The Pendragon Legacy: Sons Of Camelot Book One

by Sarah Luddington

  “My foster mother, The Lady, she said Morgan would be trained to obey as a woman should. She’d be taught that her slutty behaviour...” his voice faded again.

  “I’m guessing that wouldn’t be a lesson Morgan would enjoy,” I said.

  Galahad shook his head. “She knows about Nest. The wolves were already on her ‘list of correction’ because of Tancred and now it’s worse. I’ve made them a target.”

  I wished her luck if she chose to storm the Wild Wood. That’s where we’d be heading if I thought I could get there fast enough.

  “Don’t worry, they can look after themselves. We need to see to us right now,” I said.

  He nodded. “I have to fetch something from my room but we can leave immediately,” he said with firm resolve. “Thank you, Holt. Thank you for caring enough to come and find me.”

  “You’re family,” I told him. “I’d never leave you behind. Never.”

  He smiled and his face softened in a way I’d never seen before; it rendered him a god in my eyes. I wanted to touch him to check he was real. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said.

  I blinked rapidly. “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright.” With that confusing statement he checked the hallway and stepped out of the shadows. I shook my head and walked out after the young prince. We covered the ground quickly between this hall and the room Galahad used. There were no guards. It made me kind of paranoid.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Just give me a few moments and I’ll be ready,” Galahad said.

  “That’s fine,” I said, picking up his greaves.

  “Lord Pendragon.”

  I turned to the familiar voice and smiled. “Quilliam.”

  “I’ve found you.” The look of relief on his face made me frown.

  “You lost me?” The Brownies always knew where the members of the royal family were – much to my irritation sometimes.

  “Everything is disrupted. I can’t feel anything correctly. Albion is in mourning and isn’t able to push through The Lady’s interference. She is using our systems. I can’t feel the palace, you, the twins,” he said. His panic translated into his hands twisting and turning around each other.

  I knelt before him. “Quilliam, it’s alright. The twins are safe. I’m taking them to Camelot and on from there, but I’m not certain where yet. Galahad is coming with us. I’ll keep them safe because we want to find a way to stop The Lady once and for all. She won’t be taking the throne, Quilliam, but I can’t stand here and fight her. She’s too strong and protocol won’t allow it. If I thought I could order the legions to attack and wipe her out, I would, but I fear she is too powerful.”

  He nodded repeatedly. “You are right, she is too strong. She would destroy The City.” He paused and I watched Galahad stuffing his things into his pack. “The Queen’s body,” he said quietly.

  “Do what you can. You know what she wanted,” I said. “When we come home, we’ll say our final goodbyes. Just keep everyone alive, Quilliam. Do everything she wants so you are safe. Stay in touch with Camelot. You are once more in charge. I’m sorry,” I said.

  He nodded again. “I understand. I’ll contact our allies and let them know what is happening. Some will already know about the Queen. They will feel it. Prince Tancred for instance. The Lady has to allow the people to mourn. We will do everything we can to disrupt her plans.”

  “Time to leave,” Galahad said.

  I rose to join him. Quilliam looked at us, stood shoulder to shoulder. “You will make your fathers proud, good luck,” he whispered. He turned on his heel and left the room.

  I watched Galahad buckle his sword into place over his mail shirt and long coat. He looked worried, maybe even scared. I didn’t blame him, the poor bastard. The whole world must be a constantly shifting place of challenging ideas and emotions.

  “It’ll be alright,” I said pointlessly.

  His dark eyes looked at me and he grunted. “You don’t believe that any more than I do,” he said.

  “We have to believe, Galahad, or there is no hope.”

  He paused for a moment and fiddled with a strap on his pack. “Do you think this is how they felt whenever they were threatened?” he asked.

  I knew he meant our fathers. “I’m certain they had the same doubts but so long as they were together they survived... Mostly,” I added, trying to raise a smile.

  “But they were the Black Wolf of Albion and the White Hart of Camelot, we are just men,” he said.

