The Spirit of Nimue (The Return to Camelot #3)

by Donna Hosie

  “If this is a knights’ counsel, then surely we should be afforded a seat?” said Lucan. He was grinning.

  “You forget, brother, I am no knight,” said Bedivere.

  “Sir Bedivere,” said Taliesin. “Were you aware that Sir Mordred had cursed Lady Natasha’s soul with a blood oath bound by the blue flame?”

  Bedivere’s head snapped around at me.

  “When was this?”

  “Before Merlin came for me and took me to his lair,” I replied. “Gareth was dying. I had no choice. I thought I told you.”

  “I was not aware it was made with Gorian magic.”

  Bedivere made a movement with his left side. He grimaced, clenched his right fist and slammed it into his leg. He was angry about something.

  He was angry with me.

  “When Mordred escaped from the dungeons of Camelot, I knew because my arm, and the cut Mordred had made, were hurting,” I said in a low voice. “It was my fault you got hurt, Bedivere.”

  “No, no, my love,” he said quickly, reaching out for me. “You placed yourself into an unknown danger - willingly - in order to save the life of my greatest friend. I can only love you more because of it.”

  I gave Gareth a quick glance. The colour had drained from his face again.

  “It is my fault. I should have been left to die.”

  “Let me walk with Lady Natasha,” said Guinevere. “I will speak with her.”

  “You are aware of the full consequences of a blood oath, sworn in an exchange with the blue flame, Lady Guinevere?” asked Taliesin.

  Do not walk with her, hissed Gwenddydd suddenly. You are getting distracted from the quest. Your dark thoughts from when you travelled back through the Vale of Avalon will be awakened.

  Stop keeping things from me, I thought back. You treat me like a stupid kid. It’s like having my mother inside my head.

  “I am aware of the consequences,” replied Guinevere. “And Lady Natasha should hear from another lady, not from a male mouth.”

  “Is it a connection to Mordred?” I asked.

  “Sir Mordred would have known the consequences, Sir Bedivere,” said Gareth. “He sealed the oath on Lady Natasha with intent, knowing she was not learned in our ways. I swear on my life I will make him pay for this.”

  It was just a cut. Why were they all freaking out? My entire body was a collage of scars.

  “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  “You are barren, child,” said Taliesin.

  “PHYSICIAN!” screamed Guinevere. She took a step towards him, and for a moment, I thought she was going to punch him. I had no idea what he was talking about. Was that a medieval insult?

  “What does that mean? I’m barren from what?”

  Bedivere was sitting back down on the ground; Lucan was checking his bandages. His beautiful green eyes were sparkling with tiny stars.

  “By swearing a blood oath with a practitioner of the blue flame, you left your body barren for future generations,” said Taliesin.

  I was starting to get pissed off now. I loved their archaic language, but once in a while – like when it concerned bad things happening to me – I wish they just spoke plain bloody English.

  “What. Does. That. Mean?” I said slowly and deliberately, emphasising every word.

  “You can never bear children, Lady Natasha,” said Tristram sadly. “The oath will have poisoned your blood. You will endure, possibly to old age, but you will never give life to another.”

  “I am so very sorry,” said Guinevere, taking my arm. “I grieve for you.”

  Everyone was looking at me as if it was the end of the world - including Bedivere. But my initial reaction was is that it? I was only seventeen years old. Kids were not part of my present. I didn’t want to even think about it until I was thirty, at least. I wanted a degree, a career. I wanted to travel, to see the world, and live and have fun and make something of myself...

  But then I realised. I wouldn’t be able to do any of that in Logres. My heart was here, but some of my dreams were elsewhere, in another time.

  And for the first time since I had followed Mr. Rochester into the hole, I wanted my mum.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Excalibur’s Treachery

  I needed to be alone. I had always felt comfortable in my own company. Back in London, or Wales, or New York, or wherever the hell home was supposed to be, I had never had a problem with locking myself away from people and their words and their stares.

  And as much as I loved the people around me now, I wanted – needed – a time out.

