by Ines Johnson
But I'd never stayed in any place for long. I'd been on my own since I was seventeen. And I liked it that way. Less baggage.
Leaning back in the chair, I curled into myself, bringing my knees up to my chin, resting the side of my face on my kneecaps.
Footsteps and deep voices sounded outside the door. I froze in the seat, sinking down like a cockroach on the wall. But there was no way I could hide. They would see me in here, in this seat that I had not yet earned.
"We think he's in Syria or maybe Turkey." That was Gawain's voice. "He was badly wounded when Gwin cut him with the Spear of Destiny back in Mary Magdalene's tomb. He may have no magic left."
"He may also be dead."
The footsteps came to an abrupt stop for a moment as though they'd all turned and glared at Percy for making that statement. Merlin might be the villain in their current story, but he was still family, their leader's older brother. I'm sure that might be one of the reasons Merlin went AWOL. That and his lifelong illness. Even though he was the elder of the Pendragon brothers, Excalibur, the magical sword, had chosen Arthur to wield it and be the next leader of the knights. Merlin had not only been passed over, he'd been laid up most of his life.
For some reason, a witch's body had no trouble housing large quantities of magic from the ley line, but a wizard's body couldn't handle it. With all the magic that Merlin had been born with, he would've been the greatest wizard of this time. But the power was too much for him. As it began to leave his body, it weakened him, leaching out his life essence as it made its way back to the earth.
Percy may have been right. If Merlin still had an open wound from the god-smashing spear, he had more to worry about than a loss of power. He may have lost his life.
The knights had spent the last few days traveling across the ley lines searching for the wayward wizard. They'd also pulled as many witches and wizards out of remote places as they could for their own safety. The ones who refused to leave they'd left newly knighted squires as guards.
But still, it wasn't enough. No one would be safe until Merlin was brought to justice. Until the Spear of Destiny was taken out of commission.
The Spear of Destiny was the same weapon used to pierce Jesus Christ and hasten his death on the cross. It had been an ordinary blade at the time, but it had been taken by his family and then left on a ley line in the presence of a powerful witch—Mary Magdalene.
Over the millennia the spear had rested, it had gained power from the ley energy, but also from the belief of followers of Jesus and enemies alike that it held power.
It had pierced my Immortal friend's hand and Nia had bled, which was our first clue to its power. It had struck the heart of another Immortal and left him dead, which is when the alarm bells had gone off in all our heads. That spear, that had hastened the end of the mortal life of Christ, could fell magical and supernatural kind.
Nia had been healed by magic not too long after she'd been cut. Merlin, who'd been pierced in his side by the spear, had not. He'd simply disappeared with the spear while everyone else had been otherwise engaged with saving my life.
"We've checked the Rustem Pasha mosque in Istanbul and the Temple of Bel in Syria," Gawain was saying as they entered the Throne Room. "There was no trace of him."
I knew those holy places were on the ley line grid. Ley lines ran all over the planet and converged at places of spiritual and cultural importance; mainly temples of worship. Faith was a powerful conduit.
"He couldn't have gone much farther if he weren't traveling by ley line and…" Arthur's gaze connected with me and he came to a stop. Like toy soldiers, all the knights behind him came to a company halt and faced me.
I waited for them to say the words that would kick me out. I could see the words in the twitch at the corners of Geraint's lips. I saw the words in the compassion that softened Gawain's dark gaze.
"Feet off the chair," said Arthur.
I did as I was told. But I didn't get up.
"She should get her ass off the chair as well," smirked Geraint.
He looked around, but none of the other knights laughed. Well, Percival eyed me curiously. Tristan turned red. Lance and Gawain looked at Geraint with pinched expressions, like he was the ass.
"If you're going to make fun of me," I said, "at least have the decency to be clever about it."
Percival laughed openly at that bit of sass. Tristan bit his lip and looked down at my boldness. Lance and Gawain's lips twitched at my challenge.
