Shadows Over Fairyland

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

—William Shakespeare, Hamlet

---

-I-

“This court, over which I am sovereign and Queen, finds you charged, Sir Gabriel the Knight, of the most heinous crimes against this land and her people. How do you plead?” The voice of Queen Morgan, resolute and sharp, rippled across the room with an unnatural power. Behind her, within the shadow of her throne, sat King Arthur with a hollow look—Gabriel would later recall that he looked like a corpse.

With as much courage as he could muster, Gabriel stood tall and strong before the Queen. Around the scene of the trial were the people of Camelot: multitudes of court officials and priests feigning regal religiosity, as well as knights, ladies, and every manner of citizenry, all gathered throughout the far reaches of the throne room. Though they were not alone, Gabriel felt alone; he knew in his heart that his response was directed towards Morgan and her only, and so towards her he steadied his gaze and began to speak. “As I have said, Queen Morgan, before you and all those gathered here, I am no villain. I am a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table, a herald of truth, justice, and chivalry—not this beast that you accuse me of being.”

His words came out sure and true, like an arrow, but Morgan caught the tremble gathering upon his lips. Gabriel had known the Queen since he was a little boy, and though she was much older than he, she somehow looked the same as she did then. In the gloomy, early morning light of the throne room, she appeared as strong, determined, and beautiful as ever before—though, he did not recognize her now. She was changed somehow; sharper and crueler, as though her very gaze could cut him. For just a moment, a thought passed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it should the Queen read it in his eyes. She looks like a serpent, he thought—one that is ready to strike.

Sir Gabriel lowered his gaze.

No one could see it, perhaps no one wished to see it, but at Gabriel’s words a fire lit up within the eyes of Queen Morgan. She stirred in her seat for a moment—as if coiling to then pounce—before speaking again with a regained smile: “My dear Gabriel, I have known you since your youth. I know that you are no beast—surely we gathered here see you and know you as a man. Not just any man, but a man of this court, a great man who sits at the Table of my husband, the King.”

With this last word Morgan motioned her head in the direction of Arthur, as though to acknowledge him, however slightly. Arthur withdrew dimly from the shadow of Queen Morgan, and in the pale light of the room he looked flush and ghastly, as though his spirit was filled with unnamable sorrows. He then withdrew, and the darkness consumed him as it had before.

Directing her attention once more towards Gabriel, Morgan began to say softly, though coldly, “But, the blood of this once young and beautiful woman has cried out to us from the ground, and in her shrill cries we have heard one name only: your own. You were seen fleeing upon the road that night, as though Death himself pursued you; covered in dirt, disheveled, unkept, with scratches on your face and arms from the desperate fingers of this dear girl as she begged for her life, and then you were captured at the scene the very next morning—yet you now have the audacity to deny these proofs?”

“My Queen,” broke in Gabriel with a start, “I have sworn before this court and our Lord that she, the one you call Desiree, came to my house under the cover of night as though she were in dire need. No sooner did I open my door was it revealed that her intentions were unbecoming both to her and to myself. Though in the moment it was most unclear—for there was a fog about me, in my very mind as it were. It was difficult to understand then, and difficult to explain fully now. She tried to… tempt me… my Queen, of which I have already said. When it became terribly clear that she was in no need of help, I fled from her, but she grabbed me and began to insist, to beg… to bear into my skin with her very nails! We fell to the earth and though I escaped, it was only just. She had such strength for so young a woman…”

Here Gabriel paused for a moment, as though he were remembering a most dreadful dream. When he began again, his eyes wandered down to the earth in sorrowful and fearful reflection as his account went on. “I fled to my horse and rode as swiftly as Joseph would have me do and that was all! When I returned in the morning after a night of restless sleep and wandering—and the most terrible dreams—I came upon a greater horror in the light of day: the doors of my home splintered, and the body of Desiree strewn across my quarters. Before I had opportunity to fall to my knees and weep, knights of the Round Table—my own brothers!—came to apprehend me upon the very sight. ‘What is the meaning of this!?’ I cried out to my brother Lancelot, to which he uttered, as though under a spell and either unwilling or unable to look me in my eyes, ‘The twin sins of man, you villain! As though it were not vile enough that you should rob this young soul of her innocence, you robbed her of life also!’”

From across the room where he stood watching in the shadow of Arthur’s throne, Lancelot shifted his weight and steadied his fiery gaze upon Gabriel.

