The creature snorted. “The kinglet.”
I frowned. “The what?”
“The king of the old woman. He is nothing. I want a kiss,” it insisted. “If you need me to be more mortal...” The image shimmered before me, morphing from the strange small being with green skin and sharp bones to a tall, elegant woman with long blonde hair only slightly graced with tinges of green. She was slim and graceful, her clothing almost transparent. “Would this appeal to you mortal man?” she said with gentle tones devoid of the sibilant accent.
“Not me, no...” I said, trying to hide my amusement. Most men would fall at the feet of the fey, who was a type of dryad I guessed.
She frowned and looked down at herself. “But I am beautiful.”
“You are, and I will give you the kiss you want but I will never be able to desire a figure so lovely,” I said. I didn’t seem to understand the entire conversation but I understood her desire to be adored.
The upward sweeping, almond shaped eyes, turned tragic and the creature’s shoulders slumped. “Why don’t you want me? I am beautiful.”
I rose to my full height, the woman looking up at me only slightly. “Yes you are and I shall kiss you to save my horse.”
“But you will not desire me,” she said, stepping back, confusion and hurt on her face.
“You didn’t say I had to desire you,” I said. “You just said a kiss.” I was clearly improving my skills of negotiation with the fey.
“But there must be desire or what’s the point in the kiss?”
“That is your conundrum not mine,” I said. The vines around Sherriff began to relax, unravelling from his mane and tail.
“I don’t understand, you are a man...”
I remained still and watched her confusion as she gradually worked through the possibilities. Her eyes widened when the twig snapped...
“You want a man? The kinglet?” she asked.
“Among others,” I said drily.
“I wondered what the dragon was talking about...” she said, cocking her head to one side as if listening or dreaming of something else. It also seemed I owed Torvec for his help; I’d have to add it to the list.
“The horse?” I asked, drawing her back to me.
Her attention shifted back to me. “Horse...” She frowned and shimmered back to what I guessed was her natural state. “No kiss for me?” The sibilance on the ‘kiss’ returned.
“There won’t be any passion to it, you can’t seduce me, sorry,” I said.
Her thin lips were pursed together and she sighed. “You will owe me something, mortal man.”
I paid homage to her with my best courtly bow. “I will owe you, fey temptress.”
She giggled and smiled at my play acting, the child-like aspect to our meeting forced a smile from me in return. The vines dropped from Sherriff and retreated back into the ground. I approached him and released his reins from the tree. Galahad had obviously not intended to leave him untended for very long.
“Shh,” I murmured to the trembling horse. “Shh. I don’t think the wounds are too serious. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time. Shh, Sherriff.” He stuffed his nose between my arm and torso, hiding his big head as much as possible.
“Bad beast ate my leaves,” said the dryad. “He needed to learn a lesson.”
“It was a cruel lesson. He isn’t like you, he can’t protect himself. He is utterly reliant on me to protect him,” I said, making it clear I was not happy with her treatment of my four legged companion.
“Then it’s a stupid beasty,” she said coming toward us.
Sherriff must have seen something he didn’t like because he almost knocked me over trying to reach her with gnashing teeth. The tension in him shocked me; the large destrier was one of the most even tempered horses I’d ever ridden. The dryad squeaked and scampered back to the tree, hissing at the horse.
“Well, he’s clever enough to work out who his friends are.”
“Nasty beast bit me!” she yelled.
“Alright, alright, he’s sorry but my friend would have tied him here and gone on, so do you know where he is?”
“The kinglet?”
Patience was a virtue I struggled to maintain. “Yes, Galahad du Lac, do you know where he is?”
“You want to know what I know about the dragon?”
“No, I want Galahad,” I said, Torvec could wait.
“We need a deal...” she said, looking up at me with a large green sideways gaze.
“What do you want?” I asked. “My patience is wearing thin, make it quick.”
“A kiss from the kinglet, he likes girls right?” she asked, her eyes almost feral in their intensity.
“Sometimes,” I said. I had the feeling this was a trap and she’d gain something from Galahad I couldn’t anticipate.
Her grin widened. “Then that’s what I want, a kiss from the kinglet and you can have him back and I’ll tell you about the dragon.”
“That’s one hell of a deal...”
“Do you want him or not?” she asked, turning her back on me as if to walk away.
“I’ll take the deal with one caveat,” I said.
She turned back and scowled. “What’s a caveat?”
“Don’t give me that, you’re fey, you know what it means.”
She snorted and nodded. “Go on then, rob me of my prize.”
“One kiss, no spells in the kiss or in you,” I said. “If I feel anything, and I will because we are bonded, I’ll kill you.”
She growled and bared her teeth at me. Sherriff snorted and stamped, trying to pull out of my grip.
“Shitty deal,” she said.
“That’s it.”
She sat on the ground, a long way from the horse, and crossed her arms, clearly pouting. “Fine. He’s pretty enough I guess.”
I breathed out. I needed an ally however reluctant she was.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I gently coaxed Sherriff after the small creature and we continued on into the forest. The trees cut out much of the light so spotting signs of Galahad’s passing would be hard work but I could discern at least a little damage to the virgin woodland. We didn’t go far, perhaps five hundred paces, before I noticed the light shifting intensity before us.
