LANCE OF TRUTH (12 page)

“No,” Rhianna told the mare. “Sandy can’t mist, and I’m not leaving Cai and my mother here in danger.”

The queen frowned at her. “If you can escape like your friend, go!” she hissed. “Otherwise Mordred will just capture us both.”

“No,” Rhianna said again, setting her jaw. “I came here to rescue you. I’m not going to let anyone take you prisoner again.”

The captain, who had been following their conversation, grinned. “Mother and daughter… how sweet! I can see Prince Mordred’s going to have a lot of fun with you two later.”

Cai scowled at the man. “If that sneak so much as touches a hair of Damsel Rhianna’s head, I’ll kill him!”

“Oooh!” The bloodbeard captain laughed and raised his hands in mock fright. “So this plump little squire’s your new champion, is he? Let’s hope he has better luck at it than Sir Lancelot did… is he dead yet? Mordred poisoned his blade before the duel, you know. A small precaution, since you sent him the wrong sword. Once he’s killed your fairy friend, he’ll be up here to deal with you.”

The queen sucked in her breath. Some of the fierceness went out of her eyes.

Poisoned! Rhianna thought of the way the champion knight had sagged under Mordred’s final blow. She saw a tear roll down her mother’s cheek, and anger filled her. Her fist tightened on Alba’s reins. She wouldn’t just wait here for her cousin to recapture her mother! If she had to blood Excalibur’s blade to help them escape, then so be it.

With a wild cry, she aimed the Sword of Light at the bloodbeard’s mocking grin and dug her heels into Alba’s sides. “Mist all you like, Alba!” she shouted, as the mare leaped towards their enemy with a fierce squeal.

“Wait, Rhianna!”

Cai’s warning came from a long way off. She could barely see through the blurred shadows, and she was concentrating too hard on staying in the saddle to worry about the squire. On all
sides, men were scattering and falling to the ground. Her arm ached with swinging Excalibur as she called on the power of the sword to give her strength. Blood sprayed her cheeks. Had she killed anyone? She became aware of ghostly knights on pale horses fighting all around her. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw her father mounted on a golden mare, bareheaded and wearing silver armour.

“
Bravely done, daughter
,” he said.

Her heart burned with pride, and the sword shone brighter still. Alba’s dainty hooves misted through the rest of the bloodbeards without touching them and carried her down the slope into their camp, looking for more of the enemy. She’d kill them all! And then she’d find her cousin Mordred, take back the Lance of Truth and kill him, too…
“Rhia,
enough
!” Elphin appeared at her side on Evenstar. Her friend’s six-fingered hand touched her arm, and the ghostly knights disappeared.

She blinked to clear her head, relieved to see him alive. “Those bloodbeards said Mordred’s sword was poisoned… I thought he’d kill you!” she gasped.

“You know better than that, Rhia. Avalonians can’t die, remember? This way.”

They galloped through the wreckage of the camp, half misting, half jumping over fallen tents and the glowing remains of campfires. Horses seemed to be everywhere, some loose, others ridden by knights chasing their quarry. Quite a few of the shelters were on fire, making Rhianna’s eyes sting. In the smoke, she recognised Sir Bors’ men, who had finally
arrived to attack the camp from the other side. Bloodbeards raced in all directions, yelling in alarm as burning brands were thrown into the tents and their belongings trampled.

“My mother!” she said. “Cai! I left them up by the Wall…”

“They’re fine,” Elphin said, his eyes whirling deep purple. “They’re with Sir Lancelot’s men.”

He led her back to the ruined fort, where to her relief they found Queen Guinevere and Cai with the men who had stayed to look after Lancelot. Her mother gave her a look of equal relief, but quickly turned her attention back to the wounded champion, who lay on a stretcher made from a cloak and two lances. When Rhianna and Elphin joined them, the men picked up the stretcher and hurried through the southern gate to safety, leaving Sir Bors’ and
Sir Agravaine’s troops to finish off Mordred’s bloodbeards.  

They crossed the ditch, and after a ride that seemed to last for ever reached the old villa where they had left the wagon and Arianrhod. As they pulled up in the overgrown garden, Rhianna flopped over Alba’s neck and closed her eyes in relief. She felt a bit sick.

