Team Seven of Heroes Chapter 4

4.

The man was of medium height, strongly built with his shoulders set over a broad chest and the neck was well balanced with the deep sunken face above it and the thick brows that gave him a stern look. The face was thick with the overnight stubble unshaven on the chin. It did not help him when the tight head from the opposing team had charged into him. The right elbow raised to chin level had then formed into a wedge that slammed into him. He reeled back from the impact but he was tougher than many others. His hands went out at waist level and grabbed the other by them to do a body twist that got him to turn onto the attacker’s back then he used his weight to topple the attacker on the side. It was the working of physics to apply force on the adjacent flow to turn its course or shaken lose the initial equilibrium.

It worked.

The other rugby players on the other team groaned on the lost ground that they were to gain and the clock was ticking. The call for the break came and players took to the benches. The man who did the stop picked the towel offered while the friendly pats went on his back. He excused himself and then stepped out of the playing field area. He made his way to the building there and approached to the bath area. He stepped inside and then his real persona took over. He went to the cabinet to retrieve his gears. He took off his shirt and then sat down on the available bench.

The door to the bath area opened and then closed.

“Hello, Van Helsing.” The figure was a monk dressed in the grey frock and with the crown of hair above the ears. “We are to leave now.”

“I need the breather.” The man seated then stood up. “I need a bath first.”

“A bath? Do you think demons needed clean fresh hunters? I have not taken a bath in days.” The monk snapped back. “The demon is here.”

Van Helsing ignored the monk and walked towards the shower chamber. He stripped down and then had his body covered with the warm water. It was refreshing then with the body pores opened up to the warmth feeling and then he leaned forward to let the water covered his body. He then felt the water turning cold and the same feeling crept into his body closing the pores there. He stood upright and with his body tensed from the cold draught he uttered a word of prayers before he stepped out.

It was then he saw the monk was not standing there but lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Next to the monk was a dark huge canine creature that stood at over four feet in height and with a head to tail length of six feet. The canine had its fangs displayed and its eyes were blood shot then staring at him. It was huge for a typical canine

“I wondered which of them were you?” Van Helsing smiled at the dark creature. “I do want to know what name should I place on the grave stone?”

The dark creature let off another growl and then leapt at Van Helsing. The move was swift and would have ended Van Helsing’s life but he was saved by the fast reaction of his own. He held out his right arm and thrust it into the canine’s jaws. Van Helsing right arm was no more organic but one of made of silver plates and inside it the arm was a mechanical one with the components jointed to the nerve points at the shoulder. The silver plate covered from the fingers to the right shoulder blade ending at the neck. Once his hand was inside the jaw, Van Helsing clenched his fingers to form a fist and then punched in past the neck before he twisted the fist into the brain area. The canine yelped in pain and then it pulled back from the silver arm before it slunk back to far corner. The canine with its jaws relocated was coughing then but its red eyes were staring at Van Helsing.

The canine then stopped its coughing and then its head began shaking before it raised itself up into a standing position. The canine evolved then with its body frame changing into a man like frame. Its claws on its limbs then grew longer and the claws curved out to drew screeching lines on the flooring. In its evolution, the canine had lost its cover its former form and it was seen man like with the claws.

“You are a demon.” Van Helsing cursed out. “I like this even better.”

Van Helsing looked to the cabinet holding his gear. His way was blocked by the demonic being then. He flexed his muscles and then bent his right arm. The being charged at Van Helsing but the later had side stepped to avoid the blow. He then turned his body with the right arm moved to the sharp chop on the mechanical being on the right limb at the joint. He heard the crack and then he used his body to elbow the being in the side of the head. Just Van Helsing pushed his way passed the being and reached his cabinet. He did not open the doors but punched his way past it and reached in. He felt the familiar item once more in his hand and pulled out but before he was to pull away his left arm was then. He let himself be pulled out of the cabinet and then turned his body with the right arm aimed at the mechanical being. The blast from the modified double gauge shotgun blew the being across the bath area with the head and part of the chest to the right side while the balance of the being was casted on the left side.

Van Helsing gave out a smile on the destruction of the being. He heard the loud cheers of the audience watching the rugby game but there was one voice he picked up. It was from the bath chamber.

“Bravado!” Van Helsing turned to look at the huge frame covering the bath chamber doorway. He knew the man and disliked the chances that they ever met.

“How did…….Never mind my question.” Van Helsing looked away. “Mycroft, I know you were following me. So what do you want?”

“Van Helsing, I am in need of your ….assistance.” Mycroft swallowed his last word. He disliked it but the man was his one needed recruit. “The Service had been standing aside on your tasks here. We acknowledge the Vatican request but how many were there were your limits then? Nine or nineteen but honestly it did not dampen the killings on my street of the innocence?”

“I got my own and the Vatican have approved my King to call upon you. We could be hunting the same killers.” Mycroft smiled. “And maybe learn from each other.”

“I am not your pawn and not of the Vatican.” Van Helsing replied. “I am in still in my task to destroy the demons. So unless you tell me we are tracking the same demon, I am in or I am out.”

“We are on the same demon. The demon is named by many names but to you he is known as Dracula.” Mycroft smiled. “Dracula did kill your forefathers and your love. So are in the hunt for him.”

“Dracula is dead.” Van Helsing replied. “I saw his grave.”

“Well then, there may be one another that were doing his works. You are keen to see that stopped, I believed? Its in your blood.”

