I ran, I ran - always running anymore. I could still hear the thunderous pace my hunter stayed true to behind my own silent race. I knew from the echoes of the cracking branches and crackling leaves under his sprint that he was not immediately close and was thus tempted to atop a moment to save some breath for later and see where he was. I considered this idea and slowed my pace a little, but ultimately decided against it. My hunter wasn't the only thing I was running against; time was not on my side this night. My brother Arthur was in the process of committing sins against the ancient religion that, if not stopped, would force myself, the Merlin, and the healer-priests and priestesses of the ancient art into a space beyond time and not of this world along with the only land in Briton still entirely under the tradition of the Old Gods, the Holy Isle of Avalon. The footsteps behind me are louder; I must have slowed my pace too long.

Why am I running from this man? I wondered to myself. Just a few days more than a week ago, he was by my side, trusting my every move and command. The Great Dragon, now servant to the cross, High King of all of Briton, Arthur Pendragon has convinced him otherwise. My own brother convinced this man that I am evil and to rid Christ's good earth of my heathen sorceries! My heart aches even now at the loss of my brother's confidence, for I would never have led him into darkness as long as he kept his vows to the Old Gods true, but since he hasn't, I have been forced to dispel great misfortune and dishonor upon him, thus losing his trust. But I cannot let this man chasing me stop me from my actions, I must get to the top of this tor before Arthur brings us all to ruin. I must somehow convince this man I am not some evil sorceress, but first I must stop Arthur.

He is a warrior and strong, but this Tor is steep and he is not used to climbing, his endurance will soon fail and I will have more than enough time to beat him to the top - to save us all. …Why is he, out of all of Arthur's men, chasing me? My thoughts tormented me as I quickened my pace again, afraid to look back, afraid to see those dark eyes I remember as such a soft brown, having seen them dance with smiles and sing with laughter so often. For I knew that they would not be singing and dancing, but shining a darker, colder brown of icy hatred and anger. The thought was too much for me, the idea that this man whom I have entrusted with all my plans, whom I have chosen to succeed Arthur as High King once his promises have turned false, would hunt me down like a frightened rabbit and roast me alive in the flames of his hatred before all of Camelot…it was too much for me. Accolon, why? Why can you not trust this is important? Why would you not listen to Vivien? She is High Priestess and I do but her bidding! I'm trying to save us all! My fear of seeing the anger and betrayal in the eyes of the one man I love wholly, a knight Arthur will not even accept to his round table that I would give all of Briton to over my own son, Accolon of Gaul, kept me going.

I hear him cry out behind me, a scream of pain, almost simultaneous with a loud crunch of branches and a dull thud. He has tripped over something and fallen; probably hurting himself badly in the process, for this part of the Tor is marred by heavy, moss-covered boulders, half buried in the earth protruding the soft mossy ground in jagged paths of razors. I stop dead in my tracks. He cries out again, this time the pain is mixed with fear, first just a low moan of pain and fear, then he starts calling out something, screaming for assistance. He is blaring out my name, praying for me to come help him. A vision of him lying broken and bleeding, needing my assistance more than ever, flickers through my mind and I consider going back to find him. I take a few tentative steps in the direction of his voice, down the Tor, away from the Ring Stones I was racing to reach even before my love Accolon decided to stop me, betray the needs of the Holy Isle he himself is pledged to.

Another vision flickers through my mind, clear as day. The Pendragon sits at council, being convinced to betray Avalon, to lower the ancient crimson banners of his father and the Old Gods, to replace the crimson and gold that is the rightful banner to any son of Uther Pendragon as Arthur's self with the blue and gold of the Virgin Mary and Christ's cross. The Dragon must fly on its proud poles above Camelot as long and as surely as the blood of the Pendragon rules within. To strip the land of the Dragon banner is to strip Avalon from the hearts of men. This cannot happen. I was instructed to not let this happen, and I refuse to betray my quest to keep the Holy Isle in the world of men.

Muttering a curse beneath my breath, I turn around, praying to the ancient Goddess as I run even faster than before, for time will not wait for me and does not trip or tire as men do. I pray for Accolon, left bleeding and broken behind me, I pray it will still be within my power to heal him by the time I have finished my mission and found him. I pray for my mission, to stop Arthur from betraying Avalon, for betraying me. I pray for Arthur, that he not bring war upon himself and force me to take more cruel actions of revenge upon him under the command of the High Priestess Vivien. And I pray for myself, pray that I am strong enough to convince Arthur to raise the banner of the dragon high and proud as always, pray that I will be in time to convince him, pray I will have enough strength for my quest and healing my broken love, but mostly praying Accolon will not rise to slay me once I have healed him.

