The King of Avalon – Chapter One

Out on the 23rd September is the latest Hellequin Universe Novella. It follows on from Horsemen’s War, and is the second part of the epilogue of that tale (the first being Undying).

Here’s the first chapter.

Chapter One

Eight years ago the Realms went to war. Arthur, with the might of Avalon on one side, and the resistance, led by Mordred and his closest allies and friends, on the other. Mordred. The monster who had terrorised the realms for centuries. Who had been betrayed and broken by his own father, and who had tried to murder his closest friends in all the worlds. A man who would be king. The true heir to the throne of Avalon. 

Fortunately, for the people of the realms and Earth, Mordred and his friends were victorious, removing Arthur and his evil from spreading further. Unfortunately, for Mordred, he won. The man who would be king would have honestly rather let someone else have the job. It had taken him a long time to come around to the idea that he was King of Avalon. 

From the start, he’d tried abdicating, threatening his council with the notion of elections. It was pointed out that the people would vote for him anyway. He was beloved by his subjects, beloved by his friends. Mordred wondered if this was some kind of karmic retribution for spending all those centuries with his brain befuddled by his own father—Merlin—who was very much dead now, and for which the world was a better place. 

After eight years, Mordred had gotten a handle on being king. Of waving, of being seen, of trying not to run out to the pub for a swift pint without half of his bodyguard following. He was one of the most powerful sorcerers who had ever lived, and he still had bodyguards. 

“I wonder,” Nate said as he sat next to Mordred on the huge forest-green sofa, and looked over at the two heavily armoured bodyguards stood at the door to Mordred’s private lounge. “Do they not feel sort of superfluous?” 

The lounge consisted of the sofa, a tv large enough to have its own postal code, a pool table, a dart board and, at the far end next to the windows overlooking the realm of Avalon, a bar. The first time Mordred had stepped foot in the room, it had been empty and cold, with marble statues of Arthur everywhere. They hadn’t taken long to break, but it had been a therapeutic exercise. 

Mordred craned his head to look in the direction of the guards. “I have explained that I don’t need constant looking after. Fucking hell, I crashed.”

Nate looked up at the television as Mordred’s digital blue and red car was on fire, tumbling down the road, hitting everything in its path, causing more explosions from the dozens of vehicles it hit. 

“Do you think it’s a little bit like how the lifeguards feel at the Olympic swimming events?” Nate asked, noticing a smile creep across the lips of one of the guards. 

Mordred tossed his video game controller onto the sofa cushion beside him and sighed. 

“Not looking forward to tonight?” Nate asked as his black car appeared on screen. 

Nate was Mordred’s oldest friend. Quite literally.  They’d grown up together over sixteen hundred years ago. When he was barely out of his teenage years, Mordred had been sent to the Norse dwarves by his father, walking right into a manufactured war between them and the blood elves. The latter of whom had won, taken Mordred prisoner, and tortured him for a century, breaking his mind, and making him believe that everyone he loved was his enemy. 

Once he’d escaped, Mordred had spent the better part of a millennium trying to kill Nate at every opportunity. Eventually, Nate had killed Mordred. Or so everyone had thought, but the man was blessed—or cursed, depending on your point of view—with surviving and he’d returned with a clear head and a need to make amends. 

Those amends had taken a long time. Nate had, frankly, good reason not to trust Mordred but eventually their friendship had begun anew. After over a decade of recovered camaraderie, they were closer than ever. 

“You could come,” Mordred said.

Nate laughed, narrowly dodging oncoming digital traffic in the process. “I know it’s an important event, Mordred,” he said without looking over. “That said, I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.” 

Mordred’s laughter was rich and booming. “Yeah, that’s what Selene said when I asked if she’d like to come.”

Nate laughed again. “You tried to go to my wife first? Damn, that’s low.”

“I really don’t want to have to spend my evening on Earth with a bunch of politicians, most of whom are either terrified of me or trying to figure out how to use me for their own ends.”

“Or kill you,” Nate said. “You can’t forget that bit.”

“Yes, thanks, Nate. Much appreciated.”

“Bollocks,” Nate said as his car clipped a tanker then flew through the air, slamming into everything in its path. “Isn’t Remy going with you?” 

“He is,” Mordred said. “His first question was how much alcohol will be there, and his second was will it be free.”

