“As they always have, people say many things about their queen. What happened to you, Alwen? Why are you so bitter now? Is it because of the wounds you have suffered?”
She smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. She sat in the chair and rested with her eyes closed. “I have children, Mother. Two beautiful children. Girls. I bore them and left them, as you left me.”
I shivered at her words. “I saw you in my dreams, Alwen. I wanted to come to you; I could hear you, but I could not find you. I could not push past the barrier, once I could remember who I was.”
She continued as if she did not hear me at all. As if she did not believe me. Maybe she did not. “Merlin rescued me from Mordred’s dogs. They did not care that I was a maid, nor did they care that I was Arthur’s daughter. I cried for you, begged them to set me free, but they were never going to do that. But then Merlin came and took me to the hills. We were safe there for a while. When the news came that Lochlon had died, that the king had been laid to rest, we sought you out, but I could never find you. Do you remember Harry?”
“The boy who worked in the leather shop?”
“I loved him. I kissed him once. Before all the evil things happened, before Father died and you left. He would have been mine, and I would have been happy. The dogs, Mordred’s men, they killed him. They knew about him, and they brought him to me and killed him before my eyes.” She sobbed but refused to be comforted by my hand. “No, you must listen. You want to know so much! You must listen.” She slapped the table, her melted face twisted in agony.
“Very well, Alwen. I will listen.”
“Mordred died in Camlann, but Morgan would not let me go. She burned me; this was by her hand, Queen Guinevere. She told me that you refused to come for me, that you left Camelot with Lancelot.”
“Those were horrible lies, Alwen.”
She shook her head as she cried. “They burned me and left me in the snow. I wanted to die so badly, but all I could do was cry for you and grieve for Lochlon and Father. Poor Harry. He did not deserve such a death. The things they did to him are unspeakable! And look at me now. I am a monster!”
“But you lived, Alwen! You lived, and you are here with us now. I am sorry about Lochlon and Harry and all that you endured. We are here together now. Tell me about your daughters. Where are they? We must bring them home!”
She wiped her eyes and frowned. “Merlin took them away; he has protected them all this time. They are alive and healthy. They do not know who they are, although the knowledge that my children do not know me stabs at me daily. Yet, I will never bring them here to suffer, Undead Queen.”
“Do not call me that!” I shot up from the table and knelt before her. I took her hand in mine and pleaded with her. “I have loved you since before you were born. When you were just a small thing, I felt you swim and kick in my belly. You were and are a part of me, Alwen Pendragon. I love you beyond anyone else, even your father. Even…” She fell into my arms, and I hugged her on the floor. “I taught you to sing, to sew and to swing a sword. You are my own heartbeat, my spirit. You will stay by my side always, and I will never leave you again, Alwen. I promise you that on my own blood. On my own blood!” I held her and rocked her back and forth, the two of us crying.
“Heal me, Mother. I know it is within your power,” she pleaded with me. “Heal me and make me beautiful again, whole again.”
I clutched her to my chest and asked, “How can I heal you, my daughter?”
“Give me your blood, Mother. Isn’t that what keeps you beautiful? I want to be as you are, young and beautiful. Please, you can do that, can’t you?”
I stopped rocking her and put her at arm’s length. “You do not know what you are asking me, Alwen. You do not want to be cursed as I have been cursed.”
“But you are perfect. You have not aged a day since I last saw you; in fact, you appear younger; I look older than you, Mother. Please, do not deny me my healing.”
I lifted her to her feet and stepped away from her. There was no way that Alwen could appreciate the gravity of her request. Yet if I refused her, she would believe that I rejected her, that I was denying her.
“Alwen, this is no light matter. I have been cursed; you see only the beauty of my face, my shiny eyes, my pale skin. But inside, I am dead. You do not know what this curse has cost me.”
“But I would do anything, endure anything to be like you. Please…”
She would not see it my way, but I would never curse my own child. Not for any reason. Eventually, when she understood better, Alwen would forgive me. But this I would not do. Nimue’s light voice broke our conversation. The door opened, and she stepped inside.