Geraint advanced. Now I got up. But Gawain stepped in front of me. He gave me his back and faced off against his fellow knight. "You're acting like an ass. Don't be a dick too."
"See," I snickered over Gawain's shoulder. "That was clever. You noticed his play on words?"
Geraint clenched his jaw hard enough to hear his molars grind.
"That's enough," said Arthur. He rounded the table and took his seat. "We have work to do. I'm sure you have squire duties, my lady."
"No," I said, stepping from behind Gawain. "I'm coming with you."
"That's not going to happen."
"You'd all be dead if it weren't for me." I had a scar across my once perfect boobs to attest to it. I wondered if I should yank down my top to remind them.
"No," said Arthur.
"But-"
"That's an order."
"I'm not a soldier."
"Again, that's the point. We are. Your antics might work with Nia, but my knights are a unit."
"You're one for all, I get it." I looked around the room as each man took his seat at the circular table, while I stood on the outside.
"You'll stay here with Gawain and Geraint and guard the castle," said Arthur.
"What?" said Geraint, the smug smile slipping from his face. "Wait."
"Keep up your training," Arthur continued, ignoring Geraint's fuming glare. "Prove yourself."
"Leave Wain with her," said Geraint. "We don't need two to stay. Camelot has never been penetrated by any enemy."
"Merlin grew up here. He could be targeting the castle." Arthur turned back to me. "You all have your orders. Goodnight, Lady Loren."
I managed not to stick my tongue out at Geraint as I headed out the door. Another victory for me.
Chapter Eight
I leaned against the chair of my grandfather at one end of the Round Table as Gwin stood before an open door at the other end of the Throne Room. The inside of the door was blacker than night. Gwin began a chant that made my blood sing. Stretching her fingers down towards the ground, my cousin called forth the magic of the ley line, opening what amounted to a wormhole, or energy portal, so that she and the knights could pass between space and time and come out the other side at a location connected to the grid.
I'd been through that door before. The trip through a portal was a heady one. It was like being surrounded by every sweet treat you've ever dreamed of, being able to eat them all without any thought of guilt, and then not gaining an ounce of weight as a consequence.
Yup. It was heaven.
But I wasn't going this time. I was being held back and relegated to the bench along with the rest of the second string. Gawain leaned casually against a wall, unconcerned that he was being left to babysit. Geraint, on the other hand, stood fuming. The accents over his eyes were sharp points today while his nostrils flared as he watched his comrades prepare. My fingers curled around my grandfather's chair as I watched Arthur, Lance, Percival, and Tristan line up for the journey.
Percival came to stand beside Arthur, closest to Gwin. Lancelot stood on the opposite side, farthest from Gwin. I saw Lance's jaw tighten when Arthur reached out a hand to Gwin and touched her shoulder.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Arthur asked.
Now that the ley line was open, Gwin shook out her fingers and clasped her hands together at her middle. Her head turned to address Arthur, but not before her gaze found Lance's.
"We'll understand if you don't want to face him again," Arthur continued.
&nbs
p; With the mention of Merlin, Lance looked away from Gwin. She shut her eyes briefly before turning a determined expression to Arthur.
"He's still my responsibility," said Gwin. Then she rushed to clarify. "Not as my husband. I only mean that I showed Merlin this path when I shared my magic with him. It's only right that I be there to bring him to justice."
She snuck another covert glance at Lance. Although her sneaky skills were seriously lacking. Everyone saw it, including Lance.
"You will stay by the doorway," Arthur said, "and stay out of harm's way."
It was only brief, the span of an eye blink, but I saw a look of defiance pass over Gwin's blue gaze at Arthur's order. It was the same look Morgan got whenever Arthur told her to do anything. But Gwin swallowed and the look was gone.
"Yes, my lord." She nodded her head, her voice filled with her normal dulcet tones.
One by one, the knights filed in, keeping Gwin between them. The energy from within the darkness swelled, reaching out into the interior of the room, calling me to step inside. But then the door slammed shut and took all the sweet treats with it.
