had been left behind as watch. “Why is it that I nearly get my head chopped off in my legend, and you become holy?”

A grin curled up the corners of Galahad’s lips. “People know a real man when they see one.”

“Real piece of shit, you mean…”

Galahad’s horse let out an enraged screaming neigh and leapt forward. It kicked and reared, shaking its head in anger. It took the dark haired knight several moments to control the beast. Meanwhile Gawain half turned in his saddle and scowled as he searched for the reason the horse had reacted as it had. He saw nothing, and his scowl deepened, but then a moan caught his attention and in dismay he looked at the ground beside his horse.

It took him a moment to figure out what he was seeing. “Bloody hell!” he erupted, sliding off the horse’s back. Reaching down he lifted the prone figure by the scruff of the neck. “You idio…”

“That is Meagan!” Galahad slid off his horse, rushed forward and supported her with an arm. “How did she get free?”

“I do not know,” Gawain frowned as the other man gently lay the woman down and pushed her curls from her face. “Galahad, it is not safe for her here.” He crouched down. “She is also of another world. There would be no hope of anything between you.”

“I know.” Galahad saw the bruise beginning to darken upon her brow. “She ran into my horse!” he suddenly realized, blinking in shock.

“Huh,” Gawain shook his head. “No wonder it screamed. I would too were someone to ram head first into my ass.”

Galahad saw her lashes flutter, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you hurt badly?” he asked her.

A hand began to lift towards her forehead, and she moaned. “What hit me?”

“Safer to say you hit something,” Gawain told her. “You ran into Galahad’s horse… The ass end.”

“That’s not too embarrassing,” she mumbled, letting Galahad aid her to a sitting position. “Is the horse hurt?”

“She will be fine,” Galahad told her. “You?”

“More importantly, how did you escape?” Gawain demanded. He reached out to help get her to her feet. “Last I remember you were firmly and securely tied to a pillar.”

Running through the veil had made her dizzy enough to be unable to control the velocity at which she’d crossed. “Who knew a horse’s ass was so hard?” she mumbled, probing gently at her forehead. Gawain’s words jarred her back to reality with a force that nearly knocked her out as much as propelling into the horse had.

Hand dropping she pulled away and headed for the camp. “I have to go see them.”

Galahad leapt forward and caught her, his arms about her. “Do not. It is not something someone of your delicate nature should see. Arthur and the men are there. They will see to the dead.”

Dead? Dead! No, her students could not be dead. Mark could not be dead. “I have to see. If I don’t I’ll never accept it. I…”

“You do not know what the shadows do to people,” Gawain cut in. “You have never seen it. We have, and even we cannot bear the sight. It renders your body cold to look upon it.”

“Then I’ll freeze while I see it,” she argued. “Galahad, please, let me go.”

The knight was tormented with indecision. He would see her safe and without the nightmares seeing what the shadows left behind could give her, and yet he could sense her pain and desperation and knew until she faced this horror she would never rest. A part of her would be gone. A part he found so enticing and bright. His arms tightened for a moment, and then fell from her. His head bowed as she ran, never once hesitating from rushing ahead.

Gawain shook his head. “When you love, Galahad, you become a fool.”
………………………………

She ran until she came to the area where the team’s tents were, and came to a halt. It looked as though a tornado had ripped through it. Tents ripped open, equipment scattered and broken, vehicles upturned, and debris everywhere. Warily she moved slowly forward, picking up a torn map piece, nudging a broken laptop with a foot, and bending to lift a baggie with an artifact shard within it.

That was when she saw something beneath it that did not register at first. It resembled a Halloween mask, all blue-gray and grotesquely wrinkled and sunken. Some of the students must have been having a party or some fun scaring others. It disturbed her, looking at it, and she reached for it to move it aside.

“Do not!” Arthur marched purposefully forward, not at all apologetic for frightening her so she fell back with a small squeak. Towering over her he glowered down at her. “Who set you free? If Galahad…”

“Believe it or not, but the wind set me free.” She pushed up to her feet, not much enjoying him towering over her as he did.

“The wind,” he snorted in disbelief. “Of course. Did it carry a blade to do so?”

Shooting him a jaundiced look she moved around him towards the mask. “It’s only a mask…”

“Lady,” he impatiently moved forward and pushed debris from around the ‘mask’. “That was a human being. That is simply one of the many bodies littering this area. Others have been torn to pieces, ripped apart, or are as this one. None survived.”

She stared at the sunken body, mouth open in a frozen scream, eye sockets empty and wide, and flesh wrinkled and blue-gray. Hands reached for the sky like claws desperate to find purchase. She could not tell who it was, or even the sex of the victim. “Goddess save us,” she whispered, stumbling back and wrapping her arms about her waist as if to comfort herself. Nausea made her double over, but she did not retch. Taking large gulps of air she shut her eyes and struggled for control while praying for strength and protection.

Lancelot, Bors and Dagonet returned. “How…?” Lancelot motioned towards Meagan.

Bors shook his head. “The shadows took every soul. There is not a one to cross the veil with us. Dag and I looked everywhere.”

“Many bodies, or pieces of, but no souls,” Lancelot added. “We were too late. Did the shadows return to the veil?”

“If Galahad and Gawain are still on watch we would know if the shadows had,” Arthur coldly stated.

Meagan’s head snapped up. “Are you trying to say they disobeyed you for me? I have news for you, they’re still where you left them.” Straightening she peered about. “I need my things. I should at least say a prayer over this place.” Turning she began to walk away.

Arthur’s jaw worked as though he would curse, but the words did not issue forth. In several long strides he was at her side, catching at her arm. “You cannot traipse through here without a single concern. Do you not understand what the shadows have done? Do you not see their evil? They would do the same to you.”

“I see, and I understand,” she snapped back at him. “I am not traipsing about. My tools are at the circle where I first met Lancelot. I need them.”

“Lady, you try my patience,” he growled low, his gritted teeth showing, and his green eyes flinty. “From the moment you called to Lancelot you have been more trouble than…”

The crack of her hand upon his cheek startled them both. Backing up a step she blinked, unable to believe she had slapped him. Meagan Fraser had slapped King Arthur of legend. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.

Arthur flexed his jaw, the sting from her blow still sharp, and a dark imprint blossoming upon his cheek. In a rare show of rage he shoved her away from him, and when she stumbled back and fell he glared down at her before twirling and marching away, leaving her there.

Meagan sat there, swallowing hard, and wondering why she and the man clashed when they saw each other. A man stopped before her, and held a hand out to her. Glancing up she found the serious face of Dagonet. Taking his hand she let him help her to her feet. “Forgive Arthur,” he softly told her while she dusted her behind and winced. “It is not easy for a man to helplessly watch those about him die in torment, and there be nothing he can do to stop it.”

“I know,” she whispered, head bowing. “Do the others blame me as well?”

“No.” Dagonet offered her a gentle smile. “We know that evil will take any advantage given it to destroy. Come, I will take you to your things.”