The Spirit of Nimue (The Return to Camelot #3)

by Donna Hosie

  “I have to go, Guinevere. I have to see Merlin before I have another vision.”

  “Then, if you are certain, let us tarry no longer.”

  “Once they realise we’re gone, how long will it take them to catch us?”

  “The castle is a day’s ride, two at the most, for those strong and on horseback. With the full court, carts and supplies, it is thrice that.”

  “So I only need to deceive him for a day?”

  I hadn’t told anyone a lie, but I still hated the guilt of not telling the truth.

  As Guinevere and I slowly shuffled to the trees, I continually looked back. I was waiting for Taliesin or Arthur or anyone to stop us, but we had ceased to exist. Two Lady Knights of the Round Table were suddenly non-entities in a world of swords and blood and fighting.

  The earth was rumbling with the vibration of hundreds of hooves. There had been no breakfast, and my empty stomach churned and jolted. I heaved, and my chest was stabbed by thousands of tiny needle-type pains.

  I had to know who I was. I needed to know why Arthur and Bedivere had wanted to kill me before the enchanted sleep.

  I closed my eyes and attempted to take a deep breath, but it was hopeless. My lungs were failing. It was like trying to breathe with a water-logged pillow over my face.

  I made a bargain with myself. I would look back one last time. If I saw Bedivere or Arthur, then I would stay. I would tell them about my vision, and I would allow them time to tell me their truth. But if they were gone, riding off to some imaginary white Ddraig just for the game, then I would leave.

  “Guinevere, go and find Talan,” I said. “Give me a few moments. I’ll catch you up.”

  Guinevere disappeared into the tall trees. An image of Bedivere’s smiling face swam across my vision. My heart thumped, and not because of the poison. What was I doing?

  I opened my eyes. Stupid bargains. I wasn’t ten years old. I was going back to the camp. What was the point in Guinevere and Talan risking their necks for me?

  Then a figure in the distance stopped me in my tracks.

  It was Slurpy. She was standing next to the body of the dead knight; she was looking down at him. Her arms were slightly raised in front of her body. She had changed her clothes, and was now dressed exactly the same as me: tight black pants, and a mustard yellow tunic that was fitted and pulled in at the waist. Her dark hair was long and straight around her shoulders. The sun was reflecting a fire-like haze around her, but it was blue, not orange.

  I watched her fingers, waiting for the tiniest hint of flame. How loud would I be able to scream? My voice hadn’t been the same since I had been injured by the dwarf-rider’s arrow. I could barely string a short sentence together without it breaking away into a whisper.

  And where was Mila? With Arthur gone on the Ddraig hunt, Slurpy had dropped the doting-mother act quicker than she usually dropped her underwear.

  And then her eyes met mine. They were pure white.

  “NO!” I screamed. I had no idea what she was planning to do with the dead knight, but I wouldn’t let her touch him. I tried to run back across the field to the injured and dead, but my right leg was dragging. I had lost the one skill I really had.

  “Lady Natasha,” called Talan. “What are you doing?”

  He and Guinevere were already on horses: two jet black creatures that were snorting and stamping at the ground.

  “Look at her eyes, look at her eyes,” I cried. My foot caught on an exposed tree root and I fell to the ground. “Look at her eyes – they’re white.”

  Talan and Guinevere swapped looks. I turned back and saw Slurpy staring at the three of us. Her eyes were back to normal. There had been no flame.

  But her magic was restoring.

  “If we are to leave, then we must leave with haste, Lady Natasha,” said Talan. “Lady Samantha will advise the king of our departure the moment we have gone.”

  “Where’s my horse?” I groaned.

  “You will ride with me,” replied Talan, offering me his hand. “Sir Bedivere’s wrath at my taking you to Camelot will be made more grievous for me if you are injured along the way. In your current state, m’lady, I am not certain you would even stay on a steed.”

  The ground was rumbling again. The knights were returning, sans white Ddraig head.

  I wrapped my fingers around Talan’s wrist, and he pulled me up behind him.

  At least the pain in your leg will cancel out the pain in your butt.

  I swore at my inner voice, and I wasn’t quiet about it.

  The two horses were impatient to get away. The forest sped past in a blur of rotting decay as we rode. It would take years to recover from the long darkness. I had both of my arms wrapped tightly around Talan’s waist, and every jolt from the horse sent spasms of pain through skin, muscle and bone. My inner voice was right. Compared to this torture, the pain of riding bareback in skinny jeans was like being licked by puppies.

  “Race you to the river, Sir Talan,” cried Guinevere. She galloped ahead, and I noted that two swords were wrapped in crimson cloth and tied to the back of her horse with thick black leather straps. Talan had managed to steal away with Angharad, my sword. A little piece of Bedivere was still with me, but it just continued to make me feel guilty that I had deceived him.

  The forest opened out as we arrived at a small bridge. It crossed a wide river that was black and foaming with dark grey bubbles. The bridge itself looked as if it had been constructed from large terracotta stones and straw. Uneven pieces of wood were tied together to form the crossing. It creaked and groaned, and that was before a hoof was placed on it.

  “I will cross first,” announced Talan. “You should dismount, Lady Natasha, lest we fall.”

  “Hah,” called Guinevere, as she kicked into her horse. “You shall not defeat me with gallantry, Sir Talan.”

