Repost: Timesword - Part I
Robert B. Marks
Part I
Story and original characters copyright 1998 Robert B. Marks, all
rights reserved. Doctor Who is a trademark of the BBC.
How do I begin?
Well, I guess I should say that I am Merlin, the half-
mortal. I have lived for around four thousand years, born of the
Tuatha de Danaan at the time of Atlantis, ally of Wodan.
And, because of that odd sword, I am also that strange time
traveller, Doctor...well, I can pronounce his name, but don't ask
me to spell it. Besides, it had been well over a millennia since
he had actually used anything other than his title.
But, to tell what I have seen...
I know why there is still all the strife in the world. I
was there when the worst of it began. I saw the Somme claim
hundreds of thousands of lives. I saw Hitler's death camps. I
know WHY.
In a way, it is my fault. I should have listened.
So, again I come back to the first question: how do I begin?
I suppose I should start at the beginning. For me, it is
around five or six centuries after that man the mortals call
"Christ" was born.
But the real beginning does not take place at a particular
point in time...
* * *
Deep in the heart of time itself a small blue box spun
around, travelling from time to time.
Deep in the labyrinth of the time machine, a ancient and
powerful sword lay, its wavy patterned blade dull and dead.
Deep in the labyrinth, the sword came alive.
* * *
It was one of those rare moments when Fred was worried about
the Doctor. The Time Lord had curled up in a chair, lost in some
strange nightmare. All she could do about it was look at John
helplessly and hope her friend would wake up; after all, it was
the first time she had ever actually seen him sleep.
The Doctor tossed and turned in his plush chair, rumpling
the beige Edwardian greatcoat he had draped over the back of his
seat. His eyes had scrunched tight, locked in some invisible
horror that only he could even fathom.
"We have to do something," Fred finally said.
John, an older man with a midnight black complexion, put the
book he had been pretending to read down on the table. "What do
you suggest? We know virtually nothing about how his race
sleeps. For all we know waking him up could kill him."
"And for all we know not waking him could also," Fred
retorted. She shouldn't have worried, however; the Doctor's eyes
snapped open with feral look that vanished almost as if it had
never been.
The Doctor stood up, wiping his brow. "What a nightmare."
"Doctor," Fred asked, "are you okay?"
"Fitter than a fiddle," the Time Lord declared, "but fiddles
are such imperfect things. Are we still in the vortex?"
"If I understand temporal dynamics, yes, we are," John
answered. "I've been reading this book, you see, and-"
"Reading's good for you," the Doctor interrupted. "I just
have to see to something in the back, and then I'll be able to
listen to everything you've learned about temporal mechanics."
With that, the Doctor was off, speeding into the labyrinth
of the TARDIS like a man possessed.
Fred looked at John for a moment. "What was that all
about?"
John could only shrug.
* * *
Deep in the corridors of the TARDIS lay a small room lit
only by candles. In the center of the room lay a large stone, in
the center of which had been thrust a large sword, older than the
universe itself.
The Doctor looked at the sword in concern, watching the
candlelight reflect off the sheer metal of the blade. The steel
writhed as though alive, infused with an unearthly light.
"Impossible," the Doctor breathed. "He's dead."
The sword only lay there, the patterns shifting in a silent
contradiction of the Time Lord's words.
The Doctor pointed. "My fate no longer lies with you!" he
declared. "I will leave you to the winds of time."
The sword did nothing in reply, but even that worried the
Time Lord.
More concerned than ever, the Doctor headed back to the
console room.
* * *
The wind and clouds swirled around the two figures as they
stood on the hill, silently defying the elements.
The first figure looked up at the sky, his single eye
glaring with an immortal light. He looked to the second figure,
taking in the man's deceptively youthful appearance. But he knew
how old his companion truly was.
"What do you see, Wodan?" the second man asked.
"The tide of time is changing against us," Wodan replied.
"Our time on this world has nearly ended. The new god will come,
and then we will fade from memory forever."
"I knew it would come eventually. I only wondered when."
"Merlin, I have a task for you," Wodan said, placing his
hand gently on his companion's shoulder. "The bearer of our
salvation is coming, I have seen him. He is not a creature of
power like ourselves, but he is not from this world either. He
is not a believer in magic, but he bears a great sword. His
intention is to destroy it."
"Is this something good or bad?" Merlin asked.
