The Dark Tides: Book Two in the Forever Avalon Series

By Mark Piggott

The Drake family family has known more than its share of tragedy at sea. After the devastating and mysterious loss of their patriarch, Bryan, to a strange storm, his grieving wife and children sail to his last known location to lay a wreath in his honor. They are caught in a storm freakishly similar to the one that took Bryan from them. A funeral becomes a joyous reunion, as they find him alive and well but equally stranded on the mysterious island of Avalon, where the descendents of King Arthur rule a world filled with knights, elves, dwarves … and magic!
Lord Bryan MoonDrake—as he is now known—has attained the rank of the Gil-Gamesh, protector of the realm. He helps his wife and two of his children build new lives in a medieval society. His daughter Ashley has returned to Avalon with wonderful news. Bryan sees an opportunity to bring his family back together at last, so they plan a grand Avalonian wedding for Ashley and her true love, Andrew.
But all is not well in the kingdom. Dark forces arise to fulfill a prophecy to resurrect Morgana le Fay, the most powerful sorceress in the history of Avalon. If successful, she will unleash the Dark Tides to destroy the line of Pendragon once and for all. To save his family, his new home, and his king, can the Gil-Gamesh overcome incredible odds and powers beyond his comprehension to rid Avalon of Morgana’s evil forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491749395

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BOOK TWO IN THE FOREVER AVALON SERIES

THE

DARK TIDES

MARK PIGGOTT

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THE DARK TIDES

BOOK TWO IN THE FOREVER AVALON SERIES

Copyright © 2014 Mark Piggott.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-4940-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-4939-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014919344

iUniverse rev. date: 09/09/2021

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue: Return to Avalon

1 From The Beginning

2 The Grand Tour Begins

3 The Floating Dragon Island

4 The Knight Eternal of Avalon

5 The Goblins of Idlehorn

6 The Wizards Council

7 The Massacre at Benzier

8 Morgana Le Fay Returns

9 The Elves of Alfheimer

10 Return of the Avenger

11 The Forge of the Dwarves

12 The Lady of the Lake

13 Entering the Dreamscape

14 Togo And Aide - Hwedo

15 Outnumbered and Outmaneuvered

16 To Save the Gil-Gamesh

17 The Rescue Plan

18 The Battle for Avalon

Epilogue: The Price of Victory

To my family, who continue to inspire me on a

great adventure through time and space!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my family—Georgiene, Autumn, Ciera, and Zachary—for putting up with me during the past few years of constant rewrites, tedious hours of editing and the occasional writer’s block. Special thanks to everyone at iUniverse for their dedication to help new writers like me have the chance of being a successful author. I especially want to thank the Defense Information School, Fort Meade, Maryland, for giving me the skillsets to be a writer. Lastly, I want to thank Gary Gygax, the creator of Dungeons and Dragons© for supercharging my imagination into overdrive, helping me bring my fantasy world of Forever Avalon to life.

PROLOGUE

RETURN TO AVALON

Ashley Drake-St. Johns looked down at the compass to make sure she’s on the proper heading. Her 50-foot sailboat, Midnight Dawn, cut through the water with ease. She looked at the sails, firm and taught from a strong wind out of the East. The sun warmed the skin on her neck as her strawberry-blonde hair floated in the ocean air.

Honey, complained a voice from below deck, where’s the Tylenol?

In my purse, Ashley shouted back. Come on, Andy! Get up here with me.

Ashley watched as her husband, Andrew St. Johns, staggered up from the lower deck, medicine bottle in hand. He plopped down on the seat next to Ashley and reached for a bottle of water from the ice chest before he swallowed the pills with a big swig. Though his dirty blonde hair and goatee cover his youthful baby face looks, his lithe body behaved as if he were 70-years-old and on his first sea voyage.

I don’t know how you do it, babe, he groaned as nausea crept upon him. How did I let you talk me into this?

Well, as I remember, you got to pick the place where we got married—in Tennessee with your parents and the rest of your family. So, I got to pick the honeymoon, and here we are.

Well, at least all those sailing lessons you took are paying off. I could never do any of this, Andy countered, motioning to the boat with a wave of his hand.

Ashley just smiled. She knew Andy could be a pain at times, but she loved him dearly. They were constantly in each other’s thoughts and finished the other’s sentences. Her father used to say the same thing about the connection between him and her mother. He said they were soul mates. That’s exactly how she felt about Andy.

Around her neck, Ashley wore a pendant—a large bluestone on the end of a gold chain. The stone was perfectly round, about the size of a large marble, with swirling shades of blue and white. As the stone rested against her soft skin, the necklace started to glow softly at first and then brighter and brighter.

Ashley smiled, knowing they were getting close. As she glanced over to Andy, she saw the puzzling look on his face. Babe, what’s going on?

Andy, honey, remember what I told you about how my Mom, brother, sister, and I went to sea to where my Dad disappeared, and how we got caught in a storm and they disappeared too?

Ashley knew she was confusing Andy more, but there was no easy way to explain it. Well, I didn’t tell you the whole truth; I couldn’t, she admitted. My family is alive and well on this island that’s hidden from the rest of the world. Actually, it’s where we’re headed right now. I’m taking you there to meet them.

As she talked, the stone on the end of her necklace started to glow brighter and brighter, enveloping the boat in a blinding light. Andy started to panic in the unknown.

Just hang on, sweetie! We’re almost through, she reassured him, but all she heard was Andy scream. As the light faded away, the open ocean was gone. Out of nowhere, an island appeared, its shoreline stretched toward the horizon in one direction. It terminated at a sheer cliff with a lone lighthouse perched on the rocky ledge at the other end.

Ashley hasn’t been here in over a year, but it still seemed so fresh in her mind. Her mother, brother, and sister had survived a horrific storm and found themselves in another world. They washed ashore on the island of Avalon, where the descendants of King Arthur have ruled for more than 3,000 years. Avalon was an island filled with Elves, Dwarves, goblins, dragons, and other magical creatures. Ashley and her family found themselves reunited with her father, who was alive and well and had taken up the mantle of the Gil-Gamesh, the knight eternal and champion of Avalon.

