Authors: KATHERINE ROBERTS
LANCE OF TRUTH (13 page)
When everyone was in position, Elphin rode Evenstar slowly around the circle, following the spiral path towards the centre. Behind him went Sir Bedivere with the queen’s wagon, flanked by Lancelot’s men. Cai and Gareth followed, quiet for once, with Sir Bors’
men. Agravaine’s men hung back with Rhianna and watched the Avalonian boy in awe.
She smiled as the air around Elphin began to sparkle.
Are we going home now?
Alba said, staring after Evenstar with pricked ears.
“Yes, beautiful one.” Rhianna patted her mist horse, then realised that the mare probably meant Avalon and said, “We’re going back to Camelot, where we’ll be safe.”
She watched her friends and the men who had ridden north disappear, one by one. It took some time. A wind got up and moaned around the stones, making her shiver. They were going to get wet if they didn’t hurry. She was about to tell Sir Agravaine to get going, too, when Excalibur’s blade gleamed brighter and its hilt warmed under her hand.
Alba fidgeted and shook her mane.
Bad thing comes.
A dark cloud came rolling across the moor. Rhianna stared at it uneasily. The wind blew her hair across her eyes, and she heard large wing beats. Her neck prickled.
Sir Agravaine cursed under his breath. “I hope that’s not what I think it is—”
The cloud reached them, swallowing the stones. Sir Agravaine wheeled his horse and readied his lance. Alba gave a frightened whinny. Everything was a blur of rain and shadows. Then a huge, black-winged monster dived at them out of the storm, trailing blue mist.
“I HAVE FOUND YOU, PENDRAGON!”
It was the shadrake that had attacked them last year. She’d banished it to Annwn at least twice, but it seemed to have a short memory.
Rhianna drew Excalibur. But Sir Agravaine lowered his lance and charged past her. “Leave the creature to me, damsel! Go and warn the others. I doubt it’s alone.”
She knew she should do what Sir Agravaine said, and fetch some of the men back around the spiral to help. But they wouldn’t be much use against a dragon, let alone one from Annwn. She raised Excalibur to see better. Dragon and knight were battling in a confusion of black wings and rain turned to sleet by the creature’s icy breath.
As she hesitated there was a shriek, and something small and feathered arrowed out of the storm towards her. Alba whinnied in alarm and
misted.
Somehow, Rhianna managed to stay in the saddle. Then she recognised the little falcon
and laughed in relief. “Merlin!” she gasped as the bird darted up into the cloud again.
“I’ll take care of this, Rhianna Pendragon,” called the druid. “Stay there.” The bird disappeared into the cloud.
She heard a crash and grunt of pain as the shadrake swooped at the knight again. Sir Agravaine’s horse came galloping towards them, riderless and wild-eyed. She squinted through the rain, and her heart sank. Shadowy figures armed with axes were running down from the Wall and leaping across the ditch. In a few moments they would reach the fallen knight.
She made a decision. “Tell that stupid horse to follow us,” she told Alba.
She got the Pendragon shield over her arm and did up the straps with her teeth. Then she urged the mare out of the circle towards the
fallen knight. Sir Agravaine’s loose mount followed them obediently.
The merlin and the shadrake were still performing a strange sky dance, the dragon chasing the little bird, while the merlin darted out of range and swerved among the stones to escape. Lines of frosty heather appeared across the moor as the shadrake breathed ice after it. Each time it missed the merlin, it had to flap clumsily to change direction. Then it hit a wing on a stone and rolled over.
That dragon will never catch him!
Alba snorted.
He is too fast. He says we are to keep clear.
Finally, Rhianna saw what was happening. Merlin was luring the shadrake towards the approaching bloodbeards, who saw the creature flying straight at them and fled back again to take cover in the ditch.
Sir Agravaine stumbled to his feet and ran to his horse. He gave Rhianna a furious look. “What are you still doing here?”
“Saving your life!” Rhianna yelled back.
The merlin circled and returned to the stones with the shadrake still on its tail. She hastily raised her shield, but the creature did not attack.
“GIVE ME THE DARK EYE, PENDRAGON,” it said.
Rhianna frowned. For a moment, she couldn’t think what the dragon meant. Then she remembered the mirror, which Arianrhod had taken with her in the wagon. She laughed. “I haven’t got it any more. If you want it, you’ll have to come to Camelot. Now go!”
“THAT CAN BE ARRANGED,” the shadrake said, swooping up into the cloud.
