Gathering up the bag and the other clothes I told the boys to make sure they left me some food and headed into the trees.
“And no peeking,” I shouted back over my shoulder. Wyn’s rather dirty sounding laugh followed me into the trees.
I changed in record time, dumping the now ruined dress with a moment of regret. The underwear fitted surprisingly well, as did the jeans. The t-shirt was a little tight, but I’d seen girls from school wearing tighter. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased Percy had found things that fitted so well, or worried by how much attention it meant he’d been paying to my body.
When I came out of the trees the food had mostly been reduced to empty packaging, but Lance was holding onto a sandwich that Percy eyed hungrily.
I came up behind Lance and plucked it from his hands. He tipped his head back to look at me, his curly hair brushing my thighs. In my absence his clothes had changed again and he was wearing his jeans, but his t-shirt was still on the floor beside him.
“Where’s your armour?” I asked with a frown as I sunk to the ground beside him.
“Here. Sort of. Like my sword, it’s always with me.”
I nodded. In my head I had already made a distinction. There was Lance, my Lance, the eighteen year old who had befriended me and treated me like a normal person for the first time in years. Then there was Lancelot, the knight, the stranger I wasn’t quite sure of yet. Perhaps one day I might reconcile them into one person, but for now I was happy to have an excuse to stop being so angry at him.
I wolfed down my food and we cleared up after ourselves. Merlin came over just as Percy was scuffing over the remains of the fire.
“Are you coming with us?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “No. I have little power beyond the Lake, and my time would be better spent here with Nimue tracking Morgana’s actions. Arthur knows how to contact me should you need to.”
The moment had come to leave, but part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to. At the Lake all the magic and myth seemed real and tangible, but I didn’t know how well I would cope out in the real world. Would I start to lose my grip again?
Merlin was watching me and I hugged him impulsively. He gave a gentle laugh and hugged me back. With one arm still around my shoulders, he cupped my chin and tipped my face up.
“You will be fine, Cara. I have faith in you. Find Excalibur.”
I nodded and, with Lance waiting for me, walked into the trees.
Chapter Eighteen
The vehicle Wyn bought was an old, somewhat clapped out, 4X4. It smelt faintly of dogs and mud. As I climbed in the back I wondered briefly what he’d done with the stolen car, but decided I was probably better off not knowing.
The boot was full of more bags from a supermarket. It looked like enough food to feed us for a month, but knowing the way they ate I doubted it would last the three boys longer than a few days.
Driving back out of the valley was bumpy, but still a lot smoother than our trip in. As we reached the proper road I felt a strange wrench of loss for Merlin and the magical lake. I wasn’t sure if it was just leaving a place of safety, or if it was more than that. The pull of my magic blood to Avalon was stronger than I could have ever imagined.
We drove for hours. Through narrow valleys and over majestic hills which eventually gave way to craggy rock formations and wild looking moors. Even once we reached the busy main roads and passed through villages and towns the beauty of the countryside never seemed to diminish.
In the back of my mind I often saw the scenes as they had once been; seen from the back of a horse, and even more wild and untamed than they seemed to me now.
I’d only been to Wales one before, and such a long time ago, but through Arthur’s eyes so much of it was familiar. This was his kingdom and even though over a thousand years had passed since he’d lived there he knew every peak and valley.
I watched the signposts along the roadside, but most of the names meant little to me, until a sign welcomed us to Pembrokeshire National Park.
It was early afternoon when Wyn turned off the main road we’d been following. Just as we took the turn I saw a brown sign. They were all over the UK, showing historical sites or visitor attractions. It worried me a little that there a sign there, if the site of the battle had been built on we were going to have problems.
We followed the road as it crested a hill and suddenly the ocean spread out before us, steely grey under the clouds.
“We’re at the coast?” I said in surprise, glancing across at Lance.
He nodded and pointed ahead of us to a wide space on the top of the cliff. “That’s where Arthur faced Mordred. The battle started further down, in the open fields…”
Lance’s voice faded away as Arthur’s memory filled my mind; his memories were so vivid I couldn’t have resisted even if I’d tried.
Storms had been raging overhead, drawn by Mordred’s magic. Lightening flashed and thunder crashed as the two armies met.
Arthur’s knights were outnumbered, but they fought like men possessed around their king. If this was to be the last battle for Camelot, then it would be a battle the bards would sing of always. I was sucked deeper into Arthur’s memories; I was him and he was me, and I didn’t know where we separated anymore. I wasn’t just seeing through his eyes anymore, I was there, submerged in his skin and senses.
To my left Gwain engaged one of Mordred’s knights. He had lost his helmet in the battle and his hair tangled around his face in the wind. His armour glittered and flashed in the lightening as he spun and ducked.
I struck down my own opponent and raised my sword. My men were being overwhelmed.
“Retreat,” I shouted. “Retreat!”
My knights beat back the enemy as best they could and retreated, plunging through a small grove of trees and up the hill on the other side to the cliff top.
