He laughed, but didn’t complain as I pulled him in for another long, slow kiss.
I woke with a start to the morning sun in my eyes. I pressed my fingers to my lips. His last kiss lingered there; I could still feel the heat of his lips on mine.
The bushes at the edge of the courtyard rustled and I reached instinctively for Excalibur. I was half way to my feet when the leaves parted and Wyn stepped out. I sunk back to my knees and released Excalibur.
He was in just his jeans, and suffering from a serious case of bed head.
“Where have you been?” I asked in a whisper. I didn’t want to wake Sam who was still sleeping nearby. I wasn’t worried about Percy. He could sleep through anything.
“What’s the first thing most guys do when they wake up in the morning?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t wish to know…”
“I was taking a piss.” He was close enough now to clip me round the back of the head, but I still wrinkled my nose again. Even that was too much information. “And I took the chance to look around a little too.”
“Did you find anything?”
He dropped to the ground beside me. “I think I found the Great Hall. It’s hard to tell. It’s pretty overgrown, but it looks about right.”
“Did you find any stairs?”
He looked away.
“Wyn, did you find some stairs?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean ‘sort of’?”
“I found a hole – down, but the stairs have crumbled. It’s not going to be easy.” Even without Lance’s instructions in the dream Wyn and I had already suspected the ring would be in the vault below the castle.
I groaned and stood up, stretching my arms over my head. “Nothing ever is.”
Percy stirred at my movement. He lay sprawled on his stomach, his face buried in his folded up jacket. He lifted his head just enough to free his mouth.
“Is it breakfast time?”
Wyn smirked at him. “Only if you’re cooking it.”
Percy dropped back down into his jacket then rolled onto his back with a groan. “I miss the days of wenches. When my breakfast would just appear on a tray beside my bed-“
I laughed. “I’m afraid those days are long gone my friend. Welcome to the new age.”
Percy grumbled a little more, but only to himself as he stoked up the fire and pulled food from the rucksacks.
He burnt the bacon, but despite his grumbling it wasn’t a bad breakfast in the end. I barely tasted it though, wolfing it down in my eagerness to get to the remains of the Great Hall.
Percy and Wyn were used to my appetite, but Sam stared, taking tiny, dainty bites of her own food. I don’t think she realised how many calories sword fighting burnt.
As soon as we’d eaten I forced Wyn to show me the hole down to the underbelly of the castle. It lay at the far end of what had once been the Great Hall. The walls were almost entirely gone, and the giant flagstones that had made up the floor were cracked and buckled making for treacherous footing.
He’d been right. The stairs had long since rotted away and instead we looked down into a dark, seemingly bottomless pit.
“How deep do you think it is?” I asked, leaning forward to peer down.
Wyn grabbed my arm to steady me as some of the stone crumbled under my feet.
“Deep enough that you’ll break your neck if you fall down.”
I shook off his concern with a shrug. “We have to get down there somehow.”
Percy wandered over, munching on an apple. He took a final bite and tossed it into the hole. We all heard the soft thunk as it hit the bottom seconds later.
“It’s not that deep,” he said, joining me at the edge. “Ten or twelve feet at my guess.” Without another word he crouched down and swung himself over, dropping until he was holding on with his fingertips, dangling over the blackness.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He grinned up at me. “I’m six foot five, maybe a little more. At the very most it’s going to be a six foot drop. It’s hardly going to kill me.”
“But you’ve got no idea what’s down there – what you’ll be landing on.”
He grinned like a schoolboy. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
He let go and I held my breath as he dropped. He hit the ground with a grunt and a muffled swearword.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, but the ground is about four inches deep in mud. Now come on. Just do what I did and I’ll catch you at the bottom.”
Wyn gave me a warning look, but I copied Percy’s child-like grin and swung myself down into the hole. I dangled, gripping with just my fingertips, then let go before my strength gave out.
There was a moment of sheer terror as I dropped through the pitch black, but then Percy’s arms caught me and set me down in the thick, squelchy mud.
Something scurried nearby and I grimaced.
“Rats?”
Percy’s chuckle sounded ghostly in the dark. “Let’s hope so.”
I tugged out the torch I’d tucked into the pocket of my jeans and flicked it on.
The light hit rough stone walls covered in green moss on three sides, and dark tunnel on the forth. There was a gleam of tiny beady eyes near the base of one of the walls and then the rat disappeared into a hole.
Percy and I exchanged a shrug just as Wyn dropped down beside us with his own torch.
“Don’t mind me. I’ll just hang around up here.” Sam’s voice floated down from above.
Wyn threw his torch to Percy. “Come on then. I’ll catch you.”
Sam was nervous about heights; she had been ever since we were kids. I remembered a school trip to Blackpool pier one year where she’d freaked out on top of a Ferris wheel. So I was quite impressed when she dropped through the hole into Wyn’s waiting arms.
And if his hand lingered a little too long on her waist I pretended not to notice.
With Percy in the lead we headed down the tunnels and I tried my best not to think of wraiths haunting the darkness. Even though I knew the scurrying sounds were rats it was hard not to imagine worse things down in the damp dark.
