Excerpt: The Journey of Excalibur

"Jonas..."

He groaned, rolling to face the edge of the bed, tugging the blankets insistently under his chin. Yet, even as he did so, he could feel someone looming there staring at him. He groggily opened one eye. "Whatsit, Milly? Go back to bed, eh?" Yet, even as he looked at the sleep-fogged person by the bed, he realized that it was definitely not his wife. The thing at his bedside was tall and slender, pale skinned and robed in a long dress that seemed as delicate as gossamer. Unmistakable were the blue eyes that gazed at him from the wan face; the same face that he'd seen in the rain barrel!

He sat up in bed, glancing to ensure his wife was still asleep. She let out a stentorian snore almost to reassure him. Taking a deep swallow of air, in case it was his last, he looked back up at the specter that lurked within an arm's reach of the bed. "W-what do you want of me, spirit? Have I done you some wrong?" He thought he recalled hearing that somewhere, that spirits only came to plague the living if they'd done them some injustice. The blue eyes crimped with amusement as the creature, though it looked more like a woman now that he got a good look at her, shook her head negatively.

"Then why are you here?"

She reached out an elegant hand, placing her fingers over his mouth, "Shh, Jonas of the Sacred Flame. We must not speak here, where mortal ears chance to overhear what they should not. Come." With no more argument than that, she walked out of the room. For a moment, Jonas wanted nothing more than to curl up in the blanket and pretend this was nothing more than a bad dream brought on by too much savory food. Yet, he could not get the thought out of his head that she knew his name. She spoke it as easily as if she'd known him all his life, but that title she'd attached to it. "Sacred Flame"? What did it mean? Curiosity, more than anything, drove him from his bed in the middle of the night, to follow the pale ghost out into the darkness.

He hastily donned some clothes and shoved his feet in his boots before trotting outside. She was easy to follow in the moonlight, but no matter how many times Jonas questioned her, she refused to answer. So he trailed along after her like a loyal dog, until she finally came to a stop at the edge of the lake near the village. She looked over the glassy, night-darkened expanse before sighing forlornly.

"It is not Avalon, but perhaps even its great magic can reach you here. It is incumbent for the Sacred Flame to have Avalon's touch. Would that I could take you there, but I cannot." She looked over her shoulder at him with those piercing blue eyes. "What you witness here, gentle smith, you may never speak of to another mortal. To speak of this, would open the gates of Avalon to those who would use its magic for terrible evil. Swear to me that you shall not utter a single word, from this night hence."

Jonas nodded like the village idiot, "Of-of course, mil-milady. I swear it." He wasn't entirely sure anyone would believe him anyway. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready to believe it himself. This talk of magic and evil gave him goose-flesh. Yet, he couldn't deny that his heart was beating in his chest like a bird trying to escape a cage. He felt that familiar thrill in his blood, like when he worked with metal. As he watched her turn toward the lake, he knew that he would do anything for this strange, ethereal creature. "Who are you, milady?"

She looked over her shoulder once more, a faint smile crossing her lips, "I have many names in the world of Men, Jonas of the Sacred Flame, but you may call me Ninue."