Sword of Light (17 page)

His grip was strong and commanding. His eyes flashed, daring her to defy him. The air glittered with ice crystals, making Rhianna dizzy.

Elphin sat frozen in his saddle, his gaze on the glimmering blade caught between his father’s hand and hers. Alba pawed at the snow, impatient. The Avalonians watched the strange duel with all their attention. Rhianna saw movement out of the corner of
her eye, but held the sword steady so it would not cut Lord Avallach.

“I won’t fail,” she said. But her heart pounded. Where was her father’s ghost when she needed it?

When a big bay horse burst through the undergrowth with two small figures bouncing on its bare back, no one moved to stop it.

“Keep away from Damsel Rhianna, you!” Cai yelled, brandishing his dagger.

With blood-curdling yells, the squires and damsels from the snowball fight in the courtyard raced into the clearing and surrounded Lord Avallach. Some had balls of ice in their fists, which they threw at the Hunt as they passed. These missiles passed right through the ghostly riders, but they scraped up more snow and stood their ground.

The Avalonian lord, clearly startled, opened his fingers and released Excalibur. Rhianna quickly sheathed the blade and let go of the hilt. She discovered she was sweating. She wiped her hands on Alba’s mane. No wonder Mordred’s shadow had been able to reach her so easily. His spirit had been lurking in Excalibur’s hilt all this time! She thought she understood a bit better how the dark knight had been able to kill a great hero like her father.

Arianrhod – the second rider – let go of Cai’s waist, slithered to the ground and ran to Alba’s side. “You forgot this, my lady!” she said, holding up the Avalonian armour, which glimmered in the snow light. The girl eyed Lord Avallach defiantly, the pentacle on her cheek pulsing crimson in the cold air.

Elphin laid a hand across the strings of his
harp. “Don’t hurt them, Father,” he begged. “Please.”

Lord Avallach frowned at the four friends standing defiantly in the midst of the Avalonian host. He looked at the wary ring of squires and damsels armed with snowballs and wooden swords. Unexpectedly, he began to laugh.

“
Faha’ruh!
” he said, turning his horse to join his people. “Maybe you youngsters have as much chance of finding the Grail as anyone else. In the meantime, if I see the druid’s spirit I’ll send him your way. Take good care of my son, Rhianna Pendragon.”

“I will if you take care of my father’s body, Lord Avallach!” Rhianna called after him. The Wild Hunt galloped off into the snowy wood with a noise like the sea crashing on a shore.
The thin wail of the captive souls lingered in the air for a moment. Then that, too, was gone.

Herd gone home
, Alba said with a sad snort, shaking her mane.

Elphin sighed. “
Faha’ruh
, Father,” he whispered, putting his harp away.

Rhianna knew she ought to be angry with Elphin, but she didn’t have the energy. He looked so apologetic, and he’d stood beside her against his father in the end.

“Are you crazy?” She took out her tension on Cai instead. “Crashing in here after us like a wounded boar? That was the Wild Hunt! They might have taken your souls, too!”

Cai blushed. “Stupid horse smelled yours, and I couldn’t stop him,” he admitted. “Arianrhod said you’d gone out riding without your armour, so I offered to exercise him for
Sir Bors and said I’d give her a lift since he’s big enough for two. I thought it’d be all right, only there wasn’t time to find a saddle, and he’s mad fresh after standing in his stall so long… Was that really the Wild Hunt?” He blinked at the sparkling cloud the mist horses had left behind.

“They won’t be back, don’t worry.” Elphin gazed sadly through the trees. “Not until next year, anyway, and then only if the mists will open.”

Cai looked a bit disappointed. The other squires were discussing what they’d seen in excited voices. Even Gareth seemed impressed, though he managed a haughty scowl for Rhianna and muttered something about hoping she didn’t expect them to rescue her from every passing stranger just because she was King Arthur’s daughter.

She smiled and warily touched Excalibur. The jewel still felt warm. She eyed Elphin. “You could have gone back with them, you know,” she said.

Her friend shook his head. “Someone’s got to help you find your father’s champion knight and mend the Lance of Truth. I’m sorry about tricking you at the Round Table, Rhia. I was afraid Mordred’s magic might hurt you, and I honestly thought the Hunt would be able to help us. I got scared when Mordred’s shadow kept appearing, but I should have known nothing would frighten you into giving up Excalibur. Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you, you silly fairy!” Rhianna said. She punched him on the arm, making the others giggle.

