Legend of the Lakes

by Clara O'Connor

  How would we have a second chance? We wouldn’t, but I would. I would be taken to Mary le Strand to tend the ley line, but never at full strength, and never with others. I could never go deep enough alone to heal the fracture in the Strand line.

  “It’s too late now.”

  Was it? Without the Griffin I couldn’t go deep enough and come back, but could I heal the ley line?

  The sound of steps in the stone corridor alerted us before the door opened, and my helpers laid out a breakfast we didn’t touch and dressed me as Gideon sat in trousers and tunic in the window seat, watching dead-eyed as the simple white dress I had worn to the arena only yesterday was replaced with a more elaborate version of the same.

  “Donna Shelton,” one of the girls said as she handed me a circlet of flowers with a smile. I shook my head and waved it away. I needed no crown for my hair; the dress was travesty enough.

  “Please, donna.” Her hair fell messily onto a face that seemed somehow familiar. She offered the circlet again and numbly, I took it as she knelt to fuss with the hem of the dress while her colleague pinned the last of my hair. The ring of flowers and foliage in my hand was bright against the white of the dress, a fiery autumnal selection of crimson berries and white flowers set in orange and gold leaves. What an odd choice. I stared down at the odd selection, the bright colours taking me back in time to the bunch Devyn had sent from Richmond. Acer and oak, the leaves were exactly the same choices Devyn had made, gold and crimson leaves with berries. I felt something being tied around my ankle and pulled my foot away. What stupid accessory were they foisting on me now?

  Wide eyes looked up at me from under the dark-brown hair falling into her eyes as she gripped my ankle to prevent me from displaying my new piece of jewellery to the room. Miri, that was her name, the nurse I had been friendly with at Bart’s. She lifted the white lace to give me a peek at the rose-gold disk that now lay there, a disk that had been lost to me the night I had fled this room and left the city behind. Marcus had found it, after all this time. And he had returned it to me now. Marcus keeping his vow. He hadn’t promised not to betray me I had realised – but he had vowed to make it right.

  I closed my eyes in silent gratitude. To Marcus, to Miri, who he had trusted to bring this to me. The girls had only just slipped away when there was a knock at the door. Kasen entered the room, many guards behind him in the hallway. Reinforcements.

  I stood and braced myself to take one last look. To imprint my scarred warrior on my brain for the years ahead.

  “I would choose you.”

  Gideon sat, his legs stretched out, that half-smile playing on his lips, pretending to the world that he was entirely unaffected by our separation.

  “Your father said that you were the second choice. He meant after Devyn, right?” I prompted him. His lip quirked in amusement in answer.

  “You weren’t. There was only Devyn.” I said softly, reaching to take his face in my hands. “And then there was only you.”

  All pretence at indifference dropped away. He stood, his hands at my waist pulling me into him.

  “I never had to choose between you,” I explained, “but know this: I would choose you as Devyn never chose me. He never… I was never first for him. He chose his duty, his oath over me. Repeatedly. He only chose me in the end because of the baby, so was he really choosing me or was he yet again choosing duty first and me second?”

  I smiled at Gideon. Was I only this brave because now, at the end, I could speak freely? I looked over my shoulder back at Kasen to assess how much longer the praetorian would grant me.

  “You chose me even though you owe no fealty and loathe following orders. I see you now. You choose me, I know you choose me. Damn duty and damn the world.” I could see the confirmation in his eyes. Through the anger, this was his truth. “He chose duty over me, time after time, and I couldn’t understand it. I understand now. Because I must choose duty this time. I can end this. I can save so many lives. But I can only do it if you and Féile are safe.”

  I stepped forward and laid my palm on his chest. I could do this. I could say goodbye.

  I locked eyes with his. “Know that if I had a choice, you would be my first choice. Always.”

