The young man was screaming, out of his mind with fear and feeling pain like he’d never felt before. I wanted to drink him, all of him, but something was amiss. As his blood dripped down my chin, I stared into his frightened eyes. The dark pupils were dilated with fear, and he was begging me for his life. Then the strangest thing happened to me. I lost my appetite. I stood up and stepped back from his writhing body on wobbly legs. In just a few seconds, I had taken quite a bit of his blood, and I wondered whether he would live or die. And then Merlin was there. He squatted down beside Rat and hushed him gently. And then he snapped his neck as if he were killing a chicken and not a full-grown man.
“I could not kill him,” I said as I wiped the blood off my face. My dress was bloody too. I would need some new clothing soon. “I cannot understand that. Nothing like that has ever happened to me.” I couldn’t stop staring at Rat’s corpse. Am I feeling regret?
“You could not kill him because he is one of yours, Undead Queen. He is of your bloodline, Guinevere.”
“You lie!” I accused him. “That is not possible.”
“How is it not? Alwen lived, Undead Queen. Alwen lived and married and had many children. Her offspring had many offspring and so on and so forth. It is the nature of things.”
“How do you know this about my daughter?”
“Because I married her. Come now, we must retrieve Excalibur and then you must rest.” The druid disappeared down the hole, and I flew after him. This wasn’t over, but for the moment I had to think about Excalibur. I could hear it more clearly now. It was about a hundred feet in front of me, hidden under the blue stone where Alwen and I placed it the night she was stolen from me.
“Did you steal my daughter from me, Merlin? Is that why you hid from me all these years? Did your guilt keep you away?” I shouted into the darkness and searched for him. I did not have to wait long. There he was, glowing about ten feet ahead of me.
He turned to face me. “I rescued Alwen. Morgan captured her and was selling her to the highest bidder. I claimed her, and Morgan had to release her to me. We were happy together, Undead Queen.”
“Stop calling me that!” I said as I swatted away a patch of spider webs. “Where is my daughter, enchanter?” Merlin hated to be called that—he felt it beneath him, which was precisely why I used it now.
“She lived only once, Guinevere. She was not twice-born, no matter how much I wish she had been. I would have found her again and loved her still. I would have kept her safe.” I gasped to hear him speak so freely about loving my only daughter, my sweet, innocent Alwen.
And then I heard the sword speak loudly, “…Guin…light…Arthur…”
“Stop talking,” I said to Merlin. “Listen! Do you hear it?”
“Guin…light…Arthur…broken…” I whispered the words I heard the sword speak.
Merlin asked, “Is the sword speaking to you now?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling like I was in a trance. “It calls me. It wants to tell me a secret.”
“What does it say, Queen Guinevere?”
“Guin…light…Arthur…broken…I do not understand what it says.”
“Take the sword, Guinevere! Take it now! Morgan will be here soon, I fear.”
“I cannot take it yet. It is speaking. It is warning me. It wants me to know…”
Aggravated, Merlin reached for the blade himself. But as soon as his hand touched it, a spark erupted from the steel and he hit the floor as if he were dead. Anxious to make contact with Excalibur, I slid it out of the decrepit blanket where I had hidden it all those years ago and gasped at the sight of the blade. Still lovely and perfect and dangerous! The Sword of Britain! My sword!
“No, Guinevere! It is Arthur’s sword! You must return it to him! You must!”
I held the sword up and felt it throbbing in my hands; it was as if Excalibur and I had never been apart. How could I have not missed this feeling? Power surged through the blade, up my arm and all through my body. Yes, this was a strong blade wrapped in strong magic.
Magic strong enough to break this curse for good. I held it up for a moment and then without thinking began spinning about with the blade upraised and my face turned up to the ceiling. The sword and I were one! I could see what it saw, feel what it felt.
Excalibur remembered. It remembered its breaking, the breaking of what could not be broken. It remembered, and it had not forgiven Arthur. The sword had not been stolen, as some had supposed. It had wanted to go with Morgan. She had wooed the force in the blade, offered it a place of honor and much blood and glory. Morgan promised that she would never break Excalibur, that she was the true Pendragon, but the sword remembered me and found its way back to me.
