Relics of Camelot

by L. H. Nicole

  Like he understood her desire, Galahad left the hall, leaving her totally alone.

  Pulling herself from the wall she touched the door gingerly, resting her forehead against the rough surface.

  A giggle, so much like Vira’s, echoed in her ear. A small sad smile formed. It was so unfair that she had been stolen form them all, from Galahad.

  The giggling became louder. The ruffle of a heavy wool skirt mixed with the innocent sound. Out of the corner of her eyes a girl in a green dress, exactly like the dress Vira always favored, appeared.

  Aliana straightened, her eyes going to the ghostly figure. Sophvira stood there, a bright smile lighting her brilliant blue eyes.

  Aliana rubbed her hands over her deceiving eyes. The ghost remained, giggling again.

  It couldn’t be Sophvira! Maybe it’s her spirit. If it was her spirit, maybe the teen was trying to tell her something.

  Aliana boots thudded against the stone floor as she rushed to catch the ghost that had turned the corner.

  “Come on!” Vira’s ghost called, waving her hand for Aliana to follow as she rounded another corner.

  Vira’s ghost led her down one hall then another. If she had to guess she was in one of the halls along the backside of the castle, overlooking the ocean and cliff below.

  Aliana skidded to a stop in a dead end hall. “Why?” she asked the deserted hall, searching for a reason Vira’s ghost would lead her here.

  “Here!”

  Aliana looked left, toward Vira’s call. Her eyes landed on a dark green scrap of cloth on the floor. She went over, picked it up, bracing her hand on the unusually cold stone. The barest hint of a breeze touched her flattened palm.

  Aliana straightened, jerking her hand back and staring at the wall. She touched it again, the tips of her fingers dancing over the stone. Expanding her magical senses she touched the air element’s power, saw the flowing current of air through a nearly microscopic crack that ran from the bottom of the wall and stopped two-thirds of the way up.

  She ran both hands along the wall as adrenaline trickled into her blood. “Please be a secret door!” she muttered. A small piece of stone shifted under the pressure of her fingers. She pushed it harder.

  The crack widened, the stone door pushed in several inches.

  “Yes!” Aliana pushed harder, revealing a steep winding stone staircase.

  But it was pitch dark, so dark you could barely see past the first two steps. Aliana summoned a dozen of her glowing sphere lights and sent them to light the hidden passage. The stairs lit with a rosy gleam. There were patches of moss and splinters of wood mingled with the heavy stones. Camelot, it seemed, was full of surprises. Carefully she stepped onto the first stair, testing its strength.

  The stone gave no sign of trouble. She moved to the next stair then the next, each time taking a second to be sure nothing started to crumble or collapse. Briny air hit her nose as she made her way down the descending passage.

  Aliana’s heartbeat kicked up again. Maybe this passage led to the beach. But why would Vira show her this? Maybe she was trying to warn Aliana of a possible danger. If Morgana knew of this, it would give her and Mordrid and Viviane a way into the castle without any trouble.

  Aliana hurried down the flight, determined to see if there was anything hiding that could cause Arthur and his men problems.

  Bright rays of sunlight mixed with her pink orbs of light. Calling them back, Aliana stared at a large rock formation that seemed to grow out of the side of the wall but ended abruptly. It reminded her of the labyrinth she’d gone through in the Underworld. Another rock formation, from the other side was the same. It was exactly like a labyrinth!

  “Dagg! You’re not gonna believe this.”

  Her guardian’s worry hit her immediately. “Where are you? I can’t feel you inside the castle. The knights are getting anxious for you to join us. Merlin thinks he knows where to find Mordrid.”

  “There’s a secret passage that leads from the halls by Galahad’s rooms down to the beach! Sophvira’s ghost led me to it!”

  “No, Aliana!” her Dragon snapped, his panic flooding her. “You mustn’t leave the castle without us. Without me.”

  “Too late for that, Dragon boy, I’m almost out on the beach.” No sooner than she finished the thought she stepped past the last rock and onto the shifting sand.

