The knight sat across from Reid in what had once been the village elder's home, his silver-white hair catching the blue glow of the ley-lines that pulsed through the walls. Gareth ap Llewellyn had surrendered his weapons as requested, but he carried himself with the unmistakable confidence of someone who didn't need steel to be dangerous.
"So," Reid began, leaning back in his chair, "former champion of the Eternal Court. That sounds impressively vague."
Gareth's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "Would you prefer I list all my titles? We'd be here until the twin moons align, and I suspect neither of us has that kind of patience."
Reid studied the knight's face. Despite his otherworldly appearance—those unnaturally bright eyes, the faint iridescent patterns on his skin that matched the ley-line markings throughout the village—there was something recognizable in his expression. It was the look of a soldier who had seen too much and lost faith in his command.
"Why don't we start with why you're here," Reid suggested, "and why I shouldn't consider you an enemy combatant."
Williams stood by the door, his hand never straying far from his sidearm. Dr. Whitaker sat to Reid's right, practically vibrating with barely contained excitement. She'd been scribbling notes since the moment Gareth had dismounted his not-quite-horse.
"The Eternal Court," Whitaker interjected, unable to contain herself any longer, "is that the ruling body of Aeltheria? Are you saying it's actually eternal? How long has it existed? And what exactly is your relationship to—"
"Doctor," Reid cut her off with a warning glance. "One question at a time."
Gareth studied Whitaker with newfound interest. "You've heard of the Court?"
"Only in fragments," she admitted. "References in Celtic manuscripts, Arthurian legends... I've theorized that many Earth myths about faerie courts might actually be distorted accounts of contact with Aeltheria."
"Your theories have more merit than your colleagues gave you credit for," Gareth replied, causing Whitaker to straighten with vindicated pride. "The Eternal Court has ruled Aeltheria for over three thousand of your Earth years. And yes, I was once its champion—the right hand of Lady Seraphine, High Sorceress and de facto ruler since the King's... indisposition."
"Indisposition?" Reid asked.
"A polite term for being trapped in a state of living death by his own sister," Gareth said dryly. "Seraphine has ruled in his stead for centuries, though few dare speak this truth aloud."
Reid exchanged glances with Williams, whose expression clearly communicated what he thought of getting involved in otherworldly family drama.
"And you're no longer in her service because...?" Reid prompted.
Gareth's face hardened. "Because I refused to slaughter innocent refugees. The elven enclave of Silvermist sought sanctuary after their lands were corrupted by Seraphine's ley-line experiments. When they appealed to ancient treaties, she ordered their extermination. I refused."
"So she exiled you," Reid concluded.
"After a fashion." Gareth's hand moved unconsciously to his side, where Reid suspected a significant scar lay hidden beneath his armor. "Most who defy Seraphine don't live long enough to be exiled."
"And now you want revenge," Williams said from his position by the door. "How convenient that we've shown up with guns and explosives."
Gareth's eyes flashed. "If revenge were my only motivation, I would have sought it long ago. What I want is to stop Seraphine before she destroys both our worlds."
"Elaborate," Reid said, leaning forward.
"Your arrival through the Gate has... accelerated her plans. For centuries, she has sought to harness the power of the ley-lines—what you might call Earth's magical circulatory system. These energy pathways connect our worlds, though the connection was severed long ago during the last great war."
Whitaker was writing so quickly her pen threatened to tear through the paper. "The severing—was that connected to Excalibur? There are manuscripts suggesting the sword was forged to 'cut that which cannot be cut.'"
Gareth looked impressed. "Your knowledge is remarkable for an outsider. Yes, Excalibur was created to sever the connection between Earth and Aeltheria, to protect both realms from a greater threat. But that's a tale for another time."
"Focus," Reid said sharply. "What are Seraphine's plans?"
"The Gate's appearance has given her access to Earth's ley-lines again. She intends to corrupt them as she has done in Aeltheria, creating a permanent bridge that she can control. Your weapons—impressive as they are—cannot stop magic that rewrites the very laws of reality."
Reid rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "And I suppose you're offering to help us stop her out of the goodness of your heart?"
"I offer my knowledge of Aeltheria's political landscape, its dangers, and Seraphine's weaknesses," Gareth replied. "In exchange for sanctuary and the chance to build a better future for both our worlds."
"How do we know this isn't a trap?" Williams asked. "For all we know, you're still working for her, leading us into an ambush."
Gareth stood suddenly, causing Williams to draw his weapon. With deliberate movements, the knight removed his ornate chestplate, revealing a horrific scar that ran from his collarbone to his hip—a wound that should have been fatal.
"This is Seraphine's signature," he said quietly. "A living death curse that ensures each breath I take is agony. Only by binding myself to the wild ley-lines—those she hasn't yet corrupted—have I survived. I am literally bound to my oath against her."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Reid had seen many wounds in his military career, but nothing like this—a scar that seemed to shift and pulse with its own inner light, like a living thing beneath the skin.