“Did I kill anyone?” she whispered, afraid to look at Excalibur.

She heard the men dismounting. Someone helped the queen down from Sandy’s back. Others went to look for firewood to warm the wounded knight. Arianrhod rushed over. “My lady! Rhia! Are you all right? You’re not wounded, are you…?”

“She’s fine,” Elphin said. “She just fought off Mordred’s entire army single-handedly, as usual. Let her have a moment to catch her breath.”

Rhianna had caught her breath. But she still couldn’t make herself look at the sword. “Did I blood Excalibur?” she asked again.

“No, Rhia, the knights did all the killing,” Elphin said gently.

“But you were pretty frightening!” Cai said, coming to join them. “You looked exactly like King Arthur used to, when he led the knights against his enemies.”

She opened her eyes and turned the sword slowly, examining it for the merest trace of blood. But the blade looked clean. She breathed again, and sheathed it with shaking hands. “I didn’t blood it,” she said. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

Elphin pressed his lips together. “You have Alba to thank for that,” he said. “She misted through those bloodbeards, so your sword must have done as well.”

“You should have seen their faces!” Cai said, grinning. “I just turned Sandy round and trotted away with the queen while they were still rubbing their eyes and gaping at you. They never even noticed we’d gone till we were back inside the fort with Sir Lancelot’s men.”

You felt very secure that time
, Alba added.

Rhianna patted the mare and managed a smile for her friends. Then Arianrhod asked, “Did Sir Lancelot kill Prince Mordred, then?” and she remembered her quest.

While the boys told her friend about the duel and the rescue of the queen from the dark tower, she looked back at the Wall in
frustration. “We haven’t won yet,” she reminded them. “Mordred took the Lance of Truth. Did you see where he went, Gareth?”

The older boy shook his head. “Nope, but I hope the knights take him alive. Then we can chain him up in the dungeons and torture him till he tells us where it is.”

“Drag Prince Mordred all the way back to Camelot with us?” Arianrhod said with a shudder. “He’s bound to work some dark magic on us and escape.”

“We won’t have to drag him all the way back, stupid. We’ll get the fairy boy to take him through the stones, same way we got up here.” Gareth smirked at Elphin.

Rhianna eyed her friend. He seemed exhausted, leaning over his mist horse’s neck. She wondered if any of them would be able
to get back along the spiral path, let alone with an unwilling prisoner.

“They probably won’t catch the traitor, anyway,” Cai said cheerfully. “And the magic lance must still be broken, or he’d never have got it off Sir Lancelot in the first place. So there’s no need to worry, is there, Damsel Rhianna?”

She thought of her cousin galloping off into the mist with the Lance of Truth.
Was
it still broken? They would need to ask Sir Lancelot to be sure, and the champion knight was in no state to talk to anyone. “I hope it’s not working,” she said. “Because if it is, Mordred’s got as many Lights as we have.”

W
hile they waited for the knights to rejoin them, Elphin got out his harp and played a healing tune for Sir Lancelot. Everyone was tense, jumping at shadows. Lancelot’s men wanted to take the queen and
the wounded champion back to their castle on the west coast. But Sir Bedivere said no, they must get Guinevere to Camelot as soon as possible.

Rhianna watched the Wall anxiously. Would the knights catch Mordred and get the Lance of Truth back? What if the dark knight tried to use the lance’s magic against them?

She pulled the dragon shield into her lap and ran her hand over the scars left by the splinters. If she could find just one left behind by Elphin’s magic, then at least they’d know the lance wasn’t properly mended… but she couldn’t concentrate. The effort of rescuing her mother caught up with her, and her eyes closed.

“You’ve failed,” whispered a voice in her ear. “Your champion is dying. My son’s got the Lance of Truth.”

She tried to sit up, but found she could not move. A shadow bent over her. With a shudder, she recognised the witch from the mirror.

“See how hopeless your quest is?” Morgan Le Fay said with a smile. “Best give up now.”

“Not while I’ve still got
this
…”

With an effort, Rhianna moved her hand to where Excalibur lay at her side. Her fingers touched the white jewel, and warmth flowed up her arm.

