by T J Mayhew
“I always knew you couldn’t be trusted,” he announced coldly, making no attempt to hide the hatred he felt for her. “What have you done with him? What have you done to Merlin?”
The sorceress smiled thinly. “He is somewhere no one will ever find him,” she replied smugly. “He is a prisoner of ice and shadows.”
Cai frowned, completely confused. “A prisoner of ice and shadows? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nimue said nothing; she merely smiled, infuriating Cai further.
“A cryptic clue!” Mordred cried, clapping his hands in delight. “What is life without a little mystery, eh?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. His attention was suddenly drawn to the doors of the Great Hall as they opened. Mordred grinned as he enthusiastically went to greet them. “Ah, the guest of honour!”
Cai turned to find his mother walking towards him; her face dirty, stained with tears, her hair and clothes dishevelled. He watched helplessly as Morgan shoved Guinevere, still bound at her wrists, towards Mordred. She would have fallen, had it not been for Mordred, who caught her easily in his arms.
Cai’s rage flared at the sight of his enemy holding his mother; he wanted to protect her, to get her as far away from him as possible.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Lancelot step forward but Nimue reacted quickly, raising her palm as she shot a bolt of white light at the knight, who immediately collapsed to the ground.
Guinevere screamed and looked at Cai, her fear obvious. “Cai...” she called as she started towards him but Mordred held her firm.
Morgan poked her aggressively. “Quiet!” she ordered.
Mordred looked at Guinevere, studying her carefully, his eyes taking in every inch of her face. “You really are a beautiful woman, aren’t you?” he murmured, tracing his index finger down her cheek and along her jawline. Cai saw her flinch at his touch but Mordred ignored it. “I can certainly see why you were the most coveted woman in Camelot.” His gaze slid slyly to Lancelot who was now standing, although still dazed from Nimue’s attack. “I can see why so many men wanted you above all others.”
“Unhand me!” Guinevere cried, pushing Mordred away.
Mordred smiled as he regained his footing, his eyes darkening. “You should not have done that,” he warned, taking a step towards her menacingly.
“Get away from her!” Lancelot roared, as he advanced.
Mordred paused and slowly turned to meet Lancelot’s gaze. “Or what, exactly?” he asked pleasantly, his eyes dancing in amusement.
“Or I will tear you limb from limb,” Lancelot growled.
Mordred stared at him for a moment before he bursting into laughter. “Now, that would be a worthy threat, if you were in a position to see it through,” he retorted. “But, as you haven’t been too well of late, I shall have to forego that privilege…” His words were cut short as he gasped in pain; his eyes widened as he fell to his knees, a dagger buried deep in his right shoulder. He gazed down at the weapon, a look of disbelief etched on his face.
Cai’s jaw dropped in shock as he watched Gawain slowly rise to his feet, pulling another dagger from his boot; Galahad was watching Morgan, poised with a dagger of his own, ready to throw it, if need be.
In retaliation, Morgan and Nimue shot bolts of white light, hitting the two men in their chests, sending them flying; they both hit the ground heavily.
Lancelot moved towards Guinevere but was pushed aside by Mordred who rammed into his legs with his uninjured shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground once more. Reaching up, Mordred pulled the dagger free of his shoulder and stood up, pulling Guinevere to him, holding the bloody blade to her throat. She kicked and thrashed out but he held her tightly in front of him as he glanced warily between Lancelot, Gawain and Galahad.
“Make one move against me and I’ll slit her throat,” he warned, pressing the blade to her neck. Guinevere’s eyes widened in fear as she stood frozen in Mordred’s arms. Mordred’s eyes darted between the three men facing him down. “Don’t test me,” he warned menacingly. “You know me… you know what I am capable of.”
Gawain looked at Lancelot, who shook his head.
Mordred’s eyes continued to flit between the three men as he began to walk backwards, towards the doors, all the while, holding Guinevere in front of him as a shield.