  Viviane had warned me of the pain of separation for the Griffin. My mother, as she lay dying, had ensured that Devyn and I would not know that pain. Once the handfast cuff went on, I would no longer feel the pain that was tearing me apart. I focused inwardly, going down, deeper and deeper into my core until I found the shining thread that bound us, that gave me strength. I had to set him free. I snipped the bond clean through. The Griffin had provided what I needed. He had to leave, and I could need him no longer.

  I felt the absence immediately. Devastation flowed through me at the loss of the connection. I opened my eyes and through the shimmer of unshed tears, found that Gideon had fallen to his knees before me. I had been prepared for the impact of my action, but he’d had no such warning.

  His golden eyes looked up at me in shock. There was a flicker across his features as the Griffin reacted to the broken bond and started to surface. The guards raised their guns as they too noticed the change.

  “No,” came a voice from the hallway. “Hold.”

  There was a disturbance as guards were pushed aside. Marcus pushed through, the steward in his wake.

  “His father will subdue him.” Marcus took position in front of the kneeling, shimmering Gideon while I was held back by the sentinels who were taking no chances. Their orders were to bring me to the arena at all costs, no doubt.

  Lord Richard knelt by his son, reaching out, holding him by the shoulder, grounding him, whispering to him. Using whatever damaged connection they had, trying to help him resist the change.

  Slowly those whispered words seemed to relax him as he looked up and fixed his gaze on his father’s. Pain filled them as they flicked over to me. He was back.

  I relaxed in the grip of the sentinels, looking at them pointedly until they released me and then I turned and walked through the door without turning back.

  I could do this. Féile would be safe. Gideon would be alive.

  I could do this.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The city passed by in a blur, the route heavily guarded despite the short journey and the walls that stood between me and freedom.

  Fidelma rode with us and Calchas relaxed back in his seat; he had won. I sat there, finally fully charged, and there was nothing I could do.

  My gown flowed around me, a creation that sold me as a princess of the city as if the last years had never happened. The tattoos on my arms were the only indication I was not the same person who had left here three years ago. I traced them lightly, the dark ink embedded in my skin. The three loops of the triquetra with the circle through it. My mind turned over the infinite Celtic trinity: earth, water, air; past, present, future; mother, maiden, crone; life, death, rebirth; mother, daughter, wife. I was a wife no longer, but the blue veins that pulsed underneath continued to push the blood around my body. Where there was life, there was hope. Who had said that? Cicero. I was comforting myself with the words of a Roman consul.

  Today was Mabon, the autumn equinox, the first ceremony I had participated in. I saw again Callum holding an apple in his hand, illustrating the tilt of the earth’s axis, the balance of light and dark. It was a time to restore balance. If only I could persuade Calchas to give me access to Mary le Strand today.

  I traced again the triskelion tattoo that had appeared in Avalon. Present in belief, past in trust, future in love, held by courage. My mother’s words. Whatever future she had striven to realise, it was over now.

  “Ah, I almost forgot,” the praetor of the city, soon to be ruler of all Britannia, held out the handfast cuff.

  I stared at it. The energy thrummed in my veins, calling me, inviting me to take a different path, to end this now. But I couldn’t, because it wasn’t just me, it was Féile, it was the city, it was the people. How many would d
ie if I took that path, if I allowed the power in me to pull the city down around me rather than restore the balance?

  Londinium would become the new borderlands, hundreds of thousands of souls torn and trapped. The horror of it swept through me.

  I braced. The charm on my ankle would protect me. I extended my arm, and he snapped it in place.

  My head bowed under the force of the effect the cuff had on my emotions. The magic stored within me met it, my charm making my will resistant to the dictates of the magic contained within the band. I could feel its intention, its pull to comply with the Code, the desire to be with the bearer of its partner. But I was no longer the blank slate I had been the last time the cuff had wiped me down and overlaid my will with its own.

  The car turned north.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, curious. I had assumed my wedding would take place in the Governor’s Palace perhaps, but we were headed west through the theatre district.

  “The arena.” The praetor beamed at me.

  “We’re going to a Mete before the wedding?” I queried lightly.

