Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

twelve of the knights escorted me through the wide stone corridors of Castle Inconnu. Sir Gareth and Sir Roland led the way, one on each side of me, so I wouldn’t get lost. Sir Gareth kept up a stream of cheerful chatter, all of it safely inconsequential. Sir Roland contributed the occasional grunt, and every now and again I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye as though he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Didn’t bother me. I’ve always enjoyed being a disappointment to those in authority.
    Little victories ...
    We passed through a number of stone galleries, splendid indoor gardens, and comfortable gathering places, and finally ascended a long, winding stairway that ended in a circular stone chamber that felt like it was some way up in the air. (Since there were still no windows, it was impossible to be sure.) The chamber was wide and airy, and dominated by a great well in the centre of the room. (A well, in a tower. Six impossible things before breakfast ...) The chamber was a good sixty feet in diameter, and fifty feet of it were taken up by the well. The stone rim was only a few feet high, and when I leaned forward and looked down, all I could see was darkness looking back at me. It reminded me of the oracle I’d consulted in the Mammon Emporium. Except that here, I got a definite smell of the sea, far below.
    Sir Gareth took me politely but firmly by one arm and pulled me back from the well. One of the other knights removed his helmet and approached the well. Sir Gareth murmured the knight’s name in my ear, Sir Percifal. He was an old man, well into his eighties, with a deeply lined face, sunken eyes, a pursed mouth, and a great mane of pure white hair. His face was grave, even grim, but his eyes were sharp and clear. The hands he placed gently on the stone rim were frail and covered in liver spots, but they didn’t shake. I was quietly amazed he could stand upright, carrying that much armour. But you could tell, just from looking: Sir Percifal was still a knight and a warrior, an old soldier in a war that never ended. And there was something about him that suggested he could still be a very dangerous man when the situation demanded. You don’t get to be an old solider without learning some very nasty tricks along the way. He bent over the well and called down into it; and his voice was firm and sure.
    “Lady Gaea, it is Sir Percifal of the London Knights who calls you. Come speak with us, in Arthur’s name, for the bearer of Excalibur has come amongst us. John Taylor of the Nightside is here; and we’d all like to have a few words with you about that ...”
    He straightened up quickly, as from deep in the well there came a great roaring sound, of something rushing towards us, building and building like an approaching tidal wave. I could feel the pressure of something big coming, of something too large to fit easily into our fragile material world. I looked round and realised that all the knights had backed away from the well, as far as they could go, their steel backs pressed against the stone wall. A few had even retreated into the stairway. I moved quickly back to stand in the doorway. I can pick up a hint if you hit me with it hard enough.
    And then a jet of water blasted up out of the well, dark blue-green sea-water, and it slammed against the stone ceiling before falling back as a shower of rain. Drops of water ran harmlessly down the knights’ armour. I wasn’t so lucky, but there are times when a white trench coat comes in handy. The water fell back into the well, and when I’d wiped the moisture from my face and eyes, a young woman was standing elegantly on the surface of the water filling the well.
    An extremely good-looking woman, in a long dark dress with a bright scarlet sash round her waist. And not a drop of water on her anywhere. She smiled brilliantly about her, stepped forward, and set an elegant bare foot on the rim of the well. She reached out a hand to me, so I could help her step down. I took her hand automatically and was quietly surprised at how normal and human her hand felt in mine.
    She was human, and she was beautiful, but she was also so very much more than that. She was Gaea. All the world in a woman. You only had to be in her company to know it.
    She had a classic face with a strong bone structure, a great mane of night-dark hair, warm blue eyes, and a really nice mouth. She smiled at me, and I realised I was still holding her hand.