“Guinevere, my queen, we must leave this place. Arthur, I can see him. He is in danger. We must go take him the sword or all will be lost!”
“Yes, to Arthur,” I said dreamily as we left the catacombs with the sword.
Yes, we will bring it to Arthur and see what Excalibur thinks about that.
Chapter Fifteen—Luke Ryan
“Guinevere,” I whispered aloud. I heard a female voice humming near me, and someone shuffled around me. The inky blackness made it impossible to discern who or what drew near. My mouth felt dry, as if I had worked all day in the mine without breaking for a drink of water. “Who’s there?” I strained to see in the darkness. Where am I? A crackling of stones fell to the ground a few feet away, and then I knew exactly where I was—the Cavanaugh Mine. I tried to stand up, but my head was reeling. My hand flew to the source of the pain, and I cringed at my own touch. I had a sizeable lump at the back of my head. Am I bleeding? I felt sick to my stomach. This can’t be good.
A match strike changed everything. A woman’s face appeared above mine. Her dark hair hid her face as she waved her hand over the flame of the large white candle she held. And then she lit another candle and then another and set them in the recesses of the cave walls. How many candles does she have? This isn’t safe! Who was she? I’d seen her before but couldn’t place her. The lump on my head throbbed. I should know her!
“Guinevere!” I couldn’t help but call that name.
“Yes! Call her, by all means, my king. Call Guinevere, but you should know a few things about your wife. She is quite changed, not as you left her. She is demon-kind now, brother. She betrayed you, betrayed us both, and you know the price for betraying a Pendragon—but I punished her. Guinevere was always your weakness, Arthur.”
Arthur! Yes, I am Arthur. I could not make sense of her words…what could she mean? My head ached intensely, but my heart was beating like a gazelle’s.
“Morgan. You are Morgan.” She grinned at my realization but came no closer. Footsteps echoed down the hall, and a man cleared the narrow entrance of the small room. I didn’t remember this room, but this was definitely the Cavanaugh. He ducked to avoid hitting his head, and by his height and swagger I knew who he was—McAllister. Rat bastard! I sat up and discovered my left hand was shackled to the wall. A spike had been driven deep into the stone, and a makeshift cuff trapped my wrist.
“You didn’t die after all? I thought I killed you back there.”
“It would take more than you to kill me, McAllister. What the hell are you doing here? Better yet, why am I here?”
“Lucy tells me you stole something valuable from her and she wants it back. So…” He grabbed me by the back of the head and snatched it up. “Tell her what she wants to know.”
“When did you become my sister’s dog, McAllister?” My ex-boss hit me in the gut with his clenched right fist, and I gagged at the pain. I swore at him and promised to tear him a new one. He didn’t seem too concerned. Man, I’m in bad shape. I’ve got to keep it together. Where the hell was Buddy? Any other time I wouldn’t be able to shake the old man, but now he was nowhere to be found.
“Come here,” Morgan commanded McAllister. They kissed savagely, and he openly groped her. Who or what had brought these two together? The sight of my ex-boss
fondling my sister shocked me, but I had an even bigger question.
“Why am I here? What do you want, Morgan?”
“Excellent question, my king.” She pushed McAllister away and walked toward me; I was her complete focus now. She tugged at the cuff, reminding me that trying to free myself would be futile. “Do you wonder why I cuffed only one hand? I will tell you why—because I love seeing you struggle! And with one hand free, you’ll fight to the death if needed, which is what I want you to do. You will fight and lose, Arthur. So be patient…this will all be over soon.”
“What do you want?” I demanded as I tried to get to my feet. I leaned against the wall, but the cuff wouldn’t budge.
“None of this should surprise you. Why do you deny me, brother? Am I not a Pendragon too? You know what I want—I want what is mine. But no matter, Guinevere is bringing it to me.”
“I don’t think so, Morgan. She would die before she let that happen.”
“She is already dead,” she said as she slapped me hard across the side of my face. I swung at her with my free hand, but she laughed as she ducked away from me easily. She moved faster than I could have predicted. It was an inhuman movement. Her words chilled me to the core.