My shoulders slumped. I was left with Geraint in the corner. He eyed me with distaste, like an older brother stuck with looking after his annoying baby sister. Oh, he had no idea. I was about to act out today.
"Come along," he growled, turning on his heel and setting a fast pace.
Beside him, Gawain grinned good-naturedly. I got the feeling he saw the mischievous glint in my eyes. Instead of chiding me, he wore an amused look that read let's see what you got. He winked at me and followed after his brother-at-arms.
I watched after them for a moment, debating whether or not to follow. But I didn't have anything else to do. I pet the top of the seat that I coveted and then I set off after them.
We headed outside. Once there, we entered into the jousting area. I'd prepared for battle before I'd come down the stairs this morning. I wore a pair of fitted leather pants that doubled to protect my ass as much as it did to accentuate its shape. Over my tunic shirt I wore a light, chain mail shawl that Morgan had fitted me with after I'd risen from the sick bed. The shawl was not only fashionable medieval-chic, it was also magical.
Unlike the medieval knights of history, the Arthurian knights never wore heavy armor. They had no need. It wasn't lances that they faced in battle, it was other magical foes. A piece of steel wouldn't do much to stop magic. It would take magical rings of mesh to ward against the use of a magic object or a wayward witch or wizard that was gunning for you.
The other squires were out in the yard as well. They were all already mounted on horses. Baysle sneered as I walked by, turning to a few of the other squires and snickering. Yuric smiled bright and friendly when he saw me. Maurice nodded his head with a grin. I gave them a wave and a wink. The squires on each side of Baysle perked up at the attention I gave to the other boys and they leaned away from Baysle.
Boys were so easy.
I headed into the stable to mount up. There were no gates on the horses' stables. The stallions were free to roam in and out as they pleased. Their stalls were wide, filled with fresh straw. There wasn't any smell of manure or urine as though the horses preferred to do their business away from where they rested. I'd slept in slums that were nowhere near as nice as these stables.
All the horses stabled were Arabians. Their coats ranged from obsidian black, to a honeyed brown, and a snowy white. A magnificent mare poked her black head out of a stall. Her lips spread as though she were grinning at me. She trotted over to me and bowed her head.
"Greetings, Lady Galahad," she said into my mind. "I am Achila."
It wasn't just the people of Camelot that were magical. Many of the animals were too. It was unavoidable since they all lived on a ley line.
I recognized Achila. I'd ridden her before I'd gotten my powers. She's spoken to me then, but I'd barely heard her voice that first time. Now that my body was filled with magic, I could not only hear her, I could respond.
Well, I could have responded earlier. The horses understood most human languages. But now I had the knowledge that they understood me. Anyway.
"Hello, Achila."
"I have the pleasure of being at your service this morning. I come from the loins of your grandfather's steed, Jasius. Your mother used to ride my mother. I am honored to serve you, my lady."
My mother had been an accomplished rider. She'd put me on a horse when I was six. Riding came to me as naturally as walking. I mounted Achila, feeling immediately at home on her back. We cantered out into the yard and joined the other squires.
"We will continue our joust training," began Geraint. "Remember, the goal is to hit the quintain with the blunt end of your lance and nothing else. Not your head, not your chest. The horses are smart. They will not allow you to hit their heads. They'll toss you first."
I looked at the course. There were two targets. They both were a T-shape on a swivel base. The first had a rig set up with a wooden shield on one end and a tub of water on the other. The second had a similar setup, but in place of the wooden shield was a ring.
Yuric took off first. Holding his lance high, he struck the shield. But just barely. The tub of water splashed down on his back and onto his horse's hide. Snickers rose up from the group of young boys. Yuric hung his head and veered off course, not even attempting the second ring.
Maurice stepped up next. He started his gallop at a slower speed. But his lance didn't quite reach the shield as he neared the target. He veered his horse away from the quintain without even striking it, but he came away dry. Or, so I thought. The tub of water raced after him, splashing down on his head as he came to a halt on the course.