The Gil-Gamesh was caught between protecting his family and his duty upholding the laws of Avalon. The conflict resulted in a power struggle between himself and Lord Kraven Darkholm, an evil sorcerer who was a direct descendant of the sorceress Morgana le Fay. Kraven wanted the throne of Avalon for himself, and only the Gil-Gamesh stood in his way. He thwarted Kraven’s plan, killing him in the end. While her mother, brother, and sister decided to stay behind and live on Avalon, Ashley wanted to return home to be with Andy.

They had gotten engaged before the trip, and as much as she loved being on Avalon, Ashley couldn’t live without him. The wizard Merlin gave her the necklace that allowed her to breach the magical barrier that protected Avalon from the outside world. Ashley knew that she had to return there someday, and a honeymoon on a magical island seemed like the perfect opportunity.

A sudden rush of cold air hit Ashley in the face. She could see her breath as a shiver ran down her spine and goosebumps pricked along her arms. She watched as Andy rubbed his hands vigorously over his arms, trying to fend off the chill.

What the Hell is going on babe, it feels like December, Andy griped, but it’s July . . . in the Caribbean!

Ashley ignored his complaints and turned the boat parallel with the shoreline in the direction of the lighthouse. Andy, honey, would you go up to the bow and drop the anchor? she asked him.

With a dumbfounded look on his face, Andy just nodded his head and did as she asked. Watch out, sweetie! I’m slacking the sail, she cautioned as she let out the line for the mainsail to drop, slowing them down to a crawl.

She saw how distressed Andy was as he fumbled with the controls of the anchor. It finally dropped and hooked on the rocks below. Ashley worked to secure the sail down as Andy walked over to help her. Ash, what is this place? Where are we?

Ashley just smiled with a smirk, that devilish grin she gets. She knew how much he hated it, but she couldn’t help herself sometimes. Honey, how much do you know about King Arthur? she asked innocently.

Before he could say a word, a loud horn bellowed from deep inside the island. The trumpeting blast scattered the birds from their trees into the air. What’s that? A foghorn from the lighthouse?

No . . . Ashley replied calmly. It’s my Dad.

A wooden ship—like an old Spanish Galleon—flew over the trees and across the sky. It stretched over two hundred feet long and nearly fifty feet wide. On each side of the ship were large wooden wings—like dragon’s wings, covered in canvas—that allowed the vessel to soar in the air. An ornament resembling Peter Pan riding a dragon reached out from the bow. On the side of the airship, the name Morning Star was written in gold. This was the flagship of the Gil-Gamesh.

The ship circled above them until it splashed down in the water. The wings quickly folded in, and the sails dropped as sailors scurried about on deck.

Ashley stood next to Andy as she waved to the ship. On the upper deck, she saw some familiar faces. Lord Bryan MoonDrake, the Gil-Gamesh, stood with her mother Stephanie, sister Rose, and brother Hunter.

Ashley realized what her year away had done. Time passed differently between Avalon and the outside world, and it showed on their faces. Rose was older now, matured into a beautiful young woman. Hunter was an equally handsome young man, a knight like his father. Her father looked just like he did when she left, and her mother appeared ever ageless and beautiful.

Ashley glanced over at Andy. All he could do was stare in awe. Welcome to Avalon, sweetheart, Ashley announced. Their adventure had just begun.

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Hundreds of miles away from the shores of Avalon, a lone peak rose amidst a dense dark forest. Idlehorn Mountain was known by all to be the home of the Goblin King, P’tah Mnenock, who ruled over Idlehorn and Blackbriar Forest, more so now since the death of Lord Kraven Darkholm.

The goblins served loyally under the heel of the dark wizard, doing his bidding without question and without mercy. Lord Darkholm told the Goblin King that the goblins would be there with him when he ruled Avalon. That ended when the Gil-Gamesh killed Lord Darkholm in a duel to the death, and the Goblin King and his army were soundly defeated by Lord Baldrid and the Elves of Alfheimer.

Now, deep within the caverns of Idlehorn Mountain, King Mnenock sat quietly on his throne of iron and stone. His body was twisted and scarred, racked by the pain of defeat. His goblins laid quiet since their thrashing ten years ago. Some said he was scared of antagonizing the Gil-Gamesh into another conflict, while others thought he was merely biding his time.

The fact was that without the guidance of Lord Darkholm, the Goblin King was lost. Mnenock thought he was superior to the other goblins, but deep down, he was just like the rest of them. The Goblin King was savage, cunning, and ruthless but without the mental faculties needed to lead. The dark wizard may have ruled the goblins with an iron fist, but he gave them purpose and direction. Without it, they were as helpless as animals in the forest, scrounging out an existence.

Why do you cower in the darkness King Mnenock? a cryptic voice echoed around the chamber. Why are the goblins hiding in the shadows like frightened children?

Who dares speak to the Goblin King in such a manner? Show yourself! Mnenock growled. He spied a figure stepping out of the shadows from behind the throne, cloaked in tattered robes. Their face was hidden from his view.

Goblins rushed to aide their King, but the stranger was ready for their attack. Mnenock watched as the stranger pulled out a small orb that shimmered with magical energy from inside its robe. Then, with the wave of its hand, the goblins were flung aside like rag dolls. As more stepped up to protect the Goblin King, Mnenock held up his hand for them to stop. He would not sacrifice any more of his goblins to this stranger.

The Orb of Veles, he cackled. I thought that relic was lost.

It was, and then I found it.

And who are you? Mnenock curiously asked.

One who can bring you out of the shadows to spread the ‘Dark Tides’ across Avalon, the stranger boasted.

The Dark Tides? Now that is something I haven’t heard in over a millennium, the Goblin King surmised. What exactly do you want with me and my goblins?

"And will come a day, some fifty score seven;

"When an Outlander will return to fated Avalon;

"And the seas will run black, and the moon will fall;

Heralding the Dark Tides and with it, death to us all.

Mnenock snickered, drinking his wine while ignoring the stranger’s feeble attempt to sway him. That prophecy is meaningless, nothing more than an old wives’ tale!

