The Knight (25 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Camelot

The arrow flew straight and true; the many hours of practice to hone his skill served Rhys well. This time, though, it flew not toward Rinnah, who had been madly ready to dodge away again and then undoubtedly slay Rhys where he stood, but toward the beautiful winged white horse. Rinnah screamed with rage.

“Nooooo!” she screeched, and it sounded like the sound of many voices in one.

The faery warrior dived with her preternatural speed, flinging herself down in front of the speeding arrow. The broadhead slammed into her breastbone, changing the course of her flight and dropping her to the ground in a heap. Rhys put his bow aside, and ran to where Rinnah lay before her horse, which whinnied and shook its forelocks. The faery warrior looked up at him with dying eyes; beautiful red irises set in eyes that brimmed with tears of what struck Rhys as happiness. The bowshot he had hit her with had been straight and true to her heart. She tried to speak, and sparkling blood came to her lips.

“Thank you, Dragon Prince.
Nestaron
has finally come to free me from my wretched duties. Hail, thrice hail,” she whispered, and then she spoke no more. Rhys was unsure as to what would happen next, but then the strangest thing he had seen in those many days of wonder and magic began to take place. Rinnah’s body began to fade, as did the winged horse. They seemed to grow together, and the orchard itself glowed with a puissant light that dazzled his eyes. He could see many things all at once; the battle beyond the walls, King Arthur battling valiantly with Mordred at the heart of it, and to his surprise, he could see Gawain of Sheffield and John of Leeds and Thomas of Manchester in strange white armor at his side. He saw Naida, his beautiful Niada, dueling to the death with the unholy cambion. The undead thing seemed to gain the upper hand, but then with a spell that shattered the very reality of his body, Naida destroyed him utterly. He erupted into a million fiery pieces that withered into ash and scattered on the gentle breeze. The orchard merged together around him, forming a great and singular tree that bore silver apples and boasted shining, twinkling leaves, and at the very same moment Rinnah’s body, her essence itself, was forged into the Eternal Branch.

“So, she was not just the defender of the branch, she herself was part of the Lifetree!” Rhys exclaimed, and from behind him came a voice, powerful and regal, yet bearing a fatigue that he felt would crush a mere mortal such as him.

“Aye, Rhys of Gascogne, that she was. But speedy now, place the Eternal Branch on the Lifetree! I have brought
Galasriniel
to you, to earth itself, but doing so has made my life short. Haste!” the voice said. Rhys turned to see the hazy image of the great queen of the faeries, seated on a high throne, but wracked with the agony of shifting an entire region of her world into his own. He sprang forward at her command, clutched the Eternal Branch to his breast and then leaped through the portal to join her in the throne room before turning to run to the Lifetree. He wondered how he would attach the branch to its trunk, but the tree moved as if it were a living animal and opened a hole in its bark to accept his offering.

“In the name of Camelot, Eon and Avalon, I present the Eternal Branch,” he said, the words seemingly coming to his lips unbidden. “At this the great alignment of all our worlds, I am
Nestaron! Lhûgernil, the Dragon Prince, Rhys ab Tywysog, the first of his name.”
He plunged the branch into the tree, and was knocked flat by an immense shockwave that filled the room. Across time, space and the walkways between all worlds, the wave rippled, and as it roiled and broiled reality, doors began to close, throwing him out of Eon and back to Earth. Flat on his back, Rhys could only look up in wonder as the sky raced with colors, coalescing into a mirror of purple.

The faerie queen—for it was Mab herself—spoke again, and this time her voice was power itself, thunder and storms.

“Oberon of Arcadia, I summon thee in the name of Eon and Earth to answer for your crimes! Oberon, come forth! I, Queen Mab, do so command this of thee!”

Rhys managed to stand, despite the heavy weight of magic in the air, and in doing so, he saw Naida running toward him. The din of battle and Queen Mab’s thunderous words drowned out their happy words of reunion, and though the chronicles would write much of what transpired between those lovers in later days, neither one would tell of what they said at that moment. They embraced, and holding hands, took to the battlements. Below the different forces were arrayed at bay, to their left, the north and Mordred. To the right, the south, Arthur and Avalon. Above, in the skies that were a mirror, there was the great and terrible reflection of Oberon. His face was a wry smile, his pale skin and high hairline made a haughty countenance that gazed down on all the destruction he had wrought with contempt and pleasure.

“Mab, my queen, I trust to hear words of your surrender,” His voice boomed, as mighty as Mab’s own. “Mordred and Arcadia are victorious; you must see!”