“And?” Nate asked. 

“Lots and yes.”

“Hel will be there too,” Nate said enthusiastically. “You like her.”

“Well, she’s my wife, so yes, I guess I do,” Mordred said. “But seeing how this is her idea, I’m not so sure she likes me.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nate said. “You’ve been king a long time now. You’ve done these before.”

“And I am always anxious,” Mordred said. “And not in a cute and silly way, but in a weird am I about to tell people the best way to asphyxiate someone kind of way?” 

Nate put the PlayStation controller on the sofa beside him and turned to his friend. “What?” 

“I met the American President a few years back,” Mordred said. “I spent twenty minutes telling him the best way to asphyxiate someone. He looked… quite ill. So, I moved on to discuss decomposition of the human body. At length.”

Nate laughed so much that he couldn’t breathe. 

Mordred sat in silence as Nate tried to regather his wits. 

“Fucking hell, Mordred,” Nate said through bouts of coughing. 

“I am not good in large gatherings with powerful people,” Mordred said. “I say weird stuff. I spoke to the German Chancellor about Doom and Final Fantasy games for an hour. Doom, Nate. I spoke to one of the most powerful people on Earth about how much I love Doom. How you can tear the heads off the enemies now when they glow. She was… really interested to be honest. I lent her my copy of one of them.”

Nate started laughing again, eventually petering to a stop when his sides hurt.

“You feel better?” Mordred asked as he switched off the PlayStation and TV. 

Nate nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“You want to change your mind and come to this thing with me?” 

“Absolutely not,” Nate reiterated. “I am going home to see my wife and daughter, and spend quality time with them. You are going to do just fine, my old friend.”

Mordred sighed. “Have you met the new President, or Prime Minister for that matter?” 

Nate shook his head. “Not the newest ones, I don’t think. I assume they’re not the same ones, anyway.”

“Well, the President got eaten and Layla killed the imposter who took their place.”

“How is Layla?” Nate asked. 

Mordred considered the question. After the war, she’d gone to university to study politics then had taken a job as an advisor to several legal firms, dealing with disputes involving realms and magical creatures. “Good,” he said. “Still has that big cat of hers with her. She lives in Vancouver, I think. Anyway, since the war, there have been two Presidents, the first one, right after the war was okay.”

“I met her,” Nate said. “Nice lady.”

“She was,” Mordred agreed. “The last one was a dickhead, but he’s gone now. Replaced with some young bloke. Young by political standards, anyway. The Prime Minister of the UK is a lady from Sheffield who I’ve spoken to several times over the last year or so since she took office. I like her.”

“So, there you go, allies already,” Nate said. “I assume you need to get ready.”

There was a knock on the door, which was opened by one of the guards. A three-foot high fox-man entered the room wearing a specially tailored light-grey suit. He carried a gun against each hip. 

“Remy, you can’t wear that,” Mordred said.

“Are you wearing a suit?” Nate asked, more than a little shock in his voice. 

“I can dress nice,” Remy said. 

“Not the suit, the guns,” Mordred said.

“I have to carry a weapon, I’m your bodyguard.”

Mordred sighed. “Seriously, no.”

“Royal guard?” Remy suggested.

“No, Remy,” Mordred said. 

“Badass motherfucker?” Remy asked with a wide grin. 

“Please let him introduce himself like that,” Nate pleaded. 

Remy pointed at Nate. “This man knows what’s up. Thank you.”

“And film it,” Nate said. “I beg you to film it.”

Remy flipped Nate off. 

“No guns, Remy,” Mordred stated again. “Also, you not wearing shoes?” 

“First of all, Your Majesty,” Remy said, followed by the most patronising bow ever performed. “What kind of disrespectful arse wears shoes inside the house. It’s gross. And secondly, I have paws, not feet. I’m not putting shoes on these magnificent bastards.”

Mordred and Nate stared at Remy for a moment, before Mordred said, “Every day I learn a little more about you.”

“And you’re in awe?” Remy asked. 

“Sure,” Mordred said with a nod. “Let’s go with awe.”

Remy smiled again and leapt onto the sofa next to Nate. “So, who else is coming to this little shindig?” 

“Zamek will be there,” Mordred said. “The dwarves are in the process of agreeing to shipping rights to several precious metals.”

