Sword of Light (19 page)

“Nothing that can’t wait,” she said, slipping the druid’s spiral into her pocket. “Let’s get out of here. All these feathers are making me sneeze.”

Later, they exchanged gifts. In thanks for the green dress, she gave Arianrhod a net of silver for her hair that she’d found in one of the clothing chests. The girl’s eyes filled with grateful tears. “It’s beautiful. Lady Morgan never gave me anything,” she whispered, trying to give it back. “It’s much too fine for me, my lady!”

“Rhia,” Rhianna corrected. “And if I’ve got to wear one then you can, too.”

She presented Cai with a sturdy dun pony they’d rescued from the Saxon camp. “His name’s Sandy,” she said, as the boy patted the pony’s neck with a delighted grin. “You can practise with your lance on him and show that stuck-up Gareth a thing or two in the joust.”

Cai gave her a brow-band he’d made for Alba in the Pendragon colours, red and gold. Best of all, Elphin gave her a scabbard of soft
red leather. “For Excalibur,” he said. “I got it off a wounded knight I helped heal with my harp. I hope it fits.”

Pleased, Rhianna tried the sword immediately. The scabbard slipped over the glimmering blade and the belt fitted around her waist as if it had been made for her alone. She gave Elphin a suspicious look. He smiled. “Nothing to do with me,” he said. “That sword’s magic, remember? I think it might have more power in your hands than Father thinks.”

More than you know
, Rhianna thought, remembering the fear in Mordred’s eyes when she’d unknighted him. His words reminded her of a promise she hadn’t yet kept. She got the biggest bucket she could find, filled it with rosy red apples from the feast table and took it into Alba’s stall. “Don’t eat them all at once or you’ll
get colic,” she warned as the mare whinnied in excitement.

I am not stupid
. Alba crunched one delicately from the top.
These are nearly as good as the apples back home
.

“I’ll take you back to Avalon as soon as I can, beautiful one.” As she patted her mare, Rhianna felt a bit guilty about her decision to stay in her father’s world.

It is not so bad here. This stable has many fine stallions
.

Rhianna laughed. “You be careful. I don’t want you in foal by the spring!”

Finally, she gave Elphin the spiral pathfinder from the end of Merlin’s staff and told him about the druid’s spirit being trapped in the merlin’s body. “So once you’ve persuaded him to teach you how to use it, you can go
home whenever you like,” she said.

Elphin’s eyes swirled bright violet as he hung the druid’s symbol around his neck. “I meant what I said to my father, Rhia. I’m not leaving you. We’ll return together when we’ve found what we need to heal King Arthur, however long that takes.”

“See?” Cai muttered to Arianrhod. “What did I tell you? They’re inseparable.”

Rhianna blushed. For once she could think of nothing to say. Should she tell her friends about her journey along the spiral path to Mordred’s lair? Admit how she’d had the dark knight in her power but been unable to kill him? Already the memory was fading, like a bad dream.

While she hesitated, Elphin seized her hand and dragged her out of the stable. “Do you hear
music?” he said. “Come on, Pendragon Princess. Let’s show these humans how to
dance
!”

The moment passed. As they raced, laughing, back across the courtyard to Camelot’s candlelit halls, she put Mordred firmly out of her mind. His wounds had looked almost as bad as her father’s – he might even die of them before spring. Meanwhile, she was looking forward to practising misting with Alba and riding in her first joust. By then her mother should be back, along with the king’s missing champion, and they’d have two of the Lights.

As for the boring old knights who wanted to shut her up in the Damsel Tower to protect her… Rhianna grinned and clenched her fist on Excalibur’s luminous hilt… well, she had a whole winter to work on them.

I
n his underground sanctuary, Mordred scowled into the cracked mirror. The happy squires and damsels, giggling and dancing in the candlelight, made him remember how he would never dance like that again. His shoulder still burned where the Sword of Light had touched him. He barely had the strength to raise his arm. He hadn’t even considered that his cousin would dare come after him… though luckily she seemed to care more for her silly fairy horse than she had about killing him.

He shivered at the memory of how close he’d come to death. Ever since Merlin had brought Arthur’s daughter out of Avalon, things had gone from bad to worse. And now his cousin had broken his knightly link with Excalibur. When he closed his eyes to try the spirit magic, his head spun so much he thought the world was going to end.

He clawed at his crippled leg in frustration. “Mother!” he snapped. “Stop it. I don’t need to see this!”

The vision of Camelot faded and was replaced by his mother’s image. As if to punish him, she looked more beautiful than ever. “You do need to see, Mordred my son,” she said in her silvery voice. “You need to know your enemies.”

“I already know them!” Mordred growled.
“My bloodbeards have been chasing my cousin and her stupid friends across the Summer Lands half the winter. She has the sword that should be mine, and her fairy friend has a harp that makes my head ache… more Avalonian magic! If it hadn’t been for him I’d have made her blood the blade when she used Excalibur in the Round Table, and she’d never have been able to open the spiral path to reach me here. I won’t get another chance now. She unknighted me! The druid tricked us!”

“Yes, that was unfortunate. It seems I underestimated Merlin, but he’s learned his lesson with that shadrake and he’s not much threat to us in the body of a bird. So they have the Sword, so what? The other three Lights are still ours for the taking. They’ve actually
done us a favour in breaking your knightly link with Excalibur, because now they can’t use it to find you. Cheer up, my son. I’ve a present for you. It’s Christ’s mass, after all.”