The small fey stopped in her tracks and pointed. “In there.” Her finger trembled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said, lying through her small sharp teeth.
I crouched to her height and looked into her large green eyes. “What’s wrong, little one?”
She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered, walking toward me. Sherriff balked at having her so close but I held him firm and the fey creature came so close I could smell her. A scent of loam and bitter sap. She leaned toward me and whispered in my ear.
“There be monsters in there,” she whispered and she clutched the front of my gambeson.
“I have to find Galahad,” I said. “What kind of monsters?”
She heaved a breath in and released it loudly. “The kind that kill you, idiot.”
I tried not to smile. This was clearly dangerous but her wide-eyed concern made it impossible to be fearful. I continued to walk forward with Sherriff, unwilling to leave him alone with the fey and I drew my sword. The light grew brighter indicating a large clearing in the forest and I moved quietly, finally releasing Sherriff to move on his own if he wished.
The trees and brush thinned sufficiently for me to see into the clearing and it wasn’t monsters I saw. The area looked as if a huge lightning bolt had smashed into the ground and a flash furnace had wiped out the trees in a perfect circle. I dragged my eyes from the figure in the centre of the blast range to check for enemies or monsters. I’d be no use to Galahad dead.
I couldn’t see anything remiss beyond the hole in the forest.
“I told you, monsters,” hissed the fey from above me. The creature hung from a branch over my head between me and the blast range, she was upside down an
d twisting.
“I must be missing something, I can’t see a thing,” I said.
She hissed at me for being stupid. “The fire! The fire killing us.”
The trees were dead because of the blast that was her monster. “It’s fine, there’s nothing in there that can hurt me.” I was already walking toward the figure in the middle of the circle. The ground felt hot through my boot soles and uneven.
“Galahad?” I called out. The circle was twenty paces to the centre. Impatience forced me to jog and I dropped to my knees next to the figure on the ground. He was curled around himself, hands and feet tucked tight against his body. The shorn head remained pressed against his drawn up knees. I reached out with a shaking hand, half convinced I’d killed him by dying myself, and touched his head.
“Galahad, come back to me,” I called to him gently. I stroked the naked back and shoulder, the muscles corded and tense. And the torc gone from his scarred neck. “Galahad...”
The body under my hands shuddered. I shifted back as he released his limbs with violence, a cry of anguish coming from him in the same moment and his dark brown eyes unseeing.
“Galahad,” I called again.
His gaze snapped to mine. The bonding within me flared hot, making me gasp with pain but washed in desire.
“Holt...”
He twisted toward me, throwing himself into my body and knocking us both to the ground. He buried his head into my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my back despite the lumpy mattress we were using.
I held the quivering mass and wondered why he was completely naked. Gentle kisses brought him back from whatever precipice he’d been balanced on and he calmed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?” I asked, releasing him as he pulled back.
“For being weak.” He climbed off me and crouched, not looking in my direction but hugging his knees.
Concerned for my friend I asked, “Galahad, what happened?”
He glanced at me, the shadow of his madness moved through his eyes and he shuddered. “I am not strong enough for this.”
I remembered everything his parents had told me but I wasn’t about to frighten him any further. “Come on, I’ve found Sherriff. Severus is already on his way to Camelot and The City, we can go home.”
Galahad finally looked at me. “I have to go home.”
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it. They were right, they were all right. The trials are...” His eyes grew fevered and his fingers began pulling at his hair again. “How did my father do it? How did he survive?” Galahad did not speak to me, but to the memories which clearly haunted him.
I reached for his hand and carefully pulled it away from his scalp. “It’s alright, Galahad. It’s alright,” I coaxed.
His distant gaze snapped into focus, aimed at me. “I’ve trained my entire life for this moment. I thought I understood everything it was to be king. I thought I understood these trials... But I understand nothing... How did he do it? Was he a better man than me?” Galahad’s eyes filled with tears.
“He would say he was not,” I said, knowing it to be the truth. “Whenever he spoke about the trials of kingship he was profoundly disturbed and never spoke about them in detail. Tancred won’t speak of them at all.”
“I have to go home,” he said again.
I rose and held my hand out for him. “Then let us leave this place, brother, and we will begin the end game.”
“To kill The Lady,” he said, his eyes now burning with the desire to murder.
“I have a story for you, even if you don’t have one for me,” I said, taking him by the shoulder. “But I have a favour to ask first and you need to dress. How do you keep ending up with little or no clothes?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Galahad looked down at himself and frowned. “Why do I have no clothes? Why are all these trees blasted to nothing? And where is the torc?” He touched his neck, a look of wonder and mystery on his face.
I laughed. “Wow, it must have been a wild party. Come on, Sherriff is this way. Just be grateful we don’t have to worry about that thing around your neck giving The Lady a way to reach us or hurt us.” Finally, a well earned blessing for once.
