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

by Donna Hosie

  “And Logres will be at peace once more,” added Gawain, grinning gormlessly at Guinevere.

  But Bedivere was still in a state of worship over Excalibur. I tugged on his right arm.

  “What else are you thinking?” I asked.

  “The blade was forged by the Lady of the Lake,” he replied, and his voice was back to the gravel-lined gruffness that I loved so much. “It is meant for the ruler of Camelot. Yet it betrayed the Lady and struck a blow, not just to her body, but her soul. We all heard her scream.”

  “Is the sword truly Excalibur?” asked Lucan. “Perchance it was mistakenly given?”

  “That is why I asked for it,” replied Bedivere. “I would know this sword as I know my own. It is Excalibur.”

  An intense feeling of cold had suddenly swamped my stomach. Bile rose in my mouth, and every nerve ending I possessed felt electrified.

  “That doesn’t mean something has happened to Arthur, does it? If Guinevere was able to attack Nimue, does that mean Excalibur thinks it doesn’t have a ruler anymore?”

  “How were you and the king to communicate, Lady Natasha?” asked Gareth.

  “We decided not to. Because the Falls of Merlin was only two days away, we decided not to risk it in case someone found out about our plans. We couldn’t risk Merlin or Nimue or Mordred realising.”

  “Yet the Lady of the Lake found us,” said Guinevere.

  “She would have felt the force of Excalibur moving from the Round Table,” replied Bedivere. “But the sorcerer and Sir Mordred are a different matter.”

  “The Lady of the Lake freed Sir Mordred from Camelot, Sir Bedivere,” said Gareth bitterly. “Whether together or apart, both must be punished for what they have done.”

  “Then we must tarry here no longer,” said Sir Gawain. “Make ready the horses – and the physician – for we must ride without stopping to the Falls of Merlin, and pray that the king is not far behind. The Lady of the Lake will begin regrouping, now Excalibur has shown it is treacherous to her cause. She already has an army of blue flame at her fingertips.”

  I no longer needed Gwenddydd to guide me. Bedivere took a horse by himself and I rode alongside him. In a flying V formation, led by Sir Gareth with Guinevere sitting behind him, our horses galloped through open fields towards a mountain range in the distance.

  The Falls of Merlin was in our sights, and we were in Nimue’s. The end was coming.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Pool of Sidus

  We came to an outpost, half-hidden by curling masses of trailing green ivy. It was a small circular stone building, with a domed roof that reminded me of a much smaller St Paul’s Cathedral. There were ten of us and I doubted half would fit inside. The dirt surrounding it was terracotta red, and circled the building with perfect symmetry, like a grounded halo.

  “There are no footprints, Lady Natasha,” said Tristram. “It will be safe to use the Haven of Dwellmere for your cause.”

  “How far are we from the Falls of Merlin?” I asked.

  “With the sun as our ally, it would be less than a quarter of the day.”

  “So, we should wait here for the king?” asked Guinevere.

  “No,” I replied. “The whole point of going in two separate parties was to deceive Merlin and Nimue. I’ve already blown that by taking Excalibur. The risk that Nimue, Mordred and the Gorians will attack the travelling court is now too great. By trying to be clever, I’ve only ended up putting Arthur in danger.”

  “Lead and we will follow,” said Bedivere. He was stretching out the fingers on his right hand. They were swollen and calloused.

  “Is this place safe?” I asked him.

  “Now the Lady of the Lake knows of your quest, we are as safe here as anywhere,” he said.

  Which meant we weren’t safe anywhere.

  Delicate red poppies grew in leafy clumps around the edge of the terracotta dirt. It was like a blanket of blood. Taliesin gave Bedivere a soft leather pouch to drink from, and he took it without question, tipping his head back as something watery brown in colour flowed down his throat. Bedivere pulled back once it was all gone and coughed.

  “It tastes more palatable now, my old friend. This must mean I am healing - or dying.”

  “Lady Guinevere suggested I add honey from the royal beehives,” said Taliesin. “It does appear to take the taste of human waste away.”