The stranger explained how the prophecy came to fruition with the Outlander daughter of the Gil-Gamesh returning to Avalon. Therefore, the time to act was now.

Kidnap the daughter of the Gil-Gamesh? Mnenock crowed. We goblins are not stupid. No one would dare face the wrath of the Gil-Gamesh.

Oh, I dare! the stranger countered, pulling down the hood to reveal herself. She was once a beautiful woman with long black hair and ruby red lips, but now a shadow of her former self, sullen and melancholy. Lady Heather Thurgoode, once the personal attendant to Queen Cadhla Pendragon of Avalon, was an integral part of Lord Darkholm’s failed plot to take the throne. She was supposed to die by the executioner’s ax, but Cadhla took pity and spared her life, imprisoning Heather in Devil’s Point Prison instead. That was the first and last mistake the Queen ever made.

Lady Heather, you look well for a dead woman, the Goblin King hissed.

What if you could use the daughter of the Gil-Gamesh to bring forth the Dark Tides, and with it, resurrect the most powerful sorceress in all of Avalon? she goaded. Is it worth the risk then Goblin King? Is it worth it to bring back the sorceress Morgana le Fay?

King Mnenock smiled, his large fangs protruding prominently in his wicked grin. Tell me more, dear lady?

1

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FROM THE BEGINNING

AVALON TODAY ...

The morning star pulled up alongside the sailboat. Bryan shouted orders to the sailors as they dropped anchor and maneuvered a gangplank over the side to the water’s edge. Unfortunately, the ship’s brow wasn’t close enough for Ashley and Andy to step onto, so some sailors climbed down to help.

Jump over miss, we’ve got you, said the burly old sailor. The Gil-Gamesh watched as Ashley grabbed her purse and jumped across into the sailor’s arms and onto the brow. Even before Andy’s across, Ashley darted up the gangplank. She was so excited to see her family that she completely forgot about him.

As she stepped on deck, she heard a familiar voice call to her. Ashley! Stephanie exclaimed. The first thing Ashley noticed was her mother’s hair. She’d let her auburn hair grow long, evident by the careful braiding and placement on her head, adorned neatly with a small but ornate tiara of silver with sapphires and diamonds. Her dress was a long, flowing gown of blue and silver—the colors of the House of MoonDrake—protected from the cold by a white fur cloak.

Bryan watched the tears roll down Stephanie’s cheek as Ashely started to cry too. Stephanie opened her arms as Ashley jumped into them. She’s home, Stephanie thought to herself. My daughter is finally home!

She held onto Ashley as tight as she could, not wanting to let her go. It is so good to see you, she cried as she kissed her on the cheek and wiped away her tears. You’ve been gone far too long, and we’ve missed you so much.

I’ve only been gone a year Mom.

You forget that time passes differently between the outside world and Avalon, Ashley. It may have been one year for you but more than ten years for us, Bryan elaborated as he walked over to his daughter. Ashley leaped into her father’s arms. He hugged her like a bear, with a kiss on the cheek to welcome his wayward daughter home.

How did you know I was here?

Once you started to approach the barrier, your amulet sent out a signal—a mystical S.O.S. as it were; but that is nowhere near as accurate as a mother’s intuition, Bryan joked. She’s been preparing for your homecoming for weeks now. Her intuitive skills rival some of the best soothsayers on Avalon.

Stephanie shrugged off her husband’s ill-gotten attempt at humor and turned her attention back to Ashley. It’s just so good to have you home with us, Ashley, and just in time for Christmas.

It’s Christmas? God, I was wondering why it was so cold.

Bryan just realized that his daughter was freezing in her Bermuda shorts, tank top, and flip-flops. He pulled the cloak off his shoulders and wrapped it around Ashley. Well, you haven’t really experienced Christmas until you’ve had Christmas on Avalon.

Why? Does Santa Claus live here too?

Bryan did not answer her. Instead, he just looked at her and smirked a devilish grin. It must be a genetic quirk in the family. Ashley laughed in disbelief, but in that moment of levity, Bryan saw the surprise on Ashley’s face as she got her first glimpse of him up-close and noticed some changes since her last time on Avalon.

He still looked like a Half-Elf, with pointed ears and an ageless look—a magical gift courtesy of Lord Baldrid, the King of the Elves. However, his clothes and armor looked more 18th century than medieval. Instead of heavy chain mail, he wore an armored breastplate over leather padding and a leather waistcoat with armor plating over his shoulders. A rich cloak of black bear fur flowed across his back. Around his waist hung his swords Twilight and Dusk—the Twin Swords of the Dragon Moon.

As Gil-Gamesh, Lord Bryan MoonDrake was the sworn protector and champion of the people of Avalon. His swords were forged from the shattered pieces of Excalibur, the magical sword given to King Arthur by the Lady of the Lake. They have been wielded by the descendants of Sir Percival since Merlin brought all the magic from the outside world to Avalon nearly 3,000 years ago.

What caught her eye was what appeared to be a strange-looking pistol tucked into Bryan’s belt, something she thought impossible on Avalon. It seemed to be an old-fashioned flintlock pistol made of ornate bronze-colored metal with magical runes carved into the wood and metal.

Bryan saw the curious look in her eyes. Ah, you noticed . . . a lot has changed since you left. Queen Cadhla has softened her position, both on Outlanders and technology, Bryan explained. Actually, we’ve made significant advances in combining magic with technology. It’s brought about a new age on Avalon.

Yeah, we’ve jumped from medieval times to the renaissance in less than 10 years, boasted a not-so-familiar voice from behind.

Ashley saw her brother and sister up close for the first time. Hunter was not the 13-year-old boy she left behind but a grown man in his early 20’s. Nevertheless, his face still had a youthful appearance about it, set off with sandy brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was dressed similar to his father—breastplate over leather padding, leather waistcoat, and a cloak of black fur—but he didn’t wear the colors of his father’s house. Instead, he wore the red and gold of the Knights of the Round Table.

Rose was an equally beautiful young woman, older than Ashley now was. Like her mother, she had let her red hair grow long and wore it braided, wrapped neatly on her head. Even her dress and cloak were a perfect match for Stephanie’s. Bryan noticed a slight twinge of jealousy in Ashley. She missed out on so much while Rose and Hunter had the chance to experience so much more.