Rhys saw that it was so. Though the forces of light were fighting valiantly. There were simply too many foes, and they were slowly and inexorably being surrounded by the black legion.

Mab spoke again, and this time, her voice was close, tired and present. Rhys and Naida turned to see, and there she was, a frail creature in a simple white gown of lace. She smiled at him, and immediately all feelings of worry left his heart at the favor.

“Nay, Oberon my love, nay. We shall not yield, for the
Dragon Prince
has come. The Lifetree is renewed, and Eon will flower forevermore.” She placed her right hand on the Lifetree, and the tree responded to her touch, glowing brightly with an inner fire.

The moment Mab touched the Lifetree, there was a great wailing from the battle, and a bellow of rage and frustration from mighty Oberon.

“Impossible! I cannot lose this day!” he cried, but the trepidation in his voice gave lie to his words. Across the battlefield, great chasms split the earth open wherever the forces of Arcadia stood. Drow companies disappeared by the legion; goblin war bands spat and cursed as they were dragged into the bowels of the earth by invisible hands. The human forces staggered to keep their ground amongst the uproar, but the fae chariots, imbued with the power of the Lifetree itself took to the air, soaring over the battlefield and smiting the airborne terrors of Oberon and casting them down into the pit.

“Oberon, I seal thee and all thy kind inside Arcadia for eternity,” Mab said, “never to trouble the worlds of man or fae again, not until you can convince me that you have renounced your ways of villainy and discord. One age of man must pass before I consider your plea again. Your magic is undone, and I declare your staff broken!” Mab said, and clenched her fist. Sparks flew from it, and the magic mirror in the skies began to fade with the wailing cry of Oberon as his magical guile deserted him.

Below the castle walls, the forces of Mordred, the humans that remained, suddenly found themselves outnumbered where mere moments ago they were on the cusp of utter victory. Their morale failed them and the mercenaries of the long ships and the northern clans began to flee the retribution of Camelot, Avalon and Eon combined. Many were captured, yet many more fled back to their homelands. In later days, with Mordred captured and in chains, Arthur would recognize the claim of autonomy from the Celts and the Picts, though they were bound over to make no more mischief and never to take up arms against Camelot for so long as the line of kings lived.

“It is done, then?” Naida said simply, and it was the sweetest sound that Rhys had ever heard, those few words. Finally, he and Naida were together, with no threat of death hanging over them like the executioner’s axe.

“Not yet,” said Queen Mab, and her voice was weary. “The doors of Arcadia will be bound with chains made from the wheat of the Elysian Fields, and no more will their kind trouble the hearts of men. The Lifetree will return with me to bring new life to Eon, and our people will prosper.”

“So, all is well?” asked Rhys. He did not see where Mab was driving to with her words.

“Almost,
Nestaron.
I have some final duties to enact. My first is to give thanks to thee, who restored the Eternal Branch to us after so many before you had failed.” She bowed to him, and Rhys blushed at the courtesy shown to him by this royal immortal. “Secondly, to Naida I must say, you valiantly fought at the side of this man, and brought him to his fate with courage and honor. But now you must choose; return with your people, and receive your wings as a member of the Seelie Court, and all the other high honors you shall receive, or remain here in this realm and accept the gift of mortality.”

“No!” cried Rhys, knowing that acceptance of life on Earth was on Naida’s lips. “My love, I cherish you more than any victory, and if death had taken me this day, I would have taken his hand gladly, knowing that I had held you in my arms even one time. But do not give up your long life for the brief toil of this one, I beg you!”

Naida simply smiled at him, violet eyes meeting green again, and pulled him to her for a kiss.

“Rhys, my heart’s desire, after the worlds you have seen, and all that you have done, do you remain in the belief that death is the end?” She playfully kissed him again, and turned to her queen, kneeling before her.

“My queen, I accept your boon. I will remain on Earth, and become mortal, if it pleases you,” she said, and Mab was struck by how much this young faery had grown in spirit and conviction. The dreamy girl who would rather pick mushrooms and herbs than conduct important duties was gone; in her place a woman, soon to be a great mother of lords and ladies, a line that would continue in happy times for many years. That was what she foresaw for Naida Brannon Vuin, and what she saw was pleasing to her.

“Granted, and happily, Naida,” she smiled, and then, as quickly as she had arrived, Queen Mab and the Lifetree to which she held were gone.

Epilogue

Rhys and Naida were betrothed that same day in the High Hall of Camelot.