  “They were just men, Galahad. Flawed and polished depending on your viewpoint perhaps, but they were just men.”

  “I wish I’d met him,” Galahad said very, very quietly as though confessing a sin.

  I walked to him and turned his shoulders so he faced me. “You have, brother. In here,” I tapped his heart. “The Black Wolf lives in here.”

  Galahad grabbed me and pulled me into a hard embrace. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a pig.”

  I smiled at the echo of Morgan’s words from earlier. “It’s alright, takes a lot more than that to put me off my game.”

  He pulled back and a strange look flitted through his dark eyes. “Our fathers... She explained – for Lancelot – how it worked in his head. That gender held no boundaries for him.”

  “I’m not like that, Galahad,” I said gently, suddenly uncomfortable in his lingering embrace. “I’m different. It matters to me a great deal.”

  “I know, but what if it doesn’t for me?” he asked, the words coming so softly they were almost silent.

  “But it does,” I said. My heart raced making me breathless. I repeated Torvec’s name endlessly inside my head like a talisman. I drew away from his arms. “You’ve had a rough few weeks, Galahad, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better, so I suggest you just relax and try not to think too hard about what you’ve just said.” I picked up his pack and thrust it hard against his chest, pushing more distance between us.

  “Holt.” My name came off his lips in a quiet whisper of agony.

  “No, Galahad. You are not like me. You will never be like me. Stop it.” I wagged my finger at him. “Now, set aside this foolishness and let’s move.” I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his bedroom’s door. With my finger to my lips indicating silence I cracked it open. The hallway looked empty. I listened and didn’t hear anything other than my heartbeat.

  We slipped through the doorway and down to the left. I wanted out and back to the others quickly. The thought of Galahad’s body pressed against mine unnerved me. I loved Torvec. I knew I loved him, didn’t I? I mean, people fell in love quickly, didn’t they? What was happening between us was perfectly normal – right?

  I shook my head, forcing everything away but the current problem, escaping The Lady.

  I reached a corner, poked my head around it and saw the dark hallway we’d use for our escape. Nothing stood between us and freedom. I slid around the corner and Galahad followed. We drew parallel with the exit and The Lady stepped out toward us.

  Small, white skin, hair the colour of coal, just like her eyes, and utterly terrifying. I’d been brought up to fear this woman and I froze the moment she glided into view.

  “Galahad, my son, what are doing?” she asked in a voice empty of anything resembling affection.

  I felt him step back. I glanced behind me and he’d knelt before her, bowing his dark head in submission. “My Lady,” he said. “I was escorting Lord Riven here to see you.”

  I bowed low. “My Lady, it is an honour to meet you. I am here to pledge support, I –” A scream bounced around the stone hallway and hit me just as hard as the ground smashing against my knees. Blood gushed from my side, the barely healed wound opening instantly.

  “Liar,” she said. “You are Lord Pendragon, the so-called King of Camelot.”

  From a great distance I heard Galahad bellow my name in true agony and fear. I just kept wondering when it would stop hurting. Small pincer-like fingers grab
bed my jaw and forced my head up. She was crushing my face.

  “You should have died the moment you met my son. But he still has his father’s sentimental weaknesses. He will learn there is no place for sentiment when he is king.” Her lips were very red and her mouth formed the words perfectly. I watched in fascination while my life drained through my fingers.

  “No, Mother. No, please. He is my friend. He is a good man. You just have to let him live and we will prove it,” Galahad’s broken voice begged and I saw him on his knees beside me.

  “He is corrupt and it is clear he is corrupting you,” she said. “I will remind you of the consequences.”

  Galahad screamed.

  I moved. I flexed my wrist and the smallest of my hunting knives slid into my palm from the sheath tight against my arm. I thrust upward toward The Lady’s face. The knife missed her throat but caught her under her jaw. Red – the colour of her lips, bloomed. The small knife went right through her throat and into the palate of her mouth. It stopped when the hilt hit the soft bit and the bones of her face, pinning her mouth shut. Her black eyes blinked in shock. Galahad stopped screaming.