A darkness passed over Gabriel, as though the mere memory of these events had within themselves the power to crush his soul anew. After a moment, gazing ahead blankly and at no one in particular, he went on: “If I had known what was to become of her… all torn to pieces as she was… I never would have left her given the hour was late, and the shadows were already growing long. But I swear, my Queen, I never laid a hand on her! It was doubtless some men from the countryside that, seeing my home apparently deserted, came upon her after I left in search of gold or coins. Or perhaps it was some dark creature that crept from a hole in the mountains! Men have been whispering more and more of late, of dark and terrible beasts… ancient creatures from Noah’s time taking on the appearance of men and young women; changelings from a bygone age, stealing little children from their beds under the shadow of night and tempting men before devouring them. Some of my knights have even seen these devils, which they have called fairi—”

“Enough!” cried Queen Morgan, and suddenly the mouth of the Knight shut. “You are dear to my heart and to the heart of my husband, Sir Gabriel, but your insolence in this matter has unsettled even my mind. The act is clear to this court: your hands are stained with scarlet sin, your very vision so blinded by bloodshed and your heart so devoured by lust that you can no longer walk straight the path of a knight. Your guilt has already been determined—this trial is but a courtesy to your fading memory as a member of the Table. If this case were to concern any other, perhaps even any other knight, I would have had your very soul in my hands many moons ago. It is your past righteousness, and nothing more, that has stayed my hand from spilling your life upon the earth this very hour.”

A dreadful silence filled the room, and a sudden despair rushed upon the soul of the Knight such as he had never known. Sir Gabriel was a virtuous man, rivaling even the faith and honor of King Arthur, but in this very moment, the moment of his bleakest heartache and trial, his faith wavered. Gabriel gathered himself for a moment, breathed deeply, and in those seconds of quiet reflection a simple, quiet prayer rose from his soul, “Lord, have mercy…”

After a moment, she went on. “You know I have jurisdiction in this land over every maiden that is defiled and sinned against, as that poor creature Desiree was: your life is in my hands, for the King cannot speak in such cases. However, far be it from the lips of any to say that the mercy of Queen Morgan falls short of her justice and virtue. Your salvation, Sir Gabriel, now lies in your ability to answer a simple riddle; not a riddle only, but a path forward for men like you who have so marred the image of our Lord with their actions.”

Though her voice was mighty, like the rushing of a great wind in a hall even so large as Arthur’s, Morgan’s speech faltered slightly, almost imperceptibly, at the words ‘image of our Lord.’ Her lips betrayed a tremble, not of sorrow or grief—but of disgust. As though the very words were bile in her mouth.

As Queen Morgan stood, the rest of the court arose also, casting long shadows like daggers upon the small form of Gabriel as he stood in their midst. She had now arrived at her verdict. “In one year hence, Sir Gabriel, you shall stand before this same court and before the judgment of Queen Morgan with an answer to this question: ‘What thing is it that women most desire?’ If your answer sings true, then your soul is yours. If not, then I shall exercise every iota of the dominion and power and cruelty that the Lord has given into my hands to spill your soul upon the dust of this earth, just as you have done to a fair maiden of my land. Now be gone.”

---

-II-

A deep sigh overwhelmed the soul of Gabriel. His life, his joy, his very faith, seemed a distant memory—a memory of a memory. Outside the walls of Camelot, under the dying light of the Lord’s Day, the Knight sat upon the back of his horse with all his worldly possessions alongside him: some humble clothes, a few gold coins, food for his journey, and a worn, tattered copy of the Scriptures.

As though to rid himself of a great weight, Gabriel dismounted his steed, Scriptures in hand, and fell to the earth in prayer. The words of the Knight began falling like tears from his trembling lips: “Oh Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner. Thou knowest my heart and my deeds, and I trust that You, the righteous Judge of all the earth, will not lead me astray. If You are with me, be Thou a lamp to my feet and my guide, deliver me from this trial! Nonetheless, let not my will but Thy will be done. I commit my very life into Your hands. Amen.”

Gabriel’s book of Scriptures lay on the earth open before him. No sooner upon finishing his prayers did a soft wind sweep across the glen where he knelt, stirring the pages of his book. The pages of the Scriptures danced in the wind for a moment before settling on a passage that Gabriel had often leaned on in times of great distress, of which this time was chief: “There hath no temptation taken hold of you but such as is common to man. But God is faithful; He will not suffer you to be tempted beyond that which ye are able to bear, but with the temptation will also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”

“But Lord,” cried out Gabriel to the night sky, “how am I to know that you are indeed with me?”

At this petition, the wind gathered again and began to stir the pages of Scripture once more before coming to rest on another passage: “And lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”

“O Lord, this burden is too heavy to bear. Will you truly be with me?” said the Knight, softly and with his gaze lowered, as though he were aware of his foolish presumption in posing such a question.