King Arthur placed the cloth around their shoulders and tied the string about their clasped hands himself. There was understandable rejoicing, none more so than at the reunion of Rhys with Eramus. The
Nestaron
greeted his former tutor with amazement, not only with the appearance of his friend at the Battle of Camlann at all—for that is what the defeat of Mordred came to be known as—but by the cheers and chants of “Erasmus! Erasmus the Valiant!” that accompanied his entry. Erasmus explained that there had been the minor event of his having to battle Ragnar Lodbrok, chief of the Vikings, and he was regretfully forced to slay him when Ragnar would not yield. The humbleness in his retelling was met with mirth from his fellow soldiers, and gratitude from none other than King Arthur himself, who had not forgotten that it had been Erasmus who stepped forward to meet Mordred in combat, knowing it meant certain death.

Erasmus became Sir Erasmus of Avalon that day. Of King Arthur, there are many other stories that detail his deeds and nobility after the great battle against his son, Mordred. Arthur could not bring himself to slay his misbegotten son, and put him in chains in the dungeons of Camelot. Mordred, for his part, refused to swear fealty, and instead spat on his father’s hand of forgiveness. Later he would escape, and return to make mischief; though never again so great as when he had the power of Arcadia at his side.

Thomas of Manchester, Gawain of Sheffield and John of Leeds were also joyously reunited with their fellow Son of the Round Table, and they near fell over each other, trying to recount their tales since they had been parted at Kendal. Rhys, for his part, remained quiet. He could not find the words to put his tale across well until many years later, by which time the events that transpired after he saw the beautiful nymph at the Everlasting Pool seemed almost the stuff of myths themselves.

His sisters Glynnis, Aelwyd and Cadwynn would go forth from that day to rule Avalon as the Thirteenth Glastenning, and to have it heard tell aright, they were, if anything, ever more loved than even Morgan le Fae had been, though they would not hear of it themselves. The family was finally brought together when Merlin began to bring Rhys’ parents and relatives through his back doors between worlds, one by one. Anlawd came first, his genial grandfather, followed by Gwallawc. Rhys greeted his father on one knee, but his father raised him up.

“Nay, son. I kneel to you this day,” he said, and there were tears of joy at the repaired bond between them. Irelli and Mucuruna, his grandmother and mother, also came through on the arm of Merlin; and Rhys smiled greatly to see the not quite matronly eye Irelli favored Merlin with. And so, the Tywysog line was brought into completeness; and Rhys found himself happy to be among them, not raised up as a savior of worlds, or a knight of the realm, but simply a son and grandson once more.

Naida met her new family nervously, though they showered her with love and encouraged her to come live at the House at Red Ditch as soon as she may. As a mortal, her eyes would slowly change color from purple to deepest blue, but she retained all of her faery beauty; save for the points of her ears, which became as rounded and fair as any maiden’s the moment she renounced her immortality to Queen Mab. She had no wedding dress, but this did not seem to matter, neither to her new family nor her new husband.

The same evening as the Battle of Camlann, there was first a great and splendid feast. The great hall in Camelot was swelled to bursting, and every lesser hall was turned over to make room to feed the soldiers of Camelot and Avalon. After the feast was done, and the minstrels had played their fill, the Knights of the Round Table formed a guard of honor for Rhys and Naida as they passed down the hall toward the dais where King Arthur and Merlin sat. The great fraternity of noble knights was in good cheer with their four new members, and hailed and thrice hailed them when Merlin pronounced them man and wife.

Tears flowed, and laughter, and great joy was had. Great adventures for the Dragon Prince and the Knights of the Round Table would yet be lived, and it was said that not a minstrel in the land did not know at least one of the songs of the faery and the
Nestaron
for many centuries that followed.

Across the seas of reality, the realm of Eon spanned on in its happy way, quarrelsome and chaotic though the Seelie Court could sometimes be. The Lifetree grew strong again, and no longer were the faefolk dependent on the attention of humans for their vigor; although it has been rumored that sometimes when men and women walk alone in the woods, they can hear the muses whispering stories to them. The stories of Queen Mab and her doomed love Oberon, the stories of brave Minerva, and Rinnah the Mad. And yes, even this one: the story of the faery who loved a human, and gave up her long life to be his bride, and the Dragon Prince who restored two worlds to peace. And that, my friends, is as far as the muses have ever whispered to me. Perchance there will be a time when they may tell further tales to you, instead.

The End

To be continued in:

The Quest