“He is not a servant!” Merlin yelled. “He is a knight! He took an oath on his own accord. He followed his heart, something you will never understand. You only care of beauty and power, things which you will never be able to hold on to! Love is what carries on, yet you betray it!”
“Love only makes you weak!” she screeched. “I sacrificed everything for him to take the throne. I am the sister of Aurelious and Uther Pendragon. I should be queen mother and my son should be in his rightful place!”
“He is in his rightful place,” Merlin spat. “You are a murderous pathetic excuse for a being. You sacrifice the welfare of Britain for your own ambitions!”
Morgaina nudged Ravenna, nodding towards the thick trees that hid the small valley of flat land from view of the steep hills that surrounded it, and I soon understood why. Black guards stomped into sight from the west, surrounding the tall raven-haired knight. They ushered him down; his hands were behind his back, scowl on his face. Ravenna slunk into the shadows, unseen. He glanced at me and Merlin with wide eyes then he clenched his jaw, as the guards shoved him to his knees.
“Do not listen to them, Brendelon!” Merlin shouted.
He ignored Merlin and instead turned to Morgaina with a wicked half-grin. “I have been searching for you,” he taunted.
She smiled. “Were you? Bolvyn was going to be so kind to escort you to me but unfortunately you decided to murder him and his men, but I will pay no mind to that.” She waved her nonchalantly, as she strut closer to him. “Now that you have found me, shall we finish our arrangement?” she said in a sickly sweet voice.
He scowled at her but remained quiet.
She cackled. “Clever Vivian,” she said, clucking her tongue against the back of her front teeth as she shook her head. “Meant to keep you from returning… although, she could not quite make you forget the sword now, could she?” She smiled at him. “But that is not surprising as you are bound to it.”
He lowered an eyebrow questioningly but didn’t seem at all surprised.
“And you could have had it,” she continued, voice growing, “but your inability to follow orders and greedy coveting ruined everything.” Her eyes flashed.
“Although it is not quite your fault,” spoke the soft voice, as she slithered out of the shadows. “After all, how could you understand your true place when Merlin deceived you into thinking you were nothing more than some pathetic protector,” she drawled out, wrinkling her flawless nose in disgust.
His whole expression changed, I saw the look of a small child yearning for his mother, to the face of a damaged adolescent, to one of a murderous revenge-seeking adult. It happened so suddenly it would have been easy to miss if one had blinked. The adult face stayed and the muscles in his jaw began to move quickly. I could see his lungs rise in quick short breaths, trying to fight for control.
She moved closer to him putting a hand to his face, gently cupping under his chin. “Beautiful Bran, your face really is your only triumph.”
He pulled away from her, looking disgusted by her touch. His eyes tightened and turned dark, but the hurt was illuminated; there was no hiding it, and she knew how to use it. “Get back from me you devious snake!” he roared at her. “You were more than happy to let Merlin take me. He did not deceive me into anything; my father is the one who told me the importance of being a protector!”
She laughed mockingly, as she gracefully folded her arms across her chest. “Oh darling, you did not really believe his story about the warriors in the sky, did you? Only kings belong in the stars, not spoiled little princes.”
“Stop toying with his head Ravenna! It was never his place to rule, it was always Arthur and he knows that all too well!” Merlin interjected.
Brendelon flinched at the words.
Ravenna laughed at his expression. “Not all too well, Merlin. You only manipulated him into thinking that.”
Brendelon’s face changed rapidly, taking it all in. “No, he did not,” he said quietly, looking down. “Arthur and my comrades stand by me.” He looked up at Ravenna determined. “And you never have,” he growled with dark eyes, clenching his jaw. “Merlin saved me from you!”
Her eyes went as dark as his, and her face twisted up into a familiar malicious scowl. “Is that what you think?” she hissed. “He only took you so he could keep you close to make sure you would not cross Arthur because deep down he knew it really should have always been you; a beautiful star in the sky, the most powerful king to rule. My. Own. Son.” She pointed at herself with every syllable, saying each word more fierce than the one before.