Van Helsing looked to the unmoving being and then nodded.

“And I prefer to be called Arthur.” Van Helsing replied. “And this is my Excalibur.” 

Arthur Van Helsing held up the double gauge shotgun modified to hold the silver shafts that were laced with the explosive chemicals. The gun double shafts were sawn off to arm’s length.

“Well, you better get dressed for I may mistake that for Excalibur. It almost matches mine for length.” 

Team Seven of Heroes Chapter 3

3.

The scent of fresh blood was his trail then when he picked his way through the trees. He had to adapt to the new landscape but it was still his jungle. He had no vines then to wing on but the branches served as his hold when he leaped from one tree to another. He dropped to the ground and sniffed at the grass and the bushes to get his trail back. It was near and yet he could not make it out. There the early dawn sunlight had lent a twilight look with its escaping the cover of the canopies of leaves. He picked himself with wary on each step for the scent of the blood was near. He had his body crouched with his arms hanging loose but ready for action on the spur of danger. He had removed his shirt and shoes and dressed only in the hunting breeches he went forth.

It was then he saw the kill.

The fawn was lying there with its belly torn opened and the blood gushing out alongside the pulled out innards. He had seen the kill was one of the prey he had tracked but its taste of the wild have satiate it renewed hunting instinct. The half-naked figure moved his way to the dead fawn with all his sense horned in for any danger. He sensed none then at the ground level when he reached the fawn. The creature was dead with the fang marred wound on the neck which killed it. He looked past the open belly and saw the fang marks on the hind legs..

“Sabor..” The figure whispered the name for the fierce predator in the jungle. He had brought the sabor to his new jungle but it was kept in the high walls with the feeds that were there daily. It was a turnaround to the environment of the previous era but the sabor was his friend and it was getting older. He was surprised that the creature had escaped then for none of the gates were opened but since it did, it had to be brought back alive or dead.

“Sabor, I am here.” The figure growled out like the other and hoped its long friendship will bring it out. He then heard the shot and the loud roar. His ears peaked out for the source of the shot and then he was leaping for it. He jumped the low branches or fallen trunks by using his hands to leverage higher and then ducking under the wide low branches without a stop to catch his breath at the cleared trails or clearings. He cleared the stream with a single bound and was soon at the source. He saw the sabor leaning by the tree trunk and on the opposite end was the ground keeper with the levelled double gauge gun at it. He stepped in between the two and then stared at the sabor. The sabor was the King of the jungle but then it was wounded and old. It had renewed its hunting instinct against a docile creature used to mingling with others but it took on a different one which carried the weapon of death.

“Lord Greystoke, the lion attacked me first.” The ground keeper was never near the other even though he covered the grounds of the huge hundred acres land. The lion as he had called it was kept in the inner compound and behind the high walls. The owner of the estate, Lord Greystoke had demarked the territory so that his friends will not be seen as possible threats to terrorize the neighbours.

“It came at me from the rear and I shot off my gun in self-defence.” The ground keeper tried to stake his claim on what happened then but the Lord himself was more concerned on the other.  In the jungle a wounded predator was either to be a prey or killing machine. The wounded animal will not seek shelter but it will mark its trail with more killings for food may be its antidote to the suffering it was having. The pain also masked the feeling of friendship and viewed everyone near it as another predator. The sabor growled and then raised it front right paws clawing at the air. It was sending the signal to the upright four limbed figure that it welcome no friends then.

Lord Greystoke then was no more than namesake but had reverted to his other ego as the jungle crusader named Tarzan. He was named that when it was the name he found scribbled on the depilated tree house where he was born. It was much later of his life he was to find out his name meant King of the Apes which was whom he was raised with at young. Lord Greystoke was discovered by Professor who was studying the behaviour of the apes when he stumbled on the naked figures who thought the apes were his kin. He was ‘rescued’ and return to civilisation but his return was more than eventful when the ape man was reunited to his surviving family and return to his noble rank as Lord Greystoke. It was not a rag to riches tale but more like a primitive to civilisation with the throw in of money.

“Lord Greystoke, you may need this.” The ground keeper tossed over the army bayonet he had carried since the last war. The eight inches length dagger dropped near the crouching figure. He reached for it and felt the weight. It was heavy at the hilt but the blade was sharp. It was better than his bone crafted blade which was shorter and lighter.

“The name is Clayton. John Clayton.” The crouched figure did not take his eyes off the sabor while he gripped the dagger. He knew it will come to that eventually; the law of survival. It was renamed to kill or be killed.

The sabor turned and then charged at crouched figure. It was unexpected and so was the move by Tarzan who then charged at the sabor with his own battle cry.

“Kreegah!’ The man and the sabor clashed in midair with the man’s left arm raised to push the sabor’s jaw aside while his right hand holding the dagger in the pick grip thrust into the neck there. The dagger went in deep and then the man twisted his hand to cut it across the sabor’s mane into the shoulder muscles. The sabor roared out in pain before it fell to the ground. The man had not released his hold then and plunged the dagger in deeper until he felt it pierced the heart. With the sabor still in its movement, the man then sat back on his haunches and then he roared into the trees. It was a long eerie call that resembled the ape’s call of victory.

“Lord…” The ground keeper muttered out and then he fell unconscious to the earlier perils. The man who had succumbed to his wild ego leaned over to examine the dead creature. There were marks that weas not consistent to the wounds it should be having. He saw the long wounds on the sabor’s back and noted the wounds were not deep but it looked like it was held against its free will.

