Sons of Camelot: The Complete Trilogy (31 page)

The knights arrayed before him as one and cried, “For King Arthur and Camelot! Victory or death!” When the clamor had died down, wise Sir Cador spoke.

“We are with you, my king. Unto the fires of hell itself. But the question remains: we are weeks away from Camelot, where Mordred must be mere days. Before we return, Camelot will have fallen to devilry, and will be fortified against us. You made Camelot to be impregnable to assault, and it would be an ill jest if we lose our home to magic and then cannot retake it. I fear we are in for a long campaign of attrition. We take back all of fair England, and then starve Mordred out, yes?”

Merlin stood and answered, and he did not apologize for speaking in the king’s stead. “I believe I have a solution, though not one of you may like it. You have witnessed how I move freely from place to place, but I have never shown you
how.
To take all of you will take more skill than I possess, and great bravery on your part. If you are willing, we shall walk beyond death, beyond heaven, and through the back doors of the many worlds.”

Lancelot stroked his chin, stark and handsome he was as he said, “Tell us plainly, friend Merlin Graycloak; you speak in riddles. You say to take this path wants more strength than you have, so how do you propose to put it into effect?”

Merlin did not answer, but turned and faced the ruined wall of the stone fort behind where he sat. From where the knights were standing, they saw his staff move in a strange pattern, then the old wizard began to spin it, hand over hand in front of him. Faster and faster the wooden staff moved, until it seemed a blur, too fast for any mortal man to see or enact; but as they had seen time and time again thrice over, Merlin was no mere man. He was a wizard,
The Wizard
, the greatest of his age and the last that would ever be seen in this world. The wooden staff began to glow, an iridescent purple light began to form about him, which grew in brilliance until no man could stand to look at it, save King Arthur himself, who stared unflinchingly at it. There was a tearing sound, and the ruined rock wall of the fort seemed to fall in on itself, eaten and disappearing into nothing as if an invisible animal was taking great bites. Merlin was chanting, louder and louder in a language none had the knowledge to understand, until there was a final great
crack,
and the wizard and his staff became still.

The light faded, and the knights could see the wonders Merlin had wrought. In the place of the wall lay a great oval opening of violet, large enough for two horses to ride abreast through it, though to where it led, none could say. There was a speck of light moving toward them from within this portal, though when Sir Bors examined it from the side, there was no tunnel leading away; it was simply as a coin, flipped in the air and held there by air alone. The speck grew larger, and eventually, sharp-eyed Sir Sagramor could hold his tongue no longer. “Sooth! It is a chariot, unless I am deceived!”

“Aye,” said Merlin, and the shape resolved itself in the sight of the rest of the knights. It was a chariot unlike any on earth; for it was not of this earth at all. Drawn by winged horses and fashioned from the ivory gifted by a thousand dying unicorns, Titania rode into the realm of men for the first time in an age. A terrible and beautiful sight she was; wrapped in thin silks and bronzed armor of battle, she bore a great bow with which she had struck down a hundred times a hundred foes. Driving the chariot was a beautiful girl, although she was no girl by the blue of her hair and butterfly wings on her back. Another lass of similar countenance stood with her mistress, bearing a long spear. The chariot stopped without needing to slow down, and rotated within the portal to face the direction from whence it had come.

The mistress of the chariot herself spun on her heel to face the knights, and favored Arthur with her gaze. “Noble Arthur of the Mortal Realm,” her twinkling voice sang, “in your darkest hour, I, Titania of the Storm, have come to give you much-needed assistance. My fair maids here present are Vanya and Thenidiel, of the same. I bring you fair blessing and good favor from Queen Mab of the Seelie Court, who bears a great burden allowing me to manifest to you. Will you ride with us? Against Oberon, and the death of all?”

Arthur nodded gravely. “Aye, we will ride to battle with the fae. Will ye ride with us, against Mordred and the doom of England?”