Galahad reacted quickly, throwing his knife directly at Mordred’s head. He would have hit his target, had it not been for Morgan’s quick reaction: she stopped it in mid-air, melting the blade, it’s molten metal disappearing before it had time to hit the flagstones.
No sooner had the doors of the Great Hall slammed shut, than they realised Morgan and Nimue had disappeared, leaving behind faint wisps of black smoke in their wake.
Cai struggled against the ropes at his ankles, hoping that, somehow, the bonds would break. “Will someone help me?” he demanded, frustrated.
Instantly, Gawain was at his feet, a dagger working at the ropes; suddenly his feet were free and he was working at the bonds at his wrists. Glancing up from his work, Gawain grinned. “A word of advice; always have a dagger or two hidden about your person.”
Now free, Gawain offered him his dagger.
“Thanks,” Cai called as he set off towards the doors. Looking back, he saw Lancelot wasn’t far behind.
Together they raced through the Upper Courtyard and down the stairs to where their horses were tethered. As they ran towards their steeds, Cai heard the echo of horse’s hooves fading into the distance as Mordred made his escape. Mounting his horse, Cai raced off into the night but, thankfully, with a full moon, there was still enough light to keep Mordred within sight.
He pushed Rei harder, praying they would reach Mordred in time to save his mother. He soon closed the gap, confident now they would catch up to them
Suddenly, a black cloud swooped in front of them, spooking Rei, who reared up, leaving Cai with no choice but to fight to control her. Just as he managed to get her under control, there was a flash of white light and Rei bucked, throwing him off; he rolled out of the way just as she twisted away from him, her hooves landing only a few inches from his knee.
He watched helplessly as Rei turned and fled, back towards Camelot, his only hope of catching Mordred, disappearing into the darkness; he almost leapt for joy when Lancelot slowed his horse and, offering his hand, cried, “Cai!”
Taking his hand, Cai hoisted himself onto the steed behind Lancelot as he was spurred into action once more. Tightening his grip on the dagger, he scoured the darkness ahead of them, his blood rushing wildly in his ears; what if stopping for him had cost Lancelot the chance of catching Mordred? What if, because of him, Mordred was able to get away?
Suddenly, Lancelot stiffened, as he pulled on the reins and almost knocked Cai off in the process. Focusing his thoughts once more, Cai followed Lancelot’s gaze…
Just ahead, Mordred sat astride his horse, Guinevere in front of him, his dagger poised at her throat. Morgan and Nimue flanked him, waiting…
As they neared, Morgan released her powers and a blinding flash of light shot skywards, illuminating the darkness.
Lancelot’s horse immediately reared up, his hooves kicking wildly in the air. As the knight fought to regain control of the frightened animal, Cai, having lost his grip, fell heavily to the ground, winded. Frantically scrambling away from the panicking horse, Cai, still clutching Gawain’s dagger, looked around, desperately searching the darkness. He stared in disbelief as he realised…
They were gone… Mordred, Morgan, Nimue, Guinevere…
They were all gone.
33
She had always known the human race was pathetic and this just confirmed it; to allow themselves to be led by their ever-changing emotions, only proved how weak they were.
Love, hate… Emotions were fleeting and something that had the power to control you, if you allowed them to. But Nimue had made it her purpose to master them.
She smiled to herself as she stood at the mouth of the cave
, knowing what was waiting for her: undisputed proof of her powers. She, alone, had done what even the great Morgan le Fay could not.
But behind her triumph, there was disappointment; Merlin had once been a great man, a man worthy of his power. But he had spent too much time at Camelot; too much time immersed in the Light, working for good and ignoring all else. Too much time spent amongst those he called ‘friends’ had left him weak and vulnerable and it had been all too easy for her to ingratiate herself to him.
It had all been far too easy.
There had been a time when she would have relished destroying him, when the very idea of such an act filled her with excitement and anticipation, a hunger she had to satisfy. But she took no pride in the reality of such a deed.
In her dreams, she had envisioned a great battle, a test of wills, that, ultimately, she would have won. But to have him surrender willingly through a broken heart was something she would never understand and it only made her contempt for him grow.