Ashley jumped up and wrapped her arms around her siblings. They reached out and hugged her back, forming a tight little group.

I can’t believe this! Just look at you guys, she cried, tears welling up in her eyes again. I would never have recognized you, Hunter.

That’s Sir Hunter to you, he boasted, very prideful of his title. I am Master-at-Arms to the Knights of the Round Table.

Oh well, excuse me, Sir Hunter, Ashley cracked back at him with a mock bow. Still, you look the part. And Rose, I can’t believe how beautiful you’ve gotten. Is this is the girl who used to play football like one of the boys?

Don’t let her soft exterior fool you, Hunter chipped in before Rose could answer. This is the best she’s looked in weeks.

Hunter explained how Rose spent most of her time up in the mountains of Emmyr, riding on her dragon from dusk ‘til dawn. She only dolled up when there were cute guys in town, he hinted as he nodded toward the young captain commanding the Morning Star.

Rose smacked her brother on the arm for his openness about her love life. At least I’m not known as the ‘Minstrel Casanova’ of New Camelot, she tattled. He sings 80’s rock ballads to every girl he sees, just to get them into his bed.

Rose! Stephanie fumed. Rose immediately stopped her gossiping. She knew her mother hated it when they fought like that.

Pretty soon, I’m going to end up being the youngest one in the family, Ashley said to ease the tensions.

Now you know how I felt for all those years, Hunter chuckled.

And I won’t have to be the middle child anymore, Rose reiterated. That broke the ice, and they all enjoyed a laugh.

Ahem! declared a voice from behind as Andy stood there, by himself, freezing cold and feeling a little left out.

Oh baby, I’m so sorry, Ashley apologized, rushing to his side and wrapping the cloak around the two of them. Everyone, this is my husband, Andrew St. Johns.

Uh, hi . . . he said with a faint wave and a nonchalant bow. Andy did not know what to do and was embarrassed by it all.

It’s so good to see you again, Andrew, Stephanie comforted as she reached out and gave him a hug. I know this must seem a bit overwhelming for you.

A bit? I don’t even know where to begin, ma’am, he muttered. It’s so unbelievably kick-ass . . . Sorry, excuse my language.

I hope you brought wedding pictures, Stephanie asked Ashley. I’m sorry you won’t have any honeymoon pictures to take home with you.

Oh, sure we will. I have my camera right here, Andy declared as he took a digital camera out of his pocket. However, when he tried to turn it on, nothing seemed to work. That’s funny; I charged it at the hotel last night.

Bryan was quite agitated. Didn’t Ashley explain any of this to you, Andrew? About Avalon and about what happened to us? Andy shook his head, and Bryan looked at Ashley with a scowl.

Come on, Dad, how do I explain to my husband that my family is alive and well, living on a magical island separated from time and space and that my father is a Half-Elf Lord and the sworn protector of Avalon?

Wow, really? That’s so cool! Andy said, amazed.

Bryan sighed in frustration. He knew this was going to be a problem. Andy, why don’t we go below and talk about things, alright?

Sure sir, I mean sire, I mean . . . whatever you say, sir, Andy muttered, stumbling through his own words. Ashley went with Andy as they followed Hunter and Rose down below. Stephanie turned to go with them but saw Bryan stayed behind.

What’s wrong? she asked, sensing Bryan’s frustration.

I can’t believe she didn’t tell him anything. We have no idea how he’s going to take all this. He could freak out at the sight of a goblin or dragon, then what?

Do you trust your daughter?

Bryan looked surprised to hear her ask that question. What do you mean? Of course, I trust her!

Then trust her decision not to tell Andrew about us. If she thinks he’s strong enough to handle all this at once, then trust in that, Stephanie countered as she leaned in and kissed her husband. Are you coming?

In a minute, I have to take care of her boat first, he explained. Bryan walked over to the rail and looked at the sailboat down below. Ashley anchored it near a shallow shoal, so he knew it would be safe there. He was more concerned with anyone or anything from Avalon finding it. That required a little bit of magic.

He reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a small corked vial. He carefully poured white sand into his hand. Bryan sprinkled the sand into the air over the boat. Peramus Invisibilis! he chanted. As the sand floated down, it twinkled in the light as the sailboat began to disappear from sight.

Captain O’Brian! the Gil-Gamesh commanded. Edan O’Brian stepped forward to salute Lord MoonDrake. His youthful demeanor did not tell the whole story about this young sailor. In his 15 years of service to the Gil-Gamesh, Edan had gone from a gunner’s mate to the Captain of the Gil-Gamesh’s Flagship. His experience had been forged in battle, fighting by his side.

Your servant milord! he proclaimed, touching the brow of his hat to salute his superior.

Take us up and set course for Emmyr.

Aye-aye, sir! he acknowledged. Edan started to shout orders to the crew, and like a well-oiled machine, the men scrambled about deck doing their jobs quickly and efficiently. Within minutes, sails billowed in the wind, the wings extend outward, and the Morning Star rose effortlessly into the air.

Bryan liked Edan, but he missed his old friend Jupiter Antilles. The former captain of the Morning Star died over a year ago in a firefight with pirates over the skies of Avalon. Edan was his recommendation to take over command, even though he was younger and less senior than others who served the Gil-Gamesh. He was Jupiter’s choice, and Bryan respected that.

As the snow began to fall, Bryan couldn’t help but feel nostalgic as they passed over Candletop Lighthouse. Though empty now, the light continued to spin via the magical spells placed on it. It was a beacon to new arrivals on Avalon, giving them a choice—stay on Avalon or return to the outside world.

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18 YEARS AGO ...

FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING AND THE RISING SUN GAVE AN EERIE GLOW over the Elizabeth River. It was relatively cold for April as a chill in the air hung over the piers at Naval Station Norfolk.

The aircraft carrier USS Enterprise bustled with activity as sailors made final preparations for getting underway. Sweethearts, wives and husbands, girlfriends and boyfriends, as well as family members, said goodbye to their loved ones before they went out to sea for yet another training evolution. It seemed like a never-ending cycle to most, but many understood the sacrifice they endured for their family and country.