  “Honey - not feathers?” quipped Talan, but he had to duck as Guinevere threw a rock the size of a tennis ball at his head.

  “Don’t joke about things like that,” I said to Bedivere.

  “Of healing?”

  “Of dying.”

  “I am weak still, but I will not be dying yet, my Natasha. At least not this day.”

  “Not any day.”

  “Sir Bedivere, you should show Lady Natasha the Pool of Sidus,” said Lucan. “It is said, Lady Natasha, that the waters reflect not the vision of the person gazing upon its beauty, but the one their heart is destined to hold forever.”

  “Really?” I replied sarcastically. Knowing my luck, I would look upon it and just fall in.

  “’Tis true, Lady Natasha,” called David. He was stripping down pieces of wood into thin sticks with his knife. “Why, Sir Tristram once came across the Pool of Sidus and saw but his own reflection in the depths, and we all know that it is himself he holds in his heart above all others.”

  Everyone laughed – except Tristram.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered, as the knights started throwing insults at each other about seeing horses and old maids with no teeth.

  I gripped Bedivere’s hand and let him lead me around the edge of the Haven of Dwellmere. The building was so old and crumbling, the vines of ivy were the only thing holding it together.

  “It was wise, splitting from Arthur,” said Bedivere quietly, as we walked up a sloping bank of loose dirt and leaves. “All battles are won through diversions. You are becoming a great Knight of the Round Table, Natasha.”

  “We would know, wouldn’t we, if Arthur was in trouble?”

  “Merlin would have come to us before now if the king had been interrupted in his procession. But speaking of the king’s counsellor, how have you kept the sorcerer from your thoughts?”

  “Gwenddydd has that job,” I replied. Although I wasn’t so sure anymore that she was keeping Merlin out of my head. I certainly couldn’t trust her, not after her little internal outburst.

  We had reached the top of the bank, which was covered in a spread of thick green ferns. Two spotted deer, with huge ears and furry chests, suddenly jerked their heads up as Bedivere and I, both panting slightly, climbed over a fallen tree. The deer jumped away with barely a rustle.

  “Just there,” said Bedivere. He had made a movement with his left side. He had meant to point.

  “I can still sense my hand,” he whispered. “I feel its echo around my body.”

  A thousand words streamed through my head, and yet not one of them made it to my mouth. How could I tell Bedivere it would be alright, that he would get used to having the one hand, eventually? I couldn’t. I had no idea what he was going through, what he was feeling.

  We had reached the spot where the two deer had been hiding. They had been drinking from a pool that was shaped like a five-pointed star. Nothing grew within a metre of its perimeter. The ground around the pool was black, and rough like coal. The water was exactly the same, and only an oily layer, which reflected with a rainbow sheen, gave any clue that it wasn’t just a black hole in the ground.

  “Have you ever looked into the pool before?”

  Bedivere didn’t reply, but his thin mouth turned up a fraction.

  “Did you see me?” I asked, but what I was actually thinking was oh my God, what if he looks in it now and doesn’t see me?

  “I would have scoured the earth to find you, and only you, Natasha.”

  That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

  “I’m not sure I want to look now.”

  �
�It might help you with your decision,” said Bedivere quietly.

  “What decision? Oh, hang on, you mean that decision.”

  “You do not wish to wed me. I have known it all along.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to get married, Bedivere. I do - one day, probably - but I’m only seventeen.”

  “What is age for two people who want to be together?”

  “And what is marriage for two people who want to be together? I’m never going to leave you – not ever.”

  “Are you saying yes?”

  “I’m not saying no.”

  Bedivere’s lips moved. It would have been optimistic to call it a smile, but it was an attempt.

  “Then I will not give up hope.”

  “Even if I can’t have children?”

  “I would wed you, my Natasha. Other men would see a woman as no more than a carrier of the next line, but I am not like other men, and I will see out my days with you alone if that is our fate. I was sworn to the court of Camelot as a young boy, and I have never known anything other than duty. The burden of that fate has weighed so heavily at times, it was a wonder I could move. And then I found you. A different fate. Now neither of us is complete in body, but together we are complete in soul.”