“No,” he said slowly, “I never did belong in the stars.” His eyes went hard. “And I will never cross Arthur.”
Ravenna began to take deep breaths, trying to control her wild temper but it was to no avail. She grasped a chunk of his hair in her slender hands and yanked his head upward. “You wretched waste! You failure!” she screeched in his face. “Why do you never do as you are told?”
“Don’t touch him!” I screamed at her, as fury filled my every vein.
Before either could respond, a loud pounding of horse hooves sounded. Every head turned to the western curtain of foliage, and in between the dark shadows of the trees, the sun broke through the barrier illuminating a bright gleam of gold followed by an army of knights donned in tunics that matched their leader’s face.
“Mordegrant,” Merlin whispered.
“He came!” I practically shouted. “The knights warned him!”
He pulled up on his horses’ reigns, stopping his men with a hand, many of them still hidden behind the bright green drapes. “Halt!” he called officiously, staring at the two women and the Black Army that surrounded them. The golden mask flickered down to the knight on his knees then he dismounted his horse and withdrew his weapon.
“In trouble again, Brendelon?”
Brendelon clenched his jaw. “Do not speak to me of trouble. You have Saxons rallying to your shores from the west, this demon army on your east, and your ally Cadvic, betraying you from the south.”
“And yet, here I am cleaning up your messes,” he hissed through the mask. “Always acting before you think; you truly are a lost cause.” He paced to his right, “Fortunately for us, Arthur has already been warned of Cadvic’s army and is set to destroy them. As for the Saxons… well, I can assure you they are not amongst the seas.” He laughed condescendingly.
“What means you?” Brendelon boomed.
He walked around, seeming far too calm for being in the presence of a powerful Black Army and their wicked sorceress leader. Ravenna’s face gave away a wicked gleam of joy, and unless she had the same love for near death experiences as her son, something was clearly out of place. The strange behaviors didn’t go unnoticed by Merlin, either. “What have you done?” he whispered to Mordegrant.
“I saw a moment of opportunity and I took it,” Mordegrant replied joyfully.
“You have sided with Cadvic against us?” Brendelon roared as he shot forward, face contorted into a snarl but the guards caught him and with his hands bound behind his back, it was difficult to throw them off. They kicked him in the back of the legs forcing him down to the ground on his knees again.
Mordegrant laughed. “Not entirely. Although, unknowingly to him, he will be helping us,” he snickered as Morgaina grinned.
“You set him up to look like a traitor,” Merlin said, understanding the ploy. “What of the attacks on your own people?”
He sighed as though he were bored.
Morgaina stepped forward. “Anyone can be swayed by power. Theol was thrilled at the chance to take his brother from the throne. You were the fools to perceive it as Cadvic’s betrayal, and ignorant enough to believe Mordegrant’s shores were about to succumb to a Saxon invasion.”
“The attacks were simply a sacrifice to rally my men to support my plan,” Mordegrant added.
“You traitorous bastard!” Brendelon hissed.
Mordegrant walked slowly over to Brendelo
n; tilting his golden face to stare at him for a moment. Then he reached his right arm across his body, bringing the back of his hand down hard across Brendelon’s face, jolting his head to the side. He turned his head back, eyes black and deadly, cheek bright red. “Unbind his hands,” Mordegrant commanded.
Brendelon’s wicked lop-sided smile made its appearance. “You are a fool to do such.”
The guards kept firm hands on his shoulders to keep him from leaping forward, as Mordegrant squatted down to be at eye level with Brendelon, resting his elbows on his knees. He was smart to keep his distance.
“Has anyone ever told you to story of the Oracle?” he spoke as if Brendelon were a child.
Brendelon glared at him, clearly taken off guard.
“You see, one who practices black magic can call upon the Oracle to see into the future. The problem with the future is that it is always changing. People make different decisions… meet new people…” He turned his mask towards me, and although I couldn’t see his face, I felt myself shrink under the eerie glare of it. “All of these things change what was once put into place.”
