Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

Gareth. “Stop tormenting yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”
    “No. It was your fault. You let her die.”
    “There must be something we can do for you ...”
    “There is. Give me Excalibur.”
    “What would you do with Excalibur?” said Sir Gareth. “What possible use could it be to you?”
    “I don’t give a damn for your magic sword,” said Stark. “But my allies want it. And they want it so much, they’ve promised to bring my Julianne back to life in return for Excalibur.”
    “They lied, Jerry,” Sir Gareth said sadly. “They can’t bring her back. No-one can. She’s gone. Accept it.”
    “Never! They can do it, Gar. I’ve seen them do it. I’m going to take Excalibur from you and give it to them. And then I’ll watch and laugh while they wipe you all out, down to the last man. Because that’s all you’ve left me.”
    The portrait was suddenly only a photograph again. The dark and driven knight was gone and his dead wife with him. There was a distinct chill on the air, and Sir Gareth and I both shuddered a little, despite ourselves.
    “New allies,” said Sir Gareth, after a moment. “That can’t be good. Who the hell could he have found who can bring the dead back to life? Only one man could ever do that, and that was our Lord ...”
    “Well, the dead can return,” I said. “As zombies, in various forms. Dead bodies possessed by various beings. Not actually alive but better than nothing.”
    “Jerry wouldn’t settle for that. But, he says he saw proof ...” Sir Gareth shook his head angrily. “Jerry is out of his depth.”
    “Who do you think these new allies are?”
    “There’s someone we’ve been keeping an eye on ... Prince Gaylord the Damned, Nuncio to the Court of King Artur, of Sinister Albion. He turned up in the Nightside three days ago by a means we couldn’t identify. Apparently, his Merlin sent him to the Nightside to search for Artur after he disappeared. I’m surprised you don’t know about him.”
    “I’ve been a bit busy the past few days,” I said defensively.
    “Well, when Prince Gaylord couldn’t find King Artur anywhere in the Nightside, he got it into his head that we must have him. He’s been trying to find or force a way into Castle Inconnu ever since.”
    “Could he do that? Is he powerful enough?”
    “Who knows anything, where Sinister Albion is concerned? If he has his Merlin’s backing ... maybe.”
    “Do you have Artur?” I said carefully.
    “No. He seems to have disappeared. No-one knows where he is. And given everything that’s happening, the last thing we need right now is another major player in the game.”
    And that was when every alarum in the world went off at once. Bells, sirens, electronic alarms, and what sounded very much like a cloister bell. Sir Roland’s photograph on the wall suddenly came alive, replaced by an angry and seriously worried face.
    “Castle Inconnu is under attack! Our security has been breached! The enemy is within our walls, dammit!”
    “What? How the hell is that possible?” Sir Gareth’s face was almost colourless from shock. He looked like he’d been hit.
    “It’s Stark. Somehow he’s used his old access rights to force a way through our outer defences and hold open a door for the enemy. They’re inside the walls, Gareth; inside the castle! Stark has brought an army in past all our protections! They’ve invaded the outer layers, and they’re heading inwards!”
    “What army?” said Sir Gareth. “Who are they?”
    “Elves!” said Sir Roland. “Stark’s allied himself with the elves!”
    “No ...” Sir Gareth shook his head dazedly. “No, he couldn’t ... Oh, Jerry, you bloody fool. What have you done?”
    “How many elves are there?” I said, pushing in beside Sir Gareth. “What kind of numbers are we talking about? Have they any elven weapons?”
    “Hundreds of them,” said Sir Roland. “And more flooding in all the time. There’s a lot of magical armour, and enchanted swords, but no major weapons that we’ve seen—no Airgedlamh, or Sword of the Daun.”
    “Well, that’s something,” I said. “Do we know which faction? Who do they serve: Oberon and Titania, or the returned Mab?”
    “What the hell difference does that make?”
    “I’ve had dealings with the Puck,” I said. “Through him, I might be able to negotiate with Oberon and Titania. But if these elves belong to Mab, we don’t have anything they want. Except our deaths. And