  She was on a different part of the beach from where Sophvira’s funeral rites had been performed.

  “Don’t go any further, we’re coming to you.” The order sounded harsh and frantic, but Aliana couldn’t understand why. Vira had shown her this, surely there was something to be learned here, maybe even found that could help her or the others.

  She looked around, staying close to the cleverly concealed entrance. Maybe that would satisfy Dagg when he got here. She looked back at the hidden passage. If she hadn’t known it was there she’d have never found it.

  An energy flared behind her. She turned as a dark shadow descended from above.

  Rushing forward, she managed to avoid the attacking thing. She pivoted and looked right at Mordrid, who stood between her and her passage back to the castle.

  “My trap worked then,” Mordrid hissed, an arrogant, triumphant grin on his long face.

  Aliana fought back the shiver of dread that slithered down her body like a snake. Glaring at him, hoping to look annoyed rather than terrified, she demanded, “What are you doing here?”

  “That’s not the question you should be asking. The question you should be asking is what are you doing here?” He advanced on her.

  She took a step back, desperate to keep distance between them. She needed to stall until the knights got here with Dagg.

  He tsked like a disapproving teacher. “Naughty Aliana, running from the knights and that buffoon Arthur, right into my trap.”

  Aliana glanced around quickly for signs of anyone else, good or bad. “Vira led me here.”

  “You still don’t see. I created an illusion of that girl to lure you here.”

  Angry embarrassment colored her cheeks. She should have realized something was strange, but she had wanted so badly to see the teen again. She threw a ball of pink sparkling magic at the dark wizard.

  He jumped out of the way but Aliana was ready and threw another. Not waiting to see if it hit, she dashed toward the hidden entrance.

  Mordrid appeared just in front of her and grabbed her arms. She jerked to the side, shifting her weight and bringing her hands up to break his hold.

  His gray electric magic sizzled through her muscles as he pushed her to the side.

  She smacked into the unforgiving rock wall, her moan of pain mixing with the sound of crashing waves.

  “I should have come after you myself, instead of sending those two fools to abduct you.” Mordrid sneered as he trapped her against the rocks. His face was inches from hers.

  Aliana wanted to move, but she had nowhere to go. “Dagg, it’s Mordrid! He’s here!”

  “We’re coming, hang on! Stay calm and use your magic.”

  Aliana steeled herself. She refused to be a victim to another psycho guy. With all the strength she had, she shoved his chest, adding her magic to the attack.

  The wizard fell back, a look of surprise on his face.

  Aliana kicked out her leg, connecting with the dark wizard’s kneecap. He cried out in pain as she turned and fled again. His hand caught the back of her fur collar as he tried to pull her back, but she ducked to the side, striking her palm against his shoulder as he went past her, sending him stumbling to the sand.

  She shot past him, her lungs ready to burst.

  “Enough!” she heard Mordrid yell behind her, but she didn’t stop.

  Not until whips of black gray magic smoke circled her arms.

  Her wrists were yanked behind her back, bound by the gray-charged smoke that expanded to wrap around her arms and chest. The magic was like bruising coarse ropes around her. He gripped the back of her head, pulling her back against hi
s chest. His other arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splaying on her stomach. She wanted to vomit at his touch and the shivers that went through her.

  She sucked in breath, trying to keep her fear and emotions in check. She needed to be in control of herself and her magic if she wanted to escape this madman. “I will never be yours!”

  “I need you to be mine, want you to be mine. And I know exactly how to make that happen.”

  The superior, know-it-all confidence in his voice chilled her very marrow. Whatever he had planned was bad.

  “I have learned many things over the years, chief among them how to control others, bend them to my will.”

  “Like that onyx dagger you wanted Morgana to use against Merlin.”

  She felt him nod before his hand moved her tussled hair aside and his lips touched her neck. Aliana jerked forward, trying to escape the chilling touch. The magic binds around her tightened until she cried out.

  “Struggling will only make the suffering worse. You don’t want that, now do you?”