He stood and began pacing with his hands folded behind his back. “When Uther died, the Oracle revealed that a Pendragon heir would rise to be High King. Naturally, it was not spoken of for the safety of the child. Of course at that time the only known heir was the son of Uther’s sister.” He pointed to Ravenna, without looking at her. “Merlin did a wonderful job at hiding Uther’s bastard,” he added contemptuously.
A low growl came from deep in Brendelon’s throat. Mordegrant stopped pacing, keeping his mask focused in Brendelon’s direction.
“You do not like when others insult Arthur.” It wasn’t a question; he was simply observing Brendelon’s behavior. “And yet the Oracle reveals that it will be you who kills him.” He laughed under his breath. “Imagine that.”
Brendelon jolted forward, but the four guards held him down on his knees. “You are a liar Mordegrant and a traitor to all of Britain!” he roared.
“Oh…I am much more than that,” he said slowly. He lifted his hands to the mask and pulled it from his face… his flawless face.
Brendelon stumbled backwards into the guards as sheer terror ran across his features, and for a moment it was the expression of a young child.
I glanced back at Mordegrant, unsure of what had caused so much fright in a knight who feared nothing. He was tall, big in stature but we already knew that. I could now see he was in his late forties maybe early fifties with light brown hair, silver streaks at the sides and in his beard. His face was fairly handsome, wrinkled from age, but free of any of the scars that were rumored to be the reason for the mask. He kept his icy gray eyes on Brendelon and slowly the right side of his mouth crept up into a crooked sinister grin. A smile I knew all too well…
It had to be his father.
Chapter Twenty: Blood of the Pendragon
But why should he have it? He shook his head. No, Arthur was his king. He won the sword for his king; it was going to Arthur. He slid the glorious sword back into the sheath. He would not look at it again.
But it burned in his mind and his fingers trembled to touch it again. It was the only sword he had ever seen forged with black steel. He pulled it back out staring at its illuminating shine, twisting the flawlessly balanced weight in his hand. It fit his grip perfectly, forming to his palm, as if it was made for him. It lured him in, mesmerizing him, making it difficult to pull away.
He had won it; why should he not keep it? Arthur already had Excalibur. Arthur had everything and he had nothing. That was how it always was. It usually did not bother him to be in Arthur’s shadow; Arthur was deserving of the light, but this time it vexed him painfully, twisting knots inside of him. Why should he not hold one thing beautiful? Aye, it was his. He won it; he could keep it safe, and he would keep it from Arthur, because if he could not have it then nobody could.
“Aylwin.” Merlin breathed, as shocked as Brendelon.
Mordegrant looked over his shoulder at Merlin. “I am rather disappointed on how my son was raised,” he said to him. “Disrespectful and undisciplined to be sure, but more than that he is content being a serving boy,” he said disgustedly, turning back to the horror stricken face of Brendelon who still hadn’t quite recovered. “The Oracle told your mother that a blood relative would be the one who killed the future High King. Naturally, we assumed you to be the heir and after the last incident I had with you, we thought Oracle meant I was the one who would kill you. It was arduous to keep my temper with a boy so dire; never listening, unable to even focus for even a sliver of time, always doing the wrong thing.” His jaw clenched, looking elsewhere. His face scrunched upwards as though his anger was renewed by the memories. “I had to leave before I did any permanent damage.” His features straightened, and he focused his eyes back on Brendelon. “It was difficult to walk away not knowing if my son would be raised correctly. Unfortunately, I was right in doubting it so.” He gave another evil look to Merlin. “Eight years later we come to find that Arthur is to become the High King,” he turned to Brendelon, “and it is actually you who was meant to kill him.”
“You are lying,” Brendelon said but his voice was quieter, childlike.
Mordegrant laughed. “Ask your precious Merlin!”
Merlin shook his head, not making eye contact with either of them.