The sabor was restraint  by something stronger.

The man then stood up from the dead sabor and then he stepped away.

“John!” The call for him came from afar although it was faint but the man heard it distinctively. It was the years of living in the jungle that honed his senses and increased his survival rate. He missed it very much but the world of John Clayton have to be shared with his own.

“John!” The voice reverted once more in the forest. He knew that he had to reply or there will be hell to face when she catches up to him.

“I am here.” John then replied to the one searching him. She came through with her own mode of travelling for swinging and running was never her best quality. The horse she rode was her own favourite named Hero but it was her that amazed John then. When they first met with him clad in a loin cloth and she was in her wet chemise wear from the fateful run into the river. It was that or the laughing hyena that had got entangled in the lady’s dress. Somehow she had improved on her dressing after a holiday in the main continent which included a trip to the land of cowboys.

“John Clayton, the next time you chose to leave me behind, prepared to don on the gun belt I gave you last Christmas. I will blow your balls first and then your prick before I add you a new butt hole.” The lady dismounted in a manner which the rodeo riders do and landed on her boots. She was dressed in a white blouse and dark brown shade skirt that reached below her knees but it was her accessories that added a class of fashion. On her waist were the two pistols with the oiled holsters for the cross draw and the bowie knife tucked into her right boots while the Winchester was slung across her arms. On her head was the red French beret slanted to the left. She stepped up to the man and threw him a round house punch at the chest.

“You made me worried.” The lady cried out between sobs before she crushed her body into his.

“I am sorry, Jane. I was concerned on …sabor.” John held his lover close to his heart. “He was my friend.”

“And he knows. He died in pride to be defeated by another King.” Jane replied to him. “Now my King can we resume our life as the Clayton’s. Just after you left, a King’s messenger had arrived to deliver you a letter.”

John raised his right index finger to silence his love. He led her by the hand towards the home they build there. After two steps, Jane stopped him and then whispered to him.

“I have not my chemise inside the clothes. Can we convene to somewhere discreet?” Jane smiled at him and then motioned to the high branches above. “Like old times?”

At the road leading to the borders of the estate, Mycroft had on his goggles which were then covered by the morning mist but his thick overcoat sheltered him from the cold air that permeates the forest then. His hands were tucked into the woollen nippy gloves but it did not help him from feeling the vibrations from the fire spurting four wheelers. He had cursed then several times for the hard seat he had to endure on the wheeler but he can complain much for he was doing it on behalf of the King’s service. He then heard the shot.

“I am fucked if I heard that shot.” Mycroft told himself. “There was nothing I could hear with this unbearable din”

With that, Mycroft pressed down on the pedal and the darned wheeler came to an abrupt stop. He cursed out one more time and it was the brake. He was amazed the wheeler was still spurting flame and he lurched forward on the second pedal but it jolted something up his butt.

“Last time I eat Greeks.”

Team Seven of Heroes Chapter 2

2.

You can take the men out of the hot sun but give him a flat hard field and a bat with the ball tossed at his balls, he won’t shunt it for even the afternoon gush of release. Or not sometimes. The covered platform at the side of the field was an extended pavilion for the dainty guests to enjoy a good afternoon of respite from the entanglement of limbs while watching their lovers sweated it for a more sports like activities.

“I wonder where’s Melinda?” The lady was not at her seat when enquired by the hostess. “My son Harry is going to bowl next.”

“I am here, Mrs Snowgress.” The younger lady named Melinda emerged from the gamers equipment shed with her hands smoothing the ling tresses of her hair that were undone then. The younger lady stood next to the hostess then with a meek smile on her face.

“About time, my dear.” Lady Snowgress replied with the disapproval look.  “And do dress with manners. Your top buttons are undone.”

Melinda reached for the buttons to close the gap on her bosom. She then looked away to the shed and saw the man who emerged from the shed. He was a true gentleman and a cricketer. He held the bat as if it was part of his own body part; hard and designed for the rigors of battling.

“Howzat!” The call went out when the bowler did bring down the sticks. The call was echoed by those seated but then Mycroft was moving to the far side of the field where a tent was erected there. Under the tent was one lonely seated figure in a sequined gown with the shade of the yellow morning sun. Her hair was bunched up on the top her head while he right hand flapped the fan that kept her cool in the heat of the day. Her beauty was beyond her well defined shape and on her face which was milky white and unblemished with the pouting lips and blue eyes that make men stared at her.

“May I take my drink now? After all, my team is on the losing streak and my turn to bat may be over.” Mycroft leaned the bat on the seat next to the lady before he plunked himself on it. He then reached for the iced tea served in the tall glass.

“I was of the intent to ask when you will join the other ladies?” Mycroft asked. “But I guessed not today may be your reply.”

“Mycroft darling, you know my reply as well.” The lady smiled but her eyes were still fixated on the group of men celebrating their victory. “It may be after I had died but that remains to be seen.”

Mycroft laughed out before he took his second sip of the iced tea. It was spiked with the scent of the red orchid and blended well. He placed the tall glass back and was to speak when the lady continued on.

“I am sure you did not come here to show me your skills in the bat or was it in the shed. You do hold a good record for it.” The lady let off a snigger as if she was a young babe. “How come you never invited me? Am I not a vixen to your taste?”