  Angharad felt like a heavy weight pulling down on my hips. I unstrapped the entire belt and sheath, and let it all drop to the ground. When Bedivere had first given me the sword, it had been like air in my hands. Now it was weighted with just more problems.

  Why did I care about being…what was the word they used? Barren. It made me think of deserts. Unliveable places where no one wants to go. I didn’t care about kids.

  But I should at least have been able to have the choice, and Mordred had taken that away from me.

  I started walking away from Guinevere, Taliesin and the knights.

  “Wait, Natasha,” called Bedivere. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him struggling to get up.

  “I just want to be alone for a few minutes,” I called without turning back. “I won’t be long.” I tried to make my voice sound light, but I had never been good at faking my emotions.

  I could hear mutterings. They were talking about me. Nothing new there.

  Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You are incredibly self-centred at times.

  Then get the hell out of my head. I didn’t invite you in, and I certainly didn’t ask you to stay.

  You must concentrate on your quest. You must vanquish Nimue. That is all that matters.

  But it wasn’t all that mattered. Not at that moment. I was a good student and I knew how history played out. Henry VIII had gone through wife after wife, beheading two of them, in order to get a son. Merlin had been obsessed enough to kidnap Slurpy when he thought the heir to Camelot might be in danger from Nimue. One day Bedivere would want to have children, and I would never be able to have them.

  Mordred knew I would never be his, but he had made sure I wouldn’t be anyone else’s either.

  Stop these thoughts. You must get back on the horses and ride to the Falls of Merlin.

  If I lost Bedivere because of that blood oath, it wouldn’t be Gareth that Mordred should fear, it would be me.

  Stop it now.

  Make me.

  You’re just like your mother and father. You aren’t good at running, you’re good at running away. Your righteous anger isn’t fooling me because I live in your head. I have seen your heart and your fears, and you are too terrified to take on the Lady of the Lake. You are scared she will take Arthur as she took Patrick. And so you will run to fight Mordred, not because you desire to have Bedivere’s children, but because Mordred is the easier foe to fight. You think the others will see this and think you remarkable. Well, you are not, Natasha Roth. You are a scared little girl. A coward. A freak.

  Finally, the true Gwenddydd had shown herself. Ever since Merlin’s sister had been revealed, I had wondered whether the past nine years had been an act – to toughen me up, she had said. Her voice had been like mine, but now that she was revealed, it was becoming obvious that the last month had been the play. A false lull in the hatred: a lull to get me to trust her.

  But I was no fool, and I was no conduit for revenge.

  Get Nimue on your own, I thought. I don’t care if I have to put up with you for the rest of my life. You’re nothing but a floating voice.

  Natasha, you have to help me. I’m sorry. I did not mean…

  But Gwenddydd’s internal pleadings suddenly stopped. I looked down at my feet, and saw the long, rippling, pale green grass. It was moving, as if someone was running their fingers through it.

  But there was no
wind.

  Then I heard the sound of chimes.

  “You foolish child.”

  I span on the spot. Nimue was standing just a few feet away from me. Her long blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, like water; the fine tips were moving, splaying out over her skin. Her icy blue eyes matched the colour of her long dress, which plunged in a deep V at the front, displaying her buttermilk colouring all the way down to her navel. The dress fell to the ground, skimming her bare feet.

  “You are so easy to manipulate, Natasha,” said Nimue with a twisted smile. “I brought you and Arthur into this world, and you have done exactly what others have asked of you at every stage. Yet not even I realised that you would be so foolish as to listen to the spiteful echo of a witch, who was burned for heresy and treason against the king. A king who is your flesh, Natasha. But then you have history of throwing, or should I say, pushing your own flesh away when it suits your purpose.”

  “You bitch.” I lunged for her.

  I never made contact. Nimue threw out her slim arms, and I was hit with an invisible force that sent me flying backwards through the air. There was now a gap of at least ten metres between us. I had time to arm myself, but when I reached for my sword, I swore, as I remembered I had left Angharad back with the others.

  The friends I had told to leave me alone.