As the creature flapped off, the merlin landed on her wrist. His feathers were ruffled and his little heart beating fast.
“Time you weren’t here, Rhianna Pendragon,” he panted. “Quickly now, let me get this path closed before any of those bloodbeards sneak through. I’ve had a little trouble with that half-brained shadrake since I saw you last, or I’d have been here sooner. Move, girl, and get that mist horse of yours back to Camelot. You can do no more here.”
“Is Mordred out there, too?” Rhianna craned her neck, trying to see past the stones. The bloodbeards were still cowering in the ditch. “We might be able to get the Lance of Truth back…”
“Don’t even think about it,” Sir Agravaine growled.
“Go!” The merlin pecked her wrist. “I’ll fly back the long way. I don’t fancy getting trapped in the spiral path again, and I want to see what that dragon’s up to. Try not to get into any more mischief before I get back.”
Rhianna hesitated a moment longer. But if Mordred had come with his men, he was keeping out of sight. She sheathed Excalibur and sent Alba galloping after Sir Agravaine. Taking off again into the storm, the druid drew the path closed behind him in a shower of sparkling feathers and vanished.
By the time they reached the other end of the spiral path, nearly everyone had gone on ahead to Camelot with the queen and Sir Lancelot. The sun was shining, just as Sir Bedivere
had promised. A flattened area of grass showed where Arthur’s pavilion had stood for their picnic, and crushed flowers scented the air. So long ago it seemed, yet it had only been a few days. She wondered what the other squires and damsels had thought when they woke up to find them gone.
Alba snorted in relief and lowered her head to nibble at the grass.
Tastes stale
, she said, spitting out the squashed stalks in disgust. Then a horse whinnied, and the mare pricked her white ears.
Evenstar is here!
Rhianna felt almost too tired to raise her head as Elphin came running to take her rein. He saw the blood on her wrist and gazed anxiously into her face, his eyes violet with concern.
“
Faha’ruh
, Elphin,” she said wearily. “I’m all
right – it was only the merlin’s claws. He came back like he said he would, only—”
“
Faha’ruh
, Rhia,” he said, putting a finger on her lips. “I thought I’d lost you.”
She managed a grin for her friend as she slid to the ground and into his arms. “Not that easily, you don’t.”
“What happened? The knights who came through last said something about a dragon.”
“The bloodbeards turned up with the shadrake.”
Elphin’s eyes darkened. “Then I hope it ate them!”
“It had a good try. Merlin stayed behind to see what it’s up to. I hope he doesn’t get hurt.”
Sir Agravaine coughed, and they broke apart, remembering they weren’t alone. Elphin was still looking at her with those violet eyes
full of Avalonian magic. Rhianna flushed.
Cai and Arianrhod came running across to join them with Sir Bedivere close behind, demanding to know what had happened. She explained about Merlin’s trick and the dragon chasing the bloodbeards into the ditch. Agravaine muttered something about it being a good thing it had, or they’d both be dead by now. Elphin relaxed slightly.
“Yah!” Cai said. “Serves them right. We showed ’em, didn’t we, Damsel Rhianna?”
“We lost the Lance of Truth,” Rhianna reminded them. “Mordred took it.”
“Well, it’ll be a while before he dares bring his army south,” Sir Bedivere said. “So let’s get back to Camelot before everyone thinks I got their princess murdered on a picnic, shall we?”
“Good idea,” Sir Agravaine grunted. “Better
sneak her in the back way, though, before her mother sees her. Just look at the state of you, Damsel Rhianna!”
Embarrassed, Rhianna smoothed her hair. “What’s wrong with me?” she said.
Sir Bedivere was fighting a smile. “Where’s that mirror gone? Show the girl what she looks like.”
Arianrhod pulled out the black mirror and held it up so she could see herself. Alba snorted at it, and Rhianna stiffened.
She eyed the glass warily, but it reflected back only her own face. She saw a cloud of frizzy red hair with the sun in it and smudges on her cheeks. At least her freckles had faded with all that northern rain. She scowled as she remounted Alba. “Well? What do you expect? I just need a bath, that’s all.”
Everyone laughed. She grinned too. But she looked at the mirror thoughtfully. Mordred’s mother had said it was a spirit channel, and it had belonged to her cousin. As they rode back to Camelot, a daring plan began to form.
M
ordred leaned on the Lance of Truth and glowered about the room that should have held his prisoner. When it became obvious that they couldn’t stop his cousin and her friends escaping through the stones, he’d left his men to deal with the stupid dragon and ridden straight back to the tower. The last thing he’d expected to see, when he’d dragged himself up the stairs, was an open door and an empty bed.