Titania smiled, and bowed low. “My king, I propose an accord. The humans are yours; leave the elves and goblins to us.”

Chapter Eleven

Cumbria, England.

Since the first day they had met at the Everlasting Pool, Naida had dreamed of this day. Despite the fell times, and the prospect of ruin for everything she knew, to have Rhys in her arms was almost worth it. They had lain for some time together, staring into each other’s eyes, violet meeting green. “Rhys, you are a grown man now, I believe,” she joked with him, stroking the dark hair growing on his throat. “I fear that I haven’t changed, not one bit, so sad that I am not mortal like you, my love.”

Rhys took her hand, and standing up he pulled her to her feet. He was so tall that when he pulled her close, her head fell neatly on his well-muscled chest. “I fear that you tell a lie, Naida, though you know it not. Your tale of the fate of Minerva and her sacrifice would change any being, faery or mortal. I see it in you now, the pain you bear. And now we must put an end to this. Take me to Rinnah, so that I may do what needs be done.”

Naida looked up at her destined love with fresh tears in her eyes, and confusion set upon her. “But Rhys, I know not where she is! I swear, I had looked from one end of the land to the other, every copse of trees I have looked o’er, and naught!” She felt her lip tremble at the realization that she had failed Minerva, which had cost her friend her life, and now also failed Rhys, the
Nestaron,
or so she had believed. He could not become the
Nestaron,
The Dragon Prince of prophecy, without defeating Rinnah in her challenge. Finding Rinnah had been
her
job. Naida fell to her knees, but Rhys caught her and pulled her up. Her knees were weak, but he carried her weight easily.

“Nay, my lady. Soft now. You know where Rinnah is, but you could not find her with your heart seeking me instead. Now, you have me, always. Whether we die this day or a thousand years from now, I pledge myself to thee.” Rhys lay a kiss on her lips, and the fire of her magical love flowed in Naida’s veins. She pulled away, confused.

“How can you know this?” she whispered, looking up into Rhys’ face. His eyes burned with a strange intensity that she had not seen before, and he felt strong, even dangerous now with his determination.

“I… don’t know, Naida. It feels like a dream, or a memory of something that I don’t recall ever having experienced. Does that make sense?”

Being faekind, it made perfect sense to Naida; there could be only one answer. “Queen Mab has sent you muses, shaping your dreams to show you your path. Woe that I cannot hear the same whispers. Mab, Queen of Eon, show me what I must do!”

Rhys laughed. “When I don’t know where I am going, I either let Broderick decide, or trust my instinct. Where would you think Rinnah would hide? Your people are fond of poetics and myths; I mean you, practically
are myths.
”

Naida considered for a moment. She knew! Of course she knew. The only possible location for the Eternal Branch would have to be at the poetically appropriate place; it was so obvious!

“Take my hand, Rhys. I’m taking you to Rinnah.” Rhys took her hand as he was bid, and in a moment of concentration, they were flying through the places between worlds, wrapped in the magic protection of destiny and Queen Mab’s intent. It felt to Rhys like hours, years, no time at all and eternity all at once, like a dream within a dream. When they landed, it was hard and sent him tumbling to the ground once more.

Naida turned about, trying to make sure that she had brought them both to the right place. The trees of this grove of apple trees was perfectly tended, heavy fruit grew on their branches. They were in a great courtyard; high towers and battlements surrounded them with pennants flying proudly.

“Naida,” said Rhys as he got to his feet, “you did it! This is the place, I am sure of it, but… is this
Camelot?”

“Of course,” Naida said. “When you reminded me of myths, I felt it was the only right answer. After all, are we not in a myth ourselves?” She laughed gaily.

“Myths usually have monsters-sss, my dear,” hissed an all-too familiar voice. Anebos the cambion slithered out of the shadow of the largest apple tree. Rhys nocked an arrow and drew his bow to his eye.

“What obscenity are you, foul creature?” he demanded.