“Precious you say?” Remy asked, looking between Nate and Mordred as he winked knowingly.

Nate turned to hide his smile. 

“At least do the voice,” Mordred said. 

“It sounds weird coming out of my mouth,” Remy said, poking Nate. “He found it funny.”

“Nate’s a simpleton,” Mordred said, which broke Nate completely forcing him to put his face in a pillow to stifle the laughter. “Mac and Ellie will be there.”

Nate sat up. “Seriously, I haven’t seen them in years. How are they?” 

“Good, last I heard,” Mordred said. “Since Hera died and the rebellion was no longer needed, the pair started working for a nonprofit organisation that helps those displaced by the war. Last I heard, they were in one of the realms.”

Manannán mac Lir, or Mac, as he liked to be known, was a water elemental. His father had calmed the seas between the British mainland and Avalon Island, halfway between Britain and Ireland, before his murder by Avalon. Ellie was a werewolf who had once been a part of one of the most powerful packs in the United Kingdom. Mac and Ellie had been a couple for a long time before the war started, and had found themselves helping the rebellion in London when Hera had decided to start killing off her enemies. 

“You’ll have to give them my best,” Nate said. “So, at least there are people there you know and like. Isn’t this being held in some new museum?” 

“Next to The Aeneid,” Mordred said. “Apparently, it’s had some renovations since you partially wrecked it.”

Nate sat up straight. “They repurposed that place?” 

Mordred nodded. “You haven’t heard?”

“Haven’t kept up with the latest news from London. Last time I was there, I watched Hope and Pestilence die, and it was only with a lot of help we stopped Hera from using Pestilence’s venom as a weapon. It wasn’t a fun trip.”

“Well, the British Government use it as a hub for human/non-human relations,” Mordred said. “A lot of people work there to help humans who want to explore the realms. They’ve done good work to repair the parts of London that were destroyed, like the Millennium Bridge. You remember that? When we crashed a dragon into it?” 

“Good times,” Remy said.

Nate looked at his friend. “We have wildly different versions of what a good time is.” 

“Anyway,” Mordred continued, “they’ve built a museum that sits alongside The Aeneid. A walkway stretches between the two. That’s where tonight’s event will be held. I think it’s called a gala. Did you donate anything?”

Nate nodded. “I got asked to donate some things to it. Gave them a few bits I thought might be interesting. Felt like the right thing to do.”

“A museum commemorating those lost in the war,” Mordred said wistfully. “There’s a wall there with the names of so many people, Nate. I know it was nearly a decade ago now, but it still feels raw for so many. Me included.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Me three,” Remy said, his tone now serious.

“So, what did you hand over to them?” Mordred asked, not wanting the conversation to remain in the past. 

“My rune-scribed armour,” Nate said. “Don’t really have much use for it these days. Not fighting against evil empires at the moment. You give them anything, Remy?”

Remy nodded. “Found a Valkyrie spear during the final battle in Washington DC. Thought it looked pretty cool, but people should know about who helped.”

“Galahad’s sword,” Mordred said. 

Nate and Remy looked over at their friend. 

“Ah, is that why I’m here?” Nate asked. “So you can tell me without having to actually just tell me?”

Mordred shook his head. “No, I wanted to spend some time with you. We don’t get to do this much anymore. But I also wanted to tell you I gave them his sword. I want people to know what he did, Nate. I need people to know he was a hero. That he died a hero.”

“We all know that,” Remy said. “I promise you.”

“I know,” Mordred said with a slight smile. “But now everyone will know.”

Nate nodded his understanding. “You did a good thing, Mordred.”

“I also gave them some armour, and a few other things,” Mordred said. “I think a lot of people gave them stuff.”

“Any chance someone gave them something they really shouldn’t have?” Remy asked. “We came across a lot of exceptionally bad things during the war.”

Mordred shrugged after a moment’s thought. “I bloody well hope not. I’ll check tonight, but they don’t have anything of Arthur’s nor of my father’s. Too dangerous, even with them both dead. No one wants to give people a place to go worship a bunch of psychopaths. Besides, we don’t have everyone who helped Arthur. There are still those out there who think they’re just biding their time, waiting for his return. Or something.”

“Any chance of trouble?” Remy asked with a little more glint in his eye than Mordred was probably comfortable with.

