by T J Mayhew
“Lancelot, it’s good to see you again, old friend,” he said, smiling thinly. His voice was soft but cold, obviously relishing the pleasure he took from the pain he had caused.
“Mordred,” Lancelot growled, glaring back at him.
29
As the two men faced each other, Cai studied Mordred, the man he had heard so much about but had never seen in the flesh, the man who hunted him and had killed his father.
My cousin, a small voice in his head announced from nowhere.
Cai’s stomach turned at the mere thought of being related to this man.
Mordred, tall and slight, was not as well built as Lancelot, Kay or the other knights, but he bore himself with pride and an arrogance that gave him a presence none of the others had. He looked slightly younger than Lancelot, Kay and Gawain, about the same age as Galahad and Percival. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, alive with smug contentment at the devastation he had wrought. The hatred Cai had harboured since first seeing his image at Camelot was nothing compared to the intensity of his feelings now but he held himself together, determined not to give him the upper hand. Instead, he watched in silence as Mordred surveyed Lancelot, content not to draw attention to himself, just yet.
Mordred inclined his head towards Lancelot by way of greeting. “It’s been a long time,” he acknowledged, his eyes fixed on the older man’s face.
“Not long enough,” Lancelot retorted, hatred burning in his eyes.
Mordred released a bark of laughter and shook his head indulgently; suddenly, the laughter stopped as he stepped towards Lancelot, who stood his ground. “Tell your lackey to release my man,” he growled.
“I’m no one’s lackey,” Kay retorted, glaring at Mordred.
Mordred snapped his head to Kay. “I said: release him, you dog!”
Kay threw the man to the ground and, with a cry of rage, launched himself at Mordred, his dagger raised.
Lancelot, however, was quick to block his way. “Kay!” he commanded.
Kay snapped his head to look at Lancelot, a silent understanding passing between them before the tension left Kay’s body.
Mordred chuckled coldly. “Still looking for a fight, eh, Kay?” he taunted. “That was always your trouble as I recall,” he mused. “You never stopped to think.” He slowly surveyed the knights and, on catching sight of Cai, a cold smile crept across his face. “Well, well, well, and who do we have here?” He gave an exaggerated low bow. “My King,” he acknowledged, sarcastically, as if these words left a bad taste in his mouth. Raising his head, he held Cai’s gaze and grinned.
Cai said nothing, his hand poised on Excalibur, the urge to thrust his blade into Mordred’s chest becoming all the more harder to ignore.
Rising to his full height, Mordred studied Cai, an eyebrow raised. “And this is my enemy?” he asked, mockingly, to no one in particular. He turned to his men and threw his arms in the air. “I had hoped for a worthy opponent; instead, I get this… boy,” he spat with disgust, returning his attention to Cai. “So, tell me...” He held his hands out to his sides as if presenting Camelot to him for the first time. “Do you like what we’ve done with the place? It’s so much better than when Arthur was here.”
That was all it took to spur Cai into action; he leapt at Mordred shouting with rage as he knocked him to the ground. Mordred grappled with Cai for a moment, grabbing frantically at his wrists, but Cai was too quick for him; pulling back his arm and, with as much strength as he could muster, he rained down blow after blow, oblivious to the pain as he knuckles connected with Mordred’s mail. His fist finally made contact with Mordred’s jaw as he was pulled away by Lancelot; struggling against him, the knight’s grip was unyielding and he eventually gave up the fight. He glared at Mordred, breathing heavily.
Getting to his feet, Mordred flexed his jaw. “I’m impressed,” he conceded, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Yeah and there’s plenty more where that came from,” Cai growled, struggling against the arms that still held him.
Mordred grinned. “Really? That is good news,” he commented wryly. “I would hate to think that King Arthur’s son was weak.”
“Don’t you dare speak his name!” he raged, straining against Lancelot’s hold. “You killed him, you murdering scum!”
Mordred’s eyes narrowed as he studied him. “I see you have been spinning him your lies,” he murmured, glancing at Lancelot.
