Relics of Camelot

by L. H. Nicole

  “If you want my blade gone, explain this now.”

  “Very well.” Puck threw up his hands. “Your punishment came as a result of your abandoning Arthur and your vow to the Fae Queen Titania. Your own selfish actions brought this curse on your sanity. You wanted so badly to die to escape the tearing pain of losing the other half of your soul. In doing so, you lost the right to your own soul and the chance of ever truly being at peace again.”

  Lancelot pulled his sword back. The full implication of his crimes hit him. It was nothing he had not realized on his own, but no one, not even Arthur, had dared criticize him on all of it. Aliana had been half there; if she had known everything she no doubt would have “called him on it.”

  Lancelot’s pain leaked onto his face. His desperation to be free of this curse and regain his honor was a frantic cry inside him. “I know my crimes. But how can I make them right? How can I prove myself again to my king and the Fae queen?”

  “You have already done much to prove your loyalty to the king. You have stood by him, and your brother knights, even before the Destined One reawakened and reunited you all.”

  Lancelot swallowed the ball of grit in his throat, his attention flickering between Guin, Sophvira, and Puck.

  “But there is one final test to prove your ways have changed. That you are once again the noble, honorable knight you once were.”

  He could feel his freedom rising inside him, the burden he had born for so long lightening. “What? I’ll do anything!”

  Puck evaporated, appearing again between the two girls. “Pick one.”

  The knight reared back. “What?”

  Puck smacked his hand to the side of his head. “Are you deaf now too?”

  “Do not toy with me, you bloody Imp!” Lancelot roared.

  Puck stared him down with a sinister smile. “Then do not act like the court fool!”

  Lancelot growled, reflexively sliding into an attack position, his fury focused on Puck. Then his gaze shifted to his beautiful Guin and he eased up, sheathing his sword.

  Puck threw his arms in the air. “Finally, a wise decision.”

  “Why do I have to pick?”

  “Because, like I said, you have already proven much in your quest to redeem your soul. It is believed you deserved the right to have one loved one back. Now choose.”

  “You also said this was a test.”

  Puck wiggled his eyebrows but remained silent for once.

  His heart went first to the girl who was like a little sister to all of the knights in Camelot. She was innocent and wrongfully taken before her time. Her death had nearly destroyed Galahad and cost them a loved member of their family, Morgana. All would be thrilled to have her back.

  But the return of his Guinevere would do much the same. She had grown up in Camelot, with all the knights. She was the light of his existence. She made everything he did worthwhile. Arthur had his loyalty, but Guin was his reason for getting up in the morning. His cursed memories surfaced, recalling the day Arthur had wed them. The vows he had made to her. To love her, honor and protect her. To serve and cherish her. He had promised to love her until the sun no longer rose, to be faithful and to treat her not only as a wife, but also as an equal. To listen to her council and value her thoughts and wishes as he would his own and his king’s.

  His heart ached at the beauty of the memory and her vows, so similar to his. She was his heart; they deserved to have the life they were robbed of. No one would fault him for choosing her.

  But she would, his conscience whispered. You vowed to listen to her council, value her wishes. Would she wish you to save her over the girl she thought of more as a daughter?

  Lancelot had his answer. No, she wouldn’t.

  He stared at both women, torn by the pain of knowing what his only choice was. Every time he looked to Puck to answer, the words died in his dry throat. He would never have this chance again, to hold his Guinevere, to kiss her, to share a bed with her…to hear her laughter and soft voice. To feel her fingers on his skin or know the softness of hers.

  He reached up, touched Guinevere’s peaceful face. Her skin was cool to the touch, like Chinese silk. He cupped her cheek, memorizing her face again even though the visage had never once left him or faded in detail. Lancelot’s heart swelled and thudded like an eviscerated limb. It was literally killing him to make this decision. Once he did, he knew his heart would be gone, but at least he would be one step closer to regaining his honorable soul. Though it would be so lonely without its mate.