We found an old cellar with the rotten remains of old mead casks and a number of dank cells, but no sign of the vault.
At a crossroads deep under the castle we found ourselves facing a choice of directions, though both looked very much the same. Dank, dark, and very unwelcoming.
I did a quick eeny-meeny and took the right-hand path.
It ended in a wide archway. Each huge block of masonry surrounding it had been carved into scenes depicting great battles and other events. Above the arch were words in old Celtic, chipped into the stone with surprising craftsmanship. A benefit of having once shared my head with Arthur was that I could read them. Strength, honour, fealty.
I stepped through the archway into the cavernous room beyond.
Wyn and Percy both lunged for me at the same time, realising what was beyond the archway before I did, but it was Wyn who caught me, spinning me round.
It was too late. I’d already seen it. The great stone tomb and the likeness carved into the white stone, lying as though he was sleeping, his hands wrapped around the hilt of a great broadsword.
For a moment I was numb, then my whole body turned to ice. My heart leapt into my throat, trying to escape the black hole that had just opened in my chest.
“What?” Sam’s voice was muffled, as though I had my head stuck under water. “What’s in there?”
She brushed past me then gasped, and suddenly her arms were around me.
She whispered meaningless words in my ear, but I couldn’t hear her properly.
I knew that wasn’t Lance. Not my Lance. He was alive and well in Avalon. But I couldn’t escape the fact that a part of him had been buried beneath that tomb.
A part of him I’d loved once too. A part I’d kissed and lain with in a sunny clearing near Camelot so very many years ago.
I couldn’t e
scape the fact that even though he’d been brought back, he had died, he had been buried.
The black hole in the middle of my chest yawned wider, threatening to swallow me whole.
I needed to get away. I needed to be as far away from that cold stone tomb as I could.
I broke away from Sam, but Wyn caught me as I turned to race down the corridor.
“Cara, wait. We have to check first.”
I twisted my tearstained face towards him.
“Check? Check what?”
He glanced at Percy as though for reassurance and then back at me. “It was always tradition for a warrior to be buried with items of importance. Normally his sword and shield, but sometimes other things. Tokens. Jewellery.”
My mouth dropped open. “You – you want to open his tomb?”
Wyn grimaced. “No. I really don’t want to – but I have to check.” He shook me gently when I started to hyperventilate. “Remember, Cara, that isn’t him in there. Everything that made him who he is, it’s in Avalon, safe and waiting for you. What’s in that tomb is nothing but dust.”
“But still-“ I couldn’t finish the sentence. It was something I’d never thought about – that I’d tried not to think about. Now I could think of nothing else. Nothing but the body that lay beneath that tomb. “You have one too don’t you? A tomb somewhere. Doesn’t it bother you?”
Wyn shrugged. “I went to see it.”
“Your tomb?” Sam’s voice was horrified.
“Well, it wasn’t really a tomb, but yes. Call it morbid curiosity. But mine wasn’t like this. I died in battle far from home. And it was horrible, and part of me wishes I’d never gone, but at the same time I know that it wasn’t me. It was just the shell of what had once been me.” He scrubbed his hand across his face. “It’s impossible to describe – knowing you’ve died and being brought back. But look, all that aside, I have to go in there. I have to check.”
I knew I could never face going back into that room – not in a million years – so I let Wyn and Percy go whilst Sam and I waited in the tunnel. She stood close to me and rubbed my back.
Trying not to listen to sounds of shifting stone from within I focused instead on the carvings.
Now I knew what was inside I knew what the carvings were. Scenes from Lancelot’s life.
I edged closer. The man who had carved them was a true artist; there was so much detail even in the faces and clothes. One showed Lancelot kneeling before Arthur being knighted, so young and yet already so stern. Another showed him in his rightful place at the Round Table. Others showed scenes from great battles.
One stood out – not seeming to fit with the others. It wasn’t a battle or in the high court of the king. Instead it showed Lancelot in a forest clearing, on one knee before a long-haired girl. Somehow I knew it wasn’t Guinevere – it was me.
I stepped away from Sam’s comforting arms and traced the figures with my fingertips.
“Cara?” Wyn stepped out of the room without me noticing and touched my shoulder with a gentle hand.
“Did you find it?”
He nodded. “I think so. I only ever saw it the once, but I’m sure this is it.”
He dropped it into my outstretched hand and I closed my fingers around it. A single touch was enough to know it was the right ring. My fingertips tingled the same as they did when I held Excalibur.
I glanced once towards the room behind the archway. “Let’s get out of here. This place – “ I shuddered and the others understood.
When we reached the crossroads again I glanced down the path we hadn’t taken.
“You want to take a look?” Wyn asked.
I shrugged but followed him down the new path. At the end we found another archway, but this one was barred by an iron gate so rusted that when Percy gave it a gentle shove the whole thing fell inwards.
I sucked in a single deep breath as I gazed into the room beyond.
A tiny fraction of what lay there would have made me rich beyond my wildest imagination. Gold and silver glinted coldly from every corner. Piles of coins, sparkling jewels, silver trays and goblets. The wealth was unimaginable. Some objects were vaguely familiar from Lance’s stories of old quests, but most was simply the accumulated wealth of a knight who’d lived a very simple life.