The shadow drew back a bit. The witch glanced down and frowned. “Ah, yes, the Sword of Light. It should be in my son’s possession by now. But you’ll soon give it to him, I think.”

“I… will… not,” Rhianna said through gritted teeth.

The witch laughed. “So very stubborn! Well, I suppose the Pendragon blood runs in your
veins, too. It won’t save you, though. You were stupid to come here. You won’t get back to Camelot alive…”

Rhianna jerked awake to the sound of men’s voices. Someone bent over her. Excalibur was in her hand. Still trapped in her dream, she swung the blade at the shadowy figure.

“Get away from me!” she yelled.

Arianrhod jumped clear in alarm. “Shh, Rhia! It’s only me. I came to tell you Sir Bors and Sir Agravaine are back.”

Rhianna blinked around warily, looking for the witch. But Mordred’s mother had gone. She shivered. It had turned cold, and the light was almost gone. Steaming horses snorted and stamped their feet in the dusk, while the battle-weary knights stood around the unconscious Lancelot and argued.

Something in Arianrhod’s hand caught the firelight – the dark mirror she’d taken from the fort. “You dropped this, my lady,” she said, holding it out.

She eyed the mirror uneasily. Had it power over her dreams? “Put it in the wagon,” she said. “I’ll only break it.”

Arianrhod slipped the glass obediently into her pack.

Rhianna sheathed Excalibur with a shudder. That had been too close. She had nearly cut her friend! Maybe she should make sure the sword was out of reach next time she slept? Except that might be exactly what Mordred’s witch-mother wanted.

“Where’s Elphin?” she asked.

“Talking to his horse, I think. The music stopped a while ago. Maybe you should talk to
Alba, too? They seem frightened by something.”

“Later. Did the knights get the lance back? I need to talk to them…”

“And I want to talk to
you
, Rhianna Pendragon!” growled Sir Bors, striding across and tugging off his helmet. His hair was stuck to his head with sweat and blood splattered his breastplate, but to her relief he seemed unhurt. “Bedivere’s told me all about your little escapade at the tower,” he continued. “From the sounds of things, it’s a miracle you’re still alive. Why can’t you just do as you’re told for once and stay out of the fighting like a normal damsel?”

“It’s not a miracle,” Rhianna said. She tilted up her chin and rested her hand on Excalibur’s hilt. “Mordred was busy. I had Excalibur, Elphin had his harp, and we were riding mist
horses. Besides, I’m not a normal damsel, am I? I’m a Pendragon.”

“A dead Pendragon before much longer, if you go on like this.” Sir Bors shook his head at her. “Your father had Excalibur and Pendragon blood, too, and look what happened to him!”

Rhianna bit her lip, thinking of her father’s body lying in Merlin’s boat.

The big knight sighed. “All right, let’s see if we can’t get that idiot Lancelot and the queen back home to Camelot before Mordred turns up again. We might have a chance of getting through those druid stones of yours, if we travel under cover of darkness. They’re a bit close to the Wall for my liking, but if it saves us ten days on the road then it’ll be safer in the long run.”

“Didn’t you catch Prince Mordred then, sir?” Gareth asked, frowning.

“No!” Bors scowled. “He’s slipperier than a greasy spear. Vanished once he saw the battle was lost. But he’ll not dare attack us again so soon. We’ve chased his bloodbeards back into their hills. As long as we stick together and stay on this side of the Wall, we should be safe enough. He won’t get his hands on your mother again, Damsel Rhianna, don’t you worry.”

Sir Bors gave her another of his unexpected hugs that squeezed half the breath from her body, then strode off shouting at his men to lift Lancelot’s stretcher into the wagon. Rhianna grinned. He stank of smoke and battle. But then so did she.

Sir Agravaine didn’t bother telling her what he thought. The tall knight’s glower as he went in search of something to eat said it all. It seemed Sir Bedivere was in trouble, too, for letting her
come in the first place. This made Rhianna feel bad. Soft Hands could hardly have stopped her, short of locking her in the dungeon at Camelot – although, after being forced to watch her mother fussing over Sir Lancelot, she almost wished he had.