“No, my lady. I am ever happy to have you but it’s your bite I was concerned on” Mycroft replied. “Blood does make me faint.”

“Mycroft, you are truly a charmer. I believed the act called for the lips and tongue without the teeth.” The lady pouted her lips. “Anyway, you ain’t have it unless you get it done by a Harkness.”

“I duly declined for now. I will stick to the toothless fairies.” Mycroft shifted his legs to hide his discomfort and then went into the serious end of their meeting. “I shall not delve into details on the letter….”

“Which I have read and declined.” Lady Harkness replied. “I am not a warrior nor a hero looking for a medal by his Majesty or his father and father before him. I am a simple lady with her desire to continue living.”

“But surely, the needs of the nation …” It was then Mycroft saw the group of three men approaching the tent. They were carrying bats and the pointed sticks. “I think we are having more company. Did you urge them to come in group? I detest Roman’s orgy. It’s demeaning to the rules of true loving.”

Even before Mycroft could go on the trio had stepped into the tent. They were still dressed in the cricket attire but their expression was more than then losing the match. Mycroft intervened in on behalf of the lady as a true gentleman would but he was ignored.

“Lady Harkness, we are from the Romanian Embassy. We are to take you in for the murders of our Ambassador last month.” The leader of the trio accused the lady. “Please come with us or we may be forced to kill you.”

Lady Harkness looked at the trio and then smiled before she replied.

“My name is Lady Harkness and it’s not Harkness unless you seek this.” Lady Harkness flipped her legs wide before raising the hem of her dress. From beneath the cloth, the dark scaled serpent sprang out and did the bite onto the leader. She then clasped back her legs with them swinging out in a series of crisscrossed kicks into the other two. She stood up then and with her right hand she pulled at the rope that held the flaps of the tent. The flaps came down to cover the tent from the outside view and the lady revealed her other affinity. She grabbed the one on the right by the head and pulled it back to sink her teeth into the side of the neck. She saw the remaining attacker coming at her and then did a ‘fouette’ round house kick with the toes aimed at the side of the head. Her kick was deadly when the pointed end of her shoe then impacted on the ear and shattered the tiny bones into the brain. She then lowered the body of the one where she had punctured the blood veins before she turned to look at Mycroft who was still seated.

“Do you have a hanky I can use?” Lady Harkness asked. Mycroft reached for his neck scarf and passed it to her.

“It’s clean despite my sweats.” Mycroft smiled. “It may help you to know my scent.”

Mycroft then looked at his feet and commented on the serpent.

“You might want to call back that scaly pal of yours. It might scare the ladies in the next match.” Mycroft gave out a smile. He disliked serpents of all sorts except his own he once boasted will bring down Heaven for the lady. Lady Harkness smiled and then watched as the serpent slithered inside her dress.

“I never leave my bed without it.” Lady Harkness smiled at Mycroft. “Like yours.”

“Yes of course. Tell me then would you reconsider the letter proposal. It does carry his Majesty protection of you when you are in his service.” Mycroft smiled while the lady looked at him.

“Does it include you?” Lady Harkness asked him before she picked up the bat that was leaned on the chair. “And this?”

“Absolutely. Sacrifices can be arranged. I do implore that you may have my heart but make sure not a drop of blood be forsaken.” Mycroft smiled. “I do have to confess. I have never done it in this fighting manner.”

“Oh those moves were mine from my years in Paris . I learned my Savate skills there.” Lady Harkness replied. “How do you fight, Mycroft?”

“Boxing, my lady. I was the class champion then.” Mycroft raised his fists up. “I did learn some from my brother. He fought dirty.”

“Dirty? I loved being dirty. It brings up the woman inside me.” Lady Harkness returned the scarf. “Thank you for it. Now you may have my scent.”

“I do have to ask once ….” Mycroft was ever insistent then but the lady stopped him.

“Please don’t nag at me. I will consider since you asked and was willing to sacrifice but you have to wait for my reply. I am a lady and ladies never say yes immediately” Lady Harkness looked hard at Mycroft. “I may moaned my reply if you were to say yes.”

“Of course, my lady. For the country, I am ever willing to sacrifice.” Mycroft looked at the dead bodies. “Much as it’s entertaining, can we convene to some place without any serpents.”

Team Seven Heroes Chapter 1

Team Seven of Heroes

Jimmy Loong

19/11/2016

0.

The gas light on the pole at 7^th Street East was blinking as if the supply was erratic. It caught the attention of the constable who was patrolling the area. His name was Thomas Burton and he won’t let the fifteen years of service go wasted when he was due for his promotion. He heard the reports of the killer that roamed the street and kills prostitutes by defiling their body with the innards removed. He had read the reports that there were nine victims but the suspects were wider than his arms spread out. The constable was burly in the frame flexed his muscles and then reached for the night stick on his waist belt. He was armed with it and with life saved many times. The truncheon was named Smithy by him was his toll to crush the bones and skulls of many deserving ones.

The scream came and the constable rushed forth with the truncheon pulled out. He ran past the gas light and then he saw the shadow. It was all he saw then before he was whisked off his feet. He thrust out with his truncheon but then his right arm was torn off from the shoulder socket. He screamed out loud but his cry soon ended when his head was severed.

Then ended the life and career of Constable Lestrade.