“We’re going after Sir Lancelot?” Cai brightened. “Really?”

“Can I come, too?” Arianrhod said. “You’ll need someone to do your hair if you’re going to meet the queen.”

Rhianna grinned at her friends with a warm feeling in her heart. She’d like nothing better than to ride north to meet Sir Lancelot and her mother, though she had a feeling the knights would take some persuading to let her go with them. And first she had to do something about Excalibur: find a way to control her cousin’s dark influence.

“No one’s going anywhere until spring,” she said with a laugh. “Let’s get back to Camelot, shall we? If we hurry, we’ll be in time for the midwinter feast.”

14

Druid Magic

T
he midwinter celebration at Camelot promised to be almost as good as an Avalonian feast. Under Lady Isabel’s watchful eye, the damsels and squires decorated the halls with holly and ivy and hung mistletoe in the doorways. Gifts of food had been arriving from
nearby towns and villages all day, and the men had been out hunting in the snow. Servants hurried past with platters of roast venison and wild boar, trays of honey cakes and fruit pies, jars of mead and leftover Roman wine. There would be dancing later, so musicians practised tunes that echoed gaily down the corridors.

“Not bad for humans with only five fingers,” Elphin said, listening to the music. “I could show them a trick or two, though.”

“You can play your harp later,” Rhianna told him. “I’ve something to do first.”

Ever since their meeting with the Wild Hunt, she’d been thinking of Lord Avallach’s warning about the forces of Annwn tempting her to use her sword for evil. She knew she had to find a way to get Mordred’s dark spirit out of Excalibur before she hurt someone she loved.
But she couldn’t think how, until Sir Bors reminded her that normally, after the midwinter mass, King Arthur would knight those squires who had completed their three heroic deeds that year. Tonight, since the king was not there, those who had fought in the battle would have their weapons blessed by the priest so they would be prepared for knighthood when it became possible again.

This gave her an idea. “Can I be blessed, too? I got Excalibur out of the lake, rescued you from the Saxon camp, and fought a dragon. That’s three heroic deeds, isn’t it?”

Sir Bors chuckled. “I suppose a blessing won’t hurt. Nobody can call you a coward, that’s for sure. But don’t get any ideas, my lady. Damsels can’t be knights. Leave your armour in your room tonight and act like a princess
for once, huh? Nothing can hurt you in the chapel.”

Rhianna grinned. At least he hadn’t said no.

Determined to make a good impression in case her father’s ghost was watching, she let Arianrhod dress her for the occasion in the green gown, now finished with gold embroidery. She even let her friend fix the jewelled net over her hair. She hung the pathfinder from Merlin’s staff on a cord around her neck. Finally, she slipped the embroidered slippers on her feet and pinned a warm cloak around her shoulders. She left the shield and her Avalonian armour locked safely in the chest in her room. But she carried Excalibur in its battered scabbard hidden under her cloak.

As the sun went down on midwinter’s eve, hundreds of candles were lit in the chapel, and
everyone squashed on to the long benches to pray for the return of the light. The arched ceiling had been painted with blue and gold stars. The air smelled sweet like it did in Avalon. Torchlight from the castle wall found its way through a round window of coloured glass, casting splashes of red and gold on the floor. Looking up, she made out the dragon from her father’s shield and banner. Her heart gave an extra thud.

“That’s where we squires have to do our vigil before we’re made knights,” Cai whispered. “We have to kneel all night under the dragon and not turn around for nothin’, or we’d fail the test.”

“Did Mordred kneel in here as well, then?” Rhianna asked, a bit wary of meeting another of her cousin’s shadows.

But Cai said fiercely, “Not all night, he didn’t! The dirty sneak cheated. That witch-mother of his came and enchanted the guard’s eyes so her precious little Mordred could get some sleep before he had to face King Arthur in the morning. Merlin said that’s why he ended up a dark knight.”

“Be careful, Rhia,” Elphin whispered, frowning.