They set out for the stone circle as soon as the knights had snatched a few quick bites and put out their fire. Now Sir Lancelot had been hurt, even Sir Agravaine seemed to have forgiven him for riding off with the queen. “Prince Mordred used dark magic to capture her,” the knights muttered to one other. “It wasn’t Lancelot’s fault. He tried his best to get her back.”

Guinevere travelled in the wagon with Lancelot, who still showed no sign of coming
out of his fever, while Arianrhod helped her tend the knight’s wounds. The other men rode escort along the banks of the secret road, their swords loose in their scabbards and their eyes wary.

Rhianna rode knee-to-knee with Elphin just behind the leading group, worrying about the lance. She kept glancing at her mother, who had Lancelot’s head in her lap and was stroking his pale hair. The jealousy came back – she wanted that hand to stroke her hair.

“Give your mother a chance,” Elphin said, watching her. “She hasn’t seen you since you were a baby. It must be a bit of shock to find her baby daughter all grown up and swinging a magic sword!”

“I know,” Rhianna said. “It’s just… I thought it would be different, somehow.”

“Maybe she’ll have more time for you when we get back to Camelot.”

“Maybe.” She sighed and turned her attention to her other worry. “Can you open the spiral path if Merlin doesn’t turn up?”

“I’ll try my best. We might still have to ride back the long way, only I’m not sure Sir Lancelot would survive the journey. The knights are talking about leaving him in a monastery until he’s stronger.”

Rhianna’s heart gave a leap of joy at the thought of having her mother all to herself. Then she immediately felt bad. “Can’t you heal him with your harp?”

Elphin’s eyes darkened. “Mordred’s blade was poisoned, Rhia. It’s going to take time. It’ll be easier if we can get him back to Camelot. Anyway, if Merlin said he’d meet us at the stone
circle, he’ll come. I expect he’s there already, waiting for us, perched on one of the stones eating a mouse and grumbling about us being so slow.”

She had to smile. “Will the magic work on so many of us?”

“As long as the path stays open long enough, yes, I think so.”

“You
think
so?”

“I’ve only done it once,” Elphin reminded her. “But we’ll get the queen and Sir Lancelot through first, don’t worry. Then if some of the knights get left behind, they can always ride back the way they came. Best not talk till we get there. Mordred’s still out there, remember?”

Rhianna glanced uneasily up at the Wall, which made a black line across the ridge against the stars. Was her cousin up there now,
watching them? The thought chilled her, and they rode through the rest of the night in silence.

It was nearly dawn by the time they reached the circle. The ancient stones loomed out of the mist as half-seen silhouettes. The men who had ridden north with Sir Bors and Sir Agravaine blinked uncertainly at them. Rhianna called hopefully for Merlin, but could see no sign of the little falcon. She rested her hand on Excalibur’s hilt with a sigh. She just hoped Elphin could remember how to work the magic.

“Right, where do you want us all, lad?” Sir Bedivere said, trying to cheer everyone up. “Be good to get out of this mist! I bet it’s a beautiful spring day at Camelot.”

Rhianna glanced at Elphin. The circle wasn’t going to be big enough for all of them at once. She didn’t see how they could repeat the method they’d used to get here, when they’d ridden out in a spiral from the centre.

Her friend thought a moment. Then he rode Evenstar to the nearest stone, spread his six fingers against its mossy surface and reached under his tunic for the druid pathfinder. “We’ll need to ride in a spiral
towards
the centre to get back,” he said. “That’ll reverse the magic. Everyone should follow me as closely as possible… but I’m not going to be able to close the path behind us. That needs magic, and Merlin’s not here yet so we’d better hope nobody tries to follow us.”

He looked at Rhianna, who drew Excalibur and reined Alba to a halt.

“I’ll stay at the back,” she said. “I’ve got one of the Lights, so maybe I’ll be able to close it if we need to?”

The knights glanced at each other uneasily. The queen looked up with a frown, but a groan from Lancelot distracted her. Sir Bedivere was trying to explain to the others about the merlin. Sir Bors started to shake his head. But after scanning the deserted moor, Sir Agravaine grunted, “I’ll stay with the girl. Let’s do this thing as quick as we can, before any of Mordred’s bloodbeards turn up.”