"Our power will pass regardless," Wodan said. "The sword is
only a sign; it is not a cause. But if it is destroyed, than we
shall be forgotten forever. And with us will be forgotten all of
the wonder the world needs to survive. Do you understand?"
"The sword must not be destroyed," Merlin said. "I will
prevent it at all costs."
"I warn you," the god said, staring at Merlin with his
piercing eye, "I cannot see all that this sword will bring. I
can only see that the cost will be high."
"I have seen this new 'Christianity'," Merlin responded. "I
have seen how sterile it is. It will destroy the world if we
cannot preserve ourselves. No cost is too high to prevent that."
Wodan smiled slightly. "Very well. If you succeed, then
you will take a place with my kind in my hall when you wish it.
Go with my blessings, half-mortal."
Merlin turned and began to walk down the hill, unable to
shake a feeling of fate driving him onwards to some strange dark
destiny which he could not foresee.
* * *
The Doctor looked at the viewscreen in bewilderment. All
around him he could see great forests, the ancient trees reaching
up into the sky like Titans.
"This is not twenty-seventh century Earth," he stated,
rubbing his chin.
"Still can't control the TARDIS?" John asked.
"It seems so," the Time Lord replied, stepping over to
another panel on the console. "According to this we are in sixth
century Britain, shortly after the full Saxon invasion. Somehow
I doubt they have what I need."
Fred blinked. "What do you need?"
"Advanced metalworking," the Doctor replied. "I need to
destroy something."
"What do you need to destroy?" John asked.
"Destroy? What do you mean, 'destroy'?"
"You said you wanted to destroy something."
"Oh yes, that," the Doctor said. "Well, we can't do it
here. I'll just take off and see if we land somewhere with
advanced technology."
With that, the Time Lord flipped the dematerialization
switch.
Nothing happened.
The Doctor stepped back. "I see," he said quietly. "It
won't let me go that easily."
"What?" Fred asked.
"Best you don't know," the Doctor said. With that, he
headed back into the corridors of the TARDIS again.
Fred turned to John in exasperation. "Of all of the
incarnations that man has had, why did we have to get this one?"
John only chuckled softly.
* * *
And so he came, fate driving him along. And I, the
instrument of fate and the gods, did nothing to prevent him.
I suppose I should have. But I am only half-mortal, and
fate is not some abstract concept to me. It is a real force, and
one that must be reckoned with. Oh, it can be defeated, but only
with a great deal of effort.
And I made no attempt to defeat it. All I saw was the
wonder of the world fading to nothingness, and I knew it had to
be prevented. If only I had known.
If only I had known...
But I didn't know. I didn't know the true nature of the
sword. I didn't know the affect it would have on the world
around it.
I didn't know that my actions would corrupt the world
forever.
* * *
The Doctor looked at the sword partly in fear and partly in
awe. The sword still stared back at him, the unearthly light
shifting along its length like a great serpent.
"It ends now," the Time Lord vowed. With that, he drew the
sword from the stone.
As he drew the sword, he could feel all of his darkest
attributes rising to the surface, the evil will that wanted to
overcome him fighting for dominance. It took all of his
willpower to force it down, seeking his own state of Zen.
Finally, once his mind had become as calm as a small lake, he
looked at the sword.
The sword lay in his hands, the blade staring at him
invitingly. All of the power of the universe lay at his
fingertips, and the sword sang to him of all that he could do,
ruling the universe with a steady hand. All of the civilizations
in time and space would seek his guidance, bearing unimaginable
tribute.
"You are evil," the Doctor whispered. "My destiny does not
lie with you any longer."
With me you can rule all, the sword replied in his mind. I
am the greatest power in the universe.
The Doctor sheathed the blade and then let go of the hilt.
As if by magic, the voices left his head, leaving him in peace.
As he carried the sword through the corridors of the TARDIS, the
ancient name of the sword came to haunt him:
Ek'ha'le'bar.
* * *
Merlin watched the strange blue box appear from behind a
small hill. He watched as the strange traveller and his
companions stepped out of the impossible box, and the traveller
turned around, seeming to try to get his bearings.
Suddenly, the future appeared to him, wrapping him in a
horrible dream of bloodshed. Saxons in mail-coats fought Celts,
blood struck the ground, swords clashed, and all through it he
heard the song of a terrible sword, calling for power.
He blinked, and the calm world was restored. The travellers
had split up, the gaunt black man heading to the south, the
traveller walking to the north, and the woman wearing man's
clothes striking to the east.
He got up, and began to follow the traveller. He had to get
the sword at all costs.