  I released the blade. The woman stepped back. Strong arms scrabbled for me and lifted. The woman reached for the weapon rendering her silent. I rose, agony making me curse violently. The woman’s white dress became washed in red as she stumbled and collapsed to one knee.

  “Holt, run,” Galahad yelled at me as we heard the pounding of feet. Her guards were coming and my friend dragged me into the dark corridor. Out and along. Out again through a door. Yelling behind us.

  “The stables,” Galahad said in panic. “I don’t know where they are.”

  “This way.” Quilliam appeared and gestured for us to follow.

  Galahad half-carried me after the Brownie’s hurrying figure, hidden by the darkness of the routes only Brownies used around the grounds of the palace. We were at the stables in moments.

  “The girls are already on their way to the gate,” he said. “Hurry.”

  “The shifters,” Galahad gasped.

  “Gone, don’t worry, they will find you.” Quilliam stuffed cloth against the wound in my side. “Head for anywhere but Camelot. I know you feel bad now but her magic will wear off soon. You need to help Loholt. He is your only chance.”

  “Quilliam,” I gasped.

  “I will warn Camelot to expect trouble, my Lord,” he said. “Take your father’s horse.” He handed me the reins of my father’s final destrier, Whisper. The fine white head bobbed and his ears flattened at the scent of blood.

  “Don’t start,” I scowled. “We have to work together so get over it.” Whisper did not like anyone but my father riding him, which meant he’d not be ridden well for months. Galahad’s own white stallion whinnied in welcome to his young master.

  “We aren’t going stick out at all riding these two through the streets,” I muttered, Galahad forcing me up into the saddle.

  “At least we’ll be quick,” he said, turning Sherriff. “Thank you, Quilliam.”

  “May the gods bless you,” he said.

  “I doubt it, knowing my luck,” I muttered, forcing Whisper to follow the other stallion. We were galloping through the palace gates, scattering people around us within moments.

  “Holt, are you alright?” Galahad called over his shoulder. Dawn began to press against the horizon.

  “Just ride. I’ll hang on here until we can stop. South gate,” I gasped. I had no idea what damage that witch had done but fuck me, it felt worse than the original wound.

  I couldn’t afford to lose concentration though. Galahad soon found himself lost in the maze of streets and I tried to take the lead but Whisper’s difficult nature proved hard to control and Galahad took his reins while the people woke around us. Soon the roads were clogged with all manner of merchants and traders. It would only become worse the longer we took, especially when the news from the palace caught us up and people began to recognise the King of Camelot fleeing The City with someone who looked a lot like a younger version of their beloved king.

  Mercy made a play for our survival though and I saw the south gates looming in the distance. I pointed, hung on to the saddle and Galahad bullied his way through at a forced canter. We arrived at the gates the same moment the sun broke over the horizon. Someone in the palace set fire to the beacon on the tallest tower, the smoke black and dense, announcing Morgana’s death.

  Everyone around us stilled and grew silent. We took the opportunity and I saw Torvec’s white hair where he stood on a mounting block looking for us with Sparrow’s reins in his hands. I’d never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.

  I tried to raise my hand over my head to draw his attention but the pain in my side made it impossible. I gasped, it was enough. Torvec’s eyes found mine and suddenly the world felt just a little safer. I closed my eyes and Whisper shifted, Galahad leading us through the gate. Words floated around me, male and female voices.

  “Holt?” Torvec’s voice came into focus. His hand warmed a cold patch on my back.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Your wound,” he sounded distressed.

  “Fine,” I gasped as Whisper jibed sideways. “Ride.”

  “Where?” Morgan asked.

  I couldn’t place Camelot in danger by returning home, no matter how badly I needed to go. “South, we return to the Wild Wood,” I said.

  I heard Galahad give orders, ensuring his sisters were protected and Whisper galloped off after everyone else.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I rode. Or rather I stayed upright in the saddle, holding my side and trying not bleed all over my father’s saddle. Torvec rode beside me but remained quiet. The sun clawed its way up the sky. I finally discovered the end of my ability to cope when Torvec shouted and his fingers dug into my arm, pushing me back into the saddle.