  “No one can help you now, Natasha,” said Nimue, silently treading a path through the long grass towards me. “I should have seen the sorcerer’s sister inside you, and that was my blindness. I was weakened by my desire to see Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table restored to Camelot. The Saxon barbarian, Balvidore, was but a pawn in my game. Although I am not gifted with a seer’s sight, even I knew Arthur would be able to endure Camelot’s dungeons while the sleeping knights were awoken and returned. What I did not realise was that your sentimentality would unlock Merlin from his prison. It is of little consequence now. The old man is foolish, like so many of age. He sees no further than the next succession. I want the future. You travel with Excalibur, a sword that only the rightful ruler of Camelot may wield. Did you truly believe that I would not sense its presence? You foolish little girl. You are playing in a world you do not understand, in a time where you do not rightfully exist. You, Natasha Roth, cannot summon me with Excalibur. You are nothing.”

  “NOW, GUINEVERE,” I screamed.

  I had seen my friend in the distance, the second I had landed on my back. And while Nimue had spewed her verbal vomit, Guinevere had been stealthily creeping up on the Lady of the Lake like a cat.

  And she had the silver sword of the Round Table in her hands.

  Nimue let out a cry that was more of a magpie’s screech than a human noise. She rose into the air and slapped her palms together. When she landed, she was behind Guinevere, and she had two long daggers in her hands that looked like stalactites.

  “You shall not use my own weapon against me,” cried Nimue.

  “And you shall not attack my friend when she is down and unarmed,” snarled Guinevere. She held the hilt of Excalibur in both hands and ran at Nimue.

  The Lady of the Lake screamed again, a deep primal animal cry, as Excalibur slashed down on one of the daggers. Nimue’s weapon immediately shattered in an explosion of silver glass.

  Nimue’s eyes widened in horror. I looked around and saw a thick piece of wood, the length of my arm. It had broken away from a fallen tree. I picked it up and ran towards Guinevere and Nimue. It was no sword, but it would do. I swung it at Nimue and connected with her pretty head.

  “No,” screamed Nimue, in one long continuous wail that vibrated painfully into my ears. “The might of Excalibur is reserved for Arthur alone.” She slashed at Guinevere with her remaining dagger, and grabbed me around the throat with her free hand.

  Blood was dripping from a deep cut on the side of her head. As her ice-cold fingers squeezed my throat, she raised the dagger to stab me.

  But I still had the length of wood as a weapon. Summoning up every ounce of strength I had, I saw an image of Arthur and Bedivere smiling. Gwenddydd had created it to help me.

  I slammed the branch into Nimue’s stomach. She gasped and lurched forward, loosening her grip on my throat. I stamped on her bare foot, and then punched her on the side of her face, which was bleeding. I had never been in a full-on fist fight before, and I found it exhilarating. Every ounce of anger and frustration that I had kept within became a weapon, powering my strength. I was losing control and it was glorious.

  “I will finish her,” cried Guinevere, and she swung the blade around her shoulders in a circular movement. I ducked, fearing that Guinevere was also going to decapitate me.

  Guinevere and I both fell onto the ground. We could hear the shouts of the knights, and moments later, they all burst through the trees.

  Nimue was gone.

  “Did you get her? Did you kill her?” I cried.

  Guinevere shook her head. “The blade touched nothing but air.”

  “We have to get to the Falls of Merlin. She knows, Nimue knows.”

  Bedivere and Lucan each grabbed one of my arms and pulled me up. Bedivere did not let go and he crushed me against his chest. Instinctively, I pulled back, fearing I would hurt him, but he tightened his hold.

  “When will you learn to trust me?” He buried his face into my neck. “Have I not earned it?”

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “Then do not leave us blind. If Lady Guinevere had not had the foresight to follow you with the sword of the king, then I cannot bear to think what fate may have befallen you.”

  “We are to fight the Lady of the Lake at the Falls of Merlin?” asked Lucan urgently. “This is the unknowable quest?”

