Chapter Ten

 

Galahad

Eighteen Months Ago

It was a disgusting scene.

Sir Galahad, Captain of the King’s Men, stood in the door of the lab, repulsed by what he saw.  Knowing that he had to do something to stop it.  Knowing that when he did, it would mean he’d be caught and probably banished.  Knowing he had no choice.

He was a knight.

The job, and responsibility that came with it, meant everything to Galahad.  He’d forgotten his primary duty once and it still haunted him. The first and most sacred part of his oath now underscored every decision he made:

A knight protects those weaker than himself.

Guinevere would not be happy, though.  When she discovered that he’d done this, she would blame herself.  Hurting Gwen was the last thing Galahad would ever want to do, but she would understand. The queen was Good in the truest sense of the word.  Honest and righteous and just.

Together they were in the process of destroying the Dark Science lab.  Gwen was releasing the poor animals from their cages, while Galahad made sure it was free of people.  It should have been perfectly safe.  Galahad had stationed his men elsewhere, so there were no guards to interfere.  It was night, so all the White Rabbits’ lab techs were gone.  No one would be hurt.

He’d already radioed Gwen, telling her it was okay to begin burning the whole building down.  Incendiary devices were going off at that very moment, at strategic points around the building.  Galahad had been so sure he’d thought of everything.

He’d never expected to find any Bad folk in the building.

King Arthur had promised no more testing on people, after the horrible deaths of the two trolls that the Scarecrow had pitted against one another.  Galahad had believed him.  He shouldn’t have.  He knew that now.  He’d been naive to retain any faith in the king, just as Gwen had claimed.  Galahad should never have trusted him.

Or Percival.

Galahad’s second-in-command was torturing a gryphon.

Feathers covered the floor, shaved off the woman’s wings.  Now the magical appendages were just thin bones and bruised skin.  Without the added fullness of the feathers, she looked fragile.  Small.  Whoever she was, though, she still fought.  Her naked body was cut and bloody, but she was not willing to submit.  When gryphons were in the midst of battle, a veil fell over their faces.  A misty facade that obscured their human features, making them resemble fearsome eagles.  The woman wore that shifting mask now.

She would not bow to her captors.

For some reason, that reminded Galahad of Gwen.  Like his queen, this woman had the heart of a warrior.

“I’ve been waiting for this.”  Percival was telling the woman.  There was an empty hypodermic needle in his hand, so he must have just given her a shot of the formula.  “Dreaming of having you at my mercy, bitch.”  His voice shook with hatred and lust.

“I dream only of your death.”

Percival scoffed at her words.  “Insolent even now.  I could make this easier for you, by just telling you to give in.  Make you think you loved me, even, so it wouldn’t be so hard on you.  But you’ve done nothing to deserve any leniency.  I want you aware of every single thing I’m doing and helpless to stop me.”

“Because you’re weak.”  The woman said contemptuously.  “It’s why your people will ultimately lose.”

“Whose race is nearly extinct?”  Percival shot back.  “We’ve already won.”

Maybe that part was true.  The gryphon were nearly gone now and few mourned them.  For his part, Galahad had been taught to despise the gryphon.  Every day at the Academy, he’d heard tales of their monstrous natures, until he didn’t even question the truth of the stories, now.  He’d killed many of them in battle beside King Uther.  Too many to even remember.

Except Galahad did remember.  He remembered all of them.

His honor had been lost in those mountains.  He doubted he’d ever reclaim it, but he would dedicate the rest of his life to the attempt.  It was why Galahad was burning down the lab and why he would protect this injured woman who hated his kind, no matter the cost. He didn’t care what race she came from.  She was weak and needed his help.  He would live by the code of the knights or die trying.

Galahad would never again allow the innocent to suffer, because the strong ordered it.

“As long as even one gryphon remains, you have won nothing.”  The woman sneered.  “Do what you will to me.  My kind will still see you dead, in the end.”

Percival didn’t appreciate her defiance.  He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back.  “Get on your knees, you fucking evil barbarian.”

The woman tried to resist the compulsion.  The strain of her internal struggle had blood trickling from her nose, but it was no use.  She sank to the ground as if someone was pushing her down.  The formula gave her no choice.

Percival’s breathing was ragged and excited, disgustingly aroused as she knelt before him.  “That’s more like it, whore.”

Galahad’s jaw tightened, pulling his sword free.  No.  This wasn’t going to happen.  If it meant standing against his second-in-command to defend a gryphon… so be it.

The woman spotted him as he stalked into the room.  Even thorough the gryphon’s vapory mask, he saw her surprise.  Galahad put a finger to his lips, wanting her to be silent as he moved behind Percival.  To his shock, she actually gave a slight nod.  It was possibly the first time ever that a gryphon had ever worked with a knight.  On anything.  Ever.  For any reason.  Ever.

“Your people are the weak ones.”  Percival spat out, his hands at his belt buckle.  “It’s why you’re losing this war.  God wants your heathen culture erased.  Once you’re all dead, the Good folk will… Fuck!”  He gave a panicked shout as Galahad dragged him backwards, the sword at his throat.

“Go.”  Galahad told the woman.  “Leave this place and don’t return.”

“What are you doing?”  Percival shouted in outraged.  “She’s a prisoner.  An enemy of Camelot!  You can’t just set her free!”

“Shut up.”  Galahad snapped.  “You’re a disgrace to your armor.”

The woman slowly got to her feet.  “You are releasing me?”  She demanded, suspiciously.  “Why?  This savage is one of your kind.”

“I’m not the savage here, slut!”  Percival raged.

The woman went for him, intent on ripping him apart with his bare hands.

“No.”  Galahad dragged Percival back, not letting the woman near him.  “The building is on fire.”  He told her.  “You need to get out of here.  Go straight down this hall and turn left.  It will lead you outside.”

“Fire?”  Percival yelped.  “What fire?  What have you done, you traitor?”

Galahad pressed the sword deeper into his flesh, keeping him still.  “Shut.  Up.”  He repeated quietly.  “Before I let her have you.”

“This winged-demon is right about one thing, Galahad:  I am one of your kind and you’re betraying me.”  Percival wheezed out.  “Betraying the King’s Men.  I’ll make sure you pay for this.”

The woman’s eyes flicked to Galahad.  “This vermin is pathetic.”  She waved a repulsed hand at Percival.  “He will tell your commander of this.”

“Damn right I will!”

“You must slay this man.”  She warned Galahad.  “Allow me to do it or do it yourself, but make sure he’s dead before you leave this place.  Otherwise, he will see you punished for your actions here.”

Galahad shook his head.  He wasn’t going to kill Percival in cold-blood.  That would do nothing to reclaim his lost honor.  “I’m not ashamed of my actions.  I will accept the consequences of them.”

Her head tilted, like that answer intrigued her.

“Go.”  He urged.  “Get out of Camelot, while you can.”

She headed for the door, pausing to look back at him.  “Thank you for saving my life.”  She said simply.  “When the rest of your vile kind dies in the fires of our vengeance, I will see that you are spared.”

Galahad gave her a half-smile.  “Thanks.”