“What are you, Morgan? What have you become? What have you done to Guinevere?”
“Oh, I did nothing, really. She made it so easy. Imagine how unqueenly, taking one’s own life, but it did her no good; she could not escape payment for her crimes.”
The hair on my arms rose at her words. “What crimes do you speak of? I am the one who refused to hand over Excalibur to you. I am the one who killed your son on the battlefield. Whatever justice you demand, you do wrong by asking Guinevere to pay the blood-price.”
Morgan let out a scream of anguish when I mentioned the death of Mordred. She began to breathe heavily and, to my amazement, grew a foot taller right in front of my eyes. She screamed again, and her fingers extended; they looked like something out of a horror flick. Morgan was becoming…something, and the sight of her beastly transformation scared the hell out of me. I looked at McAllister’s face; he was also terrified and stepping back toward the entrance. Morgan’s lovely face contorted, her already large eyes changed, and her face took on a wolfish look. Holy hell! Was she a werewolf? Immediately I began tugging at the cuff. I leaned against the wall, using my feet to push off, hoping that would free me. And then Morgan began to talk.
But I did not understand the words. They were ancient and deadly and focused on me. I was about to die. I had been on many battlefields in my first life and through many dangers in my current life, but none had been as menacing as Morgan was now.
Before Morgan could complete her transformation, Guinevere raced into the room, her beautiful face twisted with anger, her eyes glittering with determination as she sailed into the chamber. Her hands flew around McAllister’s neck, and she took him to the ground with a growl. I watched in horror as she pounced on him with the ferocity of a beast. McAllister made a gurgling sound but soon lay still on the cave floor. Another figure entered the small room—the place was getting crowded now, and I was eager to get out. I recognized the face. Merlin! He ran to my side immediately and began working on the cuff. I could not help but stare at my old friend. I clamped his shoulder with my hand. “Thank God you’ve come.” To think, Buddy…no, Merlin had been with me all this time. As we struggled to weaken the metal cuff, Morgan charged at Guinevere, the candles flickering as she moved. Guinevere disappeared through the low doorway and reappeared with Excalibur. How were they moving so quickly? I could do nothing but stare as they circled one another, spinning and growling. Guinevere’s dark red hair flew around her; she looked fierce, and all her determination was focused on Morgan. I thought perhaps she would swing the sword and make the blow, but she did not.
“Arthur!” Guinevere shouted, her voice raspy yet strong. Like an expert marksman, she flung a tiny silver knife at Morgan and pinned her hand to the cavern wall. Black blood dripped from the wound, and a scream of rage issued from my sister’s throat. As if I were watching the events in slow motion, Guinevere then launched the sword at me. I thought that she would kill me, that I would die, but suddenly Excalibur rested in my hand. As if it had a mind of its own! I flicked my wrist instinctively and discovered that my arm was now free from its chains.
“Excalibur!” I exclaimed as the cave began to shake and rock. Morgan had freed herself from the silver knife and began to scream; the sound was unholy and chilled me to my bones.
“Give it to me!” She slashed at Guinevere with the silver blade, and my wife fell back for a moment. Her face bled, and her white teeth glistened in the candlelight. What was wrong with her teeth?
“Guinevere!” I screamed in horror.
Merlin yelled at me. “Run!” he warned me as he reached for Morgan and climbed on her back. “You have to leave now!”
The mine shook again, small rocks began to rain down on us, and suddenly arms were around me and I felt myself flying. I clutched the sword, ready to do battle with Morgan. Merlin had fallen off her back, and she charged at him with the silver blade. Guinevere carried me effortlessly from the cave as it began to collapse. Her strange perfume wrapped around me and brought me comfort in the chaos.
“Merlin!” I yelled, but there was nothing I could do. Guinevere and I flew into the bright light that leaked into the cave portal. Then she screamed and released me as we breached the opening. She collapsed in the dirt in a heap of agony. Her cool skin felt hot now, and her eyes were pools of dark pain. Her cries revealed her fangs again, and the sight horrified me.