* * *
As Fred walked, she grumbled. She grumbled at the sky, she
grumbled at the grass, and she grumbled at the trees. Mainly,
she grumbled about the Doctor.
"Go find a forge, he says," she muttered. "Never seen one
in my life, but supposed to know what it is anyway. I'm an
artist, not a bleeding blacksmith! And all of this stuff about a
sword. Who cares about a sword? It's just a piece of metal,
isn't it? But no, he says it has to be destroyed. Can't ever
get a straight answer and then..."
At that moment, she realized she was surrounded. Ten large
men wearing shiny coats of mail and bearing spears stood around
her, the spears pointed directly at her heart.
"Halt in the name of King Fortager!" one of the men called.
She put her hands in the air. "I won't hurt you," she said,
trying to sound as peaceful as possible.
The man nodded. "That doesn't mean we won't hurt you. Who
are you, and why do you pass through our picket line?"
"I'm Fred," she said. "I'm looking for a forge."
The men talked to each other for a moment, and then turned
back to her. "We'll let Fortager decide what to do with you. If
you're lucky, he'll only make you a thrall. Move, wench!"
* * *
John took his situation entirely in stride. All he had to
do was walk for about two hours, find a smithy, and then come
back. So, rather than complain, he took the long view, and
enjoyed the walk.
And the walk was pleasant. All around him were trees of a
sort that no longer existed in his day. The birds twittered in
the trees. Small forest animals scurried around him.
He shook his head sadly. In his day, it had all been
destroyed. Industry had moved forward, and nothing had stood
against it. The world had gone from a natural paradise to a
technological wasteland.
"Halt and declare yourself!" came a voice from behind him.
John stood still and slowly put up his hands. "I'm John,
and I'm looking for a smithy."
A lean man wearing leather armour and bearing a spear came
to stand before him. "Are you well?"
John blinked. "Quite well. I'm a doctor, after all."
"I have never seen a complexion like yours in my life," the
guard said. "Where are you from?"
John thought for a minute, and then chose the easy answer.
"Far away."
The guard nodded. "I see. Well, you've just walked through
the picket line of the Drighten Uther Pendragon of the Saxons.
You'll have to explain yourself to him. For all we know, you are
one of Fortager's spies. Come along."
John shrugged. What else could he do? "Lead on," he said,
and then followed.
* * *
Fred looked at the camp in amazement. A sea of dull tents
stretched to the horizon, and all around them were grim men,
armed but, to her eyes, already defeated. In front of the camp
were several trees, hanged men dangling from the branches as the
ravens came to feast.
"Move!" her guard said roughly, and she felt the sharp end
of the spear prodding her back. She walked forward into the
camp, trying to ignore the catcalls that followed her. Finally,
after what seemed like an eternity, she was led to the largest
tent in the camp.
"Wait," the guard ordered, and one of his companions stepped
into the tent. There was some conversation she couldn't make
out, and then she was pushed roughly into the tent.
She looked up to see a large man before her. He wore a
shining coat of mail with an emblem of a dragon on it. His grey
hair grew down to his shoulders, while his beard was closely
trimmed. Deep grey eyes regarded her.
"I am King Fortager," the man said. "And you were caught in
our picket line. I'll give you this chance to explain yourself."
"I'm a traveller from a distant land," Fred said. "I was
looking for a forge for a friend when I was caught."
Fortager nodded sagely. "I must look like a fool to you, if
you are feeding my that sort of excuse."
Fred blinked. "It's krukking true! I want nothing to do
with your army, whatever it is here for!"
"I do not know what a 'kruk' is," Fortager stated. "But I
do know a lie when I see one."
"I'm not lying."
"What is the name of your home?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Tardis"
Fortager laughed deeply. "Do you think I don't speak Latin?
We Angles are well educated, and I had a Roman teacher when I was
younger! Fred, from 'late'. An amusing story, but not good
enough. I am quite aware that you are a spy of Uther's. You've
amused me, though." He called to his guard. "Her story was
entertaining. Don't offer her to Wodan now. Hang her at dawn
instead. We'll let her corpse inspire us as we march against
Uther tomorrow afternoon."
The guard smiled, and grabbed Fred roughly. "I'll enjoy
this," he hissed, and then pulled her away.
TO BE CONTINUED...
--
The future has not been written, / The past is set in stone,
And I am but a lonely wanderer, / With time my only home.
-- From Magus Draconum
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