A black Chevy Tahoe skidded to a stop in the parking lot across from the piers. Chief Bryan Drake, an aviation boatswain’s mate on the Enterprise, stepped out of the vehicle. He adjusted his ball cap on his head as it covered his military-style haircut. His uniform was crisp and clean, and his face clean-shaven. He knew how to set the example for the men and women in his division. Bryan walked gingerly around to the back of the SUV and opened the rear hatch to get his duffel bag.

His wife, Stephanie, stepped out on the passenger side and walked around to the driver’s seat. Her red hair fell off her shoulders as she shivered in the cool morning air. She quickly jumped in to keep warm, adjusting the car seat while she waited for her husband.

Bryan closed the hatch and set his bag down next to the driver’s side door as Stephanie rolled down the window. She tried to smile, but she didn’t really feel like it.

The kids will be upset, you know, she scolded. They wanted to be here to say goodbye.

Bryan saw she was upset. "I know, but Ashley has an early class at ODU, and Rose and Hunter have missed enough school this year.

Besides, it’s not like I’m going on deployment. It’s just carrier quals. I’ll be back in ten days.

His answer did not satisfy Stephanie. It’s going to be hard to land jets in that Nor’easter the weatherman says is coming up the coast. I know, in a couple of days, you’ll be e-mailing me that you were extended.

Bryan did not answer. He knew better than to argue with her when he was getting ready to go out to sea. Instead, he leaned in the car and kissed her softly. She resisted at first but then gave in to his tender touch. She never could stay mad at him.

He stepped back and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. I love you, wife, he said to her, meaning every word.

He watched her frown turn to a smile. He always said goodbye to her the same way. I love you, husband, she answered back.

He turned toward the pier and waved goodbye as he walked away. I’ll see you soon! he shouted. Stephanie shook her head.

In two weeks! she replied as she rolled up her window. Bryan knew she liked to get the last word in, and he always let her.

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By the end of the week, the Enterprise was tossed about in the rough seas of the spring Nor’easter. The macro-storm formed off the Atlantic when cold Arctic air merged with warm water from the Gulf. The result was a devastating storm system with heavy rainfall, winds gusting over 70 mph, and sea swells of more than 50 feet.

Bryan was thankful communications were temporarily down because he knew that when he looked in his e-mail, there would be a dozen I told you so messages from Stephanie. As he walked down the ladder, he heard a loud commotion coming up toward him. Yellow shirts—flight deck aircraft handlers—were running up the ladder, telling people to get out of their way. Bryan recognized one of the handlers from his division, Petty Officer George Rodriguez, but everyone just called him Georgie.

Georgie, what’s going on? Bryan asked.

Helo 951 broke loose, Chief! It’s sliding around on its rear wheel, the Hispanic sailor yelled as he stormed past him. Bryan followed behind, heading toward Flight Deck Control to get an update from the handler, Lt. Cmdr. Derrick McGregory. The Mad Scot—as he was known to his sailors—controlled all aircraft movement on the flight deck.

Inside Flight Deck Control, Bryan rushed into a flurry of activity. McGregory was on the phone with the Air Boss—the officer in charge of air operations on Enterprise—while others peered out of the small windows to get a peek at what’s happening on deck.

Clear away from the window, Bryan shouted to the sailors. If you don’t have any business in control, get out now! The sailors groaned and filed out as the Handler hung up the phone. His mustache twitched—a sign Bryan came to learn as trouble.

Chief, the Boss doesn’t want that aircraft damaging any others, he said to Bryan. It’s already clipped another helo and a Hawkeye. Think you can secure it?

Bryan looked at the Handler. He was tense and nervous. He always relied on Bryan for the tough jobs, and he knew it had to be done. Yes sir, just give me Georgie, Bartman, and a couple blue shirts. We’ll lock it down.

The Handler picked up the sound-powered phone while Bryan grabbed a flight deck vest and helmet off the hook on the wall. He always needed the safety gear out on the flight deck, but especially in weather like this.

George, Petty Officer Mike Bartman, and two blue shirts—sailors who chain the aircraft down to the deck—arrived in Flight Deck Control. Bryan finished buckling his helmet as he relayed orders to his crew. Georgie, you drive the tractor. I want that bird hooked up and holding steady. Bartman, you guide him into the helo. Once that’s done, you two lock it down tight. Ready?

They all chimed in at the same time. Yes, Chief!

Bryan opened the hatch to the flight deck, the wind and rain blowing them down almost immediately. Once everyone is outside, Bryan moved his crew toward the swinging helicopter. The rear wheel remained chained to the flight deck, but its front wheels broke free, causing the aircraft to swing like a pendulum.

Georgie and Bartman went around the island and started up a tractor while the two blue shirts stuck close to Bryan. The ship was listing heavily as huge waves crashed over the flight deck. The wind and rain added to the problem, making it hard for them to get sound footing. Complicating things even more so was the multiple aircraft around them, straining against their chains by the storm.

Georgie backed the tractor on the helo’s rear wheel and locked the helo down with Bartman’s help. Once steady, Bartman signaled a thumbs’ up. Bryan sent the two blue shirts in with heavy chains on their shoulders and wheel chocks in their hands. Bryan ordered the two sailors to get to work. He watched as the chocks were placed under the wheels and the chains hooked on to tie the aircraft down.

Bryan was pleased with his team. He had a great group of sailors working for him. The blue shirts gave the thumbs up, and they all started to celebrate, fists pumping and cheering until things went from bad to worse without warning.

The ship hit a big swell that caused the carrier to drop fast and list heavily to starboard. Bryan could only watch as Bartman slipped and started to tumble backward toward the edge of the flight deck.

He acted quickly to save his shipmate. Without regard for his own life or safety, he dove after Bartman. The momentum of the listing deck flung him through the air. He reached Batman and knocked him into the catwalk, saving his life. However, his life-saving gesture propelled him over the side of the ship into the water.