Constable Lestrade would had felt proud if he only knew that his sacrifice was heeded by a group of men armed then with more than truncheons. Inspector Morse clenched his fist on seeing his man getting the life torn off. The middle aged officer held in his right hand then the pistol he was assigned for the night. He was fidgeting the trigger on the pistol but he knew that the fire power of it was not effective against whoever was there. He looked to the others standing next and before him. They were not from his constabulary but were regular army recruits despite their casual wears but their boots were their giveaway. And so were the Enflield rifles loaded with the .303 cartridge in a ten round box magazine. The ten men detail held the forty nine inches length rifle close to their chest but their fingers held close to the trigger. They were led by the man who stood at over six feet and held a chest width wider than most and so was his smile beneath the thick moustache.

“Inspector Morse, we will follow the creature now.” The Inspector heard the huge man who had taken off with the others. He had known the other as Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft was introduced as an officer of His Majesty. Morse took on his own heels with the group. He was told to observe then. Their pursuit was hard with the low light and thick fog then. He could barely make out the chimney tops from the darker clouds or the sharp corners where he may slam into it. He tried hard to follow and soon his view that of the river Thames.

“I guess we lost the creature.” Mycroft finally admitted his failure. “I am to report to the Minister on this. Maybe I am outclassed here. A better man will do. Or a few more better men than me.”

1.

The streets of London was inflamed by the fire spurting outlets that was placed facing upward where the emitted gas was burned off while the engines powering up the four wheeler rolled the wheels to carry the seated passengers on their journey and greeted by the constant blaring of the horns to clear those in their way. The four wheelers were a menace and intimating on the horse pulled carts and the more unfortunate pedestrians who had to walk the length of cobbled roads. The flames of the four wheelers lighted up the streets alongside the open torches by the turned off gas light poles. It was rumoured that in the event of any danger, the move was to toppled the poles and light up the gas pipes to create a bigger fire. It was the only thing that may protect them from the flying creatures.

“The fire of Hades they feared.” That was the words then on the streets.

There were the idealist that what the fire may not worked the cold steel would suffice. The ones who could afford the huge bows with the steel arrows mounted on the balconies and rooftop. It was new scenery besides the taunting chimney tops and the extended towers that reached up. The narrow towers were not of watch purposes like that of the castles for the sentries but the towers design here were of mushroom design. The upper wider and flat platform was rigged with large stout rings. The rings were designed to hold down the ropes that will be tied there and secured with the locks. The ropes were thicker than the arm were not dangling down but held taut upwards to the wooden carriage that formed the wheelhouse and compartments for the passengers on one level and the upper platform was the engine area where the multiple cylinders containing hydrogen were secured and channelled to the turbines that fed it upwards to the huge rounded balloon above it. Each carriage may hold from twelve to fifty passengers but the larger carriages held by bigger balloons were restricted to the upper level of the skies and allowed to dock at the bigger platforms outside of the city limits or by the rivers.

The morning activities were picking up then with the dawn workers lumbering their wares to the business outlets or in the move towards theirs. The carriages then were mostly the horse driven ones with the hoofs clamping the cobbled streets with the occasional droppings which were picked up the odd children to sell as dried manure or fire place materials instead of wood. The more intense areas were the markets where the daily produces were marketed to the house servants who plied the place then. Among the people there, the words were out on the poor constable which was killed last night.

“Was his body found?” The replies were the same.

“There was none but they found the head. Constable Lestrade it was. And the night stick of his.”

Mrs Hudson had shit her ears to it and took her morning purchases back home at Baker’s Street. Funny they still it Baker’ Street when it housed was two rows of fine homes of three flights of stairs and the dimensions that in the shadier parts of the city would had held nine families and yet in Baker’s Street it was to distinguished families on the upper levels and the esteemed offices on the ground level except the one that Mrs Hudson retained. She had the ground level to herself, housing the remnants of her personal life while she leased out the upper two levels. The middle levels was to a certain gentleman by the name of Holmes and the upper level, it was leased by another who prefers to be known as Mr. Q. It does not matter to her how they were named as long as they were honourable gentlemen and pay their dues on time.

“I am coming.” Mrs Hudson heard the doorbell soon after she had placed the morning purchases onto the kitchen table. She reached for the apron which held the Webley pistol in the pocket. She put it on and walked to the door. She opened to a familiar face and smiled when the later handed over to her the bouquet of flower.

“Thank you, Mycroft. He is upstairs.” Mrs Hudson stepped aside for the huge figure. He was her charming admirer always with a bouquet of flower on every visit. She felt happy inside for her late husband was never one with the flowers although he was a staunch defender of her during his living days.

“I do believe he just came back before dawn. I knew it was him despite his best to hide his footsteps.” Mrs Hudson told Mycroft when he passed by her to take the stairs. He had then brushed past her arms and it sent warmth to her lonely heart. Mycroft took the steps with the vigour of the youth and then stood by the doorway to his other self of mysterious antics.

“Come in Mycroft.” The voice greeted Mycroft when he was to knock the doorframe. Mycroft reached for the door knob to turn it anticlockwise as advised by the occupant. He was told that if he did it the right way, he would be given a jolt of electricity. Electricity was then a newly acquired power which was channelled to the affordable homes through the coal burning power houses. It did disrupt the chimney emission but the low cloud then was a permanent feature.

“Do sit. Mrs Hudson will be coming with the tea at precisely seven past the hour.” Mycroft saw his brother had not shelf his desire for the early morning smoke although its smell was not of sweet fragrance. Mycroft stared at his brother then in the dressing gown and slippers with the well combed hair that was swept back to the ears.

