Nightside 11 - A Hard Days Knight

to serve him, forever. Souls are such a marvellous source of power. And so it is my knights are strong and invincible, in such a delightfully ironic way.”
    “Does like to talk, doesn’t he?” said Suzie.
    “Living armour?” I said, concentrating on the Prince. “Like the Droods?”
    “Copy-cats,” the Prince said dismissively.
    “Look, what do you want, tomato face?” said Suzie. Her long struggle through the mud and filth had not improved her temper. The company of dark knights stirred dangerously at the open insult.
    “Nothing happens here that I don’t know about,” said Prince Gaylord. “Or in the Nightside, for that matter. Hell is as close to the Nightside as it is to Sinister Albion. You should know that, John. The Griffin says ‘hello’ ... And yes, I know the two of you killed my King. Dear little Artur. The King is dead, long live the ... Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? You must accompany me to Camelot, John Taylor and Suzie Shooter. You must come with me to the Court of Camelot, then ... Oh, the things we’ll do ...”
    “That’s where we were going anyway,” I said. “But you’re welcome to tag along.”
    The dark knights laughed—a jeering, cruel, unpleasant sound.
    “No-one ever wants to go to Camelot,” said Prince Gaylord. “Not given what lies in wait there. Not given what happens there. Many go in, but few come out because Camelot is the worst place there is, on this worst of all worlds. But things can change, even here. You shall be my weapons, dear John and Suzie, with which I shall bring down Merlin and take his place. And when I am King, I shall truly make this land Hell on Earth.”
    “Who are you?” I said. “What are you, Prince Gaylord the Damned?”
    “I am the Devil’s other son, begotten in Hell as my brother Merlin was begotten on Earth. And I am much more my father’s son than he ever was or could be.”
    “Then why did he let you come here?” said Suzie.
    “He didn’t,” said Prince Gaylord. “He couldn’t keep me out any longer.”
    “If your father is the Devil,” said Suzie, “what do you need us for?”
    “I don’t,” said Prince Gaylord. “I can take care of my brother. But I want you to remove a certain object, a certain sword that might ... complicate things. I can’t touch it, but you can. You can take it away from my brother and give it to me, to destroy it. Excalibur has no place in this world.”
    “And if we choose not to get involved in your family squabble?” I said. “If we take the sword anyway and go home?”
    “You have no choice,” said Prince Gaylord. “Excalibur is too powerful a thing to be allowed to run free. You shall go to Camelot on your knees, and in chains, as my slaves. You will do my bidding, John Taylor, or I will make your woman scream in front of you as I take her apart, piece by piece, until you beg to serve me, to save what’s left of her.” He gestured, and one of the dark knights urged his horse forward, a set of spiked chains dangling from one black mailed glove.
    “Typical bloody stuck-up aristocrat,” said Suzie.
    She opened fire on the approaching knight, giving him both barrels full in the helmet. The blast smashed the helmet and the head inside it right off, and the headless body slowly toppled backwards off his horse, his arms still failing as blood jetted from the ragged neck aperture. The horse reared up, menacing Suzie with its great cloven hoofs, and Suzie gave it both barrels in its exposed belly. The horse screamed shrilly, in an almost human voice, and crashed to the ground, blood and entrails spilling out of the massive hole in its guts. Suzie turned on the other knights, and picked them off one by one, shooting them right out of their saddles and bringing down their demon horses. Some tried to get to me, and Suzie shot them methodically in the back. I don’t know whether it was the blessed or the cursed armour that did the trick; but their armour was no protection against a Nightside shotgun. Soon the ground was covered in headless knights and thrashing horses as fresh blood soaked into the dusty earth. Suzie moved unhurriedly amongst the bodies, finishing off anything that didn’t look dead enough. Stopping now and again to reload the shotgun from the bandoliers that crossed her chest.
    I had my own problems. Prince Gaylord screamed with fury inside his seamless crimson helmet as the first knight died and urged his demon horse forward to ride me down. I backed