The Fire of Merlin (The Return to Camelot #2)

by Donna Hosie

  The gagging smell was also starting to creep into the little house. It was totally nauseating: sulphuric one minute, and then sickly-sweet the next. It would catch me off guard every time I sniffed, and it was starting to coat my tongue in a horrible fluffy layer.

  Guinevere started pushing bits of fabric up against the cracks in the wooden door.

  “It would be easier if the stench was on the wind,” she said, throwing several round logs onto the fire in the centre of the room. “The wind is the only way to move it on.”

  “What is it?” I asked, pulling down the fabric of my sweater and pushing it up against my nose. That did little. The smell was trapped inside my nostrils.

  “It is from the burnings,” said Talan softly, emphasising the word the as though burnings were unique. “Once you have experienced the stench of one, you never forget. To witness one is even worse.”

  “But what’s burning?” asked Arthur, wrinkling his nose. “That smell is hideous.”

  “The people have lost heart and faith,” replied Bedivere. “Superstition and fear have been allowed to run rampant over your land because of the darkness, and the people look for answers to questions they do not understand. So they accuse the innocent, for they cannot endure the fear that has trapped them.”

  “Bedivere, what are they burning?”

  “Witches,” he replied. “They are burning witches.”

  I gagged. “That smell is flesh?” I cried.

  “They are not burning witches,” cried Guinevere. “They are burning innocents. If the land of Logres was as evil as they claim, then we would all be flying in the form of black crows by now.”

  “Will you be quiet, sister,” barked Byron. “This is the king you are addressing with your sharp tongue.”

  “Then the king needs to stop this madness,” shouted Guinevere, slamming her clenched fist onto an uneven wooden table. Several knobbled potatoes rolled onto the floor.

  “But if all this has come from Nimue and Merlin, then why on earth are people being burned as witches?” I asked. “Don’t people know? Don’t they realise this is magic from them?”

  “Evil words spread quicker than the plague, Lady Natasha,” replied Gareth, “and one man’s truth is another man’s falsehood. Even a Knight of the Round Table has been known to believe a pure heart was laced with evil.” He raised his eyebrows, and I remembered back to my very first meeting with him, Bedivere and the others. They had taken Slurpy and me captive and bound us to trees. Bedivere had threatened to kill us – in fact David had wanted to kill us. Swift justice to our enemies.

  “Is that your answer for everything? If you don’t like the look of something, you just kill it?”

  “That’s the sum of it,” replied Guinevere bitterly. “If you are a man of Logres, you kill first, think later.”

  “You are not from this time, Lady Natasha…” started Tristram defensively, but I cut straight across him.

  “But they aren’t burning men are they? Tell me if that disgusting smell is coming from burning men. Go on, tell me.”

  Everyone in that tiny circular hut remained quiet. My brother looked as sick as I felt.

  “If this lot think you’re their king, then the first thing you’ll do is stop this burning. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if you have to send knights out to every village in the country, you will stop this. And I want everyone who lit the fires brought to justice, Arthur.”

  “Come outside, Titch,” said Arthur quietly. “Just you. I need to tell you something.”

  Arthur’s face was covered in a blotchy multicoloured rash. His cheeks were a greenish white, while his freckled nose looked orange. His blue eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles, and a pink rash was starting to spread across the stubble on his neck.

  Several chickens followed us outside, where the smell was now unbearable.

  “I’m inhaling people, Arthur.” I choked, as my eyes streamed with the forced pressure of trying not to breathe.

  “I have to find Sammy, Titch,” gasped Arthur; he was holding onto his knees. The wind was picking up around us. Guinevere had said that the wind would move the smell on, but all it was doing was making the stench worse.

  “The people here are burning women and all you’re worried about is your girlfriend,” I cried. “You don’t even know she’s here, Arthur.”

  “She is, I know she is, Titch,” shouted Arthur. “Sammy would never have run off and left like that. She is here, and if they’re burning women as witches then I have got to find her, before she gets into trouble. The two of you stick out in this time, Titch. At least you have me and Bedivere and the others to look after you. Sammy has no one.”

  “But you don’t have any proof…”

  “HELP ME FIND HER, TITCH. PLEASE.”

  “Okay, okay, calm down, Arthur,” I said hurriedly, placing my cold hands on the creases in Arthur’s ski jacket. “We’ll find her. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. Just calm down okay, because you’re beginning to sound less like a king and more like a woman giving birth.”

  Arthur gave a feeble laugh. “Trust me, Titch, that wasn’t funny.”

  The wooden door opened with a creak. Bedivere and Guinevere peered out.

  “You’ll need some sleep before you travel onward,” said Guinevere, “and I need time to make up provisions. Get yourselves into the hay shed where it’s warm, and don’t mind the rats, they don’t bite.”

  “Yay, more eggs and bread,” I whispered to Arthur. “We’ll be able to use them as weapons.”

  “Two hours sleep and then we’re leaving,” said Arthur, “and I think it’s probably best if the two of us change into something that will make us less conspicuous.”

  “Leave that to me, Lady Natasha,” said Guinevere, shooing us back into her house. “I’ll find something of mine for you to wear until you get to Camelot.”

