As journeys go, this one was proving to be pretty awkward.
Arthur and Bors were riding way out in front, and the atmosphere between the two was decidedly frosty.
Bors had made his opinion on his Prince's hands-on behaviour with me very clear - Arthur was sporting a black eye that I was damned if I would be healing - and it seemed sensible to let them work through their issues in their own distinctly male way.
By this, I mean squashing down all the emotional turmoil and never speaking about it ever again. You know, all healthy like.
It had not gone unnoticed that the only one of my companions who thought Arthur had crossed a line was the guy I knew least well. As a consequence, Bors had gone right to the top of a very exclusive list of people who I thought of as 'not too bad, really'.
Merlin and Drynwyn, on the other hand . . . Let's just say I have another list - a fairly extensive one - of those I wouldn't piss on if they were on fire and note everyone else in our little quest group was on it.
My mood thoroughly soured, I shifted uncomfortably in my horse's saddle. It might shock you to learn that this was my first time riding one. I know! I absolutely give off the vibe of someone whose daddy paid for his Little Princess to have lessons every Saturday, don't I?
Well, shockingly, not. I have some dim and distant memories of various farm visits when I was pretty young, but that's about it. For me, animals serve a very limited purpose in the world, most of which is to taste delicious. I was happy to have grown up at a time and place where only chinless wonders used them as modes of transport, and the less said about people who kept pets, the better.
The horse I was sitting on was called Forca. He was big and dark brown and appeared to find the very idea of someone on his back to be a massive imposition. We'd only been going for a few hours, and he had already landed me in the mud six times.
But on the plus side, that vantage point gave me an excellent view of his comically enormous penis. So, swings and roundabouts.
What with all the brooding silence - punctuated by my swearing at Phallic Forca when he shook me off again - we weren't making especially fast progress towards our first Quest destination, the Forest of Enchantment. On the one hand, most of the party knew this whole thing was a ruse, and Guinevere wasn't in any danger, so why would we hurry? On the other, though, Prince Wanker was still seeming pretty chill about the whole 'saving my wife from a dastardly kidnapper' thing. I've been on pub crawls that moved with more focus and intensity.
I know you are angry, my dear, but I must insist you refer to Arthur appropriately.
I ignored the wizard - I had been doing a lot of that lately - and dropped into my Artist's Studio. To pass the time between unseatings, I'd spent most of the journey observing how my Qi cycled around my body. By hook or by crook, I knew I'd ended up with some pretty insanely overpowered channels, and I sensed I wasn't really making the most of them. From what I understood, the time and effort it would have taken to get to this level of smoothness should have unlocked all sorts of cultivator goodies and knowledge. By progressing so quickly to Ron, I'd missed out on many vital experiences and was clearly the worst off for it.
It would obviously help to have a legendary wizard offer their thoughts on this, but I was not asking Merlin for any more advice right now.
I directed a handful of Qi to a fresh, white page, watching as the purple blob landed and then held its spherical structure on the sheet. It was a perfect globe and was, and I don't know a better way to say this, vibrating with potential.
Given enough time, it felt like I could do pretty much anything I wanted with this power. I'd been getting a much better feel for this stuff during the 'hunting of the Saxons', and I sensed I was on the edge of . . . some sort of breakthrough.
For now, though, I wanted to work on my control, not change the universe.
I rolled the blob around the page, leaving a drawing of a rudimentary horse in its wake. After a moment, I went back and added a huge dick. Forca's magnificence needed to be documented, after all.
When I was finished, I let the excess Qi return to my channels and looked at the picture properly.
I mean, it wasn't my finest work - Gainsborough wouldn't be hanging up his brush in despair at the bar to which I had raised equine artistry - but I was happy enough with it. No one would fail to recognise that this was a priapic purple horse.
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The point of this exercise, though, was to see if I could do anything else with the drawing. From all the reading Merlin had been forcing on me since the battle in front of the walls of Tintagel, it seemed that anything I produced with my Qi was basically mine to command. So, having sketched out Randy Ronny, I should be able to animate him in some way.
Annoyingly, though, I didn't quite know how.
Trying to pick him up didn't cut it - although I could feel that there was something more tangible to the drawing than it simply being painted on paper, that didn't mean I could simply lift it clear.