“I doubt it,’ Mordred said. “There will be guards and the like, but we’re not expecting any trouble. No Sun Elves since that business last year, and you haven’t found anything in my father’s old, locked doors?”

The final question was to Nate, who had started his attempts to break into the locked rooms Merlin had kept under the place. A hundred and nineteen locked doors in total, and when Mordred had offered Nate the job of discovering what Merlin had kept secret, there had been three doors unlocked. A year later, there were five, and all were empty.

“Your father was not someone who liked to make life easy for others,” Nate said. “I started door six last week. There are sixteen locks on it, fourteen of them are magic-based, and two of them have enough magical energy to blow up anyone stupid enough to try to unlock it. It’s not going to be a fast job.”

“I know,” Mordred said with a sigh. “But at least no one has tried to kill me for a while.”

“Why would you say that?” Remy asked. “Now someone is going to try to kill you.”

“Why?” Mordred asked. 

“No, he’s right,” Nate said. “You’ve just totally cursed yourself there.”

“Seriously, Mordred,” Remy said with a mocking shake of his head. “You’ve lived a long life, and you’re just inviting trouble.”

Mordred waved away Remy’s mocking. “You know I’m a king,” he said. “I could have you arrested for mocking me.”

Remy laughed. 

“You want to see how that works out?” Nate asked. “Pretty sure that with enough effort, this castle is flammable.”

“A valid point,” Mordred said. “I don’t want to have to rebuild.”

“Besides, you need us,” Remy said. “We keep you level-headed, make sure being a king doesn’t, you know, get to you. Make you think you’re more important than us.”

“I’m a king,” Mordred said.

Remy shrugged. “So?” 

Mordred opened his mouth to say something, but Nate interrupted, “No, no, he’s got a point.”

Mordred’s eyes’ narrowed before a grin spread across his lips. “It’s a good thing I like you both.”

“You know, I think we should all get a go at being king,” Remy said.

“Absolutely not,” Nate replied instantly. 

“Why not?” Remy asked as his friends stared at him in silence. “Yeah, valid point.”

Nate got to his feet and stretched. “So, I’m going home. If you need me, you know how to get hold of me. Otherwise, have a good evening, and Remy? Don’t stab anyone.”

“Why me?” Remy asked, with feigned indignation. 

“And you,” Nate said to Mordred as he hugged his friend. “Have fun.”

“Enjoy your family time,” Mordred said. “I will see you soon.”

When Nate left the room, Mordred looked over at Remy. “You think you can keep yourself occupied while I get ready?” 

Remy picked up a PlayStation controller and turned the console on. “Somehow, I will manage,” Remy said with a smile. 

Mordred left the lounge, his two bodyguards following him through the palace to his private quarters, although they thankfully stayed outside as he entered. 

The rooms beyond were about as close to a hideaway as it was possible to get in the castle. There was a living area with a couch large enough to fit ten people, and multiple pieces of furniture carved from the dark woods that sat at the rear of the estate. Like most of the castle, the floor was grey stone adorned with several colourful rugs, which meant that in the cold months, Mordred had to jump from rug to rug. He hummed the Mario Bros. theme every time. 

Hel walked out of a side room that held ‘his’ and ‘hers’ walk-in closets. Multiple silver and golden earrings hung from each ear, and Hel’s rainbow-coloured hair cascaded over bare, elegant shoulders. She looked to be about thirty, although was closer to two thousand years old, certainly older than Mordred. Her forest-green dress hugged her figure, and shimmied a little when she walked. 

“Do you plan on staring all night?” Hel asked Mordred with a sly smile. 

“Yes,” Mordred said, crossing the room to his wife, and kissing her softly. “You know, we could just stay here forever.”

Hel slid her arms around Mordred’s neck and kissed him for a second time. “You think that’s a good way to spend the evening?” 

“I think that’s an excellent way to spend every evening.” 

Hel lent closer and whispered, “Well, once we’re done tonight, maybe you and I could come back here, and I can show you what I have on under this dress?”

Mordred smiled. “And what would that be?” 

Hel whispered into Mordred’s ear. “Not a lot.”

Mordred exhaled softly but before he could say anything, Hel slapped him on the butt. “Get dressed. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Mordred kissed his wife again and sighed. The things he did for love. 

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