Mordred winced. His mother’s presents were not usually of the most welcome kind. “A decent horse to carry me out of here?” he said hopefully. “One that won’t bolt at the first glimmer of Excalibur’s magic?”

“In the spring,” she promised. “This is just something to help while away the winter nights and keep you from getting bored.”

The mirror flickered. Another wintery scene appeared, but thankfully not Camelot with its bright candles, happy people and ridiculous decorations. This time he saw a bleak fortress in a blizzard with black wings beating around it. A single window set high
in the tower showed a flicker of candlelight.

He frowned. “Is that the best you can do? It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable,” his mother said. “You’re not the one who’s going to be living there. Look closer.”

The image changed. Now he was looking into the tower room. A slender figure curled on a narrow bed. At first, seeing the freckles on her nose and her copper hair spread across the pillow, he thought it was his cousin again. He snatched up the mirror to throw it across the room. Was this his mother’s idea of a joke? Rhianna’s smug expression was the last thing he wanted to spend all winter looking at!

Then he realised this woman was older, her skin paler and softer. “The queen!” he breathed.

“She’s yours, my son,” his mother said. “Use her well.”

Mordred fixed his eyes on the queen’s image. He remembered all the times his Aunt Guinevere had called him a spoilt little boy. All the times he had seen her kissing Lancelot, but no one had believed him when he’d told, and his Uncle Arthur had thrashed him like a common squire for telling tales. “Can she see me?” he asked.

“If you want her to,” his mother said. “Just speak her name, and put your hand over the mirror when you’re done.”

Mordred lay back on his rock and watched the queen for a long time. His heart quickened when she turned over and moaned in her sleep. He wondered what she was dreaming of – nothing very nice, if he knew
his mother. He imagined waking her and telling her everything he planned to do to her precious daughter once he got out of here. But first he would let her lose all hope of rescue, would watch her pride crumble to despair in the lonely tower.

There was no hurry. He had all winter.

Mordred smiled and spread his hand to make the mirror dark.

M
ordred cast a final look around the cave where he’d spent the winter. Damp oozed from the rocky walls. His bed, where he had spent so much time suffering in the dark, would bear his bloodstains for ever.

He spat on it. “They will pay for my pain,” he promised the shadows. “They will all pay.”

He’d almost died of the wounds he had received last summer in the battle against his uncle, Arthur Pendragon. But now he felt stronger than before, in spite of his crippled leg and missing sword hand. King Arthur
was dead and Queen Guinevere his prisoner. His horse waited outside with his men. It would only be a matter of time until he dealt with Arthur’s daughter, the girl who stood between him and the throne.

Before he left this place, he had one more thing to do. He pulled on a black gauntlet with his teeth. Then he picked up the mirror his mother had given him so he could spy on the world of men. The cracked glass glittered as Mordred breathed on it.

He saw the tower that served as his Aunt Guinevere’s prison. It was more comfortable than his own sanctuary, but the queen seemed not to appreciate it. She had tried to escape, and he’d been forced to send his bloodbeards to chain her to the bed. But she didn’t know why she was a captive yet.
He’d been looking forward to this moment all winter.

He lit candles so she would be able to see him properly and put on his silver torque. He waited until she was combing her filthy hair and whispered, “Aunt Guinevere.”

She jumped. The chain on her wrist clanked as her comb stilled. “Mordred,” she whispered. “You can’t keep me here forever! Lancelot will find me. Then he’ll hunt you down and send your dark soul to join your mother’s in Annwn for all eternity.”

Mordred smiled, bored with her empty threats. He’d already made plans to take care of her champion. “Your precious Lancelot won’t need to hunt me down. Unlike him, I’m not a coward who runs away from my fights. I’ve issued him a challenge. A joust to
the death with you as the prize. You’ll enjoy watching, I think.”

She stiffened, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Lancelot carries the Lance of Truth! No knight has ever bested him in a duel. He’ll kill you.”

Mordred chuckled. “Oh, I doubt it. The lance is broken, as you well know. Without it, Lancelot’s no greater than an ordinary knight. Whereas I will be fighting with the Sword of Light.”

The queen went still. “Excalibur was returned to Nimue’s lake,” she said uncertainly. “The Lady of the Lake would never let a witch’s brat like you have it!”

“No need to be rude,” Mordred told her. “You really are behind with the news, aren’t you? I suppose you’ve been a bit out of touch
this winter, so I’ll update you. My cousin Rhianna has got the sword back from Nimue, and will shortly be bringing it to me. You look puzzled, Aunt. Surely you remember your sweet baby daughter with her cute freckled nose, the one you abandoned to the fairies? She’s grown quite a bit since you last saw her. She’s been in the world of men for some time now, looking for you. Maybe I’ll let her keep you company in your tower. I wonder if you’ll dare call me a witch’s brat then?”

The comb clattered to the floor. The queen backed against the wall as far as the chain would allow and wrapped her arms around her body. “Oh God…” she whispered. “Rhianna… where is she? If you dare lay a hand on her—”

“Oh, I’ve already laid a hand on her,” Mordred said, lifting his severed wrist and grimacing in memory of using the shadow magic. “She knows my power. Just not my plans for her yet. We had a little, um, misunderstanding the last time we spoke, so I can’t use the Round Table to send my message. But she should be receiving it any day now. Sometimes the old ways can be more persuasive, don’t you think?”

The queen blinked and shook her head. “She won’t bring you Excalibur! My daughter wouldn’t be that stupid.”

Mordred smiled again. “Ah, but you don’t know her as well as I do. Believe me, she can be remarkably stupid once she gets a sword in her hand.”