  “Then let’s not look in the pool,” I replied. “The deer probably pissed in it anyway.”

  Now Bedivere smiled a true smile, and it transformed him. He would always have that scratchy carpet on his face - that one I was just going to have to suck up and get used to - but his mouth was mine, as were his eyes. Bedivere pulled me towards him, and we dropped carefully into the ferns.

  “The loss of my sword hand is never more keenly felt than when I have you in my grasp, Natasha,” he murmured.

  You are lying in the arms of your lover and all thoughts of our quest are forsaken, said Gwenddydd. We are doomed to fail.

  How I hated having her in my head now. I wanted these moments with Bedivere to be special and private. I felt dirty and exposed having Merlin’s sister with me.

  We’ll get rid of Nimue and then you had better leave my head, I thought. Merlin and the Lady of the Lake couldn’t be the only ones around here powerful enough to do magic. I would find someone who could get rid of Gwenddydd if it killed me.

  Bedivere stirred and shifted his body slightly. He was starting to fall asleep. We were lying on a bed of fern and grass; it was prickly against my skin. Looking down, the scar on my stomach was clearly visible, as was the bumpy black mark on my forearm.

  I wasn’t as scarred as Bedivere, though. His left arm was still wrapped in bandages, and the right side of his shirt had ridden up. His stomach was uncovered and the skin was peppered with purple welts.

  “You are comparing wounds from battle,” he said, tilting his head to kiss my nose.

  “I think you win that one.”

  “You make merry about the queerest of circumstances, Natasha,” said Bedivere, inhaling deeply. “I like it.”

  “Were you in pain – in the tomb?” I asked him. “For all those years, while you were waiting for Arthur to return?”

  “Pain such as losing my sword hand – no,” replied Bedivere, gazing up into a canopy of branches that were slowly shedding tiny yellow petals like confetti, “but to age and sleep in the dust and dirt was a longer hurt to our minds than physical pain. To slowly lose one’s senses - to not see, to not taste - was a torturous existence.”

  “Arthur will come back. He won’t leave for good ever again.”

  “If the king must divide himself between two lands, then that is how it must be, but Logres needs to be ruled.”

  I was reaching down to kiss his mouth when a loud shout echoed through the trees. A brown rabbit with liquid black eyes darted past our feet, sending up a spray of tiny yellow petals.

  It was Lucan, and he was calling for Bedivere.

  “Brother, where are you?” called Lucan. His voice sounded as if it was below us, which meant he still hadn’t climbed the bank to the Pool of Sidus - yet.

  “Sir Bedivere,” called another voice. It was either Gareth’s or Gawain’s. Their accents were so soft I couldn’t tell them apart. It didn’t matter.

  “We are coming down,” called Bedivere.

  “Which means don’t come up,” I screeched, as I rearranged my clothes.

  “The king’s Ddraig has been sighted in the distance,” shouted Lucan. “We are making ready to leave.”

  Arthur was here already, but my happiness was immediately suffocated by my never-ending guilt. Just a few hours ago, I had been sick to my heart at the thought of Arthur being ambushed by Mordred and the Gorians. Yet I was still capable of forgetting all of that the second I got alone with Bedivere.

  I was the worst sister in the world.

  Patrick, Eve, Gaheris, Ronan, Byron - to name but a few of the people whose deaths I had either caused, or been a part of. Bedivere had lost his hand, and Arthur was planning to deceive two powerful sorcerers – but all I could think about was kissing my boyfriend and dumbass stuff like getting married.

  Then prove to yourself you are worthy of so much more. You took it upon yourself to search for Arthur. You have battled dwarf-riders, malevolent druids and giants, and still kept your nerve when a barbarian held a knife to your throat. You have helped friends and saved the life of Bedivere. You assisted in the birth of your brother’s child, even though the mother has done so much harm. And you, Natasha, you helped the fire of Merlin overcome the darkness of Nimue. You can end this.

  “Natasha, we must hurry,” called Bedivere. He was holding his right hand out to me.