  He dropped his hand and stepped back. He bowed on one knee to Guinevere, saying a silent prayer that she would find peace and happiness and hopefully be granted a new happy life.

  He rose up, met Puck’s calculating stare that had not left him since they entered this temple. “I choose who my Guinevere would have chosen.” He cleared his throat as his voice cracked. “Sophvira.”

  The room shattered, light splintering the red hued room like a mirror. Lancelot threw up his hands to shield his eyes from the blinding release. When he opened them again, he was standing alone in an empty field of gravel. He fell to his knees as energy rushed from his body, taking with it all the insanity that had plagued him. His countless lifetimes of memories dimmed, though remained. The pain that had plagued him for over eight hundred years, the centuries he had suffered since leaving Avalon, the searing loss he was so used to feeling eased like a boulder being lifted from his chest. He still felt the heartbreaking loss of his souls mate, but he felt whole in a way he had not since before he left Avalon.

  Sucking in air, he got to his feet and looked around for Sophvira, but found nothing but the rubble of the former temple.

  “Puck!” he roared. His anger at this betrayal rose like a monster from the darkest pits of the Underworld.

  “No need to shout!” Puck’s high, sarcastic voice came from behind him.

  Lancelot wheeled around, his breath rushing from him as he saw a rosy cheeked Sophvira being cradled so carefully in the trickster’s arms. Puck held her, her head resting on his shoulder, his face turned so slightly to hers in protection. She was cradled with the most exquisite of care.

  Lancelot was the best at tracking magical signatures, could see magic in a way few others could. The silver gold magic of Puck was wrapped like a cocoon around the young girl. If the knight didn’t know better he would have entertained the thought that the halfling cared for Sophvira.

  But he shook that thought away. “Give her to me,” he ordered.

  The Imp hesitated for a half second then took one step then another toward the knight. Lancelot placed his arms outside Puck’s and lifted the precious treasure from his arms.

  A soft sigh came from Sophvira as her body shifted. His world felt even more right. He may not have his Guinevere, but he could at least give the girl they both loved the life she was robbed of. And he could give his brother knight, Galahad, his sister back.

  “She will sleep for several days while her body fully recovers. Once she is well, you may leave Olympus and return with her to the mortal realm.” Puck vanished before Lancelot could say anything.

  Wasting no time, Lancelot took off in a run, being careful not to jostle the healing girl too much. He spotted the brightly colored onion dome-topped tower that Rothik used as his teaching and healing quarters. People, students and those who lived in this realm stared openly at him as he rushed past, but he paid them no heed.

  “Rothik!” he called out in the long hallways after entering.

  The large, bull-like man stepped out of one of the rooms, Merlin right behind him. The Druid looked like a good wind would have knocked him over when he saw Sophvira in his arms.

  Rothik stepped back and ushered a panting Lancelot into the room they had left out of. “Place her on the bed,” he ordered, his deep voice vibrating in the room.

  “What in the name of Camelot is going on, Lancelot?”

  The knight told them both everything that had happened. The only detail he kept wer
e his own shattered feelings, but Merlin knew him well enough that he would understand what he was not saying.

  “This Puck was right,” Rothik said afterward. “Your Sophvira will sleep for days. Her body is returning to what it once was, so she will be strong enough to live again.”

  Merlin apparently detected a hesitation in the Chimera Lancelot missed. “What aren’t you telling us?” the Druid asked somberly.

  “Did she ever have magic before?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “She does now, and whatever created it in her is very strong.”

  Sweat built on the back of Lancelot’s neck. “What does that mean?”

  Worry creased Rothik’s broad forehead. “It means she may have her life back, but she is not wholly who she was in Camelot.”

  They were silent for a long moment. Until another girl, about fourteen, burst through the open door. “Lord Rothik…” She paused, taking in the heavy atmosphere of the room.

  “What is it, Niss?” the Chimera asked, his demeanor calm and easy.

  “You were asking around about an Atlantian that used to reside here in Olympus. Lady Nimuah told us about him, what he looked like, because she had known him.”