“Sherlock, I do implore once more that you give up the habit of yours. Cocaine or whatever you may be told it was may not be favourable to your health.” Mycroft took his seat before he reached for the metal case which housed his rolled cigarettes. He had laced his tobacco with some spices to give it the staunch after taste. Sherlock had then moved to the cupboard where he kept his costumes and disguises.

“I do have my habit but I doubt you are here to discuss that.” Sherlock then closed the cupboard door and stood to listen hard on the steps which were resounding up the stairs. “I believe the doctor is in the house.”

True to his guess, the door to the unit soon admitted in a figure dressed in the tweed suit and then holding the long wooden cane. He was shorter than the Holmes brother and his frame was thinner with the left leg limping due to a bullet just below the thigh missing the thigh by a short distance.

“Watson, Mycroft was here to discuss with us on the killing of the constable last night.” Sherlock had then disposed himself on the arm chair by the window. His tall and lanky frame was engulfed by the thicker cushion requested by Sherlock for his chair. He then reached for his bended pipe and placed it on his lips unlit. It was one of his morning antics when he needed to keep the fingers busy instead of thumping on the chair side. He sat there with his legs crossed and the right slipper dangled loosely by his toes.

“Do continue on, Mycroft.” Sherlock had deduced that his brother had come bearing that news for it was on the morning crowd lips and it was not the first to happen then. There twelve killing then when Mycroft was called on the task and soon he recorded more than twenty of them but they were kept from the press for national security concerns.

“Yes, please do. I am here to assist.” The man named as Watson was an army medical officer who got hurt in the Last Frontier War at the range of the tall mountains. The limping doctor placed the walking stick next to him by the arm chair he was to take. That was the last of the arm chairs there and Mycroft has to settle for the cushioned chairs reserved for guests.

“I am here to talk on the murders. It was crackling fun case of murders but the King was concerned on the matter now. It had become not a national issue but one of international level.” Mycroft was not a man of many words and he had very little patience. “The Prime Minister had asked me to assemble a team of …..warriors if I may termed it as that. You are ….”

“Warrior? Me I am not one. Watson was not one and yet he got shot.” Sherlock looked at Watson who was then giving him the disapproval look. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson. We are investigators and not warriors. We are not his idea of those bond-ed trained spies with the license to kill.”

“Watson, you yourself were only license to cure and …” Sherlock was interrupted then by Watson who preferred to be known otherwise.

“I have killed many who were due.” With that Watson displayed his other prowess with the scalpel. It was thrown with the twist of the left hand that reached for it beneath at side of his waist belt and landed in the coat hanger left handle.

“Watson, have I told you many times, I needed that handle for my hat.” Sherlock groaned on the scarred handle. “I am going to confiscate your …side arms in future.”

“Gentlemen, we are after all here to discuss my case.” Mycroft cut in on the rivalry of the pair in their demonstrative arts. “I …”

“It’s elementary, Mycroft. You need me for investigative skills and Watson for his …cutting skills.”

“Most precisely, my dear brother. Do you still have my cricket bat?” Mycroft asked then. “I need to do some battling now.”

Arthur: The legend and Myth Chapter 131 - Finale

131.

Arthur regained consciousness from his deep sleep at the tent. He turned to look at the surrounding and was surprised to see Lancelot and Belvedere there. He turned over and that alerted the two knights who came to his aid.

“I am fine. How is the army?” Arthur asked then. They told that most of the army had been disbanded and they have returned to their own lands. When he asked of Gaul, they told him that the later have retreated and with Mordred dead, they have asked for a truce.

“Mordred was returned to his knights and they have taken him back to Gaul.” Lancelot told Arthur. “It’s over and we only await your return to health.”

Arthur smiled then at the knights. He called for the return to Camelot but he will travel with Belvedere on a slower route. Lancelot protested on it but Arthur was insistent.

“Lancelot, you will return to Camelot and addressed the people there on my health. Take the army and protect the land. I need to travel …alone with Belvedere on another matter.”

With that command, Lancelot took to the task with reluctance while Arthur was taken on a wagon with Belvedere. They travel in silence for a few days with most times Arthur seated on the wagon watching the lands he had united under his banner. He knew his days were coming to an end, and had a task to do. He directed the knight towards the one last resting area.

“I need you to toss this into the lake. The lake will claim it.” Arthur told him. “It belonged to the lake.”

It was then Arthur fell into a state of unconscious. When he woke up, he saw Belvedere standing there by the lake. He called out to the knight.

“Did you tossed Excalibur into the lake?” The knight nodded.

“What did you see?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing to be told. The sword fell into the lake and disappeared.” Belvedere replied. Arthur was upset then and demanded the return of his sword.

“I tossed it, my King.” Belvedere replied but Arthur knew he lied.

“Be truthful Belvedere. I was told by the Lady in the Lake of the event that will transpire if Excalibur was returned. It was in my dream when I lay dying. You are the last knight to serve me and please do so with honesty.”

It was then Belvedere told the truth. He tossed his sword into the lake and kept Excalibur.

“Arthur, I did it because …”

“Because of greed. You may not want to King but you wanted to keep the sword for the next King. There will be a Kings for the land but none may wield Excalibur unless its granted by the Lady in the Lake. We cannot hold onto it when it’s not ours to do so.”