He hit the water hard and momentarily blacked out. His safety gear kicked in, though, and his vest auto-inflated. He shot up to the surface and quickly regained consciousness. The waves, wind, and rain battered him about as he watched the ship fade into the distance. The sound of Man Overboard could be heard over the storm. The carrier started to turn around, but it seemed to be getting further away from Bryan. It was as if he was being pulled away from the aircraft carrier.

The waves continued to beat him about, practically drowning him in its fury. Bryan became disoriented, and fear started to grip him . . . The fear of dying. He thought about Stephanie and the kids. He remembered birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays as images flooded his mind.

Suddenly, he saw a glow in the sky. Bryan thought it was the light from a rescue helicopter, but the ship couldn’t have launched one in this weather.

Is this it? Is this the end? he thought as the light grew brighter and brighter until it enveloped him. Bryan closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

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Bryan crawled onto the beach, coughing up seawater as he dragged himself ashore. The waves crashed at his feet as he collapsed on the sandy shore. He rolled over on his back, coughing and gasping for air.

I can’t believe I made it, he pondered. That storm was unlike anything he’d ever seen in his 18 years in the Navy. He’s just glad his safety gear worked when he needed it. The auto-inflation vest kept him above water long enough to reach land.

But where am I? he thought as he sat up and started to look around. Bryan didn’t remember seeing any island on the charts. Is this Bermuda? Or maybe it’s the Bahamas? Wherever he was, he was just happy to be alive.

He shivered uncontrollably; the cold water was nothing compared to the chill in the air. Bryan could see his breath as he crossed his arms, trying to fight off the cold. How can this be? It feels like late autumn when it should be summertime in the Caribbean?

Slowly, he stood up, wrenching out the pain in his joints. Bryan continued to look along the beach. The shoreline seemed to extend for miles. Tall trees stretched from horizon to horizon, leaving only about 50 feet of beach between the forest and the sea.

Looking east, he spotted a light going in and out in the distance, reflecting off the mist that rolled in from the sea. It’s probably a lighthouse, and where there’s a lighthouse, there are people.

He took his watch out of his pocket. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have it when he went out on deck. It was considered FOD (Foreign Object Damage), but this was something special. He opened the watch and gazed at a picture of his family inside the cover. It was taken at Christmas with all of them wearing Santa hats; kind of goofy, especially for Bryan, but Stephanie insisted. He looked at his watch, but it had stopped. It’s probably waterlogged from the saltwater.

Bryan checked the gear on his vest. The emergency light didn’t work either. Battery must have run out, but it should still have a few hours left. He made a mental note to get on his sailors about better maintenance on the flight deck gear. Bryan discarded the vest and started walking down the beach toward what he hoped was a lighthouse.

As he moved further down the shore, a cliff wall started to rise up to a point where Bryan realized he wouldn’t be able to reach the lighthouse from the coast. He turned inland and headed into the woods, hoping to find a road to the lighthouse.

The trees were dense with thick over-growth as if they have been that way for hundreds of years. Bryan pushed his way through the trees, trying to find a way out of these woods. After what seemed to be an eternity of threshing through a seemingly endless array of bushes, shrubs, and trees, the forest began to disperse and opened up into a sprawling meadow.

The meadow was vast, following the tree line from left to right and along the cliff’s edge. Where the two ends met sat a large lighthouse of rough-cut stone, standing over 50 feet tall. Its light was spinning slowly, a warning to ships of the dangerous cliffs. In front of the lighthouse sat a small stone house with a straw thatch roof. Smoke rose out of the tiny smokestack on top.

That’s odd, Bryan wondered, That house looks too small for anyone to live in. Before he stepped out onto the meadow, Bryan heard a deafening roar from above the treeline. It sounded like the rumble of a thousand lions. What he saw next was impossible for him to believe.

A dragon, right out of storybooks and legend, flew high into the sky. The beast had a wingspan of more than 100 feet with scales of green and black. Its claws and fangs looked like they could rend flesh like a hot knife through butter. The beating of its wings was almost as loud as the sound of its roar.

That’s impossible, Bryan proclaimed, rubbing his eyes as if the seawater had blurred his vision. He ran out onto the meadow, trying to follow the beast as far as he could. Just then, he heard another sound; the sound of galloping hoofs.

He watched as a group of riders raced out from the trees in pursuit of the dragon. But these were no ordinary riders; they wore armor and carried swords and shields, like medieval knights.

Bryan could not begin to fathom what was happening, but he intended to find out what was going on. Hey! he shouted out to the riders, but none heard him. Hey! he screamed louder until one of the riders stopped and looked over at Bryan. He could not see his face as it was hidden behind a large metal helmet. The knight spurred his horse and started riding straight at Bryan.

At first, Bryan thought he was coming to talk to him; that was until he grabbed a weapon from his saddle. The knight started swinging a flail—a metal ball and chain at the end of a heavy wooden handle. Bryan knew that if he ran into the woods, the dense forest would slow him down. His only hope was to reach the tiny house.

He took off toward the house, running as fast as he could. The rider turned to follow him. Bryan pushed himself to run faster, looking back every now and then to see where his pursuer was.

His legs began to ache—muscles strained against the pressure—but he pushed on. Try as he might, it was impossible to outrun a horse and rider. Without a word, the knight smacked Bryan in the back of his head, knocking him to the ground.

He laid on the ground, his head bleeding and his mind spinning from the attack. He rolled over to his back and looked up at the sky. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the knight on his horse, standing over him.

Welcome to Avalon, Outlander.

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Bryan started to open his eyes. His head still ached from the metal ball that slammed him. He tried to focus, but his eyesight was still fuzzy. He heard the sound of laughter and merriment as if he was at a party.

Looks like he’s waking up, a female voice said coyly.

Donegal! another voice commanded. Give him a hand. Suddenly, a bucket of cold water was thrown on Bryan, shocking him to his senses. He pushed himself up and shook his head to clear his mind.

As his eyes started to focus, he saw his surroundings for the first time. Bryan found himself in an enormous room with a high ceiling where two massive chandeliers hung. Flickering torchiers and glowing fireplaces illuminated and warmed the hall. Around a U shaped table and walking about the entire room was an assortment of men and women dressed in medieval clothes and armor. The table was filled with food and drink, enough to satisfy any man’s hunger or thirst.