  “Part of it,” I replied. “Arthur is taking another route. He will meet us there with the remaining Knights of the Round Table and Merlin. Arthur wants to get Sammy back to our other time, Mila too. They can’t stay here. You already know she has gone through a ceremony with Mordred and has come back as Morgana. Now both of them, Sammy and Mila, can create the blue flame.”

  “The princess possesses magic?” asked David and Gawain, but they were the only ones who looked shocked. Perhaps it was because they were both younger than me, and still too immature to really get what kind of a place Logres truly was. What it could awaken inside any one of us.

  “The king is planning to leave us?” asked Tristram.

  “Not for good,” I replied quickly. “He just wants to get Sammy and Mila back to her parents, and then he’ll come straight back to Logres through the…time…tunnel…thing in Winchester. The one we all went through.”

  “Merlin will not be pleased,” said Talan. “That the heir was a female was a shock enough to him. To have her leave Logres for good will incur his wrath.”

  “Arthur will deal with Merlin.”

  Gareth was leaning forward onto his sword, which was sinking, point down, into the earth.

  “A quest with two endings,” he said thoughtfully. “The king will take his lover and child to the other realm to be cared for, and you, Lady Natasha, are to draw the Lady of the Lake to the Falls of Merlin with the power of Excalibur. Here you are planning to vanquish her presence forever from the land of Logres.”

  “Yes. That’s it in a nutshell – or acorn shell, if you like.”

  “At least we are no longer blind,” said Tristram. “While there are those amongst us who live for the excitement of an unknowable quest,” - he paused and looked pointedly at Talan and then Guinevere - “I like to know what my foe looks like.”

  “I have certainly laid eyes upon uglier foes,” said Talan, “but my sword has no issue with slaying malevolent beauty.”

  “There is only one sword that can lay harm to the Lady of the Lake,” replied Bedivere. “And we saw another lady amongst us wield it.”

  Everyone turned to Guinevere. She was standing between Lucan and Gawain, both of whom were looking at her like she was an Aston Martin on special offer. But for the first tim
e ever, she was ignoring the adoring looks of a knight. Guinevere only had eyes for Excalibur. The plain blade was point up, and she was turning it slowly from left to right, examining every line.

  “It sang to me,” said Guinevere. “I could hear its voice. It told of a great ruler and peaceful times. Of deep valleys and mountains high. Of a rippling lake and the blue sky.”

  “Are you certain that voice was not Sir Talan’s?” asked Lucan. I felt a little laugh leave Bedivere’s chest.

  In a flash, the point of Excalibur was at Lucan’s throat.

  “The sword from the stone table sang to me, Sir Lucan. Would you care to hear its next sonnet?” said Guinevere, but she winked and then lowered it.

  Bedivere removed his arm from me and reached out to Guinevere.

  “May I?”

  With a slight hesitation, Guinevere handed the silver sword to Bedivere. I thought that perhaps he was going to pass it back to me - after all, I was the one that Arthur had entrusted it to - but instead, Bedivere took a turn in admiring it himself.

  “The last time I laid hands on this blade was after the Battle of Camlann,” he said wistfully. His lime coloured eyes were sparking, as Excalibur glinted back memories from before the enchanted sleep. “Arthur commanded me to cast the sword back into the lake, just before he passed over to Avalon. I thought it too valuable to discard so lightly, and so I lied to the king, not once but twice. On the third occasion I did as my king asked, and a hand rose from the water and claimed it. Only then, did Arthur leave the shores of Logres.”

  “And then we slept,” said Tristram.

  “Until a lady fell upon us,” added Gareth.

  “And Arthur returned as was foretold,” said Talan.

  “And now our quest is to help him leave once more?” asked David.

  Guinevere had slipped her arms through the nook of Lucan and Gawain’s.

  “It is a quest of cunning and beauty in its simplicity,” she said, smiling. “The sorcerer will be so angry to see the return of the Lady of the Lake to his sacred waters, that he will not notice the king departing with his loved ones to safety. Merlin and Nimue will do battle, and the cuckolded old man will be so desperate for revenge upon his treacherous lover that he will do unto her what she did to him.”