We picked our way back to the edge of the damaged area; Galahad’s naked feet made it a slow task. I worried about his state of mind. He needed to be strong, confident and the driving force behind our fight. I was no match for The Lady and she’d proved that more than once, without Galahad’s fey heritage we were lost before we even started. Whatever had been done to him, now or previously, he needed a strong foundation and I realised I was his foundation.
When we reached the tree line Sherriff whinnied a soft welcome to his friend and Galahad approached the horse. I looked around for the strange fey and saw her perched on a tree branch nearby. She watched Galahad with an expression I didn’t like. A mixture of hunger and lust.
“What happened to you, old friend?” Galahad murmured, picking at the drying blood.
“He ate the wrong kind of plant,” I said.
Galahad frowned. “I don’t understand.”
I pointed to the creature overhead. “I think he ate her and she didn’t approve.”
My friend’s nakedness didn’t seem to bother him as he stepped around Sherriff. “You did this to my horse?” he asked, not hiding his anger.
The strange fey hissed at him from the branch and she scuttled back, blending with the shadows.
“Oh no you don’t,” Galahad muttered. He reached out with his hand and closed his fist toward the creature and I heard her squeal in response to Galahad’s movements. He was maybe ten paces away from her but she behaved as if he gripped her hard by the throat.
“Don’t kill her, Galahad, she didn’t mean any harm,” I said, moving to touch his arm. The bonding flared white hot inside me and I dropped to my knees unable to breathe or think through the pain. I heard a noise which sounded like a body hitting the ground but I couldn’t see clearly or react beyond trying to draw a gasping breath.
Galahad groaned and simply toppled over. The pain inside me ceased instantly. I remained on my knees too grateful for the reprieve to move. The moment passed slowly and I gradually unravelled looking toward Galahad. I saw vines beginning to stir around his body, if they touched him, they’d find him and strangle him the way they’d done to Sherriff.
“Oh no you don’t,” I murmured, repeating my friend’s words from a moment ago. “Where are you?” I called aloud, searching the shadows. The fey pest wasn’t anywhere the sun reached and checking the shadows would take too long. I knelt beside Galahad’s inert body and reached out for one of the emerging vines, drawing my knife at the same time.
The moment I touched the vine it wrapped around me and the spikes tried to dig in through my leather glove and gambeson. “If you touch him, I’m going to start cutting,” I said loudly to the shadows.
“I could kill you both,” returned a furious hiss from above me.
“He wouldn’t have hurt you, not really,” I said, not convinced by my words. I’d never known Galahad to react with such anger without being a little more aware of the circumstances.
“He’s going to be a bad king. Like his grandsire. He doesn’t deserve it!” she screeched, this time off to my left but still in the shadowy branches of the trees.
“He won’t be a bad king and he’s a great deal better than the alternative,” I said, remaining calm but looking at the weaving tendrils over Galahad, ready to strike. The one around my arm was tightening. “Please come down and I’ll make this right, I promise and you know I’m going to keep that promise. You wanted a kiss remember? I can make that happen.”
“Not now, nasty kinglet,” she said.
“Don’t pout, little one. Just let us go.”
I saw a slim shadow seem to drift down a tree trunk only to glide toward me. Her agility was truly beautiful to watch as she moved effortlessly through
the dense forest.
“Why’s he asleep again?” she asked, approaching Galahad.
“I don’t know but it won’t be good. I need to check him,” I said and I tugged the arm attached by the vine. She cocked her head to one side and made a decision; with a wave of her hand the vine released me completely. Whatever or whoever this fey was power manifested around her easily.
The vines around Galahad relaxed and I reached for his shoulder to roll him over. I felt for the pulse in his neck and it beat steadily.
“I’ve never seen him do what he did just now,” I muttered, lifting his eyelid.
The fey creature shuffled forward and peered down at Galahad. “He’s touched in the head,” she said.
I glanced at her and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s fey touched. Brushed too much bad stuff, too much magic. He’s crazy.”
“No, he’s not crazy, he’s just been a victim of The Lady,” I said.
The violence of the hiss and her sudden movement away from us startled me. “She is nasty, bad magic.”
“Yes, I know,” I said, rubbing my throat.
“I will be back,” said the small creature.
“What? No, wait,” I called after the vanishing shadow slipping between the trees.
Galahad stirred, drawing my attention to him. The creature’s words about his mental health worried me. The du Lac family wasn’t known for its sanity, and although Lancelot had been fine during his leadership of Albion, he’d known madness more than once.
“Holt?” Galahad blinked heavily.
I helped him sit up. “What happened?” I asked him.
“I don’t remember,” Galahad said, rubbing his head. “I feel terrible.” He shivered.
I rose and approached Sherriff pulling some of Galahad’s old clothes from the saddlebags. We needed to stop somewhere and find him boots and a new cloak. “Here, put these on, you’ll feel better.”
“I am King, Holt. I am King of Albion...” Galahad whispered.
“I know, my friend. Welcome to the club,” I said and smiled for him with kindness and sympathy.
Tears welled in his eyes. “What do you feel from me?”
Albion's Legacy (Sons Of Camelot Book 3) Page 11