“Please do it. Lessen my burden in this life.” Arthur then slipped back into unconsciousness. The knight on hearing eh request of his King then retrieved Excalibur from the wagon. He tossed it into the lake with a heavy heart. It did not drop into the lake but hovered over the surface before a hand appeared over it. It was then lowered into the lake water and never to be seen. The knight was surprised but he was soon to be taken aback when he saw Arthur body floated past him as if it was carried but there was no hands holding the body. The body was then lowered into the lake and with that leaving the knight there stunned with a loss of words.

“Hail the King!” Belvedere found his voice then and fell to his knees.

It was the same call then by the returning knights to Camelot which was not there anymore but a bay by the sea. Lancelot was disbelieving to be told that Camelot had disappeared in a thunderous act then and all who was in it had perished if not escaped with little on their back.

“How fare the Queen?’ Lancelot asked but the replies varied from death to ignorance. So was the fate of Merlin. He rode back to his own castle to be told that Elaine was also missing. He dismissed the knights and disbanded the foot soldiers when he heard no words from Arthur then. He rode on for days looking for answers and found none until he came upon the friar at the small abbey by the forest.

“Seek not of them, Lancelot.” Friar Tuck told him. “Considered them dead if that will ease your pain.”

Lancelot was not sure of the words and continued his search for Guinevere. The friar had then looked at the departing knight before he stepped inside the abbey. He looked to the figure in the nunnery attire. He smiled for the Queen had died and in her place was a servant of God. He took to the rear and saw his old friend tying the saddle to the donkey.

“Merlin, I won’t stop you leaving but prayed tell me of the round table. You imprisoned the last of the fallen there with a false promise to wake them on the day of reckoning. It intrigued me why you then brought the table there. Those were good knights who sat there and yet none of them knew of its importance then. It would make an intriguing tale to be told one day to the people.”

Merlin stopped his packing and looked at the friar. He told the one tale that many will never know but shared by the few.

“The round table did house the fallen Angels but they were protected by the runes design which formed a spell over them. There was a part of the spell which it needed the goodness of Man to sustain the spell. It initially with the first seven and then twelve knights but over the period, the fallen Angels countered their influence on the knights. They became what they were not supposed to be. I did not foresee that for I was weaker then. I thought it was my age given that I am immortal but I was losing my edge. I even loved a lady which I have a son. I have even …forgive me, made many more errors in my judgement.”

“True but you made two good calls. One was to house it at Camelot where the other Angels once held dominant over the place. Two when you moved the round table to the cavern and called on Ninniane to assist you in the battle.”

“True, Friar. The last events made me realized that I was a fool to think I could control my masters then. I took the battle to release them in there and had them battled it out there. Ninniane with her power over the water took the offensive to destroy them there. Camelot had to be sacrificed and with Arthur death to end the reign. That allowed Excalibur to be returned to the nymphs and strengthen their power over the water.” Merlin smiled. “It’s a beautiful bay now.”

“Don’t you agree, Michael?”

“Don’t be hasty with your victory, minion. I am still the Angel and you the minion.” The friar cautioned the druid. “The war may be over but the day of reckoning will come. It will be then when the gates are opened once more and your masters will arise.”

“It may come that day but I have a new champion ready. He will rise then and fight for the …. Minions like me.” Merlin smiled. “We have seen how Angels are defeated once and its will happen again.”

“Brave words, minion. I will welcome any challenger when the day is here.” With that the friar took to enter back the abbey which was his sanctuary. Merlin then took to pull the rein of the donkey to move but the creature will not budge.

“Brave gesture, creature. Like your counterpart, your prevailing stubbornness to defy may be the true quality of why we may not win the war over your kind.” Merlin then dropped the reins and walked on ahead without his pack.

Epilogue

King Gawain soon died on the throne at Sarras while Sir Bors then elderly decided to return to his own land. He rode past Camelot to pay his last tributes to the once powerful King.

Sir Lancelot never returned to his castle and remained a wanderer of the land.

Sir Tristam who was then without a King, returned to his own land and be his own Lord there.

Sir Gaheris returned to his village and lived a solitary life without his brothers.

Arthur was said to return when the land called for a champion.

Merlin disappeared then although there were claims that he was seen at the Bay with Ninniane.

All of them were once legendary figures but more myths surround their existence that none of them were ever discovered to be real.

There was one which was to resurface and created a new legend then. It was these words that was said then.

“Hail to the son of Merlin and Morgan. Mordred will be our next champion.”

Arthur: The Legend and Myth Chapter 130

130

Lancelot paced the outside of the tent while other knights have gathered a distance away. They all shared the same concern which was Arthur who was in the tent with the healers. The King was dying although they won the battle. Lancelot felt his own wounds which were then taken care of by the healers. He will live but his biggest wound was Guinevere. With the battle over, his mind floated back to her. He was wondering how she was handling the affair. She had told him then but he felt she was manipulated by Mordred who then was the caretaker of Camelot.

“Lancelot, how fare the …Kimg?” Belvedere stood there with part of his body still healing. He was at times how to address Arthur.

“His previous wounds with the Procurator had opened up. He should have stood at the side.”

“Arthur is King. He cannot be standing at the …”

“For that he is in there dying.” Lancelot snapped in. “He is a fool. He thinks too highly of himself.”

“You were with him for years. Why did you not stop him?”

Lancelot ignored the queston when he saw the four healers stepping out. They approached him and told him the grave news.