At the end of the mass, which sounded almost as beautiful as Avalonian singing, the squires who had fought in the battle filed up to the altar to kneel under the dragon. Cai went up first, very nervous. He dropped his dagger as he knelt, and flushed when Gareth sniggered. Rhianna quietly joined the end of the line and pulled out Excalibur.

Everyone turned to stare at her as she walked
between the benches, but she had eyes only for the priest standing at the altar surrounded by candles. He wore a grey robe that was so much like Merlin’s, her heart gave a tug. On his head a bronze priest-crown glittered with strange symbols. She couldn’t see his face properly in the shadows. He smiled at her as she approached and said, “Kneel, child, and let me bless your sword.”

Her heart thumped as she knelt on the cold stone and held the Sword of Light upright between them. The white jewel brightened, making her dizzy.

The priest moved his hand over it and muttered something. The candle flames flared in a sudden draught. The hilt trembled in her grasp. Rhianna’s neck prickled. What if she lost control and Excalibur turned on the priest?

But the priest lifted his hand with
a frown, and the sword stilled. “Druid magic,” he muttered.

Rhianna sighed. They still needed Merlin – why did he have to get himself ambushed? “You know about souls, don’t you?” she said.

The priest gave her a sympathetic look. “Yes, my child. Are you thinking of your father’s? He was a good man, so it will have gone to a better place.”

Rhianna shook her head, impatient. “I already know about my father’s.” She became aware of people starting to fidget and mutter on the benches behind her. “But where do druid souls go when they die?”

“I can’t tell you that, child,” the priest said carefully. “My learning lies elsewhere. Though some say druids can take the shape of birds and beasts—”

Her head spun.
Look for the dragon
…
Spirit transfer
. What if Merlin had sent his spirit into the shadrake to bring them his pathfinder? And she’d stupidly banished the dragon to Annwn! But Merlin was half Avalonian, and Elphin had told her Avalonians could not go to Annwn, so where…? Then she remembered the hawks attacking the shadrake during the battle. “The merlin!” She grabbed Excalibur with one hand, picked up her skirts with the other, and ran from the chapel.

The priest shook his head after her as sympathetic comments followed her into the night:

“Brought up in Avalon, you know…”.

“Lost her father, poor child…”.

“Bound to be upset…”

Rhianna hardly heard. Breathless, her slippers
wet with melting snow, she let herself into the hawk mews. It was deserted. Most of the birds were roosting, heads under their wings. Little ruffles broke the silence. No torches or candles burned in here. The hawkmaster must be afraid of the straw catching fire. Hoping the magic would still work after its blessing, she drew Excalibur. The white jewel blazed brightly, and warmth spread to her toes. She smiled in relief.

At first she couldn’t see the injured merlin. Then a jingle came from the shadows at the back, and a familiar grumpy voice said, “You took your time, Rhianna Pendragon, I must say. I’ve been bored half out of my brain, tethered to this perch, waiting for you to bring Excalibur in here so I can talk to you.”

“Merlin!” she whispered, pulling off the bird’s little hood. “I was right – it is you!”

“Yes, yes, of course it’s me. Who else would it be? The witch made a mistake when she set that shadrake on me. She always did underestimate me. I promised I’d meet you at Camelot, didn’t I? I just didn’t plan on losing my druid’s body on the way.” The merlin fixed a pale blue eye on her. “I picked the most obvious form available. Young Cai even told you what kind of hawk I am, but you were so busy dragon hunting I couldn’t get your attention. What took you so long?”

“I’ve been a bit busy.” Rhianna said, amused by the thought of the druid trapped in a bird’s body.

“So I hear. Didn’t I warn you not to use the sword?” the merlin grumbled. “I gather you’ve not only banished the shadrake with it, but also seen off Lord Avallach’s Wild Hunt and
spoken through the mists to your cousin Mordred! What possessed you, girl? Using the Sword of Light is no easy task. The more spirits it commands, the stronger yours needs to be to control them. Excalibur wore Arthur out, even before he stupidly knighted Mordred with it. I’m surprised it hasn’t destroyed you.”

Rhianna grimaced, remembering how tired she had felt after the battle, and how Mordred’s shadow had almost tricked her into blooding the blade at the Round Table. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” she said. “I got your message at the stone circle, when you told me not to use Excalibur, but it didn’t make a lot of sense. I just thought you meant not to blood the blade. Why didn’t you warn me about Mordred’s spirit being linked to the hilt so we can’t use it against him? You lied to me!”