As we wheeled to face the oncoming army my mind was full of thoughts of Lancelot. He was just one man, but his prowess on the battlefield was unmatched. I wondered then if perhaps in sending him away, exiling him from Camelot, I had sealed my own fate. Could I have forgiven him his indiscretion? My oldest friend and greatest ally? I knew that, against his better judgement, Gwain had sent word to him when news of Mordred’s approach had reached us. Part of me prayed he would break his exile to return.
The battle started again and for a time we held the upper hand with the higher ground, but sheer numbers overwhelmed us. It seemed hopeless, but I would not lose Camelot and all it stood for, not whilst I still lived.
Then I saw Mordred striding toward me. My own son, but when he looked at me the fury in his eyes chilled me to the bone.
Gwain was at my side, charging forward to take on Mordred, but I hauled him back.
“My lord?”
“No, Gwain. This is my battle.”
For a moment I saw nothing but Gwain’s green eyes. There was a look in the depths of them that worried me. He didn’t think this was a fight I could win. It unsettled me. Gwain had never doubted me before.
“Please, Sire. Let me fight him.”
I shook my head at his plea. “This is my battle,” I repeated.
A look of anguish crossed his face but he stepped aside and I stepped forward to confront Mordred.
He didn’t speak to me. Mordred and I had said everything we needed to say a long time ago.
I wished there could have been a different outcome. I had no desire to kill my own son, regardless of the deception that had led to his birth. He was truly my son though. I could tell that as I fought him, and as he matched me stroke for stroke. But I had age against me and slowly he wore me down.
It was only then I truly considered the possibility of my defeat, and it terrified me. If I fell Camelot would be over. My kingdom would fall with me and everything I had strived for would be lost. The great dream I had for the world, the one where all men where truly equal, would never come to pass.
Mordred swung and I couldn’t move quickly enough. The b
lade cut through the space at the bottom of my breastplate and my body exploded with agony.
I fell backward and Mordred freed his sword and drew it back for the final blow. He reversed the blade, ready to drive it through my heart.
As his sword began to fall a second sword appeared out of nowhere and blocked it.
Lancelot stood over me, his eyes blazing as he drove Mordred backwards. The blows fell like rain and then Mordred lay dead on the ground at Lancelot’s feet. He turned and clanged to his knees beside me.
“My Lord? Sire!”
His fingers fumbled to staunch the blood from my wound.
“Lancelot,” I gasped. “You came.”
“Of course, My Lord. As soon as Gwain’s word reached me. I wish you had called me back sooner.”
“I am sorry, Lancelot. I acted rashly. You have always been loyal to me.”
“I have not. I betrayed you. And I can never undo that.”
I wanted to tell him I forgave him, but the pain was too great, so instead I called for the only person I thought could help me.
“Merlin!”
He was there in an instant, his hand on my shoulder.
“Is this my end, Merlin?” I sucked in a ragged breath before I could continue. “The end of me? Of the Round Table? Of Camelot? Does the dream of Albion die here today?”
“Nay, My Lord.” When Merlin spoke there was fire in his voice. “This is not the end. You are King Arthur, the Once and Future King. You shall live on. In myth and legend. In the land of Avalon, the home of the Fair Folk, there you shall dwell until Albion has need of you again.”
Above me Lancelot closed his eyes in pain.
“Cara! Cara!”
Hands were shaking me violently. I was dying, consumed with pain. Why wouldn’t they let me slip away in peace?
Cara, enough. You have seen enough.
Abruptly I was back in my own mind, disorientated and dazed. I forced my eyes open.
Lance was straddling me in the back of the car, his hands on my shoulders. As I looked up into his eyes he let out an explosive breath and sat back.
“You scared the hell out of me!” he said.
I glanced out of the window. We were parked at the top of the cliff, no more than ten feet from where Mordred had struck Arthur down.
It was only then I realised my cheeks were wet with tears, and I shuddered as the full impact of what I’d seen and experienced hit me. The blood, the death, the senseless hatred. Arthur’s dying moment still consumed me, his fear and disbelief, his rush of affection for Lance. The helpless fear that the future would die with him in that battle. I drew in a rough, shuddering breath and, still not fully in control of myself, flung my arms around Lance, burying my face in his chest.
He stiffened in surprise then put his arms around me, his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back.
“What happened, Cara?” he asked, his lips brushing my ear.
“I saw the battle,” I said, trying to hold back the sobs. “I felt Arthur die. I was in his head. I felt everything.”
Lance swore quietly and pulled me tighter against his chest. With one hand still on my back he moved the other to my hair, his cheek resting on the top of my head, seemingly content to let me cry myself out.
Eventually, sucking in deep breaths, I was able to lift my head to look at him.
“I got your shirt wet,” I said with a weak smile.
He grinned crookedly at the damp patch my tears had left. “It’ll dry.” He tipped my head up to look into my eyes, his fingers soft against my cheek. “Are you OK?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “I don’t know what happened. You were telling me about the battle and then I was there, in Arthur’s mind. I felt his fear and pain, but…” I hesitated then ploughed on. “I also felt what he felt when you arrived.”
Lance sucked in a breath of his own as we stared at each other.