For a moment the valley in which Gabriel knelt stood calm and still. Then the wind swooned a final time, stirring the pages yet again before coming to an end once and for all. Gabriel picked up the Scriptures and held the words close to his face so as to make them out in the darkness. As his sight adjusted, the final response of the Lord was made clear: “O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, ‘Why hast thou made me thus?’”

Though the soul of the Knight was at first overwhelmed with fear, the dread did not tarry. Indeed, a warmth seemed to pass over him and within him at that very hour—a peace that surpassed his every understanding and reason. With that, Gabriel arose from the earth and his spirits rose with him. Scriptures in hand, he mounted his horse and made his way into the depths of the wilderness beyond Camelot.

---

-III-

What is a year? Is it not but vapor? For an insect, a year is a lifetime, or perhaps many lifetimes; but to a man, a year is as sand falling through his hand, quickly passing, and then gone. The year moved quickly against Gabriel; the fall harvest of his departure was swiftly followed by a cold, dark winter that was filled with many wanderings and wonderings. The cruelty of winter was broken by the dawn of spring, with its sweet showers and tender flowers, giving way to a summer of unforgiving and unrelenting heat that devoured the land. Though the long year stretched before Gabriel like a vast, unending road, the days themselves were equally unforgiving to the Knight. As season gave way to season, Gabriel journeyed among mountain crags and walked upon many seashores and forest paths in search of an answer to Queen Morgan’s riddle.

Sir Gabriel rubbed shoulders with every variety of folk and creature over the course of the Queen’s year. Some were kind and others unkind, and some utterly vile, yet all of them ignorant of an answer to the riddle that could satisfy Gabriel—and the Queen.

Upon leaving the city’s walls in the cool of autumn, Gabriel first sought answers among his own kind from the villages of men just beyond the grandeur of Camelot. “What do women desire most, you ask?” cried the peasant men and women of the village. “Why, they want gold and riches above all else! Enough to swim in!” answered the villagers in an uproar of laughter. The gaze of the Knight pierced through their hearts: the exceeding poverty of the villagers for many long generations had hardened them towards all earthly good except for a desire over gold and riches. They had room left for little else in their shallow hearts. And so, Gabriel went away sorrowful, both at the greed of men and at a riddle left unanswered.

Indeed, each creature on earth and under the earth had a different word with which to answer Gabriel, each according to its kind. The Elves, lovers of fine things and ancient ways, answered that women, especially Elvish women, desired most to be clad in fine fabrics and to rejoice in the pleasure of the arts. The Dwarves, a hard people cut from the rock of the earth, claimed that women—not only Dwarvish women, but indeed all women, they insisted—desired most to serve their husbands all their days and nothing more (except, perhaps, for the occasional kind word and helping hand from their husbands now and again, according to some Dwarvish women who pulled Gabriel aside in secret as he left their stone halls and deep abodes).

So on and so forth through the days and weeks of Gabriel’s sojourn. The trees said that women desired most the refreshment of the spring rain and the heat of the summer sun; the centaurs, a lusty race, assured the Knight that women desired above all else a good mate; and the orcs, well, Gabriel thought it best to avoid their race entirely, for he wasn’t entirely convinced that such a race even had the luxury of male and female.

As the curtain of summer was being drawn from the world, the cool of fall began to settle with velvet shadows across the land once again. However, as the days began to draw closer and closer to the year’s end, Gabriel began to catch a tune in the air. At first the faint tune was nearly imperceptible, as though the mysterious song rode upon the wind itself—but a melody of some sort it most certainly was. The song, which at the beginning could hardly be distinguished from the babbling of a brook or the echo of leaves in the wind, began to draw him to itself.

Wherever he was, whether breaking bread with fellow travelers on the road or deep in prayer under an ancient oak as night fell, the song persisted—though it seemed only Gabriel could hear its tune. It was as though the song was drawing him to some sure and definite end. Indeed, each day it grew stronger, louder, and clearer.

Even in his dreams Gabriel could find no respite, for as the song grew bolder, so too did his dreams grow more horrific. The melody was filled with a beautiful, though haunting, dreadfulness. Not since the night he fled his own home from Desiree all those months ago did Gabriel ever experience such terror as he did in these dreams. One night while sleeping in a shallow cave opening, the song intertwined so deeply with his dreams that he could no longer tell whither stood the division between his world and that dark netherworld of dreams.