“The owls have come, Queen Guinevere. The owls have come, and so does Vivian’s army.”
“Any sign of Merlin?” I asked as I hesitated between the two women. Alwen returned to her window and kept her back to me now.
“None yet, but he promised to return.” I felt Alwen stiffen. I knew I should leave, but my heart wanted to remain with Alwen, to reason with her. “We will talk later, daughter.”
“There is nothing else to say, is there? You will not heal me; it is as I knew all along. You hate me, as do you, Nimue, for Merlin’s sake.” What else was there to say? Nimue’s expression was a calm mask, although she was questioning me in her mind. I shooed her questions away as I rested my hand on the metal door handle. Alwen broke her gaze and stormed toward the door, pushing past me. She stopped in front of Nimue. What was going on here? I knew that Alwen did not love Merlin. Why was she behaving so jealously?
Because of you. It is not for Merlin’s love.
“Where are you going, Alwen?”
“To fight by my father’s side. I may never be a great beauty, and I may never hold my children again, but I will not run from battle. Not as long as I can raise my bow.” With that, she walked ahead of us as we made our way to Arthur’s side.
The truth of the situation stung my heart. Even if we won this battle, I would not find happiness. My daughter would never forgive me. No, I would be deluding myself if I believed that we would be a family once again. Never would I find happiness, here or anywhere.
Not as long as my own daughter hated me.
Chapter Seventeen—Guinevere
“Guinevere, talk him out of this. It’s a fool’s errand!” Lancelot said, his sweaty face showing deep lines around his mouth. I was shocked by his words. It wasn’t like Lancelot to openly castigate the king.
“Just think reasonably, Lance. If I can save lives without relinquishing the crown...” The knight was not moved by Arthur’s words. “Look at what we accomplished by visiting my mother.” Arthur’s determination would have convinced even me if I did not know the Lady of the Lake. “Guinevere, if we can have talks with the Lady…”
I shook my head as I accepted a small blade from Gareth. It was a pretty blade with a neat leather belt that hung perfectly around my waist. I had never seen the blade before, but it was similar to one I used to own, many years ago. With my abilities, I really had no need for such a weapon, but if it put Gareth’s mind at ease, I would certainly wear it.
“Thank you, Sir Gareth.”
Alwen reappeared with a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Her father smiled at her, but not even Alwen thought that Arthur leaving Camelot to talk to Vivian was a good idea. “I agree with Sir Lancelot, Father. The Lady Vivian will not be happy to see you. And if she can kill you, there will be no one to hold the sword, no one to protect Excalibur or Camelot.”
“I will go,” Nimue whispered, her soft pale hair fluttering behind her. The wind picked up, and the dark, starless skies threatened to send down heavy rains. “Let me go, King Arthur. I will bring her your terms.”
“Nimue, she tried to drown you the last time. If it weren’t for Merlin, you would not be here.”
“Sire! You must see this!” Marcus called from the top of the gate. There were at least a half-dozen young knights standin
g with them. “It is a man—he looks like a blue flame—and beyond him an army. I can see the lights!”
Nimue raced ahead of us and immediately yelled, “Merlin! That is Merlin come to our aid! Oh, my king, I told you he would come! He has come.”
“The lights, Nimue. What are those?” I asked in a whisper.
“They look like fireflies hovering in the sky,” Alwen said as she clutched her father’s arm again.
My heart sank to hear Nimue’s answer. “Fire, my queen. The owls bring the fire. Cover yourself!” she shouted as everyone began to flee under the walkways in the archways of the castle. A few seconds later, a cacophony of screeches assaulted our ears, and I could not help myself. I did not hide with the others but stepped out in the open yard to watch as the fiery objects began dropping from the sky. After the first few thumps, I saw the truth. Vivian’s owls were responsible—they were dropping birds and other dead things on us. I was not afraid of burning, but my daughter and a few other women and children screamed in panic.