  Rothik nodded. “What are you saying, Niss?”

  “I saw him.”

  “Where?” Merlin demanded.

  Lancelot jumped to his feet. “When?”

  The girl flinched at the raised voices of the two knights.

  Rothik held out a soothing hand. “Do not fear, Niss. Just tell us.”

  “He was just here, I was walking through the gardens when I saw him standing at a statue…he looked…sad.” Sympathy washed over her oval face. “I didn’t recognize him, so I went to talk to him. When he turned around I recognized him.” She glanced at Lancelot and Merlin again, her arms wrapping around her middle. “White blond hair, silver eyes and orange skin and pointy ears. Lady Nimuah said his name was—”

  “Puck!” Lancelot hissed out in surprise and outrage.

  34

  The force of Sir Lancelot’s punishment being lifted was an annoying ripple under my skin. The selfish knight mended his ways. Impressive. Though why Puck convinced me Sir Galahad’s murdered sister was the way the knight could prove himself worthy again baffles me. Not that it’s important. Morgana and that vile Viviane freeing Mordrid from his prions, however, is. As is Puck failing to locate the Grail—an oversight Aliana can now correct that she has the map. Once she has the Grail, another part of my centuries-long, carefully laid plans will come to fruition. After my Destined One fulfills the task I sent her to Camelot to do.

  ~Titania

  ALIANA WOKE, HER HEAD POUNDING much like she imagined a hangover would feel, if she’d ever had one. The events of the day came rushing back as her moan of pain died in her throat. She peeked open her eyes and saw Viviane just feet away from her holding a small scroll of paper. Aliana recognized it instantly. It was the piece of paper she had hidden in the iron-box-of-death that said the daughter of Avalon would have to sacrifice her life to stop Mordrid!

  The dark-haired witch set down the scroll, still unopened. Why hadn’t she read it yet? Aliana could tell she hadn’t, because there was a different seal around it that hadn’t been there when she retrieved it from the iron-box-of-death. Viviane turned toward her. Aliana held perfectly still, slowing and evening out her breath.

  The witch seemed satisfied that she was still out cold and left the small cave-like room Aliana was trapped in, tucking the small scroll up her sleeve.

  The door closed, but Aliana waited what felt like an eternity before she dared move. When she was sure she was alone, she got up and found she was not bound, much to her surprise. She was lying on a small bed with fur blankets. Shaking away the last of the magic that had knocked her out, she headed straight toward the door. She peeked through the circular opening near the top, but it was hard to see into the dim cave hall.

  She felt for her own magic, but it was different, like there was a thick cloud surrounding it, only letting the vast power trickle through. The bitter taste of Mordrid’s poison filled her mouth as she fought back the instinct to retch. She turned to the power of her ruby, felt its swirling depths, but not nearly as strongly as she should. Something was very seriously wrong. I’ll have to deal with that later. First order of business is getting the heck out of here!

  Aliana expanded her strained senses and searched for any traces of magic or life. She found it, recognized the feel of Viviane, Morgana and Mordrid’s powers all near the one side of the area, by the exit she assumed, along with the burn of something else. Almost a dozen something else’s.

  She huffed. This was not going to work very well. Caves usually only had one way out. Kneeling down, Aliana sent a small amount of her bubbly magic into the lock of the door, turning the tumblers, letting the door glide open on silent hinges.

  “Dagg?” She took the chance of calling out when she left the room.

  “I am close.”

  Aliana sagged against the cave wall. She hadn’t realized how tense and worried she had been until she heard his voice. “Please tell me the guys are about to come storming in like the knights in shining armor they are!”

  She felt his brief amusement. “We are close. I am using our bond to find you. I am also leaving a trail for Arthur and the others to follow.”

  “I guess you’re faster on your own. Are you and the guys all right?”

  “We are, and are also very, very angry with you. What were you thinking going down a secret stairway without reaching out to me first? Why didn’t you tell me the moment you decided to not come down to the Round Table?”

