Sword of Light (13 page)

They heard the noise of the battle before they saw it. The ditches around Camelot were a struggling mass of men, trapped between the high white walls on one side and Arthur’s knights on the other. The snow was coming down quite thickly now, melting as it landed and turning the mud into a slippery slush. The horses could not manoeuvre very well in the ditches, but the knights’ long lances caught anyone who tried to escape by scrambling out. Sir Bors had set up his anti-siege machines around the outer ditch to rain missiles on the
Saxon tents. Meanwhile, the trapped defenders inside Camelot were throwing whatever they had – spears, stones, rotten fruit, dented cook pots – at any Saxons who tried to take shelter under the walls.

Sir Bedivere halted them on top of a small hill a safe distance away, where they peered through the whirling snow, trying to see who was winning. Elphin pressed his lips together at the sight of all the slaughter, his eyes purple with disapproval. But Cai punched the air with his fist and yelled, “Yah! Got him!” whenever one of the knights lanced a fleeing Saxon. Rhianna saw the boys she’d trained against crouched under a rock at the edge of the field, and felt guilty. They were not fighting with wooden swords today.

The Saxons might have been trapped, but the
knights seemed reluctant to ride down into the camp and meet their enemy. They could see why. The dragon Gareth had warned them of swooped over the walls of Camelot, making the defenders duck, its great wings shadowing Saxon and Briton alike. Rhianna recognised it at once as the creature that had attacked them at the Lonely Tor, though it seemed more solid in the daylight. Snow lay on its back, turning its black scales white. Rings and torques and jewelled daggers it had stolen from the dead glittered in a bulging pouch between its forelegs. With every dive its scaly tail lashed the knights below. Several horses whipped round and bolted. The Saxons ducked and made signs against evil after it, while ravens gave chase cawing in anger.

Those stallions are cowards,
Alba observed.
I would not run away like that
.

Hoping the mare wouldn’t mist instead, Rhianna dragged Excalibur from its scabbard. At once, the enchanted blade gleamed silver in the snow light. The white jewel on its hilt brightened, and the rush of power along her arm felt even stronger now than in the wood when she’d rescued Elphin from the bloodbeards. The strength of a hundred men? She’d soon find out.

“Over here!” she yelled. “Here I am!”

The creature’s red eye fixed on the sword. It gave a triumphant shriek and flapped through the storm towards her with its mighty forelegs out-stretched. She raised the shield just in time to stop them knocking her out of the saddle. The blow made her arm vibrate, and she nearly dropped Excalibur.

“Rhia!” Elphin yelled as Evenstar misted to escape. “Don’t let it breathe on you!”

Easier said than done.

Another blast of icy breath crackled over her shield to melt on her Avalonian armour. Vaguely, she was aware of Sir Bedivere shouting at his men to surround the hill with their lances to keep the Saxons at bay. She saw Cai helping Elphin to pull his harp out of its bag. Then Alba bucked and plunged down the slope, and the two of them were alone in the whirling snow with the dragon’s black wings beating overhead.

Hoping the Avalonian armour would protect her, she undid the straps of the Pendragon shield with her teeth and cast it to the ground. Now she could swing Excalibur more easily. But she had not trained with a sword on horseback, and she could barely see through the storm. She hesitated to stab the shadrake in the belly.
Did creatures of Annwn bleed?

“I HAVE FOUND YOU, PENDRAGON,” roared the creature, sounding pleased with itself. It dived at Alba again, making the mare spin round in panic.

They galloped around the other side of the hill with the dragon in pursuit. Excalibur brightened still further, and the snow around them thickened. Rhianna slowed Alba, afraid the mare would gallop into a ditch, and heard the shadrake flapping towards them again. She lay flat against Alba’s neck as the creature’s great wings brushed her hair then swept on past. A shudder went through her. That had been too close.

While she was looking to see where the shadrake had gone and wondering why it had not tried to kill her yet, a dark figure loomed out
of the storm in front of them and a hand closed about her ankle. She felt Alba begin to mist and kicked frantically as a familiar face appeared out of the blizzard with frost in his beard and blue spirals on his cheeks. The bloodbeard captain.