Upon waking from this same dream, Gabriel found himself embraced by a cool, gray dawn. Just beyond the valley lay a pond, clear as crystal, upon which the newly risen sun was spreading its golden fingers. In his thirst, Gabriel gathered himself and walked towards the pond for refreshment. However, a strange thought entered his mind just then—Whence cometh this pond? Indeed, to his best recollection, it was not there when he fell asleep. What further struck Gabriel was that the song which had haunted him for weeks suddenly seemed to still in his ears. Not because it had ceased, thought Gabriel, but because he finally reached its source. Gabriel felt as though he had been wandering an empty castle all these weeks trying to locate the music of a harp; and upon walking into the musician’s room, the harpist eased their playing and looked plainly at him, beckoning him closer.

Such was Gabriel’s feeling as he, as though outside of himself, approached the pond. As he began to wade into the cool waters, a voice could be heard somewhere deep within the tune, now billowing around his ears—“What is it, dear Knight, that women most desire? Come, come and see.” At these words, a great heaviness seemed to press upon him. He could feel a hand, small and almost feminine, but hard as iron, gripping his hair from behind and pushing him downwards into the depths of the pond.

---

-IV-

“Where am I!” screamed Gabriel in terror when he became aware of his surroundings. He could not be certain, but he appeared to be on his knees, kneeling not on the bottom of the pond but on the surface of the water itself, only upside down. It was as though the world had been turned over entirely, though Gabriel was aware that he was not, exactly, underwater. “What enchantment is this...?” stammered the Knight as he gazed around. Above him and off to the distance he saw the sandy bed of the pond stretch for miles as it receded into deep shadow, with weeds dangling like chandeliers catching the sunlight coming from beneath him. Before him—though she was not there only a moment before—stood the form of a beautiful woman, clothed in light.

“Dear Knight, how do you like my singing? You traveled far to find the source of my song—now that you see me, what say you?” said Desiree softly, her words entangled in some dreadful melody.

“But… it cannot be… Desiree?” uttered Gabriel as though under a spell.

Desiree then withdrew from him slightly, as if startled, at which point a sharp voice pierced the space around them, seemingly from every direction: “O Knight, a year has passed and so here we are. Have you answered my riddle?”

Arising from the surface of the pond before Gabriel’s very eyes arose none other than Queen Morgan herself, arrayed in an otherworldly light. “O foolish Gabriel, you have journeyed so long and far, and to what end? What is it, dear one, that women most desire?”

Morgan now stood before the him with Desiree sitting around her knees, both robed in a pale-green luminescence. Clothed in such light the pair before him seemed almost semitransparent.

Fairies, thought Gabriel—the scourge of Camelot is revealed at last. Fear and fog overwhelmed him. Gabriel, kneeling with his head bowed in utter disbelief and agony, dismissed Queen Morgan’s question entirely, and instead asked, “Who is this sorceress before me? How is it that she lives?” His head was bowed low.

Like a blade, a smile drew slowly across Morgan’s face. She looked down to the creature at her feet. “Ah, this is Faye, my daughter—do you not recognize her? She came to you a year ago, only, in a different body. You dismissed her rudely, O chivalrous Gabriel. When my beloved daughter fled to me that night a year ago, filled with sorrow and tears, my motherly heart stirred for her—and it burned hot against you. Is the Princess of the Wood too small a trinket for a man such as thou? A knight of that fool King Arthur and his accursed Round Table!”

Stooping down to him, Morgan lifted his head and spoke into, what seemed to Gabriel, his very soul: “You broke her heart, all so you could keep the flimsiest of holds on your precious virtue. What did that virtue cost you? Your life, and the life of that poor creature we tore up in Faye’s stead. Why could you not simply submit? Your precious Arthur did so easily enough and has been doing so for generations.”

Gabriel shook his head violently, as though in deep dismay. “No, no, no... it cannot be. Arthur is the greatest among us, surely he could not—.”

“Could not what?” interjected Queen Morgan with a wicked thrill in her voice, as though her dark pleasure in spewing such a revelation could scarcely be contained. “Could not succumb to the forked tongue of smooth words and the poison of a touch smoother still? He was a young man when I came to him first—such prey, such ease. And who, simple Gabriel, do you suppose offered your name for Faye when my plan was in its infancy? Do not think so highly of your precious King Arthur. He betrayed you.”

“You liar! You witch—you mean to take the throne?” murmured Gabriel, as though fighting back a great slumber that was overtaking him. The fog of mind that so nearly arrested him a year ago when Faye sought to seduce him seemed to be bearing its claws deeply into him now. Indeed, if it were not for his rage at the hot sting of Arthur’s betrayal, he would have faded long before.