And this would be only the beginning.
“Grab your shields and use them for cover. We cannot depend on the rain to put these fires out. Gather the carcasses together!” I shouted at the people. Soon the assault stopped, but I did not imagine that it would be a permanent cessation. This had been only the opening salvo. Something much more horrible would come.
Alwen screamed, but it was not a fearful scream this time. She was angry. She ran with the other archers as they took their places on the walkway. They began flinging their arrows at the owls, and the fortress was abuzz with activity now. The confident, determined expressions gave me comfort, and I immediately began to search for Arthur.
Where are you, Arthur? Nimue? Can you see him?
No, I do not see him. Ah, there he is! By the gate! Why is no one at the gate?
“Arthur!” I growled at him as I raced to the door and blocked him. I knew what he wanted to do. “No, my husband. Lancelot is right! It is a fool’s errand. You cannot reason with Vivian. She is dead set on taking back Excalibur.” I ignored the whirring sound the sword made; it whirred and whispered our names. It was excited, eager for blood. I could feel the sword’s power and knew that it was influencing Arthur.
“You think me a fool, Guinevere? You hear Excalibur too. You know I must go.”
“If you believe that Vivian is going to just give up and go home, yes, I do think you a fool. Excalibur does not command you; it is your arm, Arthur. If you leave the fortress, you will put others at risk because they will not let you go alone. Nor will I.”
“Then come with me. Our people are brave, but they are no match for Avalon’s army, even with Gareth and Lancelot leading them. I see that now. Even with Merlin fighting for us. And you. I set our feet on this path; I must walk it out. The sword compels me, Guinevere.” The world felt as if it were spinning around us, but all I could see was his handsome face. The fire continued to fall, and the owls had returned. “Time is not on our side.”
“It never has been,” I argued with him as I took his hand. “But Alwen needs you, Arthur. I need you, please.”
“This has to end.”
Suddenly, I could hear a woman’s voice screaming. “Arthur! Come out and face me!”
The sword whirred, Arthur’s jaw was set, and Lancelot ran toward us, but it was too late. Arthur commanded the gatekeeper to open the small gate for him, but I would not let him go alone. If he was to go, I was going too. I glanced up at Alwen, who wasn’t that far from us and was yelling.
“Alwen…” I said regretfully as I followed Arthur out the gate. I did not need his consent to leave. I was still Queen of Camelot, as Arthur himself had declared not an hour ago. The gate closed behind us, and together we walked toward the small woman who waited for us. Excalibur hummed louder now. I could see Merlin; he was not far from Vivian, but he was flickering in and out like a faulty television screen. I got the sense that he was unable to fully manifest, his presence weakened by so much oppositional magic. Avalon’s Strong Men were approaching Camelot. They were not giants but tall, extraordinarily strong men capable of doing great feats, including pulling Camelot’s walls down stone by stone if they could avoid the flaming arrows that were being slung down at them.
“The king! Do not shoot the king!” I heard Gareth yelling. The arrows ceased, and the owls retreated to the tree line just beyond the clearing that encircled the battlements.
What should I do, Merlin? Where are you?
“Be silent, Undead Queen. Return the sword, Arthur, or pay the price. You failed Avalon and have left us to be lost to the mists. We will leave, but you cannot keep our sacred object. Surrender the sword or pay the price.”
“How can you ask me to abandon Excalibur? After all we have sacrificed to lead Camelot?”
“You know the cup and sword belong to Avalon. You cannot keep the sword; they must stay together. Give me what is mine, leave Camelot and go back to your time. You lose nothing.”
“You are wrong, Vivian. I would lose everything!” Arthur shouted at her, but she had no time to respond.
Excalibur began to sing.
Vivian heard the sword too; her glum expression relayed nothing but resolution. Before I could speak, Arthur had drawn the sword. Vivian raised her hand to still the army behind her. From her robes, she revealed a thin, silver blade. It did not look dangerous, not like Excalibur, but I had no doubt this sword had abilities unknown to any of us.