“Got you now, Pendragon maid!” He bared his teeth at her as he pulled her off the misting horse.

Rhianna rolled out of his grip and sprang to her feet, instinctively bringing Excalibur up between them. He didn’t seem to have a weapon, instead he brandished the black gauntlet he’d used to torture Sir Bors. Behind him stood the shadowy figure in black armour she’d seen in the hut. Her arm trembled. She could no longer seem to control her sword. It was as if an invisible hand had hold of her wrist. Excalibur’s jewel darkened, the hilt twisted in her grip,
and the blade flashed towards her enemy’s exposed throat…

Then she heard the first notes of Elphin’s harp, thin and wild across the battlefield. A hole appeared in the clouds and crimson sunlight stabbed across the hill.

“
Allow me, daughter
.” Suddenly, her father’s ghost was there. Beside him stood another ghost, and beside him another… a whole army of ghostly knights, bathed in the red light.

King Arthur’s ghost leaped at the dark knight and wrestled him to the ground. The noise of the fighting faded, and Rhianna’s heart lurched in anxiety. Her father did not even have a helmet, although of course such things would be of no use to a ghost. In any case, she had other things to worry about.

Even as she watched the ghostly battle,
the shadrake lurched towards her again. This time it swerved around her, and its claw clouted the bloodbeard on the side of his head, knocking him through the air. Coming to her senses, she checked her swing just in time to avoid touching the man with her blade as he fell senseless at her feet. The black gauntlet rolled out of his hand, and the dark knight’s shadow vanished in a glitter of black stars.

“You don’t trick me that way!” Rhianna yelled, kicking the horrid fist away. Attracted by the glittering ring on the gloved finger, the shadrake chased after it and snatched the thing up to add to its pouch.

The clouds parted further, and Alba trotted back down the hill.

I am sorry I misted!
the mare said.
Has the dragon gone?

“Not yet,” Rhianna answered through gritted teeth, catching the reins. “But I don’t think it’s trying to kill us. It must want something else. Be brave.”

As the evening sun blazed across the battlefield, making men fling up their arms to protect their eyes, the shadrake swooped once more. She vaulted back on Alba and galloped up the hill to meet it. She flashed Excalibur through the air, faster and faster, enjoying the feel of the sword’s power rushing along her arm. A great energy filled her, and she no longer felt afraid of the dragon, which was now being dive-bombed by a whole flock of birds angry that it had invaded their territory.

“What do you want?” she shouted. “You’re scaring the horses.”

Lightning crackled around the creature.
Was it her imagination, or did it laugh? “I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU, PENDRAGON.”

It reached a claw into its pouch, and Rhianna stiffened.

“Then hurry up and give it to me, and go back to Annwn!” she ordered.

She ducked as the dragon somersaulted to avoid a final attack by a brave little hawk, spraying her with a glittering rain of treasure from its pouch. A pale thread glimmered from its mouth and twisted about the poor hawk, tumbling the little bird through the air. The shadrake shrieked one last time and faded, until all she could see was an outline of the snow on its back, pink against the clouds. Finally it was gone, leaving coins and jewels glittering over the Saxon camp as it vanished into the mists.
There came a smell of something rotten that made Rhianna choke and spit. Then the evening sun bathed her and Alba in glorious red and gold, and the foulness blew away.

Gaining new heart when they saw her on the hill with Excalibur, the knights re-formed their lines and charged the Saxon camp, making short work of the defenders. It was soon over. A horn sounded from the wall. The gates of Camelot opened, and a troop of old men and boys trotted out, behind a ragged banner with a red dragon rippling across a golden background in the breeze. At the sight of the banner, the knights gave a cheer and the Saxons – seeing they were beaten – began to surrender their weapons.

“
Bravely fought, daughter
,” whispered a voice in her ear.