“Imagine my anger at disappearing and being forced to create a whole new identity, all to ensure your rise to the throne, but only to find that all this time you had been raised by pathetic insubstantial men who coddled you and tricked you into thinking you love Arthur just so they can control you from destroying him.” His face twisted. “A disappointment to be sure! It took all my will power to not reveal myself then. After all, you were only fifteen; I still had time to mold you into a suitable warrior.” He glanced at Morgaina. “But my patience did me well because after Arthur pulled the sword, we acquired another ally.” He smiled at Morgaina. “And then Baedan was revealed.”
He pulled the black sword from a sheath behind his back and held it out in front of Brendelon. His dark eyes flittered to the sword, illuminating to green, entranced. “It took years of planning to acquire it.” He swung it gracefully in his hand and Brendelon watched his every move like a dog waiting for a treat. “A sword forged from the isle of Avalon. A sword made only for a male heir of the Pendragon blood line. A sword meant for you.”
I sucked in my breath at his words. I was right; he was connected. Mordegrant held it towards Brendelon; his emerald eyes became brighter and brighter at every centimeter it came closer. “See how it makes you feel?” he whispered.
Brendelon stayed motionless, green eyes awestruck by the sword; he slowly reached his hand out. “Meant for me?” he whispered.
“Brendelon, no!” Merlin shouted, clapping his bound hands twice behind his back, Brendelon flickered his eyes towards Merlin, moving his hand away, but within a split second they were back on the sword. “Eyes on me!” he demanded. He shifted his eyes momentarily, but once again they were fixed on the sword.
Mordegrant let out a short laugh. “Of course he wants to keep it from you, but it is your sword, son. It calls to you. The draw you feel is for you alone.”
“It is not for him alone, Mordegrant!” Merlin yelled. “It will call to Arthur too and it will destroy him!”
For the first time Brendelon lifted his gaze from the sword to actually focus on Merlin, the confliction was elucidated in his eyes. “What are they speaking of?” he asked him.
“Bran, please understand, the more you know the more power it gives the sword.”
“He will not tell you because he knows the more you know the less he can manipulate you!” Ravenna hissed. “The same way he manipulated the sword in the stone to give Arthur the crown!”
“Arthur was born first and is the legitimate son of Uther Pendragon. He is the rightful heir and is the High King of Britain!” Merlin shouted at her.
“Tell m
e, Merlin!” Brendelon yelled, angry now.
Merlin gave a long sigh, and shifted his tired blue eyes toward the sky. “Yes, in a way the sword was meant for you.”
“What do you mean in a way?” he asked, clenching his fists.
Merlin sighed again. “Excalibur could only be elicited by the blood of the Pendragon. The same way Baedan can only be elicited by the blood of a Pendragon. The same reason all these vipers are here, waiting for you.”
“The same reason you kept me in your watch,” he growled.
“No, I kept you in my watch because I took pity on an abused seven-year old child. The sword was never meant to be found. The knowledge gives it power as it finds a place in you, and the power will lure you in only to consume and destroy you,” he said, scrunching his eyebrows down further as he spoke.
His nostrils flared slightly and his breathing increased. “So Arthur is the shining sun, and I am nothing more than his dark shadow, the counteractive to his good.”
“No Bran,” Merlin said softly, “it is not your fate. Though you are the one who can trigger it, the Lord gave you free will to choose your own path. Once the sword is activated, it will call for Arthur, the same way Excalibur will call for you. Good means to overcome evil and evil means to destroy good. It is an endless battle and the only solution will be the death of one of you. You do not have to follow that path.” He looked at him with a pleading expression.
“Why did it not activate when I held it the first time?” he muttered.
“Because the emerald was removed,” Mordegrant cut in officiously. “A smart move on Vivian’s behalf, and one we took note of. We could not trust you with a power that strong while you were at Cadvic’s, but the emerald is the power source of the sword and it will always find its way back.”
“Why even involve Cadvic? You had me, the emerald, and the sword yet you let them slip through your fingers for what? Foolish revenge?” he derided.
Mordegrant snarled. “It is not simply revenge you imprudent boy. It is strategy; battling Cadvic’s army depletes Arthur’s forces while also diminishing his allies, leaving them weak and vulnerable, distracting them from one side while we sneak through the cracks and finish them off from the other.”
Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) Page 28