Lancelot scoffed. “It is hardly a lie, Mordred; your betrayal is infamous.”
Mordred grinned, relishing the memory. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” he agreed, studying the fingernails of his left hand nonchalantly. “I only wish I’d done it sooner; then maybe all of this…” He waved his hand dismissively, “could have been avoided and I would be sitting on Camelot’s throne rather than... this,” he sneered in disgust as he looked at Cai.
With renewed effort, Cai desperately fought to free himself, thrashing his arms and legs wildly. His persistence paid off when his elbow connected with Lancelot’s jaw causing him to momentarily loosen his hold. Seizing his opportunity, Cai twisted out of Lancelot’s grasp and raced towards Mordred, who barely had time to register his surprise, before Cai stormed into him, sending them both crashing to the ground.
Cai struck blow after blow, despite Mordred’s attempts to push him away. Somewhere in his consciousness he was aware of someone calling his name, begging him to stop, but he shut it out behind the curtain of red fog that had descended upon him; he was going to avenge his father and nothing was going to stop him.
Pushing himself to his feet, he pulled Excalibur from its sheath and, in one fluid movement, held it to Mordred’s throat. Somewhere in the fog, he was vaguely aware of Mordred’s men reaching for their weapons but, in that moment, he didn’t care.
“No, leave him!” Mordred cried, his eyes held fast. The men paused, unsure of what to do. Mordred continued to glare at Cai, his eyes boring into him, his gaze defiant. “Do it, then,” he challenged, jerking his head back.
Cai stared down at him, the rest of Camelot fading away; no one but he and Mordred existed in that moment. He swallowed hard; he wanted nothing more than to kill him, there and then, but something was stopping him, preventing him from making that final leap. Summoning up every ounce of determination he had left, he slowly increased the pressure on Excalibur, not enough to draw blood but enough to hurt. He increased the pressure on the blade slightly, smiling coldly as the steel of the blade bit into Mordred’s flesh. Mordred winced, ignoring the blood as it trickled down his neck, but recovered quickly, hiding his pain behind defiance; clenching his jaw, he raised his head proudly.
“Cai.”
He was aware of Lancelot standing beside him.
Leaning slightly towards him, the knight continued quietly. “Don’t do it, Cai; don’t give him the pleasure...”
“No, I want the pleasure,” Cai sneered coldly. “I want the pleasure of killing the man who murdered my father.”
Mordred broke in. “Well, stop talking then, boy, and do it,” he growled disdainfully. “Kill me; or are you too weak to do it yourself?”
“Shut up or I’ll do it,” Kay volunteered his weapon drawn, his eyes alive with anticipation. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than running you through.”
Lancelot placed a hand on Cai’s sword arm and Cai felt his resolve begin to melt at the unexpected contact. “Your father wouldn’t want this,” he said gently. “He wouldn’t want you killing him in cold blood.”
Cai shook his head stubbornly, never taking his eyes from Mordred. “I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do,” Lancelot insisted softly. “Of course you care. You are better than this; better than him,” he added, sparing Mordred a brief glance. “Killing him in battle is one thing, but killing him like this...” He shook his head. “There would be no coming back from that.”
Cai recognised the truth of his words. The spell broken, he stepped away and withdrew Excalibur from Mor
dred’s throat.
Mordred stared up at him, a victorious smile spreading across his lips; his eyes flicked to Excalibur as he sat up, supporting his weight on his hands. “So… Mother was right; you do have your father’s sword,” he observed.
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement; Cai stared back at him in silence.
“I was wrong about you,” Mordred murmured as he got to his feet. “You are weak,” he sneered, leaning down to meet Cai’s gaze. “And unworthy to carry that sword.”
With gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, Cai glared at him as Mordred turned and walked away.
“I have a gift for you,” Mordred called, turning to face Cai. “A homecoming gift, if you will.” He smiled, before turning his head slightly and raising his voice. “Bring them in,” he commanded.