  “I saw Vira!” Aliana flushed again. “But I realize now it was just an illusion created by Mordrid to lure me. I played right into his hands.” Taking a silent, deep breath Aliana moved closer to the entrance of the cave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to tell you until I was already down there.”

  “It’s too late to do anything about it now, but in the future you must always tell me these things.”

  She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

  “I am waiting for an opening to slip into the cave undetected.”

  “Are Mordrid and the others out by the entrance then?”

  “Viviane and Morgana, yes. But I do not see Mordrid.”

  “What?” Panic resurfaced. She was sure she had pinged his magic with the others. “I need to go.”

  “Be safe.” Aliana cut him off, quickly looking around the hall she had been creeping in. She could go back to the room she had been locked in; Mordrid would never know that she had been out of the room. Keep breathing, Lia, and move! she told herself.

  It was slow, trying to be as quiet as she could and listen for signs of her kidnapper. She kept close to the wall, partially for support, as she made her way toward what she hoped would be the entrance. Sounds like gusting winds and roaring fire grew louder. That had to mean she was getting close, right? But what on earth was making that noise?

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Mordrid hissed in her ear.

  She froze stiff. Oh my stars, could he use any more cliché of a line? “You know…” She shrugged trying to go for calm candor. “I just thought I’d stretch my legs for a minute before you get on with your plan to take over the world and all.”

  He scowled for a quick moment before a rueful, evil grin spread over his face. “I must admit, I do not quite understand all you say, but the magic coming from you and that stone are too great to not possess.”

  Aliana went pale. The Mordrid in her time knew that taking her ruby from her would kill her. He had made it clear that was not something he wanted, but what about this Mordrid? Not knowing what to expect from him terrified her.

  She moved to run but his foot tripped her sluggish legs, sending her face planting in the dirt.

  “Really?” she muttered, hoping like hell Dagg had found his way into the cave by now. She pushed herself up
and got to her feet, facing the lunatic that wanted to rule the seven realms and unleash Armageddon. Her panic and pumping adrenaline helped push away the lingering fogginess that felt like a wet blanket. It felt like her magic was being drained away.

  “You do not know how special you are, do you?”

  Aliana rolled her eyes. “I am really sick of people saying that.”

  “I will have you and your vast magic. But I can already sense the deep connection you have with that jewel. It would kill both of us if I tried to take it by force.”

  Aliana’s eyes widened. That was something she hadn’t known. “Then what are you planning? I will never help you. You’re evil, you want to destroy thousands of lives for your own selfish desires.”

  He stalked closer to her. Aliana stepped back, her back hitting the cave wall. Her heart kicked, the cheetah returned, racing through her blood. This was too similar to Josh’s attack; he was trapping her, trying to control her. She took heavy breaths to keep herself calm and not give in to her impulse to freeze up. She wasn’t that same scared, helpless girl.

  “You are right and you are wrong. I want what is mine by birthright. Camelot.”

  “You can’t seriously think you’re a descendant of that Onyx Dragon!”

  He growled, his eyes darkening even further. “Your Arthur is a descendant of that blasted Gold Dragon. Why is it so hard to believe I am a descendant of the other creator?”

  Aliana hesitated. She needed to stall for time, for Dagg and Arthur and the knights to find her. Her magic wasn’t strong enough yet to fight her way out. Not against the evil trio.

  “What do I have to do with any of this?”

  His smile turned even wickeder. Something she didn’t think was possible. “Like any magic, no matter how powerful, it is limited by the strength of the one who bears it. I’ve seen your magic, felt its strength, and I know you have not yet even reached your potential. When I make you mine, take you over, your abilities will be tied to my will, and your endless strength will guarantee that I will conquer all the realms and rule them for all eternity. Not even Death or time will stop my eternal rule. And I’ll need a queen of worth by my side.” He stepped closer and Aliana darted to the side, freeing herself from the trap of being cornered.