Rhianna grinned in pride. Something silver-bright had caught on the end of her sword, making it shine even more brilliantly. “We showed them, didn’t we, Father?” she said, certain this time he’d be there when she turned.

But the ghost had already vanished into the sun.

While her father’s knights took charge of the field, Rhianna checked Alba for injuries, relieved to find the mare unscathed. Now the shadrake had gone, so had her magical strength. She started to shake the silver thing off Excalibur and recognised the druid spiral from the end of Merlin’s staff. Too tired to think about what that might mean, she slipped
it into her pocket as the others gathered round to congratulate her.

“Is that Sir Lancelot?” she asked, squinting into the sun. None of the newcomers looked much like a champion knight to her. The lad holding the dragon standard seemed even younger than Cai.

Sir Bedivere frowned. “No. Those are the half-trained youngsters and pensioned-off knights King Arthur wouldn’t take into battle. But they’ve done a good job holding the walls against the Saxons so long. This is a day for bravery from unexpected quarters, it seems. Camelot’s ours, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much for the queen.”

He had no time to explain. Sir Bors and Sir Agravaine rode up, accompanied by Chief Cynric riding a Saxon pony. Rhianna stiffened,
not sure she had the strength for more fighting. But the big Saxon chief had been disarmed. One of his yellow braids had come unravelled, and blood smudged his cheek. His men, also weaponless, stood nearby in a muttering group. The knights poked them with their lances and told them to shut up.

“Princess Rhianna, Chief Cynric would like to surrender Camelot to you,” Sir Bors said, looking very pleased with himself.

Alba was no smaller than his pony, but the Saxon chief could still look down at her. At least it was better than kneeling before him wearing a slave collar. Rhianna summoned the last of her energy, sat up straight in her saddle and met the big man’s gaze.

He saw the sword in her hand. Then his eyes focused on her throat. Recognising the
gold torque she’d stolen from him, he blinked and looked closer at her face. “The slave maid,” he whispered.

She smiled. Now he would find out how it felt.

“On your knees, barbarian!” muttered Sir Bors, pushing Cynric off the pony. He poked his sword into the chieftain’s neck to make sure he obeyed.

The other prisoners muttered in disapproval, and Cynric gave the knight a fierce look. “I am a king among my people,” he protested. “You have no right to make me kneel in the snow like a slave.”

Sir Bors raised an eyebrow at Rhianna. “I hear you made Princess Rhianna kneel before you in a slave collar.”

“Yes, he did!” Rhianna’s voice carried across
the hillside. “And you also put a collar on my friend Elphin here, who is a prince of his people. But it’s not right to make anyone into a slave, not even a humble squire.”

“You tell him, Damsel Rhianna!” Cai called. “I still got blisters on my neck.”

“Hush, Cai,” Sir Bors said. “Princess Rhianna, do you want this barbarian scum kept alive to work the mines down in Lyonesse, or should I just kill him now and have done with it?”

Cynric glared at him. “I am not afraid to die, Briton!”

Rhianna eyed the big chief, wondering what her father would have done. Then she remembered how the Saxon had stopped the bloodbeard hurting her when she’d been a prisoner in his camp. “Let him stand,” she said.

Sir Bors gave her a quick look. But he let the big man get up. Cynric looked at Rhianna with wary surprise.

She took the torque from around her neck. “I have something that belongs to you,” she said. “It doesn’t fit me very well, really. And you have something that belongs to me.”

Cynric frowned. “But you took all your stuff when that magician boy sang my camp to sleep,” he growled, glancing at Elphin.

“Sang my camp to sleep,
Princess
,” Sir Bors corrected, giving the chieftain a prod in the back with his blade. “Rhianna is of royal blood. Remember who you are talking to.”

Cynric scowled. “Then she should be addressed as Pendragon,” he said defiantly. “If she’s the daughter of Arthur like you claim.” He eyed Rhianna, encouraged by her smile.
“My life is in your hands, Pendragon maid. If you let my men live, I’ll make sure Saxons no longer fight Prince Mordred’s battles for him.”