“Take the throne? You poor fool. I intend to keep the throne. It has belonged to my kind for hundreds of years, long before this land was ever called Camelot; and soon, it shall be Faye’s also. That is why she came to you: to secure your bloodline, and if only you would allow her, to romance your heart also. But now we must pursue another way—one of twisted bone and bloodshed and shadow.”

As though she were a beast encircling her prey, Queen Morgan arose from before him and began walking around the softly rippled surface of the pond. “I am old, Gabriel, very old. The time is now soon approaching when I will give the throne of Camelot to my daughter. Even my own sorcery, deep as it is, can only keep this people in a lulled stupor for so long—as I have said, I am very old, though few can sense it. That is why we must act swiftly in securing this marriage. What you may lack in royal heritage is made up in this people’s love for your person. The people do love you, Gabriel; little do they know how much you will now suffer for their loyal affection. Indeed, it had to be you—no other knight would suffice.”

Morgan paused where she stood, and a cruel countenance flashed across her features before her voice thundered: “Thus says Morgan, Queen of the Fair Folke: What do women desire most, Sir Gabriel? We desire to have utter sovereignty over our husbands; to rule over them with absolute dominion, to bind them with matchless mastery, just as I have your precious Arthur and countless others long before his kind ever came to this wood. You see, that is what you knights and Christians do not understand, that is true power—to wield mastery over a world for hundreds of years. The very name of fairies once haunted these lands; by man’s folly in forgetting our race, I have had freedom to pull a thick veil over entire generations of men. And with Faye ruling in my stead, my work will surely continue for many long years—hidden deep within the shadows of Camelot.”

In that moment, like an arrow drawn by a strength far beyond his own, a bright thought pierced the gloom of Gabriel’s mind. In the darkness of his fear and sorrow, a still, strong voice drew up from his memory words he had only just read the evening before: “Fear them not therefore: for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known. What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops. And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.” The words rushed through his mind, devouring his fears as they did so.

Enough!, concluded Gabriel. Her blasphemies have been endured for far too long!

He stirred from his place and began to rise slowly, the fear slipping from him like an old, forgotten dream. Meeting Morgan’s gaze for the first time, he thus spoke: “You sound almost like him—the serpent. Scarcely could you hide your forked tongue behind your teeth as you spewed your venom. His words were lies long ago in the Garden and they remain lies here below in this abyss. What do you fairy beasts know about women? I have known you all my years, Morgan, and honored you as Queen for the whole of them, yet only now am I beginning to see you for who you are, for what you are: you are no woman. How could you ever know what the true daughters of Eve want most? You are dark spawn of the Fair Folke, a bent spirit of the abyss—a remnant of a lost race! When Arthur’s fathers came to this wood long ago they drove your kind back into the void; the Round Table will do it again.”

A soft hiss escaped from the lips of Queen Morgan. Even as she poised herself to make a response, much as a serpent wreaths before it strikes, Gabriel kept his course such that her black words were stopped still in her throat.

“Silence! You have gone on long enough—now, you will hear what I have to say. You sent me away to answer a riddle—What is it that women most desire?—and in my cowardice I went about this task, allowing my fears to rule me. Travelling far and wide, over and under the hills, I made a fool of myself.”

Gabriel shook his head in quiet disbelief, as with a dawning clarity settling upon his mind. Indeed, as he spoke it seemed as though his words were directed as much to himself as they were to Queen Morgan. “What is it that women most desire? This is no riddle. There is nothing here to untangle save that which you and your master have sought to twist from the very beginning. As sons and daughters of Adam, as men and women, we have been made in His likeness. We bear the Lord’s image upon us, just as our first parents, and cannot rid ourselves of it. We have fallen and grown old, indeed, but He is making all things new, such that no matter how bent or foolish or happy we may find ourselves in this world, our true and deepest desires ever remain out of reach so long as we deny Him and that lofty purpose for which we were made.”

“And what might that end be?” she snarled.

Gabriel now stood fully, having never seemed taller. “To know Him. To enjoy unbroken and holy fellowship with Him forever—or have you not heard? For this reason He came: that is why your master’s head remains crushed and bruised to this very hour. The Second Adam has drawn all men and women to Himself that our deepest desire may finally and fully be secured in Him who loved us and gave Himself for us upon that tree long ago. Indeed, you are quite wrong. The deepest desire of women is not to rule over their husbands any more than it is the chief desire of men to cower under the cruel thumb of their wives. As His redeemed image bearers, we now joyfully submit to Him, our true Husband, and find rest for our weary souls—men and women both, for He has united the two in Himself. I know not whose image you were made in, Morgan, or for what purposes you were brought into this world—but whatever good may have come from you was forfeited long ago. As for Faye, she will never have my love. She will never have my life. Now be gone, I have no more to say to you.”