Chapter Eighteen—Arthur
My teeth chattered from the strength that shivered through Excalibur. My plan had not been to challenge Vivian like this. I had been prepared to lead Camelot into battle against her, but that would not bring her satisfaction even if we prevailed. Vivian believed she was right, and I finally realized that some part of me believed it too.
My time has come to an end. Too much has been lost. My son, Lochlon, dead. My daughter damaged in ways I could never understand.
“Arthur, no! Do not think about it. You are king! This is part of her magic!” Guinevere growled and stepped toward Vivian. “Arthur, you wanted to talk to her. Put the sword away!”
“Last chance, King Arthur. Give me my sword, and I will leave Camelot in your hands. I have no desire to remain here. I offer you a chance to live your life,” she promised without an ounce of deception. “Refuse my offer, and we will take it down stone by stone. More blood will flow, and it will be on your hands, Pendragon.”
I could tell Arthur was considering her offer. He was thinking of a counteroffer, but there was no true negotiation here. I could feel Merlin near, but he could not draw too close. Arthur lowered his sword a few inches, an obvious attempt at coming to some type of agreement with Vivian. But to the Lady of the Lake, it was an ill-timed moment of weakness. Faster than even my kind could fly, the old woman spun about. I saw her movements as if they were in slow motion.
I had no time to scream a warning, no time to protect Arthur.
A bloodcurdling scream filled the still air. It had gotten cold very quickly. Cold normally did not touch me, for I was always cold. The scream continued, lingering in the air like a silvery note of some strange instrument. In front of me, Vivian knelt, her face contorted in a mask of shock and confusion. And as quickly as she fell before me, she rose again. No, it was not her who screamed. The silver blade in her hand shone perfectly in the starlight; no blood had been drawn, not by her hand.
But Excalibur was in Arthur’s hand, and he was standing over me; the blade had pierced my body. With a swirl of her gray coat, Vivian said in a steely voice, “The price has been paid. Excalibur will remain with you, Arthur, King of Camelot and All Britain.” She turned her back on us and waved her hands over her head. The birds began to fly over us, and the ground shook as the Strong Men of Avalon headed south, back to the Land of Mists that was doomed to disappear forever.
All around me, things were moving. I felt like a feather in a whirlwind. Unsettled and out of sorts. Arthur was l
eaning over me, my daughter’s face just beyond his, and my mind was full of Nimue’s pleading voice.
Guinevere! We are dying, Guinevere! Merlin?
I heard a strange sound, like the blowing out of a candle. And then Nimue was gone, taken to her rest in the arms of the only person she had ever truly loved. Except perhaps me. She had loved me, despite what I had done to her. Tears slipped down my face. I blinked them away, for I could not move my hands. My body would not obey any command I gave it.
“My Guinevere, what have I done?”
“You did what I could not, Arthur. You set me free.”
“You cannot leave me. How can I rule Camelot without you? You are the heart of us all.”
“No, Arthur. I am not. I never was, my love. You are the heart of Camelot, and that is as it should be. Do not draw out the sword, Arthur. Not until I am gone. Please, let me go.”
My body shook with pain. Suddenly, it was no longer night. I could see the sun peeking over the trees, and it did not fill me with fear. I could not run from the light, and now there was no need to.
Arthur cried but whispered, “Guinevere, Queen of Camelot, I set you free.” His eyes were full of pain as I nodded to him. He gripped the hilt of Excalibur with both hands as the blade sang its song for me. I knew this song; I now knew what the sword had been saying all along.
Excalibur sang my death song.
I closed my eyes and endured the momentary pain. And when I opened them again, I was not alone. Arthur was gone from me, but even that knowledge did not crush me. Lochlon waited for me, and his golden hair and bright smile warmed my heart. He invited me to walk in the apple orchard. It is not far, Mother. My hair blew around me; as I took his hand, I laughed aloud to see my hair bright and red. My arms were tanned and freckled, as they had been when I was young.
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