Pushing these thoughts from her mind, she surveyed her surroundings, content that no one would discover their whereabouts; no one in Camelot knew this place, their place, even existed. Nimue smiled at the irony; this place had been where Merlin had first confessed his love for her.
Now it was destined to be his final resting place.
It was all so fitting…
Waves crashed against the rocks at her feet, soaking her boots, while a fierce wind battered her; clouds gathered above, heavy with rain. The light had faded but she still had one pressing thing to do.
Raising her arms, palms outwards, she closed her eyes, summoning her power and waited as warmth spread through her entire being. On opening her eyes, the air around her shimmered and she knew her secret was safe, invisible to the naked eye.
Stepping from the rock, she watched as the water below began to freeze; tiny ice crystals covered the surface, as if snow had fallen. But there was no snow, only her will.
Nimue waited, watching, as ice continued to form about her, following the flow of the water into the cave, disappearing into the darkness within.
Holding her arm out in front of her, she opened her fist to reveal a ball of white light, hovering above her palm, illuminating the space immediately around her. She began to follow the icy path into the cave, ever deeper, over a rocky outcrop, to where her prisoner awaited.
On reaching the summit she paused, taking the time to observe her prisoner; he was slumped and invisibly bound to a stalagmite, his head resting on his chest, his eyes closed.
She smiled wryly to herself, satisfied that all had gone well. Merlin had always thought himself above such things as love, had thought himself removed from all such emotions and had prided himself in that knowledge. How she had proved him wrong!
Walking slowly towards him, she watched as shadows danced across his face in the glow of her light. Coming to a stop in front of him, she studied him carefully.
He looked different somehow; older… defeated.
She hadn’t expected Merlin to fall so readily; all it had taken was a few simpering smiles and some flattering words and he had succumbed.
She reached out and, supporting his chin, lifted his head to get a better look at his face. His eyes remained closed and he was oblivious to what was happening to him.
Releasing her hold, she curled her lip in disgust as she stood and turned her back on the man who had once been her teacher, the man who had loved her; the man who had never been anything more to her than a nuisance. A nuisance she could well do without. A nuisance she would make it her mission to destroy.
Cold…
That’s all I feel at first. Nothing but cold.
Then the light hit me, harsh and unyielding. I try to turn away but I cannot, I am frozen, trapped and at her mercy.
The pain I feel with that realisation is so physical, I almost surrender there and then but then I think of those who need me… Cai, Guinevere… Camelot… and I know I can never submit to them.
So I shall play this game; I shall let her believe I am hers… She always did have one weakness: pride. Her pride will never let her see the truth: that I am not her prisoner.
In time, my strength will return and I shall find a way to communicate with Camelot…
But, until then, I am content to wait…
34
Cai stared in disbelief at the, now empty, field, at the place his mother had been only moments before…
She was gone.
And, with her, Mordred, Morgan and Nimue…
That thought alone, was enough to turn his blood to ice.
“Cai,” Lancelot’s voice, more urgent now. “We must return to Camelot.”
Cai turned to face him, numb to everything. “Where’s she gone, Lancelot?” he asked in desperation but, as he heard these words, a rage rose up inside him. Cai grabbed Lancelot’s arm, “Where is she? Where have they taken her?” he demanded.
Lancelot pulled his arm free, glancing at Cai. “I do not know,” he muttered, clearly as distraught as Cai. “But I do know, we must get back to Camelot…”
“What?” Cai screamed. We have to find her, we have to…”
Lancelot grabbed him and held firm until Cai began to yield. “And where would we start, Cai?” he asked simply. “Where would we even start? We have no idea where they have taken her!” He paused, allowing his words to hit home, before continuing. “But we do know there are men and women… children, who need us… And, as much as it pains me to say, they are our priority, right now,” he met Cai’s gaze. “Your mother understands that…”
Blinking back tears, Cai nodded, knowing he was right. They didn’t know where Guinevere was; just where would they even start looking. And, Lancelot was right: his people needed them…
Lancelot mounted his horse and looked down at Cai, offering his hand. Cai took it and, accepting Lancelot’s help, mounted the horse, as he was spurred into action.