"Put your shirt back on," Reid finally said. "I think we get the point."
As Gareth replaced his armor, Lance Corporal Singh entered the room, her medical kit still slung over one shoulder.
"Sir, the Aeltherian refugees are stabilized. They're asking about the knight." She glanced at Gareth with undisguised suspicion. "They seemed... afraid when I mentioned him."
"With good reason," Gareth acknowledged. "To most Aeltherians, a knight of the Eternal Court represents death and subjugation. My reputation, in particular, was... cultivated to inspire fear."
"Charming," Singh muttered.
Reid stood, making his decision. "You'll remain under guard while we verify what we can of your story. If you're telling the truth about Seraphine's plans, we need to know more about these ley-lines and how to protect them."
"A wise precaution," Gareth agreed. "Though time is not our ally. Seraphine will have felt the disturbance when you claimed this village. The ley-lines here are powerful—it's why the original inhabitants chose this location. She will send forces to reclaim it."
"How soon?" Reid asked.
"Days, perhaps. Hours if we're unfortunate."
Reid turned to Whitaker. "Doctor, I need you to work with our guest. Learn everything you can about these ley-lines and how they might be defended. Singh, continue treating the refugees, but see what information they can provide about the Eternal Court and its forces."
"And me, boss?" Williams asked.
"You get to babysit our new friend here," Reid replied with a grim smile. "Try not to shoot him unless absolutely necessary."
"Define 'absolutely necessary,'" Williams said, eyeing Gareth warily.
"Use your judgment. Just remember that dead knights tell no tales."
As the meeting dispersed, Reid caught Gareth studying the maps of Avalon they'd begun creating. "Something on your mind, Sir Gareth?"
"Just Gareth," the knight corrected. "I forfeited my titles when I defied Seraphine." He gestured to the maps. "Your fortifications are impressive, but they won't stop a determined magical assault. You're thinking in terms of physical defenses when the real battle will be fought through the ley-lines themselves."
"Then I suggest you make yourself useful and help us understand what we're up against," Reid replied. "Because if Seraphine's forces arrive before we're ready, your second death will be considerably more permanent than your first."
Gareth's lips curved in a cold smile. "Captain Reid, I believe we understand each other perfectly."
As the knight was escorted away, Whitaker approached Reid, her expression troubled.
"Captain, if even half of what he's saying is true, we're dangerously out of our depth. The Eternal Court, ley-lines, living death curses... this goes beyond anything in my research."
"Then I suggest you expand your research, Doctor," Reid replied. "Because right now, knowledge is the only advantage we might have."
"And if he's lying?"
Reid watched as Williams led Gareth across the village square, noting how the Aeltherian refugees shrank back in fear as he passed.
"Then we'll have given sanctuary to the devil himself," he said quietly. "And we'll pay the price for it."
Later that evening, Reid stood at Avalon's perimeter, watching the alien stars wheel overhead. The twin moons cast conflicting shadows across the landscape, creating a disorienting effect that matched his state of mind.
"Penny for your thoughts, Captain?" Singh approached, offering him a steaming mug of the local tea.
Reid accepted it with a nod of thanks. "Just wondering if we've made a deal with the devil or found our only hope of survival."
"The refugees are terrified of him," Singh said. "They call him the Blackthorn Knight. Apparently, he led the Court's forces against rebellious provinces for centuries. His name was used to frighten children into obedience."
"And yet he claims to have turned against Seraphine to protect refugees," Reid mused.
"People change," Singh offered. "Even monsters."
"Or they pretend to," Reid countered, taking a sip of the tea. "Have Whitaker and our guest made any progress?"
"They're still at it. The doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning, and the knight seems... amused by her enthusiasm." Singh hesitated. "The men are talking, sir. They don't like having him here. Some are saying we should just eliminate the threat now, rather than wait for him to betray us."
Reid sighed. "Can't say I blame them. But if he's telling the truth about Seraphine and these ley-lines, we need him."
"And if he's not?"
Reid's hand moved unconsciously to his sidearm. "Then I'll deal with him myself."
As if summoned by their conversation, a distant howl echoed across the landscape—a sound like no earthly animal Reid had ever heard. It was answered by another, then another, forming a chilling chorus.
"What the hell is that?" Singh whispered.
Before Reid could respond, Gareth appeared beside them, moving with the silent grace that made Williams constantly nervous.
"Shadowhounds," the knight said grimly. "Seraphine's scouts. They hunt through the ley-lines, tracking energy disruptions." He turned to Reid, his eyes reflecting the moonlight like a predator's. "It seems our timetable has shortened considerably, Captain. The Court knows you're here."
Reid met his gaze steadily. "Then I suggest you start earning your keep, Sir Knight. Because ready or not, it seems we're about to meet the neighbors."
The howls grew closer, and throughout Avalon, soldiers reached for their weapons as the night filled with the sounds of approaching danger.
The game had begun.