The doors to the Great Hall opened and everyone stared in horror at the sight of Nimue standing beside Merlin, his head slumped, clearly unconscious, his hands bound in front of him. Staring at the scene before him, it was a few seconds before Cai realised what was wrong: Merlin was not standing but hovering a few inches off the ground.
Cai stared helplessly, as he was forced to look upon the nightmare unfolding before him.
After a few moments, Nimue stepped out into the courtyard, Merlin still floating lifelessly beside her, oblivious to what was happening. Cai scowled at Nimue’s approach, intense hatred of her flaring up inside him; she had betrayed them! All this time, she had lived as one of them whilst, at the same time, working against them. But he had always felt there was something…
As Morgan stepped out of the hall behind her, Cai’s heart stopped as he realised Guinevere was with her, bound and gagged although, unlike Merlin, she was conscious. On seeing Cai, Guinevere seemed to come alive but, no sooner had she stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Cai, than she was roughly pulled back by Morgan; she would have fallen but for Morgan holding fast onto her arm, yanking it upwards. The sorceress steadied her as she scrutinised Cai’s face and slowly raised her hand.
Smiling at him, she touched Guinevere’s temple; a brief flash of white light illuminated the courtyard and, as the light faded, Guinevere slumped into Morgan’s arms, lifeless.
Cai screamed.
I feel their pain as if it were my own; they think I do not, but I do. It is a pain, so tangible, I can almost taste it.
They look and see me powerless and, to all intents and purposes, I am; but they see only what I want them to see.
I may once have been foolish, blindly trusting those around me, trusting her, but no more…
It will not be long before those who have betrayed me feel my wrath. And Heaven help them when they do…
30
Mordred’s maniacal laughter shattered the silence.
Cai ignored him, focusing only on Guinevere, as he ran to her; pushing Morgan aside, he gathered his mother in his arms, rocking backwards and forwards.
“No, no, no…” he murmured, as if his denial, alone, could change what had happened. His vision blurred as tears sprang to his eyes; he tried, frantically, to blink them away but they were unyielding.
Brushing hair from Guinevere’s face, he silently prayed for her eyes to open, for her to smile at him, to tell him all this was a bad dream...
Mordred clapped his hands appreciatively and walked slowly over to Cai, the thud of his boots matching the pounding in Cai’s head.
“How touching,” he commented drily, as he stood beside his mother. “A family reunion.” He and Morgan shared a mocking smile.
Cai snapped his head up and glared at them. “What have you done to her?” he demanded, through tears of anger and pain.
“I, my dear cousin, have done nothing,” Mordred replied innocently. “But rest assured, she has been quite safe in our care…”
Cai clenched his fists as he continued to glare at them when, suddenly, a loud crack filled the air, instantly followed by a blinding flash of white light; Cai recoiled, shielding his eyes with his arm. On opening them again, he looked around, only to discover Merlin and Nimue were gone.
Cai stared at the spot where they had been only moments before.
Mordred’s laughter cut through the shocked murmuring of the crowd and, pointing to them, cried gleefully, “You should see your faces!”
But his laughter was cut short as Lancelot crashed into him, knocking him to the floor, landing heavily on top of him; both men grunted as they hit the ground but Mordred was the first to recover. He pushed Lancelot to one side, rolled over and, standing to face his enemy, drew his sword. Lancelot glared back at him, his eyes blazing.
Mordred grinned triumphantly. “So, it comes to this, Lancelot,” he murmured smugly. “After all this time… you are finally at my mercy. Surrender now and you shall have a quick, and painless, death.”
Lancelot’s lips curled in hatred. “I will never surrender to you,” he spat furiously.
“Come, come Lancelot,” Mordred retorted, without missing a beat. “Why do you continue to deny me?” He knelt beside his enemy and looked him squarely in the eye. “We are just the same, you and I; concerned with our own gains and to Hell with the consequences,” he murmured, his voice so quiet Cai could barely hear him.
Lancelot stared back at Mordred, his face a mask; Cai couldn’t read him at all. “We are nothing alike,” he stated simply.