Queen Morgan let out a soft laugh such that she, for only a moment, seemed almost human again—as Gabriel once remembered her. “And you sound just like him—Arthur, I mean. Look unto his own life for direction, Sir Gabriel, for that is where your path leads. Neither your men nor women—nor your King!—understand what is best for them. All this talk of love and submission among the sons and daughters of Adam, and to what end? I... I will show them all a better way! When we release you from this place you will journey back home, for the year is now full. You shall present my answer before me and my court, and I assure you it will suffice. Then, you will be free for a season. In due time this black mark upon your person will be forgotten—I will see to that—and my daughter, my Faye, will come to you. You will not deny her. You will assume the throne after Arthur dies, which shall soon come to pass, and the two of you will reign in my stead. Though be warned, my shadow is long, and it will be upon you as long as I allow your little life to drag on.”

With renewed courage that was yet mingled with a profound sense of his own weakness, Gabriel uttered but a single word: “Never.”

“My dear Gabriel, shall we put your precious chivalry to the test? You doubtless know—for you made mention of it that day in court before I stopped you from speaking further—there is a deep shadow upon the land: young shepherd men found devoured in their own fields yet their sheep remain untouched; babes plucked from their beds in the dark of night and replaced with abominations; knights committing unspeakable acts with creatures they believe to be women, only to go missing days later. There is a world around you fools that goes about unseen, moving through the earth and directing the very earth itself alongside the ways of men. O Knight, you say that you love your people. With a single word, a mere breathe, with the slightest gesture of my hand I can evoke dark imaginings upon this land and her people as their thought has not yet conjured up. Will you not protect them now in their hour of greatest need by binding yourself to your enemy for only a short lifetime? What is your life? Does not your precious Scripture say, ‘Life is but a vapor,’ hmm? You will love my daughter, and you two will reign. And when the time comes for your reign to end, you too will die and be gathered to the place of your fathers and, like them, you will find rest at the Lord’s side—and I shall continue my work here below just as He continues His above.”

In the thick fog of his lingering bewilderment, weaved together as it now was with a slowly renewing courage, even Gabriel recognized that Morgan’s tirade was ebbing to a close. With strengthening resolve, he answered her not a word more and fixed his flaming eyes on her own.

Morgan shrunk back.

She then stood up tall and erect and thrust him to his knees again, her fair form casting a long shadow upon Gabriel as he knelt before her on the underside of the pond’s glassy surface. Thinking herself victorious, for she had in her long life known little else, Queen Morgan began speaking once more for what she supposed to be the last word in the matter—“Now... be gone.”

At the Queen’s utterance of “be gone,” spoken so softly and with such trepidation that it seemed possible the words were not said at all, her eyes were drawn downwards—or rather, upwards, towards the surface of the pond beneath her feet. Indeed, the words had hardly left her forked tongue when another shadow swiftly overtook her own from above, dispelling the darkness that her form had cast upon Gabriel only a moment earlier. Though, to call it a shadow was not quite right—for there was no darkness in it that could be found.

Gabriel, who had at this point returned to his knees, began to feel a great warmth gather around the surface of the water where he knelt. As the light beneath him—above him—grew, Gabriel became aware of the fact that it was no mere light—as though the sun were simply rising, for it had already done so—but that the source of the brightness seemed to belong to some large presence which, as his eyes adjusted to its brilliance, began to take on the form of a man.

Whether the mysterious being drew closer or its light grew greater, Gabriel could not tell. All he could sense was that the dreary darkness all about him which had so clung to the underside of the pond was now fading away, as though retreating, fleeing even, from the source of this light. All the while, the light above remained utterly still and utterly silent.

Suddenly a cry rang out from in front of Gabriel: “No! No!” lamented Morgan as she and Faye hastily withdrew from the surface of the pond. Fear and trembling overtook their faces, then the dread caught hold of the Queen’s voice also as she desperately fled further and further from the light as it poured into the world around them. In this moment it became clear to Gabriel that Morgan’s cries were most certainly directed towards some presence within the light—whatever It may be, however, he did not know. Yet despite her howling petitions, the light—the It—made no response. “What have you to do with us?! It is not yet time! IT IS NOT YET TIME!...” Morgan wailed as her and Faye fled deeper into the supposed safety that the dark maw of the pond’s bottom provided.