I reach the top of the Tor and proceed to the small alter of raised stone near the center of the ring stones without even taking time to catch the breath I was beginning to lose from the sprint up the mountainous hill, despite the many times I have climbed it through my life here on Avalon. I invoke the Goddess, praying that she take my spirit to Arthur's council. Suddenly, through a confused whirlwind of time and space, I am in the room with Arthur and his councilors.

"The question is: will you raise the banner of Christ, our Lord and Savior, or will you continue to raise the dragon, the banner of the evil sorcerers and harlots, even like your sister, who has tried to unsuccessfully to slay you and your Queen like dogs?" one of the older men asked, demanded, of my brother. I recognized him as the Bishop Patricius, a man who had come to Briton from isle of Erin, which lies to the west of this land. Hearing this made my extreme dislike for this man boil into hatred. Rid his land of the snakes, the serpents, indeed! The serpents of wisdom! The Druids! And now he is attempting to do the same here, to seal Avalon away from the world of men forever!

"Arthur!" I called out to him, knowing that in being a spirit and not wanting these men to know of my presence, that he would be the only one to see my face or hear my voice. "Arthur, hear me!"

"Morgan?" he muttered, looking around. The other men eyed him suspiciously, and noticing this, he knew I was not there in person and to try to seem inconspicuous - these uptight priests would not fancy a king who talked to the walls as if they were his heathen sister whom they hated so! "Morgan, where are you?" he called in his mind so much like a desperate plea that I knew he still loved me, even if he could not forgive my betrayal.

"That is not important, Arthur. Do not search for me, but listen to me and listen well," I stopped a moment to go over the words I had practiced frantically in my mind through the sprint to the ring stones before Accolon had given chase. "You must not let the banner of the Great Dragon fall! Your power as king comes from the Holy Isle on which you promised your allegiance! The power was given to you by Avalon and can be taken away as such! Do not betray the Holy Isle in this manner and let the banner of Christ and the blue virgin take the place of the Pendragon lest the Holy Isle betray you! The Pendragon must fly proudly above Camelot as he rules within it!"

I could feel my strength start to fail and I knew that I would not be able to say anything more to him, whether it be an argue or command, but hung on just long enough to hear him hiss back, "Avalon has already betrayed me through you, sister, as has its Great Dragon!" and see Avalon's now fallen hero turn to his priests in conclusion.

"The banner of the blue virgin and her Christ will fly over Camelot beginning at dawn! Have the night watchmen take down the blasphemous red dragon of the Old Gods and burn them!" he commanded, the words echoed through my head even as I fell to the ground and smelled the soft earth of the Tor beneath me rather than the cold, dusty floor of the Great Hall in Camelot. Panic shot through my mind like electricity - what was I supposed to do now? Pulling myself up despite the arguments of my tired, dizzy body, I ran back down the Tor the way I had ascended.

"Accolon! Accolon! Hear me, my love! Where are you?" I called out with a voice that cracked out in a struggle to project my words throughout the forest. Hearing my desperate cries, hoarse as a raven's very own due to my fatigue, Accolon started his pained cries for my assistance yet again. Following his voice, I was able to find him quickly. His arm was bent at an unnatural angle and there was a large lump on the side where one's arm has no business having lumps. Luckily enough for the two of us, he had not broken foot, leg, nor ankle, but only twisted his left ankle in such a way that it was larger than it should have been and had a ghastly bruise darkening from his ankle to his toes.

Not knowing if there was much time, I hesitated to find and take the processional path that wound its way in circles around the Tor, but knowing how steep the Tor was and feeling the weight of Accolon as he leaned against me to lead him down, I knew I had no other choice - he was a knight and big and strong, whereas I was only a small priestess and had no prayer in supporting him on such a steep decline. I quieted my nerves by telling myself that there was still hope, that I didn't know what was to happen, that Avalon could not possibly sink hopelessly into the mists of the Summer Country in the small amount of time it took me to guide Accolon down the path and have the other healer-priestesses assist me in using the ancient magic that would mend his wounds quickly, for I was much too weak to attempt it myself.