Mordred frowned. “Now, now; that isn’t quite true, is it, oh noble knight?” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “After all, we have both betrayed our King…”
Immediately, Lancelot’s fist connected with his jaw; Mordred’s head snapped back as he was sent sprawling. Lancelot stood up, pulling his sword free.
As if on cue, the castle exploded into action as men, on both sides, drew their weapons and charged at each other. Swords clashed against shields and shouts of rage and pain rang out around the courtyard.
As the battle ensued around him, Cai’s one, and only, thought was to get Guinevere to safety; hastily getting to his feet, he half-carried, half-dragged his mother towards the Great Hall.
“I don’t think so.”
Stopped in his tracks, Cai looked up to find himself face to face with Morgan le Fay, her hard, black eyes boring into him.
“Give her to me,” she commanded, as she advanced towards him.
Cai’s grip on his mother tightened as he shook his head. “Do you really think I’d give her to you?” he demanded. “After what you’ve done to her?”
“Give her to me,” she commanded, now standing over him.
Cai shook his head defiantly. “No...”
But even as he spoke, he felt something inside him weaken. Determined to get his mother to safety, away from this monster, he continued on his way but soon felt his legs begin to stiffen beneath him. He felt as though he was walking through quicksand; something, some force was pulling against him. He glanced back at Morgan, a smug smile playing across her lips, and knew, instantly, that she was behind this.
“Now... give her... to me.” She emphasized the last four words, all the while maintaining eye contact with Cai.
Shaking his head defiantly, Cai focused all his attention on maintaining his hold of Guinevere but the force was too strong. As Morgan stepped closer, Cai, unable to resist any longer, lost hold of her completely. Guinevere’s body flew towards the sorceress where it hovered in front of her. Morgan smiled victoriously.
Cai’s muscles strained against her control but it was no good, he was held fast… powerless.
Morgan’s grin widened before she disappeared with Guinevere into the chaos, her laughter echoing in Cai’s head.
Cai cried out in protest and fell to his knees as he was released from the spell he had been under. Tears streamed down his face but he knew he couldn’t give up now; he had to find his mother.
“Cai!”
Cai turned to see Aelwen engaged in her own battle; the man she fought was bigger than her but slow and cumbersome in his movements, a fact she was able to turn to her advantage
. “Behind you!” she cried as she deflected yet another blow from her opponent.
Turning, he glimpsed one of Mordred’s men running towards him, about to run him through. Instinctively, Cai brought Excalibur up to meet his enemy’s blade. Sparks flew as their blades met and Cai saw the bloodlust in his eyes.
The man growled as he spun round, bringing his weapon down to Cai’s side; without a second thought, Cai leapt back, the sword missing him by inches.
Now operating solely on adrenaline, Cai retaliated, stepping forward, Excalibur cutting a clean arc towards the man’s head, forcing him backwards.
Before the man had a chance to recover, Aelwen charged heavily into his side, knocking him to the ground, only just managing to stop herself landing on top of him. Without allowing him time to recover, Cai swung Excalibur towards his chest; there was a dull thud as the blade connected with his chainmail. Although it didn’t penetrate, it had enough power to wind him but it didn’t take long for him to scramble to his feet and launch himself at Cai, once more.
Again, Cai easily deflected his sword, countering with a blow of his own, catching him on his shoulder. He was expecting a counter attack but this never came; the man stiffened, his mouth opened in silent horror, his eyes registering his surprise; dropping his sword, he fell to his knees before falling face down on the ground.
Cai looked up to see Aelwen, her sword buried deep in the man’s back. She placed her boot firmly on the man’s body and, with a concerted effort, pulled her sword free.
Cai stared at her as he tried to slow his breathing. “Thanks.”
Aelwen nodded her acknowledgment as she stared at the man at her feet.
Cai went to her and, gripping her shoulder, drew her attention to him. “You had to do it, Aelwen; you saved my life.”
Aelwen nodded and wiped her forehead, sighing. “I know, it’s just...” She glanced up at the battle still raging around them before looking back to Cai; tears shone in her eyes.