  “Something like that,” Calchas answered vaguely.

  “Is Marcus coming?” I asked mildly. I needed to appear as if my wish to comply was paramount. Having my own will was the first advantage I’d had, and I needed to maintain it for as long as I could. Until I had my chance.

  “Yes, we thought we’d have the wedding where the whole city could participate.”

  “How wonderful.”

  As we stepped out onto the balcony, the mob cheered. Doves were loosed to fly up through the amphitheatre, circling up to the tower balconies and into the sky above. The oohs and ahhs of the crowd were a background to the visual symphony of augmented holographs swinging up and through the layers of seats and crowds of people. It was an indescribably beautiful display that enchanted the whole arena – and the entire city, no doubt.

  I looked around the balcony as if to appreciate the shared joy of such an experience. Spotting Ginevra amongst the senators, I gave her an excited wave. She waved tentatively back once she had recovered her surprise at being acknowledged.

  The misery in the expressions of my Briton friends was an off note in the otherwise celebratory atmosphere. Marcus stood opposite, his eyes hollow as he ignored the dancing holograms in favour of the sands.

  I turned to investigate what was making him so unhappy.

  My smile faded.

  Gideon. He wasn’t supposed to be here. I could feel the lines of my brow pucker together. That wouldn’t do, and I ran a finger lightly over my forehead to smooth them out.

  I turned to Calchas; the praetor would explain. While I was doing my utmost to keep my reaction from my face, I found that he wasn’t watching the display either. Instead, his eyes were on me like I was an exotic substance in a petri dish to which he had just introduced a foreign element.

  “Lord High Justice…” I paused to gather my thoughts. I was safe to question this surely; Gideon shouldn’t be here. This was not the arrangement. “What is going on? I thought we were having a wedding?”

  “We are, my dear,” he assured me. “Just tidying up a few loose ends.”

  “Loose ends!” Rion swore, his usual measured manner entirely absent as he struggled against the restraining hands of the two praetorian guards beside him.

  “Yes, well, we are gathered here to celebrate a wedding. We can’t begin the ceremony until the bride is free to marry again.” The praetor turned to Alvar who was positioned behind him. “Lock it down.”

  Alvar nodded in salute and waved a hand over his head. The seldom-used roof closed in over the arena, a couple of stories up, just below the giant digital screens, swinging shut to the sounds of protest from the crowds gathered in the balconies above. New metal gates clanged shut, sealing the exits, Calchas ensuring that no one would be getting in or out until the afternoon’s deeds were done no matter what their abilities were.

  “But they divorced,” Bronwyn cried, her head swivelling back to watch the dark shadow of the executioner approaching the tall unmoving figure of the man I had until last night called husband. The Steward of York stood behind her, unmoving, unprotesting, his gaze locked on the arena floor.

  “In your laws perhaps, but if she is to be Queen of all Britannia, then there must be no confusion. And here one marries until death does you part,” Calchas explained patiently. This then was his revenge for being wrongfooted last night by the news of our marriage.

  Gideon stood alone out there on the sand. My breathing shallowed. I willed myself not to react beyond what was expected of me. I arranged a mildly petulant expression on my face, as if put out that Gideon’s approaching doom was completely ruining the mood, ruining the day for my friends and no more. Distracted, I allowed myself to act as if compelled by the effect of the handfast cuff, reaching out to hold Marcus’s hand for comfort, but he pulled away and took a step back from me.

  I frowned as my mind took in the implications. Calchas was reneging on our deal. Don’t react. Don’t show your true feelings. Blood on the sand. I saw again the blood that had seeped into the sand when Devyn had been beaten. When he had died in my arms on that beach in Cymru. Red seeping down through the golden grains. I had to stop it. Had to find a way.

  Blood on the sand.

  That was what I had seen, that was the key.

