(Don’t miss the beginning of the story. Read Part One.)
No one saw Ciaran come down from the North, but the legends say that he rode a dark rain cloud, just over the ground all the way to the gates of Camelot.
The great city was a shell of it’s former self. The doors no longer hung on its hinges, but sat sadly by, becoming fire wood for the guards the kept out the undesirables. But doors or guards would not have been able to resist Ciaran. His entrance wowed the people, sending murmurs through the ranks of people. It went all the way up to the Stewart, the seat-holder king. Continue reading “The One-Eyed King – Part Two”