Though its glory poured forth, so much so that Gabriel had to shield his face, it uttered no words to the now fleeing fairies. Nonetheless, the Queen of the fairies and her spawn continued their cursing—with trembling upon their lips—as they made their descent into the abyss below. In a few short moments, the bottomless darkness consumed their once fair form from Gabriel’s sight.

As the stain of their wicked presence began to be washed away by the light, Gabriel realized that he was afraid once more—only, it was a different sort of fear. As Gabriel knelt, caught as he was betwixt the great light pulsating above and the deep darkness below, the thought came to him then for the first time in his life that there was a certain dreadfulness to goodness—a haunting quality about it. That pure goodness is perhaps the most dreadful thing in all the world to that which is sheer badness—to that which is pure evil, as Queen Morgan and her daughter most surely were.

Even as these thoughts entered his heart, a large, bright hand broke the surface of the water and drew him up from the land of the Fair Folke—from that place which Gabriel would later call, rather simply, Fairyland.

---

-V-

When Gabriel came to himself, he found that he was lying in the shallow valley where he had camped only the night before. Gabriel turned around to look behind him, and though he was surely wet, he found no pond in sight. Before him was burning a small, charcoal fire.

As Gabriel drew closer to the warmth of the fire so as to dry himself, the form of a man standing not far from him became clear—though he could not be overly certain whether it truly was a man he saw. The figure, tending gently to Gabriel’s horse, had his back turned to him.

“Those wretches gave your poor companion here quite the fright when they dragged you away into that abyss,” said the mysterious figure. His voice—for he was most certainly a he—was deep and rich, and held within itself a certain gentleness. Gabriel did not recognize the stranger’s voice, and yet there was a deep familiarity to it; as though he had been waiting to hear such a voice all his life. “But lo,” the stranger went on, “he found his way back to me—the best of friends never wander far. This is a fine horse, Master Gabriel, and I was pleased to share some time with him while you and those devils made conversation. Doubtless you would have had me come for you sooner than I did, but you see, this fire needed to be ready for when you were up again. And besides, He thought it best that you and that fairy Queen go on speaking until the very end.”

At these last words, Gabriel assured himself that though he was in the presence of a he, he could now be certain of his suspicions that he was not in the presence of the He. Though the light coming from the stranger receded somewhat from what it had been, there was still a glory about him; yet, Gabriel determined it was a distinctly creaturely glory, set apart and mighty as he was. That same fear from only moments before remained settled upon Gabriel in the presence of this stranger, though now it felt less like dread and more as a warmth of some kind. Perhaps, thought Gabriel, the dread of goodness feels heaviest when in the presence of that which is evil—which turned out to be a rather weightless thing indeed, he concluded, remembering the fairies as they fled before the stranger like kites caught up in a great, howling wind. Gabriel also concluded that, whatever this creature standing before him with his back turned may be, he was certain it was no man.

“Who are you?... The pond, where has it gone?” muttered Gabriel softly as he sat warming himself by the fire.

“Never mind any of that, Master Gabriel. You best look away now,” said the being by his horse as he turned round to face Gabriel. It was as though the sun had suddenly risen before him, leaving Gabriel with little choice but to thrust his head down into his knees as the being gently made his way over to where the Knight sat at the foot of the fire. “For one thing,” the being went on, seemingly unphased by the effect he had on Gabriel, “I am glad to see that you are beginning to work out who I may be—and most important, Who I am not. Dreadfully wearisome having always to lift folks from their knees. It may not seem like it now, Gabriel, but you and I are far more akin than you may presently realize. We even share a name; though, you will be given a new one by and by.”

Looking down at his own two feet and shielding his eyes, Gabriel could hear the being across from him sit down opposite, stirring the fire with some branch as he did so. After a moment, he spoke again. “We haven’t much time, Master Gabriel, for soon I must be far from here on other business. But while I tarry, ask that which is burdening your heart.”

With his head still bowed low, a deep breath escaped from the Knight before he spoke: “Why? I simply do not understand it all. Why allow such death and heartache to come upon this land... upon that poor woman they tore and butchered those many days ago? To come upon the souls of Camelot? The Table... my brothers... my King—O, my Arthur! How could he deliver me up to that evil creature. I am but a man, what does the Lord expect of me? What can one man do in the midst of such ancient hate as Queen Morgan? What is my life when stood against the evil she has wrought unchecked and unbalanced for all these many years?”

