Gaita of the Lake

            High in the north tower, the old druid’s body fell down the winding stone staircase after the sword was removed from his stomach. The last sound he heard was the winter winds battering the castle walls. He died before hitting the last step, blood trailing its final path. His staff followed soon after, hitting his body with a dull thud before clanging on the floor. It was his fault, after all.             He was warned not to accept an invitation from the wizard of the north.             Cleaning the druid’s blood from the blade, the wizard of the north strode the torch lit hallway until he reached a large room that was his sanctum. The sword started to hum and glowed a pale blue. He entered through the doorway to greet his eleven guests. One was living, ten were not.             “So it is done,” the hooded woman said, approaching him.             “He tumbled most spectacularly.”             “How many years has it been?”             “About twelve decades, I’d say. But, we mustn’t delay.”             They walked together to the circle of grey bodies dressed in their final attire. Armor worn in another age, the masterstroke of unification undone by the very vices they sworn to resist. Their bodies were laid in a circle with their heads nearest the center, lines of salt and mercury strewn in esoteric patterns and symmetry. Symbols of no spoken language were weaved into this hellish fabric.             “I wish we had had more room,” the wizard said.             “I arranged them just as you said,” the hooded woman said.             “I know, but I’m afraid one of them wakes up and slams their helm into my groin.”             “How many years since you’ve even—”             “That’ll be enough out of you.”             The hooded woman could feel his piercing stare through the back of his head as he approached the circle. He was too old and far too clever still, she thought.             “I heard that.”             “I hadn’t said anything.”             “Oh, I heard it. I can hear anything in this castle. One often doesn’t know what slips between one’s lips in insipid silence.”             “Ears of a fox still.”             “And legs like a newborn horse, I’m afraid,” the wizard said as he carefully stepped over the strewn bodies, not disturbing an inch of the spell, although almost failing a couple of times.             “Will it work?” The hooded woman asked.             “Not the first time I’ve reanimated a body, I’ll have you know. Although, it has been a while, admittedly.”             The hooded woman twirls the curls of her hair and bites the bottom of her lip in anticipation.             “It’s time now. Make sure you’re enough away or the field may draw your life energy instead,” the wizard called.             The sword, once glowing a pale blue, intensified. Condensation appeared around the hilt and worked its way toward the tip shrouding the blade in dense, obscuring fog. The air in the sanctum started to circulate. A rush of wind beat the outside walls harder as if winter itself was about to lay siege to the weapon itself. The rush turned into a rolling thunder as light flickered from the condensation and a storm of flash and shadow danced and roiled louder and colder until waves of wind thrashed the room with a deafening vortex, sending books, lamps, and glass crashing through lair. The wizard’s voice was yelling incantation, barely noticed by the prevailing hurricane.             The condensation churned thrashed until a single drop of bright icy liquid dropped from the tip of the blade into the mid of the circle, sending otherworldly light into the room until it overtook every shadow and exposed every corner. The whole room went blind and deaf, the crescendo of magic erasing all time and thought from the inhabitants and a moment of silence was had until the air waves rescinded and order established a world anew.             The hooded woman found herself clutching her chest, her lungs hot and expended as if she undertook a hundred mile journey at her quickest pace, her every muscle aching from unknown exhaustion. The wizard was still in the circle, frozen in a triumphant pose. Did it work? She attempted to say but failed.             “Wait,” the wizard said.             Moments went by without movement. The bodies arranged did not stir until the sixth second of the sixth minute. Curiously, the hooded woman noticed the leylines of the precarious circle were not disturbed in the slightest, despite the catastrophe that destroyed most of the sanctum, tearing embroidered blood red banners and shattering oak curios.             The movements of the bodies were so slow they didn’t register to have moved, like a flower waiting to bloom. But after a couple of minutes, a few of them started to curl and contract until they clumsily sat up not a word under the new breath.             “You’ve done it,” the hooded woman exclaimed. “My word, you’ve done it.”             “Told you,” the wizard yawned, sitting in the corner of the room with his legs stretched out, slumping with exhaustion. “They’ll be mindless thralls for the next few days, but slowly parts of their personality will come back in time. They won’t be the same, obviously, for death, like life, is quite damaging. But certainly, you can see it was and still is them.”             “My beloveds,” the hooded woman said, wrapping her arms around the few nearest to her. “I’ve missed you all.”             Her eyes fell upon the one that now faced her that raised with kingly stature, bearded with empty eye sockets, dressed in the worn golden armor adorned with a dragon on its breastplate.             “My husband,” she said as she approached him, putting her arms around his neck. He smelled like the cold earth that preserved him. “My dear husband.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek of his helm.             “All is well and that starts well,” the wizard yawned. “I think I deserve a good night’s rest after that.”             “Magnificent work,” the hooded woman said. She turned around to see the wizard already fast asleep and gently snoring.             She walked over to the sleeping wizard and brushed the long white hair that fell in front of his eyes and kissed him lightly on the forehead.             “Soon, we’ll have our revenge, won’t we?”             The winter winds resumed beating the castle walls and sending echoes through the tower. The dull clanking of metal sounded in the destroyed sanctum as the knights found their footing. The torchlight flickered in the halls. The hooded woman grinned.               “Won’t we, Merlin?”