A small pair of boots strutted by Bryan. He looked up to see a Dwarf, who was no more than four feet tall. The Dwarf was wearing leather armor with metal plating on it like scales. Long dirty brown hair and an equally longer beard literally poured out from underneath an ornate metal helmet. The Dwarf had a war hammer in one hand and a large mug of frothy ale in the other.

As Bryan’s eyes came into focus, he looked at the Dwarf with amazement as his mouth gaped. The Dwarf stopped before him and took a swig from his mug of ale, finishing it off with a loud belch. What are you looking at, Outlander? Haven’t you ever seen a Dwarf before? he snarled as he turned and walked away, taking his place at the table.

At the head of the table was a large man with dirty blonde hair and a beard. His body was covered in chain mail armor and wrapped in white fur. At either side of him sat two beautiful women, who fed him grapes and wine while they whispered in his ear. Other men and women sat around the table, drinking and eating to their heart’s content. They all stared at Bryan and whispered quietly amongst themselves.

As Bryan slowly got to his feet, he spotted another man standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed. His black hair and beard were a stark contrast to his pale white skin, his face pitted and scarred. Like most of the men in the room, he wore armor and a fur cape. Bryan saw a large sword at his side and a flail in his hands. Bryan realized this was the man who hit him from behind.

Bryan stepped forward as he tried to focus his eyes. Excuse me, but could someone please tell me what . . . Bryan began to ask, but then the large man swung the flail at the back of Bryan’s knees, knocking him to the ground.

Shut your mouth, Outlander, and only speak when you’re spoken to, he growled.

Donegal, that’s enough! the man at the head of the table shouted. Donegal tucked the flail into his belt and stepped back. Bryan tried to ignore the pain in his legs and knelt upright to look at the leader. The burly man stood up, moving the women away from him.

Outlander, I am Sir Thomas Forest, Knight of the Round Table and representative of King Gregor Pendragon, ruler of Avalon, he said with pride.

Avalon? Bryan whispered so as not to anger Donegal again. He’s heard that name before, in stories about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Could it be? he wondered.

You are trespassing on sacred lands, Sir Thomas continued. Penalty for such transgression is death. By order of King Gregor, I have been charged with passing judgment over all Outlanders.

This can’t be real . . . to survive the sea only to die here. He tried to think of a way out of this nightmare and decided to try a simple courtesy.

Milord, he asked—using words remembered from movies like Excalibur and Robin Hood. May I be permitted to speak? The room grew quiet. Never had they heard an Outlander speak so eloquently. Even Sir Thomas was surprised. He nodded his head and motioned to Bryan as he sat down. Bryan slowly rose to his feet.

Bryan explained to the ensemble that there was no denying that he was a stranger here. But the fact was that he was a sailor, lost in a storm at sea, who had washed ashore on the island. Like many in the room, Thomas was impressed. Unlike other Outlanders brought before him, this one had courage and dignity.

That may be, Outlander, but it does not change the law. You will be judged by the laws of Avalon.

Bryan was blindsided as Donegal pulled a dagger from his boot and grabbed Bryan by his collar, placing the blade on Bryan’s throat. Enough of his blasphemy! Let’s kill him and be done with it! Donegal demanded. Others in the hall cheered him on, anxious for blood to be spilled.

Donegal! Thomas shouted, causing Donegal to stop in his tracks and silence the hall. I shall decide the Outlander’s fate, not you. Disobey me again, and you will rue the day your mother pushed you out of her womb.

Donegal got a chill up his spine. Sir Thomas never spoke to him that way before. He removed the dagger from around Bryan’s throat, but not before cutting away one of the Chief’s anchors off his collar.

This angered Bryan to no end. He caught Donegal off-guard and elbowed him on the side of his face. He snatched the anchor out of his hand as two other knights stepped up and grabbed Bryan’s arms, forcing him to his knees. Donegal drew his sword and laid it across Bryan’s neck.

Wait! Thomas commanded.

Donegal would not be silent this time. Sir Thomas, this dog insulted me. I demand retribution for my honor.

Sir Thomas walked around the table and stood in front of Bryan. He motioned for the two knights to release him.

Outlander, you are already under a possible sentence of death. Why would you dare strike a knight of Avalon? It only makes the decision easier for me.

Because of this asshole . . . Bryan caught himself, not wanting to add further insult to the situation. Pardon me, milord, this ‘gentleman’ tried to take my rank, my honor, Bryan explained, showing him the anchor.

This anchor is the symbol of my rank as a Chief Petty Officer. I earned this through trial and initiation. It is an honor only the best in my Navy can receive. He had no right to take something he did not earn.

Sir Thomas picked up the anchor and examined it before giving it back to Bryan. Very well, Outlander, he said, but now you must face Donegal in combat. That is our law, our trial and initiation.

The room exploded with a loud roar over the upcoming combat. Bryan realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew. He had no choice but to fight. I have no weapon to fight with milord.

Thomas ignored Bryan’s plea as he walked back around the table and returned to his seat. Take your pick of any of the weapons here.

Bryan looked around the hall as others began to talk about the upcoming fight, taking bets on how long it would take Donegal to kill the Outlander. Bryan ignored them as he circled the room, looking at the various swords, axes, maces, and spears—every type of medieval weapon imaginable—that were displayed on the walls. But one pair of swords caught his eye.

Hung on the wall were two swords—one black and one gold blade—each about three feet long. The hilts were dragons with their tails curl around a crystal that looked like the moon. The gold sword’s moon was waxing, with just a sliver of darkness, while the black sword’s moon was waning, with just a crescent moon showing.

He walked over to the wall and reached for the swords. Thomas, momentarily distracted by one of the women, caught him out of the corner of his eye. Bryan took them into his hands when Thomas suddenly yelled, Stop!

Bryan turned back to him, holding the twin swords in his hands. The hilts tingled against his skin like static electricity. From the black blade, Bryan felt more than a tingle. It felt like touching death.

Is there a problem, milord? he queried.