“The King is dying. He asked to be alone.” With that the healers left Lancelot. One of them turned back.

“The King asked that only Belvedere could approach him.” When Lancelot heard that, he felt an annoyance. In his mind, he asked himself why Arthur did not ask for him or even Gawain. They were the ones which started with him and yet he called on Belvedere. Who was Belvedere that Arthur will select him instead of them. He had hardly known Belvedere himself.  The knight came in not some time back and sat there as if he had always belonged there.

“I guess all of us don’t really belong …” Lancelot muttered.

It was the same at Camelot.

To be more precise they were at in the cavern with Merlin smiling. He saw the runes design he drawn on the round table surface were moving. Morgan saw it and then called out.

“Why … what did you do?” Morgan glared at Merlin. Guinevere confused then asked Morgan.

“Why are the designs moving…there?” Guinevere asked.

“The druid had turned it on. It was not….time yet.” It was then the rune designs converged into one dark spot and then it turned to the shade of red before it spread out like the spill of blood. The shade spread and then it covered rhe table top with its own design. It displayed the image of a raging dragon descending to the surface where a number of hands were seen to flair out in receiving it. The dragon image came alive with the wings flapping before it spurting out the flames into the receiving hands. The lines of hands were seen to be withering into its bones and then nothing.

“Oh, my God!” Guinevere muttered out in despair but the despair was soon to turn to concern when she saw from within the image of the dragon a set of feet was emerging. The feet soon revealed the figure of a Man and yet the body was covered with lines that resembled scales with the unique face expression. It was a face of a Man but on the forehead were the two protruding horns. The figure was in the shade of red but there was another figure that stepped out. It was in an image of the Lady and it was in contrast in the image which was white.

“Is it time for us to wake, minion?” The red horned figure asked of the druid while it stretched its body frame. The druid went on his knees and replied.

“No, it’s not the time of reckoning. I did not wake you but your worshippers.” Merlin then prostrated on his knees motioned to the three ladies standing there. “They are your …servants and in their eagerness to serve you woke you up.”

“No….” Morgan called up and then she glared at Merlin. “You dare to place the…”

“Silence! The minion is of mine and you are not his to command.” The red figure looked towards the ladies. “The group that entices my brothers once before now stand to accuse another of mine. You are either bold or foolish.”

Morgan reacted with herself taking the same as the druid and sought mercy then from the so named dragons.

“I did not wake you, Master but the druid did it to spite us. He who is…”

“Silence! My minion had a task to wake me on the age of reckoning and not before. He had never failed me….” The red one looked at Merlin. “Maybe he did before but he knew the retribution for it.”

“I have repented, Master. I have preserved your …souls but they have…” Merlin defended himself but it was Elaine who then decided to flee the cavern.

“I have no part of this….” Elaine was silenced with a gesture by the red figure who then flashed his anger at her. The flames projected from his right hand burst into Elaine and left behind the remains in ashes.

“Tell me, minion. Who are they?” The red figure looked towards Merlin. The later was to reply when the cavern vibrated with the echoes of the howling sounds and then from the walls stepped forth the lioness spirit. She was not alone but with her were three others.

“Lucifer, we meet once more.” The lioness roared out. “And to you too, Lilith.”

“The one defeated Angels have returned.” The red figure named Lucifer turned to look at the others. “Have you not perished in our last battle, Sybil? I can see you brought your companions.”

“Our brethren perished but there are some of us who have stayed to ensure you will not rise again.” Sybil replied. “Michael feared that the war was not over for you and Lilith were not captured then. We stayed on to hunt you. We lost the last battle but today, we will win the war.”

“Sister and brothers, we were once of the same realm. Why do you pursue on the war when it’s long over. The Fallen Brothers lost then and were captured or scattered. You had your victory and yet you sought us till this day.” Lucifer voiced out. “All we ask for was to wait out for the day of reckoning.”

“A day which will not happened for long as we serve Michael.” Sybil replied. “Enough of our talks and let us end the war today. You are not in our stronghold and behold here we are the formidable ones.”

It was then Lucifer realized the location and for once fear ruled inside him. He looked at the druid who had then backed away to the Lioness.

“You betrayed me once more, minion. I shall retun for you if it will take me an eternity to do so.” Lucifer then faced his adversaries.  “Fight me now.”

It was then Merlin rushed to the cavern exit with the two ladies in the rear. He rushed up the corridors and then to courtyard. On every step he took, the ground beneath his feet trembled with the sound of earth shaking movements. He fell on several steps but each time he stood up and ran on.

“Run outside. Follow me.” Merlin called to the two ladies while he headed for the main gate. The castle  towers that once stood high on the walls were seen toppling over like fallen tree trunks while sections of the walls were collapsing into rubbles. He pushed on and was soon running on the green grassland but even then the danger was not over. Sections of the ground there were uprooted and deep gorges were formed. He jumped and ran without looking back. It was not only that he feared for then spurts of water were seen shooting high from the cracks in the land. He saw a horse that was without its rider nearby and it was too frighten to move. Merlin grabbed the reins and mounted it. It was then he turned to look for the ladies.

“Guinevere, run towards me.” Merlin saw the Queen still on her feet near him. She ran to him and he grabbed her onto the rear of the saddle. He turned to look for Morgan but she was not to be seen. He turned the horse to the plains ahead and rode hard. He did dare to look back at the castle he had assisted in building.

For once again in his immortal life, Merlin was scared to look back.