Tightening his grip, Cai tried not to think of his mother, instead focusing his thoughts on what would happen once they were back in Camelot… How would they even begin to fight Mordred’s men? There were so many…
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of hooves on stones as Lancelot’s horse raced into the Lower Courtyard.
Cai leapt from the horse and turned towards the stairs to the Upper Courtyard but he was stopped in his tracks as Lancelot grabbed his arm.
“We are unarmed,” the knight reminded him quietly, his eyes darting around furtively. Seeing no men on the battlements, he added, “We are safe, for now.”
Cai’s hand had automatically gone for his sword but his fingers had met nothing but air. “Excalibur,” he gasped, glancing down as Mordred’s words came back to haunt him. “Do you really think I would leave you armed?”
What had they done with Excalibur? Had he really allowed them to just take it?
“We need to get to the armoury,” Lancelot stated. “We need weapons…”
Cai held up the dagger Gawain had given him. “I have this…”
Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “And just what do you propose to do with that?” he asked.
A shout broke the silence and, grabbing Cai’s arm, Lancelot pulled him into the shadows. Cai glared at him but Lancelot raised a finger to his lips, nodding towards the stairs.
His heart beat wildly as Cai could only imagine what approached them; in his mind, he saw one of Mordred’s men coming closer, weapon in hand, his eyes alive with bloodlust…
Cai was jerked back to the present as Lancelot snatched the dagger from his grip. Seeing the urgency in the knight’s eyes, Cai held his breath, as Lancelot edged forward, poised for attack.
“Who’s there?” the voice demanded. “Don’t cower in the shadows… face us!”
Cai practically fell to his knees in relief at the sound of Gawain’s voice. Beside him, Lancelot’s shoulders dropped as the tension left his body.
“You heard him. Come out and fight.” Kay growled.
&nb
sp; Lancelot stepped out of the shadows, Cai close behind.
All four stood, for a moment, transfixed.
“I don’t believe it,” Kay declared, as he looked between them. He stepped forward and held Cai’s shoulders in a vice-like grip. “You are safe, yes?” he demanded, his eyes betraying his concern. “You are not hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Cai muttered.
“And Guinevere?” Gawain demanded bluntly. “Where is she?”
Cai dropped his gaze, his relief instantly replaced by a deep, overwhelming sadness.
“Cai?” Kay asked gently.
Cai shook his head as Lancelot spoke for him.
“We were too late,” he said, pain evident in his voice. “We were so close, but…”
His words were met with silence.
Kay gripped Cai’s shoulder. “Cai?”
“They disappeared,” Cai finished, blinking back his tears. Stepping away from Kay, he met his uncle’s gaze. “They were there one minute and… gone the next.”
Kay glanced at Gawain. “Just like their men…”
Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Gawain sheathed his sword. “Perhaps it is best we show you…” He turned and led the way to the Upper Courtyard.
“We cannot explain it,” Kay added, over his shoulder.
“Explain what?” Cai demanded.
“This, my Lord,” Gawain said, stepping to one side.
On reaching the Upper Courtyard, Cai stared in disbelief; Mordred’s men were nowhere to be seen.
“Where did they go?” Cai asked.
“That, we do not know, my Lord.”
“Morgan,” Lancelot growled.
At the sound of her name, Cai felt the tension in his body return and, as he took in the sight before him, he recalled the pain and heartache his people had suffered at their hands.
Debris and ash now littered the courtyard, testament to the horror and devastation that had befallen Camelot that night. As Cai watched the last few survivors help each other into the safety of the Great Hall, he became aware of a low wailing, a sound so painful, it couldn’t be ignored. Turning, he saw a woman holding the lifeless body of a man as she cradled him in her arms. Her grief only served to remind him of what he had lost and he felt his throat tighten.