Naida answered him. “This is Anebos; he is the wraith that slew Minerva! I will take my revenge upon him!”

Without another word, Naida drew on the power granted to her by Mab and threw a thousand blades of air at the undead thing. The assault would have cut a mortal man to ribbons, but the cambion laughed a hissing giggle at her. Rhys loosed his arrow, and the shaft struck true, through where the heart of the creature should be. Anebos placed a hand on the shaft skewering his body, and it turned to dust at his touch.

“You will have to do better than that, my child!” Anebos whimpered, and the air in front of him ignited into a torrent of flame that Naida turned into a cloud of wasps before it could incinerate Rhys.

“My love, find Rinnah! I will hold this creature here; slay him if I may. Mortal weapons cannot kill this abomination!” Naida punctuated her words by turning the ground beneath Anebos to a nest of serpents. Rhys looked on, unsure, but then turned on his heels against everything his heart commanded him to do, and fled into the Orchard.

Naida and Anebos dueled on, fire and blood against faery light.

Chapter Twelve

Camelot, Caerleon, England

Rinnah was sitting waiting for him at the end of the orchard. She smiled, though she showed no sign of humor in her eyes. Clad in a simple purple shift, with hair of fire and wings that glowed in the sun, she was terror and beauty the same. She wore a great bow of silver and gold over her shoulder. A winged horse stood behind her, grazing on a small pile of apples that were magically raising themselves to be fed to the mystical creature. Rhys bowed to her, half of his mind with Naida. Great booming explosions and cries of anger echoed through the trees, coupled with gasping hisses from the wight Anebos. He felt adrenaline course through his veins.

“Rinnah, I am here.” He said, simply. He found he did not have the words for courtesy.

Rinnah spoke in a voice of tinkling glass. “I? Who is
I
? I am Rinnah, you are not. You, human, who disturbs my orchard with battle? You are unworthy to challenge me.” Rinnah leapt in the air, performed a somersault and landed in the high branch of a tree.

“Wait!” Rhys commanded. “Do you know naught of what has transpired? I must defeat you, or your own queen and all your kin will surely perish, along with me and mine.”

Rinnah laughed, and there was the subtle hint of madness to her glee that seemed like it was water inside a container being filled; so much so that the water would spill over.

What then?
Rhys thought.
Then, she kills me.

“Lady Rinnah, please!” he tried again, beseeching. “Can you understand me at all?” Frustration and no little terror bloomed in his belly as the inya warrior bounced here and there and here again in the treetops, to the accompanying sound of a distant scream of pain from Naida. Rhys could take no more; he had been beaten, he had slain men and lost brothers. His land was in peril, and an insane faery was not going to stop him, not this day. In a fluid motion, he drew and notched one of the broadhead arrows blessed by his mother, and loosed it at Rinnah.

Rinnah bounded backward and caught the arrow neatly in one hand.

“Human, do you know why I have been placed here?” she asked, cocking her head to the side mockingly. She rolled her eyes and then answered her own question. “Of course not! I will tell you. I am here because I do not care! I never have and it is my fate that I never will. I have been deemed eternally impartial to everything and anything that transpires outside of the Silver Orchard.”

“But what if the worlds perish, what will happen to you and your orchard then? Won’t you perish along with the rest of us? You have to care about that!”

“Stupid boy! There are far more worlds that the three you know of and that are now embroiled in turmoil. I will take my trees elsewhere should you fools raze these worlds to the ground. The trial of
Nestaron
has begun!” she cackled. “Three arrows you may fire, I give ye this one for free. Three arrows to hit me square, and I will give the Eternal Branch to thee!”

This stopped Rhys in his tracks. He had thought he would have to shoot targets, fire from horseback or some other task against his skill and prowess with a bow. The look on Rinnah’s face was mad, but he did not believe she was lying.

“What happens if I fail?” he called up to the inya, who was now sitting on a branch dangling her legs.

“Why, I flay you alive and feed you to my horse; of course, of course!”