  “Galahad, stop,” Morgan yelled.

  Voices moved around me and I have to say I didn’t care very much. I just wanted to lie still somewhere quiet and have my nice new friend hold my hand for a while.

  “Torvec,” I murmured. “Sleep.”

  “No, Holt, you can’t sleep,” he said urgently.

  “Hmm, sleep,” I agreed with myself and a nice warm wash of surrender pulled me away from the exhaustion and pain of riding any further.

  “What’s wrong?” a deep voice dragged me back.

  “Galahad,” I whispered.

  “Holt?” Strong fingers took hold of my jaw and turned my head. “Look at me, damnit.”

  I smiled and opened my eyes for him. Anxiety and fear were etched into his strong face. “Hello,” I said, trying to be helpful.

  “Shit.” Apparently I wasn’t being helpful. “We can’t stop,” Galahad said. “If we stop she’ll find us.”

  “He’s hurt,” Torvec said. “He needs to be healed.”

  “He can’t be. Tancred took days to repair the wound last time. His fever. I nearly lost him.” Galahad’s panic woke me from my stupor. I had to save him and the girls. That was my task.

  “Go,” I said, lucid for a moment. “Go to Fitzwilliam’s place. Wait there. Torvec can stay with me. I just can’t keep up this pace. If we split up it might help confuse our enemies. Keep the twins safe, Galahad. The three of you are all that matter.”

  “Not to me,” he cried out. “Holt, I can’t leave you. We are in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I can help him,” Torvec said. “I’ll not let anyone hurt him, I promise.”

  “You’re a fucking bard, what are you going to do? Sing him to death?” Galahad’s words were bordering on hysterical.

  Nim placed a hand on his arm. “Brother, you have to let Torvec look after Holt. We have to move on. You cannot help him, you have to trust someone else.” Her calm and logical tone made sense but Galahad didn’t want to hear any of it.

  “You can ride to Fitzwilliam’s, you don’t need me,” he said. “I’ll stay –”

  “O
h,” Morgan cut in. “You’re going to let your sisters ride alone? Great fucking knight you are.” She wheeled her horse and made to move off.

  “Alright!” Galahad yelled. He closed his eyes and I watched him wrestle something under tight control – his temper perhaps? No, something else but I didn’t know what. “Alright,” he said calmly. “We’ll go and leave Holt with Torvec but I want him with us as soon as you can manage it.”

  “He’ll be with you, I promise,” Torvec said.

  Galahad took hold of my hand. “Holt?” he asked. I grunted in return and it took far too much effort. “Hold on. Come back to me. I cannot do this alone, you know that, don’t you?”

  I tried to smile. “Never alone,” I said and patted his young hand. He nodded and he really did look so very young for a moment. They turned their horses and we were left in a cloud of dust.

  Torvec took my reins. “Come on, we need to get you off the road.”

  “Can’t,” I said. “Hurts. Just want to lie down.”

  Torvec cursed. “Alright, love.” He moved Sparrow beside the stallion and shifted seamlessly from one horse to the other. His arms wrapped around my body and we were gently and slowly moving from the road. “Just relax, Holt. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

  My head rested against his shoulder and I closed my eyes. That soft warm place crept over me again and I think I passed out.

  Dappled sunshine flickered over my eyelids and water tickled my lips. “Huh?”

  “Hello, brave soldier,” Torvec said. “Time to wake up. I need to check your wound.”

  “Huh?”

  Subtle fingers undid laces and pushed off my mail shirt, then released buckles and I lost my gambeson. I liked this game. Next the doublet and my shirt was pulled from my hose.

  “Oh fucking hell,” he cursed. “This is the wound Tancred couldn’t heal?”

  “I’m too human and been healed too many times,” I said, still floating somewhere soft and warm.

  Those cool fingers felt my brow. “No fever yet,” he pronounced.