He snatched up the end of the chain and frowned at it. The links still sparkled faintly.
“You fools!” He flung the chain at the useless bloodbeards he’d left to guard the queen. They ducked as it clanged off the wall. “Are you trying to tell me you let a damsel and a fairy with a harp break my mother’s enchantments and steal my hostage from a locked room? What were you doing while they were cutting her free? Picking your filthy noses?”
“They used m-magic on us, Master,” stammered one of the men cowering by the door. “And the damsel had a sword…”
“Of course she had a sword! I know Excalibur’s work when I see it.” Mordred clenched his fist. “So my cousin’s not only stolen my mirror, she’s spirited her mother away through those druid stones, too!
This goes from bad to worse.”
“B-but you have the m-magic lance, Master.”
“Yes I have, and don’t you forget it!” He gripped the bedpost so he could swing the lance at the guard, who paled and stumbled backwards down the stairs. His friend grabbed him just in time to stop him breaking his neck.
Mordred smiled. He supposed that, on the whole, a magic lance was slightly more use than his mirror. At least he could use it as a crutch when he was out of his saddle. The queen had served her purpose.
He sat on the bed to rest his crippled leg.
“M-master?” asked the nervous guard. “What should we do now? Do you want us to go south after them?”
He frowned. “Not yet. They’ll be back at
Camelot by now. Go help bury the dead, and leave me in peace. I need to think.”
The men went, shoving each other in their eagerness to escape.
Mordred lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t ask his mother what to do. She’d always been there to help him – first in the flesh, and then in the mirror. But she’d messed things up for him, sending that stupid dragon to take care of Merlin last winter and giving the druid’s spirit an escape route. And she hadn’t been a lot of use at the duel, come to think of it, letting his cousin and her fairy friend get past her spells and bring the knights inside the fort.
“I don’t need you, Mother,” he muttered. “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have the Sword of Light and my cousin in here now—”
“
Mordred
,” said a voice.
He sat up with a jerk. The lance was glowing faintly where he had propped it against the bedpost. His spine prickled as the air in front of him darkened, forming a circle the size of his stolen mirror. The circle sparkled faintly around the edges, and a face looked out at him… magic.
He broke into a sweat, afraid his mother had found a way to send her spirit from Annwn to punish him for what he’d just said. Then he realised that the face had freckles and was framed by red hair, and his stomach jolted in recognition.
“Cousin?” he said warily.
The green eyes focused on him. She smiled. “Yes, it’s me. Were you expecting someone else? I found this mirror at the fort when you
were busy duelling. Careless, leaving a magic mirror lying around like that.”
He scowled at her, annoyed that she’d found out how to use the magic, but curious too. “What do you want?”
“I want the Lance of Truth you stole from Sir Lancelot, of course. And I know you still want the Sword of Light. How about we finish the duel? Winner takes both Lights.”
Mordred sat up straighter, interested now. “I want my mirror back as well.”
“Agreed – but only if you win. If you lose, I’ll smash it.”
He winced. “Where can we tilt?”
“There’s a lake near the battlefield where you fought my father. Do you know it?”
His mind raced. Too close to Camelot. It would be dangerous. They might be
planning some fairy magic. His mother would no doubt advise against it, but the witch had lost touch with the world of men. Her methods had failed. Now it was up to him to put things right.
“Tilt against a damsel?” he said, curling his lip. Surely she wasn’t stupid enough to ride against him herself? He held his breath in hope.
“No.” She frowned. “You’ll meet the Pendragon’s champion, of course. Strict rules this time.”
“I thought Lancelot was dying.”
“Your poison failed. Elphin’s healing him.”
Mordred frowned. He’d beaten Lancelot back at the fort, but that had been with his mother’s help. In his Uncle Arthur’s day, no challenger had ever bested the Pendragon’s champion in a fair tilt. But this time
he
would
have the magic lance, and Lancelot couldn’t use the Sword of Light, even if the crazy girl let him borrow it.
“When?” he asked, still wary.
She hesitated, and he smiled to himself. So the great knight could not be fully healed yet.
“Midsummer’s Day,” she said in the end.
Mordred made a swift calculation. That would give him time to round up his rabble and get them into position. His lip curled. Strict rules for the duel, maybe. But he’d have a backup plan in place.
He smiled again, feeling sure of himself for the first time since he’d killed King Arthur. “I’ll be there,” he promised.