  Bedivere’s fingers immediately wound into my hair; his other hand slipped around my waist. Bedivere put his cloak over the both of us, and we snuggled down into the hay. Byron closed a heavy oak door with a grunt, and all of the light was immediately sucked out. With my sense of sight gone, my other senses kicked into overdrive. I could make out the noises of scratching and scuttling along all four walls of the barn. Arthur’s breathing was wheezy, almost asthmatic, but that steadied and slowed as he became the first to drop off to sleep. Talan was softly singing in the far corner, and although I couldn’t see him, I imagined him to be lying down with his hands crossed behind his head.

  My favourite sound, though, was the soft beat of Bedivere’s heart, which lay directly beneath my hand.

  As my eyes got heavier and heavier, the last words I heard were from Bedivere, telling me it was mine...

  The tunnel was small and cramped. I had to stoop as I walked along it. I was following a voice, a familiar one that I knew I had to find.

  She knew I was there. She was laughing at me. Mocking me. I wanted to turn around, to go back out into the open air again, but I couldn’t. Arthur needed me to go on.

  I saw the blue flames ahead, and knew I should never have come this way. I was alone. Everyone had left me – or had I left them? The memory was blurred.

  I saw the old man before I saw her. His hands were dancing in the air, but his body was totally still. And his eyes…oh no…not those eyes again. Windows of the soul are meant to have colour. What kind of soul lies behind glistening white?

  “Only you can help her now, Natasha,” said the old man. “You have set events in motion, Natasha, events that cannot be undone now the bell has been tolled. The seed of Logres has been planted, and a new sapling will rise from the ground with the power to turn the skies red with fire.”

  “I want my acorn back,” I said, stretching out my hand. “It’s mine. It’s my link to him.”

  And then I saw her. She was dressed in a long pale blue dress with thin straps. Her hair was longer than I remembered, and her face softer, fuller. She was smiling at me like I wa
s her friend.

  And then I saw the swelling of her stomach and I started screaming.

  When I came to, I was outside and sitting upright. Bedivere was directly behind me, clamping my arms down at my sides, and Tristram and Gareth each had hold of one of my legs.

  They were pinning me down.

  “You will need to travel under darkness from here on in,” said a cackling voice I knew at once was Byron’s. “If anyone were to witness such an attack of madness, why Lady Natasha would be tied to a stake and burnt without trial.”

  “Drink this,” said Guinevere, forcing a wooden goblet up to my mouth. She poured a thick liquid into my throat which was freezing cold and tasted like stewed cabbage. I gagged, and spilt most of it down my front.

  “What did you see, Lady Natasha?” asked Talan, bending down.

  I shook my head. Not because I couldn’t remember, but because I didn’t want to say it out loud. If I kept it secret, then perhaps it had never happened.

  But it had happened. I had been so stupid all this time. I thought their archaic language was sweet and funny, but I had completely misunderstood all the signs.

  I launched myself at Arthur, but I didn’t get very far because three strong knights were still holding me down.

  “How could you?” I screamed at him. “How could you have been such an idiot?”

  Arthur went white again. I didn’t have to tell him what I had seen. He already knew.

  The seed of Logres had been planted alright. Sown by my idiot brother who had gone and gotten his dumbass magical girlfriend pregnant.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Voices in My Head

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Titch.”

  “You have more condoms under your bed than a school quarterback,” I yelled. “What are they there for? Christmas decorations? Water balloons?”

  “She didn’t get pregnant at home.” Arthur was yelling back at me now.

  “I don’t care where she got pregnant. I don’t want to know any of the gruesome details. Does mum know? Do her parents know? Oh my God, you are in so much trouble when they find out.”

  “Sammy is missing, Titch,” cried Arthur. “Mum and dad’s reaction is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  “So what are you going to do about it? Is she going to keep it?”

  “She hasn’t decided. She talks about adoption one minute, and then keeping it the next. It’s doing my head in.”

  “This is what you’ve been arguing about, isn’t it?”

  Arthur shook his head. “I walk on eggshells around that question. I just want her to give up smoking.”

  I thought back to the last time I had seen Slurpy, with the huge boobs and the extra weight around her face and stomach. It was staring right at me all this time. She was staring right at me all this time, and laughing because the stupid little sister didn’t have a clue what was going on.

  “How far gone is she?”

  “Five months.”

  “FIVE MONTHS?” I screamed. “How have you kept it secret for five…hang on a minute…” I trailed off as I started doing the math in my head.

  And then I heard a deep throaty chuckle. I knew straight away that it wasn’t one of the knights or Byron, because it was deep inside my head.

  “Help me, Arthur - he’s back. He’s in my head, Arthur.” I made a grab for my brother.

  Fight it, fight it, I willed myself, as the laughter grew louder and louder, until the pressure behind my eyes became so unbearable I had no choice but to collapse forward with my fingers pushing back on my closed lids.

  But you can’t fight it. You can’t fight him.

  The laughter died away to leave a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

  “It was the sorcerer, wasn’t it?” Guinevere had both of her arms wrapped around my shoulders.

  I nodded, and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. My skin was tingling and prickling. I scratched at my neck, and felt tiny lumps beneath my fingertips.