  Aliana refused to answer him, clenching her jaw to keep any more cries of pain from escaping.

  His hand released her hair, his fingers touching her neck where his lips had been, right over her racing pulse. “What I have in mind for you will leave your mind and spirit as they are, but your magic will be a slave to mine.”

  “What are you going to do?” She tried to keep her fear from showing, but she knew she failed by the quiver in her voice.

  “Aliana!” Dagg roared in her mind. “I’m here, hold on!”

  But it was too late.

  Gray smoke started to surround her. It smelled acidic, burning her eyes and nose. She coughed and coughed, trying not to breathe in the poisoned magic. But she could already taste the bitterness of it. Small puffs filled her lungs and she couldn’t stop it.

  “Aliana!”

  The roar of Arthur, Galahad and the other knights was enough to help her fogged mind clear.

  They burst from the rocks like avenging warriors, her wonderful silver Dragon leading the way.

  “He’s trying to kidnap me!” she told Dagg. She struggled against him again but the dark bonds tightened as she cried out in pain.

  “Let her go, Mordrid!” Arthur ordered, Excalibur gleaming deadly and bright in the sunlight.

  The stolen spearhead appeared, held in Mordrid’s hand. “Too late, Arthur. She’s mine, just like Camelot soon will be. We have a ritual to complete,” Mordrid said to her as he touched his piece of the spear to her temple. Then darkness took over.

  33

  They finally freed me. I should punish Morgana for taking so long; Viviane stayed my hand. We have more important things to worry about, the first being restoring my magic once again. I am far weaker than I should be but the power of the Onyx Dragon will help. Viviane also told me that Arthur and his fools have been running around Avalon and the Isle of the Blessed. They still don’t understand all that is happening, that has happened. Fortunately I do because my memories of Aliana were never taken, thanks to my future queen. My focus must shift to the finding the Grail, before they do.

  ~Mordrid

  LANCELOT WATCHED MERLIN throw the scrying bowl against the wall, and shook his head, his already low spirits falling even more. They had been in Olympus for over a month. Thanks to Merlin’s tracking marks, they knew the others were still in the other realms, and Aliana had still not returned to them, that she was still stuck in the past.

  Despite what the Destined One probably thought, he did not hate her, never had, even after Sophvira. It was a realization, after she was taken, that he was jealous of her. Jealous that she had found love, while he was haunted every hour of every day by his Guinevere. He held a groan of pain in his chest, not wanting to alert his Druid friend.

  The pain of not having his Guin was getting worse and worse by the day, the madness of her loss driving him into lunacy. How many times had he thought he’d seen her out of the corner of his eye? Thought he’d heard the soft notes of her laugh or voice? He had even tracked her ghost several times through the magic lands of Olympus, coming up empty every time.

  “Curse all the gods!” Merlin grabbed and threw the glass bowl, again, down into the flowing pool of mystical water. “I can find no hint or trace of this Atlantian that could lead us to the Grail!”

  Merlin got to his feet, straightened the orange and brown robes he had taken to wearing since arriving in Olympus. “I must continue our search for this Atlantian. Until Aliana returns to our time, with that map, he is our only hope.” Merlin turned and left the garden room.

  The knight knew his own sanity was slipping, the side effect of Queen Titania’s punishment. Now it seemed Merlin’s was sliding toward the same dark oblivion. He punched his fist into the stone bench he had been on, splitting the solid piece of earth into two neat halves. Arthur had told him once, after his fight with Aliana in her mother’s piano room, he believed he could prove himself again. Somehow earn release from the Fae’s punishment. But how could he accomplish such a task? His loyalty to Arthur had become rock solid since he left Avalon. He had never wavered in his devotion. He had fought by the king, supported him and his brothers since their return. What more need he do?

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Lancelot spun around toward the high-pitched, sarcastic voice. His pale eyes landed on a short Imp looking boy with orange tinted skin and molten silver eyes. He recognized the intruder almost immediately. The others had told him several times about the mysterious halfling.

  “You’re Puck.”