“He wanted you there, Lancelot,” His real name sounded odd on my lips, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “The whole battle he wished he’d never exiled you. He wanted to tell you that he forgave you. And he was glad to have you there at the end. At his end.”
His eyes burned with regret and it was my turn to comfort him, laying my hand against his strong jaw. He covered my hand with his own, and I stared at our linked hands, his tanned skin against my painfully pale fingers. At that moment I couldn’t tell where my feelings ended and Arthur’s began. The fierce rush of love for this person I barely knew seemed ancient, and powerful. And it scared me. So I did the only thing I could. I buried it, for now at least.
From the front seat Wyn coughed loudly. “Are you two quite finished?” There was something odd in his voice. It was outwardly casual and mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something else, a wariness that I couldn’t understand. Lance lowered our hands and released mine.
Without looking away from me he reached back and smacked Wyn round the head.
“Just get out of the car.”
Chapter Nineteen
The wind howled across the cliff top, and below us the waves were pounding onto the rocks, sending up great geysers of white foam. The sky was grey and a line of rain darkened the horizon. Lightening flickered in the storm clouds above it. I wrapped my arms around my chest and followed Lance across the grass.
“I don’t see how this is going to help,” Percy said from behind us. “It’s not like Excalibur is just going to be lying there after all this time.”
“Quit your whining,” Lance said, turning to clip his shoulder.
I ignored them, even though Percy had a point. A sign caught my attention. It sat at the edge of the cliff top path. I could make out the shape of a map or picture and a mass of text.
Leaving the three boys arguing, I walked over to look at it. It did have a map showing the cliff top and the surrounding coastline. The costal nature trail was marked on it, along with various sites of interest. The spot where I stood was marked as a site of historical interest. More importantly it was marked as the site of an archaeological dig done in the 1970’s.
“Lance,” I called. “You might want to come check this out.”
He came up behind me, reading over my shoulder.
I pointed to some of the accompanying text. “It says here that most of the finds were taken to the Welsh National Museum.”
“Damn. I guess this is what Nimue meant when she said we’d have to follow the trail.”
I nodded, shivering in the biting wind. Lance reached out, rubbing my arms to warm me. “So we go to the museum?” I asked, trying to ignore the fact that Lance was raising more goose bumps than he was getting rid of.
“Looks like we don’t have a choice,” he replied.
“More driving?” Wyn said with a groan.
I hesitated. Dad had been teaching me to drive, so I could take my test as soon as I turned seventeen. I didn’t have a licence, but neither did Wyn. “I can do some of it, if you want.”
Wyn glanced at me. “You can drive?” He looked slightly shocked. “They let women drive?”
I only just restrained myself from hitting him. It shouldn’t have surprised me; they came from a time when women of royalty were expected to do little more than sit around looking pretty.
“Yes, they let women drive. How have you not noticed that yet?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t really paid too much attention to other drivers.”
I rolled my eyes and held my hand out for the car keys.
With reluctance he handed them over and we headed back to the car.
Lance instantly claimed the passenger seat beside me, leaving Percy and Wyn to climb, grumbling, into the back.
I felt nervous with Lance watching me intently as I started the car engine. Yet as we pulled away and headed back down the hill I felt better.
Driving gave me back some of the control I’d been missing. I was no longer just a passenger going with the flow; now I was taking charge. And it felt good.
By
the time we reached outskirts of Cardiff it was gone seven in the evening and I knew the museum would be closed.
Wyn was all for breaking in but I vetoed that one.
“And when we get arrested and it turns out that you guys don’t even exist, what then?”
“Cara’s right,” Lance said, talking over the top of Wyn’s protest. “Let’s try and keep a low profile as long as possible. What do you think we should do, Cariad?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d called me that. I didn’t know what the nickname meant, but it sent a little shiver down my spine, and I caught the surprised glance Wyn and Percy exchanged behind me. “Find somewhere to stay and come back in the morning.” I looked in the rear view mirror at Wyn. “Tell me you have enough of Merlin’s money left for a hotel room or two. I could really do with sleeping in a proper bed.”
He did, and I drove around aimlessly until I found a Holiday Inn close enough to a museum. It wasn’t a big hotel, or a fancy one, but all I wanted was a bed for the night.
The girl on reception looked a little surprised at the arrival of four teenagers with no luggage, but Wyn’s charming smile as he paid her seemed to put her at ease. In fact, we practically had to drag him away once we’d got the keys to our rooms.
We took two rooms next to each other, but I was surprised when Lance followed me into mine.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he closed the door behind him.
He gave me an odd look as though he didn’t understand the question.
“Were you planning on staying in here?” I clarified.
He frowned at me. “Where did you think I’d be staying? Morgana might be weak for the moment, but her wraiths are still out there.”
A shiver raced down my spine at the mention of the wraiths and I didn’t argue. The darkness outside the window suddenly became much more threatening, so I drew the pale beige curtains to shut it out. The room was basic, two single beds with brown covers, a small desk-cum-dressing table and a little table under the window.
The Last Knight (Pendragon Book 1) Page 13