  “I believe the magician, Merlin, has forged a mind bond to Lady Natasha,” said Byron. “She is now a danger to herself and to you all. He will bend her will to his own. The sorcerer has long been caged by Nimue, and he may now be seeking revenge.”

  “Then how do we stop it?” demanded Bedivere.

  “You must find the Lady of the Lake,” said Byron. “If this darkness is truly from Merlin, and he has now forged a mind bond to Lady Natasha, then Nimue is the only one who is powerful enough to stop him.”

  “But what if this darkness is from her? Remember, she tried to kill me,” I groaned.

  “But the magician will too if he continues to control your mind in such ways,” said Guinevere.

  “Can we keep Lady Natasha safe here?” asked Gareth. “We can ride on towards Camelot and summon the Lady of the Lake. She is bound to the deep magic of Excalibur.”

  “Sir Gareth speaks wise words, Arthur,” said Talan. “I would take his counsel.”

  “I concur with Sir Gareth also,” added Tristram; David immediately voiced his agreement.

  Only Bedivere stayed quiet.

  “What do you think, Titch?” asked Arthur, kneeling down in front of me. “Will you be okay here with Byron and Guinevere if we go on without you?”

  I couldn’t speak. A hungry panic was devouring every feeling, every thought, I possessed. I didn’t want to be pathetic and needy because I hated girls like that, but I had been living a nightmare for the past five months without Bedivere. The thought of being forced apart from him now was unbearable, especially as this wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t a stupid acorn travelling across time that had released Merlin. It was the fact that Slurpy was knocked up with an heir to Camelot.

  My head was hurting. This was all way too weird – even for me.

  “Arthur, can we speak – alone?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Bedivere walked over to where his white horse was drinking from a trough. It immediately whinnied and pawed at the ground as he ran his fingers through its grey mane.

  “Please don’t leave me,” I croaked to Arthur, as Guinevere tried to force more cold stewed cabbage water down my throat. “I’ll fight it. I’ll fight him in my head.”

  Arthur didn’t reply. He got up and followed Bedivere to the horses. Gareth was watching them intently.

  “You will be safer here with us,” said Guinevere.

  It was obvious that they all thought I was a liability now – even Bedivere. My insides no longer squirmed with excitement at the thought of being with him. Instead, there was a crushing sense of being abandoned and unwanted. Bedivere was probably talking to Arthur now about how best to break it to me without bringing on another wave of madness.

  Well, I wasn’t going to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me hurt. No boy was going to make me cry – not in public, anyway.

  “I’m going for a walk.”

  “That isn’t wise, Lady Natasha,” said Tristram.

  “Well, perhaps I’m sick to death of people telling me what I can and can’t do, Tristram,” I snapped back, “and if you’re all planning to ride on to Camelot without me, then you should probably start getting the horses ready.”

  “Lady Natasha...”

  My legs were wobbly, and I knew I was staggering as I walked away, but I couldn’t breathe properly. The darkness that was covering Logres was getting thicker and blacker with every hour. I could understand why the people were now living in fear. It crept up on you, as it wrapped its blackened fingers around your throat, and ever so slowly, started squeezing the life out. Nightmares were becoming real, and hidden fears were becoming more than shadows. It was like being trapped in a box with no way out.

  I heard someone calling my name, but I didn’t bother turning around. What was the point? They would all be gone soon enough, and I would be left with Byron, Guinevere and the voices in my head in the darkness.

  No one is forcing you to stay here. You could travel forward again in time if you really wanted to. The Falls of M
erlin are within walking distance. Would it really be so difficult to find the way back home?

  That place isn’t my home. It’s a prison.

  I heard someone call my name again. It was closer this time. I was being followed.

  Little drama queen. Make the boys run after you, why don’t you.

  I didn’t need them. I didn’t need any of them.

  Attention-seeking freak.

  The voice in my head had changed. It wasn’t my voice anymore, or at least the voice I imagined I spoke with. It was higher, harsher, and very, very Welsh.

  Slurpy was now in my head.

  Arthur has crossed time to find me, but your boyfriend would rather stroke his horse. It probably smells better than you.

  No, no, no, no, no, I screamed silently into my chest. I could only just cope with one voice always mocking me, and that was the one I had lived with ever since I could remember. Now I had an old sorcerer and a pregnant psychopath in there as well.

  Why me? Why do this to me? I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t care which magician or witch had the upper hand in this world. I just wanted a quiet life. Somewhere where I could read books and perhaps write. I could be a teacher. Not a cook, I’m not a very good cook, but I could ride horses and learn about weapons and unicorns.

  Nobody wants to live with a weird little freak that talks to herself, or has visions and throws fits on the floor that scare everyone. You didn’t see his face as you were thrashing about on the ground. He knows you’re a freak now. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. He can’t wait to leave and go back to her - Lady Fleur.

  “I hate you.”

  He wants her – Lady Fleur – he wants her – Lady Fleur...

  “LEAVE ME ALONE.”

  His hands gripped my wet face. When had I started crying? Bedivere’s dirty thumbs wiped away my tears as he kissed my bottom lip.