Had he not fallen, we might have run down the other side of the Tor and have been gone, out of Avalon by now! We could have escaped before the Holy Isle sunk into the mists! But even as I thought that I knew that he would have stopped me from talking to Arthur and probably would have killed me before I could have convinced him I was not evil. Remembering his fury he held for me earlier before he needed my healing, I stopped and helped him to sit upon the processional path we had by now reached. I reached for the long, sharp dagger I had taken to wearing about my waist while in Camelot and was in danger of being attacked or murdered by anyone, for Camelot was, by the time I had last left it, entirely Christian and I was seen as evil. Before he even managed to focus fully on me through his pain, I had the tip of the dagger at his throat just below his Adam's apple. I was about to force him to throw his own dagger and sword into the trees that surrounded the path at the lower parts of the Tor, but saw that his eyes were once again the soft, beautiful brown that held no threat for me. They were only sad, confused, and pained.

"Why, Morgan? Why are you going to kill me? Why did you try to kill Arthur? I did not want to believe him, but I saw the wound from your sword, I was there the days he suffered from the poison on its blade. Tell me he was lying and I will believe you…please tell me he was lying, Morgan…please do not kill me here," he pleaded with me and questioned me as a child would his mother in the light of being punished for starting trouble. I put my dagger back in its leather sheath; I would not need to use it.

"I will not kill you Accolon, love, here or anywhere. But I did attempt to kill Arthur, and would again if Vivien so wished and demanded. I am a priestess of the Old Gods here on Avalon, I pledged my life to do the bidding of the High Priestess, and that is what she demanded of me. I have failed, beloved, oh, I have failed and failed again! We are doomed, all of us here on this isle are doomed, for Arthur has taken down the banner of the Pendragon, Arthur has pushed us from the world of men, we are to be lost in the realm of the fairie forever!" Even as I explained my actions, the actions of the world now, to him, I betrayed my almost stoic training on my emotions and began to cry. He held me close and my tears as well as the grass, leaves, and dirt of the Tor he took such an unlucky tumble upon would now mar his tunic.

Thunder crashed as lightning snaked its paths across the sky and rain began to tumble upon us like the cold, betrayed tears of the Old Gods. Drawing upon my stoic-like priestess training, I stopped my tears as quickly as I could and helped Accolon to his feet. We hurried to the best we could, stumbling down the path, around and around the Tor, in what became a blinding rainstorm. Finally we arrived at the house of Vivien, the High Priestess, who had healer-priestesses and the Merlin waiting for us, apparently having sensed our need for all the help Avalon could provide. I passed Accolon off into the care of the priestesses who still had their strength and turned to Vivien and bowed to her as High Priestess as I began to plead my case and forgiveness, afraid to look up and face her anger and disappointment.

"No child, stop, it was not your fault," Vivien said, interrupting my apologies, "It was as the God's ordained, there is nothing you, nor any of us, could have done to change the will of the Gods," she smiled at me softly and sent me to my room in a building not far from her own house to rest.

Soon Accolon was beside me again, healed and sad, but not angry or hateful. He opened his mouth to speak an apology I did not want to hear, for I had already forgiven him, his actions were out of ignorance, and therefore not of his fault. I silenced him by laying my fingers softly over his lips and his eyes smiled at me in the darkness, knowing that they were forgiven, and we slept away the bitterness and fatigue of our failed quests. Avalon started its float into the realm of the fairie and as I dreamed, I realized that I was never supposed to have saved us both from this fate. That since our quests had failed, there was no longer a place for us in the world, for I was still alive and well and as we slept, Avalon became a thing of the past in the world of men. Accolon was disgraced in the eyes of Arthur, and there was a warrant for my death for treachery and attempted murder of my brother, the king.

Avalon touched the world of men only once after the banner of the Great Dragon ceased to fly over Camelot. The man who had once been its greatest champion called upon Avalon. It was I who answered the dying plea of King Arthur of Camelot, I who comforted my brother in his last moments and took him to be buried among the great Druids on Avalon once breath had left his body. Taking the great sword Excalibur from the hand of Lancelot, who had it in mind to give the sacred sword to the next high king, Arthur and I disappeared from the shores of the Summer Country into Avalon for the last time, where, as legend would have it, he lay sleeping until the common folk need the hero of the Old Gods once more.


*an original story based on several arthurian legends*