  “Ten points to the knight!”

  Lancelot growled. “I do not have time for this.” He stalked past the short troublemaker.

  “Even if it means freedom from the Fae queen’s punishment and the chance to hold your Guinevere again?”

  Lancelot looked back at him, meeting those silver eyes over his shoulder. “Explain yourself!”

  Puck raised one hand, his fingers rubbing over his pointed chin. “Do you realize how much you sound like that tight wad, Arthur?”

  Lancelot’s hand gripped his sword hilt. “Do not insult my king!”

  Puck waved him off with a dismissive hand. His body lifting from the ground, his legs curling up like a Dijin’s from an Arabian tale. “I wonder if you even know the true reason for your punishment.”

  “I will not tell you again, explain yourself.”

  Puck shrugged like he was humoring a child. “You’ve had eight centuries in the mortal realm to contemplate your decision after leaving Avalon.” Puck floated closer to Lancelot. “Tell me what you’ve discovered of yourself and that decision since.”

  Lancelot’s teeth ground together as words locked in his throat.

  “Come, come now. You want your sanity back right?”

  “I left because of my own selfish desire to escape losing my souls mate.” The self-loathing he felt seemed endless. It ate away at his soul as much as the Fae’s punishment.

  A cunning grin appeared on the Halfling’s fine face. “Very good, let’s see what else you can glean from that pearl of wisdom as we go.” Puck shot past Lancelot so fast, his raven hair rustled in the forced breeze. “Follow me if you want your freedom.”

  Lancelot didn’t hesitate. He was already going mad. If this trickster could be of even the smallest help, it was worth the risk.

  They made their way through a labyrinth garden near one of the large Greek temple like buildings of Olympus. The realm, for being so immersed in Greek and Roman myth, was a surprising mix of architecture from all over the realms. There were no influences that were not represented. Forests and landscapes to rival the Isle of the Blessed and Avalon, cities carved into mountain and earth to match the homes of the Atlantian tribes, enchanted creatures and Dragon nests like you would find in Tir Na Nog. Even the Underworld had its own corner of dark Gothic buildings and mountain passes. Those didn’t even take into count the influences of the mortal realm’s different cultures.

&nbs
p; They exited the maze, stopping outside a small temple like one would see in ancient Greece. He had ended up in front of this very building several times when tracking his Guinevere’s ghost. “Why are we here?”

  Puck scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You are not that dumb, Sir Lancelot. You should have at least guessed by now.”

  The knight felt the blood drain from his face.

  “Ah,” Puck said gleefully. “So you’re not a total hopeless cause after all.”

  “Is my Guinevere really in there?”

  The half-breed pushed open the iron gate blocking the entrance to the temple. “See for yourself.”

  Lancelot raised his chin at the challenge and strode past the insufferable Imp. He bound up the few steps and walked into the darkened cathedral like space inside. He reminded himself that nothing was as it seemed here in Olympus. This small temple was towering on the inside as candles and torches exploded to life along the walls.

  The knight’s hands fell to his side, useless, as the red hue of the firelight illuminated two lifeless bodies hovering at the center of the room. They looked like they were floating in non-existent water, the skirts of their dresses flowing and waving around their feet. The dark brown hair of the smaller girl floated in the air like a dark halo, her head tilted back like she was staring at the stars. The other’s red hair floated around her head and shoulders.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, running toward them, unbelieving of his own sight. “Why are both Guinevere and Sophvira trapped here?”

  The knight had seen Sophvira’s dead body himself. How could she be here, looking exactly as she had in Galahad’s arms?

  Puck appeared between the two females who meant the world to Lancelot. “It would seem you have a decision to make.”

  Lancelot’s temper snapped. “For once, explain yourself, and be damn sure you are crystal clear in your detail!”

  Puck vanished, reappearing in front of the enraged knight. Lancelot saw the move coming and drew his sword, the blade touching the halfling’s throat just as he became corporeal.

  “Really? I am here to bring gifts, and all you knights seem to want to do is put your swords to my throat.”