Likewise, no amount of Magic-Eyes achieved anything especially noticeable. It was quite a quandary.
I can help you if you want?
I know I wasn't going to be able to ignore Merlin forever, but he'd definitely earned a good while longer of the cold shoulder.
For whatever reason, we'd not really been on the best of terms since the Saxons were sent packing. However, it was going to take me quite some time to get over his whole 'you asked for it' attitude. Say what you like about my Dad - and believe me, I'd said plenty over the years - he'd been very clear about what would happen to any man who put his hands on his little girl.
It was causing me more pain than I'd like to admit that my two closest friends in this realm were taking the opposite view.
My dear, I'm sorry if you are upset about something I've done.
I hated that style of apology. I'd heard it too many times over the years. It's not 'I'm sorry I did something wrong'. It's 'I'm sorry you are upset about what I did.' It's not contrition. It's sorrow you are being emotionally incontinent about the whole thing.
I could feel I was going to lose my temper.
Rather than give the Big M the satisfaction, I focused back on my drawing. And this time, I sensed that there was another dimension to the horse. It wasn't quite 'solid', but neither was it just lines on a page. It was like it had inflated somewhat.
Apparently, angry Morgan had more cards to play than a contemplative one.
Drawing on my fury with my sword and the wizard, I poured that emotion into the horse, gasping as it inflated like a balloon.
In no time at all, the drawing had lifted clear from the page and stood, rigid and upright, on the page.
It was still manifestly a picture, though. Like a cardboard statue. So I pushed a bit more of my anger into it - honestly, this was some of the best drawing therapy I'd had in some time - and it came alive.
It was the weirdest sensation. One moment, it was a doodle of a purple horse with a big dick, and the next, it was alive and cantering around inside my head.
Just to say, my dear, you are doing something quite impressive at the moment, and I am very proud of you.
"Fuck off, Merlin."
No, honestly. Well done you.
The horse reached the end of the page and reacted like it had hit a wall, quickly turning and setting off to the other side. When it got to the edge over there, it turned again and set off at a tangent. It could have been my imagination, but it seemed to move faster each time.
Whilst acknowledging just how fantastic this manifestation of your power has been, my dear, are you open to just the tiniest bit of advice?
After a few more collisions, the horse was now careening about the page at an astonishing speed. Each crash against the edge made my artist's studio shake. I was beginning to wonder about the advisability of rage as an energy source ...
"How do I make it stop?"
Well, that is an excellent question. I'm very pleased you have thought to ask it.
"Merlin ..."
At your stage of development - not that you haven't made astonishing progress. Because you have. I am very proud of you - any object you create with your Qi has a reasonably finite lifespan. Five, ten minutes at most. So, you have two choices. You can wait it out -
My Artist's Studio shook with another colossal impact of a supersonic horse against a page. "Or?"
You let it out.
"Just like that?"
You need to be aware that the potential for devastating damage to be caused by an out-of-control Qi construct is likely to be significant. But . . . well, we are near the edge of the Enchanted Forest. They will have seen worse.
As loathe as I was to put others at risk, I did not think I had much choice. I didn't get any sense of malevolence from Randy Roger; he just wanted to run. He was only getting antsy because he was trapped in a small space. I could dig that. "So, how do I let him out?"
It really is quite simple. All you have to do is release the construct from its bonds.
"I love it when you say things like that. 'Release the construct from its bonds'. Absolutely. No worries at all. Why didn't I think of that? Honestly, Merlin, you are one of the lousiest teachers in the known universe." I felt like my entire head would be shaken off at any second.
Many apologies, my dear. It is easy to forget when you perform such wondrous feats that you are still quite new at all this. You should visualise your construct, not held within you, but in the world outside. This will pierce the veil between the two, allowing it to surge to freedom.
Annoyingly, it was pretty much exactly like that.
I imagined Randy galloping free on the track next to me, and - poof - there he was. My own horse reared up at his unexpected companion, depositing me again on the ground. Bors and Arthur turned at the noise and narrowly avoided being unhorsed themselves as a purple streak flashed between them and off into the forest beyond.
Fare thee well, Roger. I really hope you enjoy your brief time in the world.
Bors was looking at me with barely concealed horror.
"Did you do that?"
I shrugged.
"Fuck me," he puffed his cheeks appreciatively, "did you see the size of the cock on that thing?"