The bird fluffed out its feathers. “I planned to be with you when you retrieved Excalibur, remember. I thought Nimue and I would be able to deal with Mordred between us. I didn’t want to scare you unnecessarily.”

“Except you messed up by getting yourself ambushed and scaring us half to death by chasing after us in the body of that shadrake! You could have warned me you planned to use the dragon to bring us your pathfinder. We thought it was trying to kill us.”

“Trying to control it nearly killed me,” Merlin muttered. “But I didn’t have much choice of bodies at the time. And then the creature insisted on speaking to you in dragon language… not that I suppose you understood very much.”

“It made more sense than your silly message.” Rhianna frowned. “Never mind. Lord Avallach
says my father’s body is not healing as well as it should, so now I’ve got to find the other Lights. Can you get Mordred’s spirit out of Excalibur?”

Merlin sighed. “I’m afraid not.”

Rhianna blinked at him. She could hardly believe that, after all their efforts, her father’s druid had let her down. “Then Mordred was right! We’ve been half killing ourselves trying to get Excalibur to Camelot without blooding the blade, and all for nothing.” Served him right if he was stuck in a bird’s body, the old fool.

Merlin blinked a pale eye at her. “It wasn’t for nothing. You’ve made peace with the Saxons, and that was well done. Arthur’s ghost has obviously been looking after you. I hoped he might stick around, if only to protect you from the dark knight.”

“He can’t love me very much, then.” Her heart
felt heavy. “Because I haven’t seen him since we got into Camelot.”

“Yes, that’s unfortunate,” the druid muttered. “He obviously doesn’t think you need protecting now you’re safe inside Camelot’s walls. Ah well, you’re here with Excalibur, that’s the main thing. I’d hoped for a bit more support when we did this, but now is as good a time as any. Midwinter’s a powerful time for magic. I should be able to open the mists even in this
birdbrained
body. Bring the sword over here and give me my pathfinder.” He extended a claw.

“I’m not going to let you take it back to Avalon so Lord Avallach can unforge it…” Rhianna began.

The merlin beat its wings impatiently. “You’re not listening, are you? Why did you think I brought you out of Avalon to help me
look for Excalibur, when Nimue would have given it to me had I asked? It’s true only a Pendragon can wake the spirit magic, and most men are frightened of it, but that doesn’t stop others from handling the Sword of Light as long as they don’t try to use it. I needed something to lure Mordred out of his lair so we could deal with him while he was still weak from his duel with Arthur. Something that would make him so furious, he’d forget to be careful… You, Rhianna.”

She stared at the druid, chilled.

“You planned to use me as
bait
to catch Mordred? You should have told me!” She scowled at the small grey bird, torn between pity for its bedraggled feathers and an urge to chop off its infuriating little head.

The merlin eyed her in amusement. “And
would you have come with me so willingly if I had? No, don’t answer that… maybe you would have. You’re an unusually fierce damsel. Anyway, Mordred has sent his shadow after you several times and been defeated so he should be weaker now. I think we’ve a good chance of finishing him if we act fast. I’ll open the spiral path to his lair. As soon as he comes through the mists I’ll bind his spirit, and then the knights can deal with the traitor at their leisure. The path will only allow those who share a link with the sword to pass, so you should be safe enough as long as you keep hold of Excalibur. Go on, call him.”

Her mouth dried. The last time Merlin had opened the spiral path, they’d used it to ride from Avalon to the world of men. What if Mordred came in the flesh, wielding the
battleaxe that had killed her father? She looked about the mews uneasily. “Here? But—”

The bird fixed its pale eye on her. “What’s the problem? This is Camelot. You’ve got Pendragon blood. Summon him! Or are you a weak damsel, after all?”

Her blood rose. Remembering how Mordred had killed her father, she planted Excalibur beside the merlin’s perch and slipped the pathfinder from her neck. As the bird gripped the little spiral in its claws it began to shine, and so did the jewel on Excalibur’s hilt. Mist curled outwards from the spiral, surrounding them with sparkling silver light. Everything beyond – the other hawks on their perches, the passage through to the stables, the door to the courtyard – became vague shadows.