Thomas could not believe his eyes, neither could anyone else. The Outlander was holding the sacred swords, and nothing happened to him. I would not use those weapons, Outlander. They are . . . Thomas explained as he tried to find the right word. They are special.

Bryan sensed he was lying about something. Forgive me, sir, but you said I could use any of the weapons in your hall.

Is there some reason why you must use those swords? Thomas asked. Bryan tried to think of an answer and then looked down at his chest. His enlisted surface warfare pin—a ship breaking through a wave under two crossed swords—sat below the enlisted air warfare wings on his pocket.

This pin, he began as he pointed at his pin, designates me as a seafaring warrior. Two swords are the preferred weapons for sailors in my Navy.

Thomas could not believe this was happening. Could he be the one? he pondered. Very well, Outlander, you may use them.

The audience was shocked that Sir Thomas was allowing the Outlander to use the sacred swords. That included Donegal, as a lump formed in his throat. He wondered if he had challenged the wrong person.

Donegal stripped off his armor, thinking he did not need it against the Outlander. Bryan took off his shirt, too, so the wet sleeves would not inhibit his movement. He raised the swords in front of him, not really sure of what he was doing. He hoped that using two swords would give him some kind of an advantage.

Donegal raised his weapon—a broad sword nearly four feet long. I don’t care who you are, Outlander! You’re dead! Donegal growled. Bryan said nothing as he stared at Donegal, trying to anticipate his first move.

Donegal reached back and swung downward at Bryan. He crossed swords to block the attack but was knocked down to one knee by the force of the blow. He grunted as he found the strength to retaliate, pushing him back. With Donegal off-balance, he swung both blades outward, hoping to force him back.

Bryan got lucky and cut Donegal on his hand. Blood dripped from the tip of the sword. The crowd echoed a collective hush. They couldn’t believe the Outlander cut a knight of Avalon.

Sir Thomas looked on in horror. Oh no, he worried, "Dusk has tasted blood."

Donegal looked down at the scratch on his hand. That’s the last time you’ll touch me, Outlander. Bryan felt the tingling sensation from the swords increase as if they had been charged with jumper cables. His body was on fire, his muscles ached with pain, but Bryan focused past it and concentrated on the fight.

Donegal swung ferociously, landing one blow after the other, but to Donegal’s amazement and the people in the hall, Bryan blocked everyone as if he were a seasoned warrior.

Bryan couldn’t believe it himself. It was as if his body acted as an extension of the swords, reacting to every one of Donegal’s attacks. Angry and frustrated at the Outlander, Donegal swatted a goblet off the table right at Bryan, splashing his face with wine, blinding him. He slashed Bryan across his back.

Bryan fell to one knee; the pain was excruciating. Donegal saw a chance to end the fight as he raised his sword over his head to land a killing blow. Without thinking, Bryan rolled out of the way, spun, and thrust the black blade into Donegal’s abdomen.

Donegal dropped his sword as his body began to shake uncontrollably. As blood spewed from his mouth, he reached out and grabbed Bryan by the shoulder. Please! he begged, Don’t take my soul! Bryan did not understand until he watched Donegal’s body turn grey like stone and crumbled to dust. There was nothing left of him except a pile of bones.

Bryan stood up and looked around the room, expecting someone else to step up and try to kill him. Instead, everyone stared at him in awe. Bryan watched as Sir Thomas dropped to one knee as the others followed suit until the entire room was kneeling before Bryan.

Out of breath, confused, and in pain, Bryan didn’t understand what was happening. Sir Thomas raised his head to speak, "Praise to God in Heaven! The prayers of a generation have finally been answered.

Long ago, it was foretold to us that a descendant of Sir Percival would be brought to our sacred shores, he continued as he rose to his feet. "For more than 500 years, we waited, and our patience has borne the promise of a better tomorrow. The champion of Avalon has returned to bring justice and peace to our troubled lands.

All hail the Gil-Gamesh of Avalon! he declared. Everyone else got to their feet and began to chant, Gil-Gamesh! Gil-Gamesh! Gil-Gamesh! Bryan was confused, overwhelmed, and disoriented until he passed out to the rousing cheers.

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Bryan’s dreams were jumbled, filled with pain. He watched Donegal fall into an endless black void. His deathly screams caused Bryan pain. He also saw others floating in the darkness, a variety of men, women, and creatures he’d never seen before. They writhed in anguish as if their souls were being tortured by the darkness within the blade.

Then his dream shifted; he saw a knight standing on a hillside surrounded by an eerie mist. The early morning sun began to rise in the distance. The man wore the two swords Bryan had used earlier around his waist. He turned around as Bryan walked up. He was an older man, dressed in plate mail armor, with brown hair and a beard, flecked with gray. He smiled at Bryan, putting him at ease.

Greetings, Bryan Drake, we have been expecting you, he proclaimed.

Bryan was confused. We? he asked. What do you mean? Appearing out of the mist were other knights like him, each wearing a different type of armor, clothing, and hairstyles as if he were looking at a timeline of history. The only thing similar about them was that they all looked very much alike, as if they were related somehow.

Where am I?

I am Sir Percival Peredyr, first Gil-Gamesh of Avalon. We . . . he exclaimed, motioning to the others, have been the protectors of sacred Avalon for thousands of years.

Gil-Gamesh? What is that?

Percival placed his hand on Bryan’s shoulder and walked him through the ranks of knights. It is a name I heard on my quest for the Holy Grail for good King Arthur. It was the name of a great hero in ancient Persia. It is the name I took as the champion of Avalon.

Avalon? You mean the mythical island from the King Arthur legend? Bryan questioned him.

Percival grinned with a devilish smirk, something he does from time to time. "Yes, Bryan Drake, this is Avalon. But my story doesn’t begin here. It started nearly 3000 years ago. I witnessed the death of King Arthur at the hands of his son Mordred at the battle of Camlann.

I retrieved his sword Excalibur and was about to return it to the Lady of the Lake when Merlin stopped me."

Merlin? Merlin the Magician? The wizard who advised King Arthur? Bryan asked. He’s real too?

"The one and the same… Merlin told me that the age of magic was coming to