One by one, the boys took their places. They raced for the target and they all came away dripping wet. I was not seeing the point to this exercise. Unless it was simply to entertain those in charge.
Geraint watched the boys intently. His face the same mask of distaste that he always wore. He offered no instruction or encouragement. Not any words at all.
My turn was coming up shortly. I looked down at my leather pants and boots. I hadn't dressed for dunking. Turning away from the course, I caught sight of Gawain. He approached me with one of the wooden lances. There was a smile on his face as he watched me, likely trying to decide what I might do.
"Exactly what is this supposed to teach us about fighting magical villains? I thought we were at war. This looks like play."
"This is tradition," he said, placing the lance in my arm.
"Maybe for the knights of old and the Jedi."
Gawain raised a quizzical eyebrow. I noted that he and Geraint had the same tilt to their eyes. When Geraint raised a brow, it appeared to me as condescending. But when Gawain did it, it was sexy.
"You know," I said. "When Luke has to destroy the Death Star with that one perfect shot? Are we fighting spaceships? Wait, don't tell me there are aliens?"
Before Gawain could answer, Geraint stepped up beside Achila and I. "Has anyone ever told you that you are tiring?"
"All the time." I smiled proudly.
Geraint frowned as though he smelled something foul. Then he reached out and struck Achila's ass. The horse took off.
"Achila," I cried. My hands flailed as she took off at a gallop. "Wait."
"I'm sorry, my lady. He startled me."
"Can you hold on for a second?" I managed to hold onto the lance with one hand and get a grasp on the reins with the other. I pulled the reins but Achila didn't stop.
"I cannot stop now that I've started. We must complete the course. If you don't hit the target you will be splashed."
I tried to lift the lance into position with my one arm. That bugger was heavy. This exercise was definitely sexist as women didn't have the upper body strength of men.
Okay, some did. But I wasn't in that camp. I did crunches and squats to keep tight and lifted. I gave up on pushups in my teens when my boobs started getting in the way.
Sexist or not, I wasn't
going to get the damn lance in place in time. But then I realized, I didn't need manly upper body strength. I had the strength of a witch.
I took a deep breath and concentrated on the lance, trying to imagine the heavy weapon rising into the cradle of my elbow. It didn't budge.
Remembering Morgan chanting over her brew in the kitchen the other day and Gwin chanting to open the ley line doorway earlier, I began mumbling to myself. "Rise up, oh lance." I repeated it three times, really quick. The weapon still pointed limply to the ground.
The target was almost upon me. I was about to get my pants and shoes and my hair wet. But even worse, I'd have to turn around and face Geraint's stuck-up brows.
I huffed out a gush of air in anger. As the air left my body, I felt a surge of energy. Suddenly, the lance felt light as a feather in my arms. Which was a good thing, since the target was right in front of my face.
Achila was going at a full gallop. I locked the lance in place and aimed. The blunt end of the lance hit the target hard enough for it to spin around. I took a second to look up to see that the tub of water stayed in place.
But I wasn't done. I'd advanced to the second part of this trial. The circle was coming up. The hoop was a much smaller target than the quintain. This would take more than magic.
"I am one with the force," I chanted. "And the force is one with me."
I thought of the tiny hole as the disapproving eye of a certain knight. Between the chanting, the visualization, and the remnants of anger, the lance slid through the ring. With the weapon in its mark, I let go of the lance and raised my arms in triumph. I expected groans from the peanut gallery. But behind me, I heard the boys cheer.
I turned to see Gawain clap his hands. Even from this distance, I could see the whites of his teeth flashing in a grin at my triumph. Geraint didn't flash me a bright smile. Instead, I saw the whites of his eyes narrowed into suspicion and disdain.
Achila and I trotted back. The crowd of boys surrounded us. Only Baysle stood apart, looking up at me with the same suspicion and disdain as his lord.