“Arthur! The light!” she moaned, but there was no time to wait for her to explain. The mine exploded behind us, a shower of rocks covering the entrance.
“Merlin!” I yelled as Guinevere crawled away at record speed. She hid under Buddy’s familiar van and crumpled into a ball. “Merlin!” I did not know what to do, race back to save Merlin or help Guinevere.
“Arthur! Please, help me! I am burning!” Guinevere wept.
When the ground stopped rumbling, I snatched open the van door and grabbed an emergency blanket out of the first-aid kit. My heart raced as I crawled under the van to cover her smoking body. “Guinevere,” I said, but she only moaned in response. Covering her face and body, I dragged her out from under the van.
“No, Arthur…” she cried in breathless pain. “Do not look at me!”
“You need a hospital. We have to go!”
“No, no hospital. Take me to the darkness or I will die.”
I deposited her in a heap on the passenger seat and drove Buddy’s van like a madman to the place where my mind led me. I felt like someone was guiding me, and then I realized Guinevere was showing me the pictures in my mind.
Turn here, yes, left. Arthur, I am burning!
In twenty minutes we were driving on a narrow path through the thick woods, almost straight into a long-forgotten ruin. This had once been Cameliard, or at least a piece of it. Before I knew what was happening, Guinevere was flying into the remains of her once-proud tower, a trail of smoke behind her.
Chapter Sixteen—Arthur Pendragon
I ran behind Guinevere with Excalibur in my hand. I wept as I ran—the loss of Merlin was great, and now I was losing Guinevere. Or had I already lost her? What had happened to her? This sudden revelation, of who I was and who I’d been, was too much. I had no time to think…and I needed to think. I ran down the narrow stairs. She had to be down here. There was nowhere else for her to go.
“Guinevere! Where are you?” I clutched the sword and yelled again, “Guinevere, don’t run from me. I need you. We have to go back for him. We must…”
She whispered back to me from somewhere below, “Sleep, Arthur. I must sleep. Please stay away. I cannot trust myself to be close to you now. I hunger…”
As I reached the bottom step, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. She was there, my disheveled queen, a smoking mess. Her hair covered her face, but I could s
ee how colorless and frail she was. “What has happened to you? What can I do?”
“I must sleep, Arthur.” She rolled her head toward me, and I could hardly believe I was looking on the face of my wife. How could I have ever forgotten her? Her skin was so pale, her lips paler, and her hair had darkened to a deeper red, but time hadn’t changed who she was. She was still my queen, my love, my Guinevere.
I laid the sword between us and sat beside her. Should I hold her? Would she set upon me as she had McAllister? She had warned me, and I could hear the fear in her voice. Yes, she had warned me to leave her be, but I could not. I could not resist moving the strand of hair that crossed her face. As I did, her eyes flew open and she grabbed my arm. I could feel the ferocity surging again behind those wide eyes that had once been as green as emeralds and were now dark and full of pain.
“Arthur?”
“I am here, Guinevere.”
“Do not look at me,” she whispered breathlessly. “I do not want you to see me like this. Remember me as I was. Leave me now.”
“Never! I will never leave you.”
Suddenly, I could see her walking down the long aisle of the church, her ladies walking behind her. How Camelot had celebrated their new queen! How the people had loved her!
Then I saw my son, my only son, Lochlon, on the day he began to practice on the fighting field. How proud I had been. No man ever had been as proud as I was of my son. But where was he now?
Lochlon!
Guinevere squeezed my hand, and I realized that once again she was guiding me, showing me what she remembered, reminding me of the love we once shared.
Remember this, Arthur. Leave me now.
“Never,” I said aloud as I closed my eyes and continued to watch the memories unfold in her mind. My daughter, Alwen! Her mother’s shadow, the light of my heart! And I could see the knights gathering at our Round Table. Fantastic dreams we had shared. Hopes of a better world, of happier times before the wars with my sister drained all the brightness from our kingdom. I wept at the life, our lives. We had lived in a time of magic, in a special time, but nothing of it remained now. Nothing except Guinevere and me.
Guinevere Forever (Lost Camelot Book 1) Page 9