“Holy shit.” Sam whistled behind me.
I ignored her, taking a tiny step into the room.
“You know you could take it all don’t you?” Wyn said softly. “It’s Lancelot’s and he would want you to have it.”
I shook my head. Not because Wyn was wrong, but because I couldn’t. For a start what would I do with it? I couldn’t sell it – no one would accept that I just happened to find it. And besides that, it just felt wrong. Then I thought of Wyn and Percy and what would happen to them if we never reopened the barriers. No Merlin, no magic, and no money.
“Take a few of the pieces that might be easier to sell,” I said to Wyn. One look between us and he knew exactly what I was thinking.
But as I turned to leave something caught my eye. It was either a hair piece or a brooch, I couldn’t quite tell which. It was small, only a couple of inches or so across, but it was exquisite. A swirling Celtic design in silver set with tiny blue gems that made me think of Lancelot’s eyes.
It was in my hand before I even consciously decided to pick it up, and I tucked it away in the pocket of my jeans.
“Percy, see if you can’t wedge the gate back in,” I said as I stepped back into the corridor. I glanced at Wyn. “Do you think anyone’s ever likely to find this place?”
He shrugged as we headed back to the hole in the ground. “Not for a while. One day, yes. But they’ll find his tomb too. And all of that,” he jerked his head back behind us. “Will end up in a museum somewhere.”
“Do you think they’ll know who he was?”
“They might figure it out from the carvings. It’d be a bit of a shock for them. But they might just believe it was some later knight who liked the legends.”
Sam shook her head. “Not if they date things properly. They have all these techniques these days. They’ll find out this place and everything in it predates the romanticised legends. Then they’ll have to consider that he might be the real deal.”
I smirked into the darkness. Sam had become quite the Arthurian buff recently. I almost suspected that she knew more than I did.
Only a few hours later we were back on the road. It was strange leaving. Part of me was desperate to leave, to put as much distance as possible between me and that cold stone tomb, but part of me hated leaving, I had felt closer to Lance than I had in a long time.
There was no sense of urgency on the journey south again. We had found the ring, but were no closer to finding a way back into Avalon, or locating the dragon, and none of us were honestly sure what to do next.
I fell asleep somewhere along the road – the rumble of the engine lulling me.
I opened my eyes to the blood-red stones of Stonehenge at sunset. It was the last place in the world I wanted to be, but my dread vanished instantly when I saw Lance lounging on one of the fallen stones.
“Your choice or mine?” I asked, gesturing at the stones.
He smirked. “Yours I think. You dream about it a lot, so it’s easy for Merlin to put me here.”
It was strange. I was getting used to seeing Lance in my dreams. Almost as though it was normal. To be honest I was happy for any chance to see him that I could get.
“You found it then?” He nodded towards my hands and I noticed the ring was on my finger – my left ring finger. I glanced down at it in surprise. I hadn’t even looked at it when Wyn handed it to me, just shoving it deep into my pocket. But I guessed I must have seen more of it than I realised, allowing me to bring the image of it into my vision. The band was soft yellow gold that gleamed in the setting sun, a deep green emerald set in the middle. The stone had been chipped, but it was still beautiful.
Lance caught me by that hand and drew me towards him.
“You know, I quite like seeing a ring on this finger.”
I snorted. “I’m seventeen – slow down a little why don’t you.”
He laughed. “Back in Arthur’s time you’d have been married three or four years by now. And if you weren’t everyone would wonder why you were such an old maid.”
My hand thumped him in the chest but he only laughed and pulled me closer.
“Thankfully I have a thing for old maids.”
It was my turn to laugh, just as he kissed me. He lifted his hand to my hair and then pulled away smiling.
“You found that too I see.”
I lifted my hand to where he was looking and felt the silver and blue clip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it. It was just so beautiful.”
“You should have taken it. It’s yours after all.” He smiled at my confused expression. “I bought it for you. A few days before you left Camelot. I think I was waiting for the right time to give it to you. I waited too long.”
A warm feeling settled in my belly. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go, but it wasn’t the time.
“I’m assuming Merlin didn’t send you here just to talk about jewellery and what an old maid I am.”
“Indeed he did not. He wanted to tell you about a legend he thinks you should look into. The Silver Bough.”
“Bough as in tree branch or bow as in take a bow?” I asked with a smile. “And why?”
“Tree branch. It’s not one from our time, I think it’s even older, and Merlin wouldn’t say much about it. Just that it might be important.”
“So what’s the legend?”
“The Silver Bough was supposedly fashioned by a Fey Princess to allow passage into the land of the fairies. As I say, it’s an old legend, so it might just be that, a legend, despite what you might think not all of them are true, but it’s worth looking into.”
I nodded just as he grimaced.
“We’re running out of time?”
“You have no idea how much it takes out of Merlin to open these windows.”
I forced back the tears that were already burning my eyes. I hated how little time we had. I drew his head down and kissed him.
The Forever Queen (Pendragon Book 2) Page 11