  But even though Bedivere was calling for me, and Gwenddydd was shouting encouragement in my head, I felt this magnetic pull dragging me back. It was a restless ache that made me want to run.

  I didn’t want to look, I didn’t need to look.

  But I would always be wondering if I didn’t.

  The last time I had seen an image of a person in a pool, it had been by the Falls of Merlin. Nimue had appeared and shown me Arthur, deep in the dungeons of Camelot. The duplicitous sorceress had been the one to put him there, as a ruse to get all of the knights to Camelot.

  This was different. The Pool of Sidus would show me who was destined to be in my heart forever, according to Lucan. This could be my future.

  But I had already decided on my future.

  “Go on,” I called to Bedivere. “I’ll catch you up.”

  I saw him raise an eyebrow; I gave him a resigned shrug, but he didn’t try to stop me.

  I fell to my knees by the edge of the pool. The black rock was warm. It vibrated with an intermittent tremor, like a heartbeat, although the oily black water was perfectly still. The smell wafting from the pool was like honey. It reminded me of Avalon Cottage. Our nearest neighbours had kept beehives, and the smell along the lane in the summer evenings was heavenly. It had been one of the few things I had loved about the place that was never home.

  I picked up a small pebble and dropped it in first. I learnt from my mistakes. The water surrounding Merlin’s lair had been infested with green slime monsters that had tried to drag me in. If there was anything waiting in the deep here, then I would have time to pull back and run.

  But nothing happened. Not even a ripple. It was as if the pebble had dropped through an open window into the dark.

  With my hands either side of my knees, I inched forward. Directly overhead I heard the ear-splitting screech of Arthur’s red Ddraig.

  But the dragon wasn’t reflected back in the pool.

  And neither was I.

  I saw him. And it made me smile.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Byron’s Last Words

  I made my way, slipping and sliding on the damp, crumbly earth, back down to the Haven of Dwellmere. The sun was casting strange shadows on the ruinous white brickwork. The shadows weren’t dark; they were pale blue with a dense grey edge.

  “What was this place?” I asked Bedivere.

  “I
t was said to be the refuge of an ancient order of druids who worshipped the fire. Then one day, they disappeared and were never seen in Logres again. This temple is all that remains. It was said that they walked through time itself.”

  “Do you think they went through the Falls of Merlin?”

  “My eyes and mind are now open to everything, Natasha.”

  Arthur’s Ddraig roared above us. I could feel the vibration of its huge red wings deep inside my chest. The dragon rose high into the blue sky, and then, snout down, plummeted back to the ground, swooping up just metres from the ground. Two plumes of dark smoke trailed from its round nostrils, and every time it roared, a thick jet of crimson flame would shoot out of its mouth, like the exhaust from a dragster.

  “Should we head straight for the king?” asked Gareth.

  “What do you think, Guinevere?” I asked. “I want to see my brother, but I’m worried that Merlin will be able to see into my head. Should we hang back and let them set up for the baptism first, or ride straight there?”

  “This is your quest, Lady Natasha,” she replied. “We will follow your lead.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the Ddraig. It was enormous, almost the size of the white monster that had killed Eve after the court of Caerleon was ambushed on the way to Camelot. Its long tail acted as a rudder, steering it with amazing grace for something the size of a double-decker bus.

  I wanted to see Arthur so badly. I felt an ache in my heart at the thought of him travelling back through time without me, but I knew that I didn’t want to say goodbye either. I would probably get all stupid and emotional - and jeez, if I cried then everyone would think I was a total idiot. I was a Lady Knight of the Round Table. I had to be brave and strategic, not snivelly and clueless.

  “We’ll head deep into the falls,” I replied, still looking up at the Ddraig. “Gareth and Gawain, I want you both to go to Arthur and tell him to come to the vine bridge that we crossed to get into Logres. We’ll hide there and wait for Arthur, Sammy and Mila. The first part of the plan is to get them into the tunnel and out of Logres. The second part is far trickier, because we need to get Merlin and Nimue to face off.”