The voice across from him rumbled in reply. “That creature, Queen Morgan as she is known in Camelot, is called by another, older name in the abyss of Fairyland—Morgan le Fae. Rightly you called her a fairy beast, for she is their Queen. Her race has been a stench upon the Earth since before the days of Noah. Many are their forms and more still their names—fairies, changelings, bent ones, the Fae. In Camelot, they are presently known as the Fair Folke—though there be nothing fair about them. The Flood banished many of their kind, but the strongest and vilest among them remained; this was allowed for a season, but the doom of their final judgment swiftly approaches. Of this doom Morgan is always aware, and the dreadful thought of it ever fills her dark mind. What you must know, Gabriel, is that Morgan is a twisted mistress of the evil one. And if even he be on a tight leash, one can only laugh when pondering her limits.” The voice paused briefly. Perhaps it was only the crackling of the fire, but Gabriel was nearly certain that a soft chuckle could be heard across from him. The laugh, if a laugh it was, had a light, contagious nature to it. Gabriel too felt like laughing. Such was the warmth welling up within his heart.

“Pay her no mind,” he continued, “her sickness upon this land and upon Arthur is drawing to a close. And concerning your dear Arthur—had it never occurred to you that the King knew just precisely what he was doing in giving you up to the Queen? That of all his knights, he knew you, Sir Gabriel, to be the most worthy of them all? He believed you the most godly and least likely to be devoured by lust and corruption. Had it been Lancelot, he would have been ground to a powder by Morgan’s schemes, and the King knew this keenly. Though he be a shell of who he once was, the man Arthur is still roused now and again. Arthur trusted you, Gabriel—and it would seem his trust was not entirely misplaced. In leaving this burden to you, Arthur had hope that you would return again to rouse him and your brothers, even Lancelot. Only have courage, and be not so swift to believe all the lies that Morgan le Fae breathed about Arthur. She learned the art well from her dark and bent master.”

As the stranger’s words trickled deep into his heart, Gabriel felt a weight lifting from him. “But all this death—and what of today? What good purposes might come from such dreadful torment? Surely Morgan le Fae is not slain, or defeated, but only fled for a short season.”

“My dear Gabriel, like all men you are swift to think in terms of mere days and years. Do not the stars still shine brightly in the heavens though a cloud passes by here below? The purpose of today—and indeed, the past year—was to draw the spider from her cave. To bring her form out into the open where she could no longer rely on the darkness to spin her webs and spew her venom. Though not always, there are times when defeating evil truly is a simple matter of exposing it. Once in the open air, the Light will accomplish the rest. Have no fear of her, for she is as a passing cloud.”

Gabriel, still looking down, could hear the angel rising from his seat by the fireside. He then took a few steps until it seemed as though he were now right beside Gabriel. Whether in this moment Gabriel felt the warmth of the fire at his side or the otherworldly warmth of the angel, he could not tell. In either case, a deep comfort drew over him. The kind of comfort—thought Gabriel prior to this very moment—that was reserved for mothers with their children, or between childhood friends who, after a long season apart, reunite over a good meal.

“As for what you are to do—yours, Gabriel, is not to ascertain times and seasons, nor to change them. These have already been set by the One both you and I serve. Nor is yours to even understand. Ours is to trust and obey; His is to work out for good. Even now a great shadow is lifting far to the East in Wittenberg, in the land of Germany, with our friend the monk. Then, the Lord intends to move into your country and continue His work. His labour here today has prepared the land, ushering in a change that shall be felt throughout time. Our Master has at last set His gaze towards Camelot—towards your King Arthur and his Table, and towards you, Sir Gabriel.”

With his head still between his knees on account of the great light, Gabriel could feel the strong embrace of the angel as he placed his large hand on the Knight’s shoulder, bidding him farewell. “Now, be on your way, my dear friend, and go strengthen your brothers. You and I will meet again in due time, after all has been set right.” A moment later, Gabriel could feel the embrace on his shoulder no more.

“Gabriel,” the voice said softly from somewhere above him, “hold out your hand.” As he did so, a book was gently enfolded into his grip—his tattered Scriptures, dry and whole, untouched by his descent into the pond. “It was in your breast pocket, ever by your side. He was ever by your side, and ever will be. Just as He said so.”

When Gabriel opened his eyes again, he was all alone save for his horse who was grazing lightly some feet away at the edge of the wood. He looked down at the Bible left in his hands. Before departing, the angel had opened it to about the halfway mark. Gabriel, reading the words on the page, mouthing them silently as he did so, began to smile. After a few moments longer spent by the side of the fire in deep thought, Gabriel arose, saddled his horse, and began his journey home.

“Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.”

—The End—