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Aramus has a minion!

Camelot the Octoragon

Aramus
Legacy Name: Aramus

The

Storm Telenine
Owner:

Pureflower

Age: 8 years, 8 months, 4 weeks

Born: July 24th, 2015

Adopted: 8 years, 8 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: July 24th, 2015

Pet Spotlight Winner
June 16th, 2019

Statistics

Level: 79
Strength: 160
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 160
Books Read: 147
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Topiary Tender

I am Merlin's Hound.

I was born in a tempest, with lightning giving shape to fur, blood and bones as rumbling thunder taught the language of magic to my ears.

Merlin's dying breath was the air pushed into new and powerful lungs. I woke in a glen where moss coated every tree and a sweet, clear spring invited untamed creatures to sample its waters. Raindrops dripped like tears down my muzzle as the voices resolved into a command and fell silent. I'd been charged with an impossible task, but no wolfhound will ever lay head on paws in surrender. I raced for the field where Arthur fought to defend his kingdom, arriving in time to witness Mordred's fatal blow.

I sat outside King Arthur's tent with head bowed as his loyal knights entered to mourn and give his body honor. Gawain tried to tempt me with a strip of meat as the king was borne away but I turned my head aside. Knowing I could not have changed Arthur's fate made my failure no less bitter.

Lesser knights whose names have been forgotten tried their own tricks to coax me home with them. Tired of their undeserved concern, I slipped away in the night to return to the forest of my birth.

I do not know how many years I spent chasing rabbits and sleeping in the sun like a common dog. My awareness told me that I was no mortal hound whose muzzle would grow white with age but I shrugged away this unwanted intruder that would startle me from a hunt and leave me with nothing but grass to eat.

The problem with ignoring your problems is how rarely they magically go away.

My awareness woke me in the middle of the night with a command, forcing me to abandon my cozy nest and trudge through six inches of newly fallen snow.

The boy who drew me was perhaps fifteen with a dirty face and peasant clothes. He walked a narrow lane, clucking to his goats to keep them moving. His eyes widened at the sight of me, no doubt assuming I was some lord's dog lost in the hunt.

I could not help hesitating. My awareness told me this was blood of Arthur, the one needed to fulfill my purpose, yet he could be none other than Mordred's son. To bring such a traitor's kin before the Lady of the Lake would be wrong, yet something about the boy intrigued me.

How to communicate? I could understand the language of humans better than most men but revealing this would likely earn me a spear through my heart. My immortality does not protect me from the sensation of pain and such a wound would leave me lying senseless for weeks.

I touched his thoughts. He was already curious about the hound on the moor. I fueled that spark into a blaze, convincing him to drop his wooden staff and follow.

The lake was still aboveground then, coated with the thinnest layer of frost. My influence on the boy ended the moment we entered the sacred clearing. He blinked and looked around in confusion as I began to trot the surface, showing him the way.

I could trot the fragile surface without fear, magic making my bones lighter than any bird's. The boy would need great faith and the courage of his ancestors, for only the blood of Arthur could recall Excalibur from its resting place and restore peace in a time of great turmoil. Unfortunately, the boy's heritage was no promise of success. The Lady would surrender her treasure only to one who completed her test of faith.

The boy made it halfway before the first crack appeared. One word rose from his lips as he fell.

"Father!"

What did that kin slayer's son know of fathers? I should have obeyed the Lady's will and let him drown. I towed the shivering boy to the shore and stood over him until he regained his breath.

The Lady took the form of a snowdrift that pelted my face with icy needles. Her disapproval was a shocking blast that even my thick pelt couldn't turn aside. The boy stared wistfully over the surface of the lake as I gave my head a shake. This moment of failure would remain with him until his dying day, his greatest failure though he never would know what had led him to it. When I could breathe properly again, I led him home.

*****

Do not ask me to recount the sum of my failures. You will get a shorter list from a lord asked to recite the titles of his famous great-uncle.

Each time I fail, I am returned to the place of my birth. Centuries of neglect have killed all but a few stunted trees. Bare earth and barbed wire are the remnants of a war that nearly destroyed the world. My new shelter is a sorry dome of metal that stank of gunpowder and fear when I first claimed it. It smells of rust and rainwater, the entry hidden by noxious-smelling weeds that grow wild.

Only twenty trees remain in my beautiful forest and they are dying. It pains me to turn my back on them for what is sure to be another waste of my time.

I have been to every corner of the world, tracking the blood of Arthur. Some are impervious to mind magic, too wrapped up in their modern concerns to hear my call. Some follow me to England only to have their logical brains deny what their eyes reveal. Far too many are like the first, their faith wavering to sink them beneath the waves. I have never allowed one to drown and my Lady's disapproval strengthens with the years.

I use the clouds as my bridge to the New World, taking advantage of the hours of night. Humans no longer have the presence of mind to watch the sky.

The city I land in is smelly and dirty, with many inhabitants sleeping in open doorways. The one who calls me is fast asleep in a room above. I can hear thirty other gently breathing forms and smell their unwashed bodies. I spend a miserable night in an alley, growling at any rat foolish enough to try to make a meal of my tail.

The silver pentagram she wears around her neck gives me more hope than I have felt in well over a thousand years.

She puts her arms around my neck as if embracing a brother. My persuasion calls to what little royal blood remains in her veins but the girl's poverty is plain. She cannot afford the usual human means of travel. She does not cry out or flinch away as I call a bank of fog to surround us, making us both as light as air. She clings to my fur, watching the passing world below with wonder.

She follows me through the narrow tunnel to the lake beneath the earth. There is no hesitation in her steps as she follows me onto the lake's surface. We stand together at the center as fog begins to form, surrounding us both. For just a moment, I see the girl clutching Excalibur. Her face is a mask of awe as the voices of the past instruct her.

She bows her head. "I understand, Great Lady."

The sword vanishes and she is back on shore, staring wistfully in my direction. Somehow I know she will be the great leader the world has awaited for so long. The fog thickens until I can no longer see. The Lady appears beside me and she is smiling. Her sweet breath washes over my body and I am content to let my form dissolve, to dissipate into the field of magic.

I open my eyes on a moor shrouded in mist. My senses are dulled and paws that once drummed the earth are transformed to pale sticks of flesh. My gorgeous fur is transformed to a cloak that is draped over my hairless shoulders.A man sits on a felled tree, his golden beard streaked with red. He tells a story to a boy with brown hair, illustrating his words with the point of a stick. I recognize him as the first boy to fail.

My returning memories are not lightning strikes but gentle drifts on the breeze, recalling me to an old life long forgotten. I remember the frustrations of tying hose and learning to wield a sword. I remember my beautiful mother pointing as a handsome man rode by on his glorious white steed with a golden crown upon his brow. I remember how she whispered the word "Father" in my ear, though I was forbidden to speak the truth of my lineage, even to the woman I came to love.

I am human.

I stood outside Merlin's tomb, begging the doomed wizard to fulfill my wish and grant me a way to restore honor that was taken from me before my birth. I wanted my own sons to know the truth of their family name.

Arthur returns my bow as my son comes forward to kiss my hand. We turn together toward the distant castle, three spirits come to find our rest in the land of Avalon where magic still lives.

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