  Calchas had crowed that Devyn’s blood on the sand had been the key. That was what had allowed the ley line to feed off people. That was the strange element in the line, the discordant note that entangled the souls: they were bound by blood. Not their blood, but all the blood that had been spilt here.

  All this time, centuries of accused dying on these sands, latents burning out slowly. There was always a second node to counterpoint the primary nexus, Keswick had Penrith, Glastonbury had Stonehenge. And Mary le Strand had the amphitheatre, or whatever structure the ancients had built here before the Romans arrived. I looked down at the circle below and let my senses flow out across the sand. The electromagnetic hum of the circle greeted me, and I was standing at its edge.

  “No!” Fidelma broke ranks from the silent Britons. “You can’t do this. Please, I’m begging you. He’s my son. “

  Calchas raised a brow. “That is unfortunate. It’s so terrible to lose a child.”

  Fidelma crossed to him, and the officers surrounding the praetor moved to protect him, but he waved them away.

  “Please,” she said, almost frantic. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Everything.”

  She looked out at her son and turned back to Calchas, falling to her knees and picking up the hem of his robe.

  “You can’t. You promised to send him home.” She looked to me. I could strike now, but the circle here felt wrong, closed. I looked out at Gideon; did I have enough power? I would only get one chance at this. I closed my eyes and swayed at the thought of his blood on the sand, like Devyn’s before him. Devyn’s blood had been the key that had allowed the ley line to leach power above like never before. The few cases had become an outbreak, and then Calchas had started to sweep the city, hundreds of disappeared, and a paranoid, terrified and therefore unquestioning elite supplied with a treatment. The number of capital deaths had increased in the last years, not just to keep the population distracted but for Calchas’s own callous purpose.

  I suddenly couldn’t breathe. The blood on the sand. Here at the arena. The line twisted and corrupted by the sacrifices of blood.

  “Yes, how untrustworthy of me.” Calchas almost snickered down at the stricken woman.

  “Without the Griffin, the lady will never be able to fully heal the land.” So she did know that the Griffin restored me, knew and had kept it from Calchas.

  “Who says I want the land fully healed? I fuel the Strand ley line, I control it now. As it is, I can siphon off its power as and when I want to; our technology has harnessed it. Could I do that if it was in balance? I think not. This way I have exactly what I want.” He met my unconcerned, limpid ga
ze even as my mind turned frantically.

  The ley line or the Griffin.

  How could I save them both?

  There had to be a way.

  “Technology and magic together under my control. You think I will ever truly control your Lady of the Lake while her Griffin lives? No, Lady Mortimer, I think not. You were the one who warned me. There is no cage strong enough to keep him from her, no vow he won’t break to get her back. You were happy enough to help kill the last one. Once they are outside, the rest of them won’t risk their lives to save her, but him. I see him. I know him, and I’m afraid it just won’t do.”

  Dismissing her, he stepped forward and raised his arms until the crowd fell silent.

  “Citizens, you have found this man guilty. He has wronged this city, and he will duly pay for that with his life. We can brook no further threat. His act broke the Treaty and now the age of the free tribes of Britannia is at an end. The Maledictio is ended. We have their leaders. Their army lies waiting in the Shadowlands. Tomorrow we take our legions outside of the walls. Tomorrow we will crush the last of their defiance. Tomorrow we go to war and take this land for our own.”

  The crowd responded to the jubilant words that spoke of glory but not of the sorrow that comes with war, erupting into frenzied applause at the taste of a future where they would no longer be confined behind the city walls. Calchas had promised them the lands beyond the city walls, new territories that they would rule. They knew our army waited outside, but without their leaders, and the advantage of their magic as well as their direction, it would be a massacre. He had what he wanted. Rion and the others had already agreed to swear fealty. Calchas was taking no chances. My stomach swooped. I had to stop him. Time had finally run out.

  But I also had to heal the ley line and undo the corruption that Calchas had wrought. That was my purpose. That was what the oak had shown me. I had thought that my life would be the sacrifice that was needed. That my blood would be enough. But his blood was the key.