  Guinevere and her horse galloped across the bridge, which swayed several feet to the left and then the right, before wobbling back to the centre.

  “She is a wonder, for sure,” said Talan, grinning. “Come, Lady Natasha. The courage of the Lady Knights of the Round Table is with me.”

  Well, if Guinevere had been a dude then her balls would have been made of steel. Mine on the other hand would have been carved from butter. I was terrified. I could see the black river through large gaps in the bridge. I knew that if the stone and wood gave way, then Talan and I would quickly plummet into the water. That which lurked down there, unseen in the depths, was far scarier than the monsters that I could see.

  But when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see monsters. I saw Patrick and his little blue t-shirt being carried away in a rip-tide of pale groping fingers.

  “You may release your strong hold, Lady Natasha,” said Talan. “We have reached the other side.”

  It had taken seconds. The prelude in my head had lasted longer.

  “I say we ride until the sun is high in the sky,” said Guinevere. “Then we should stop to tend to Lady Natasha’s wound.”

  “I concur,” replied Talan. I just groaned and mentally cursed Merlin with every swear word I knew. I could hear him laughing at me, but by now I was in so much pain, I didn’t know what was imaginary and what was real.

  On we rode. Several times I came close to asking them to take me back to Taliesin, and more importantly, drugs for the pain in my thigh, but my stubbornness had got us this far.

  The ride was never-ending. Minutes stretched like hours; hours stretched like days. Several times, Talan had to fling his muscular arm back to stop me from falling. After our second stop for water and food - neither of which I could stomach - I was tied to his waist with a length of purple cloth and put in front of him on the horse.

  “She is ailing fast.”

  “I will ride on and have the court physicians waiting for your arrival,” said Guinevere.

  But I could only follow the sound of her voice because my world had gone dark once more.

  I felt warm. Tensing, I waited for the burning to star
t, but no flames came for me - not this time. I could hear women singing, and an Irish voice was humming along with them. I knew that voice. My body relaxed.

  “You can open your eyes, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” said Merlin. “You have borne your quest with bravery and heart. You will heal well within the walls of the mighty Camelot.”

  “You’re a git,” I replied. My throat was in agony. I had the world’s worst case of tonsillitis.

  “The words of your world are fascinating,” laughed Merlin. “I remain hopeful that you and the king will teach me some new ones. To be learned through the ages is a gift so few get to accomplish.”

  “Arthur will teach you a few words,” I replied, slowly blinking into the moonlight that was streaming in through a stained-glass window. “He’s pissed as hell at you for trying to take Mila.”

  “I must protect the heir,” said Merlin. “Her future became clouded to me, and I found that - as you would say - disconcerting.”

  “You can’t just take babies away from their parents. People get locked up for that where we come from.”

  “Alas, you forget, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table, I was locked away for a thousand years by the Lady of the Lake. No one has endured the punishment that I was left to suffer, scratching out an existence as a lowly animal. Waiting for the day when my bonds would be unshackled.”

  “Arthur is still going to kick your ass.”

  Merlin laughed. Why he found that amusing, I didn’t know. Arthur was a Taekwondo black belt. He could break bricks with his feet – but then that was probably just from the smell.

  “So, you broke away from the travelling court with Sir Talan and the indomitable Lady Guinevere. You want to see who you really are, do you not, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table?”

  “Yes I do – and can you please stop calling me that? It’s ridiculous.”

  “Then I will be succinct. My answers to your questions are no and no.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You are not yet strong enough to see the whole past, and your king and lover deserve to know the truth as well. It will be as much a horror to them as it will be to you. And Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table is your title, and I am - as they say in your time - a stickler for propriety.”

  “You sound like my father.”

  “And that is what I hope to be, to you and Arthur, until such time as you leave Logres forever.”

  “I’m not leaving. I’m never leaving.”

  “If you say...”

  “I’M NOT LEAVING HIM.”

  But the effort of shouting had cost me what little voice I had left. My throat went into painful spasms. It was Guinevere who came running to help me.

  “Go away, old man. You are upsetting the king’s sister.”

  Every word was accompanied by a slap to my lower back.

  “As you wish, Guinevere, Lady Knight of the Round Table. I will depart to await our king’s arrival, but perhaps you would like to accompany me to the Great Hall of the Round Table. I believe there is something there that would interest you.”

  Guinevere stopped slapping me; I think she had dislodged my kidneys.

  “The siege?” exclaimed Guinevere. Merlin slowly nodded.

  Guinevere jumped to her feet and clapped her hands together. Where had I heard that expression before? I definitely remembered someone referring to the siege being revealed, but not a siege as in a fight, it was something else. A river of gold, flowing across a table.

  “Then Lady Natasha must see it as well,” said Guinevere. “Can you walk?”

  “I’ve seen it before, Guinevere.”

  “And have you seen your name inscribed in the stone?”

  “Why would my name...”

  “For you are a Lady Knight of the...”

  “Shut the hell up with the Lady Knight stuff, Merlin.”

  “As you wish,” sighed Merlin. “It was certainly not foretold that the new women of the court would be so forthright.”

  Guinevere and Merlin each took an arm and pulled me off the bed. My clothes had been removed, and I was now dressed in a white nightdress.

  “I’m not going anywhere like this. Where are my clothes?”

  “The physicians had to slice through the cloth to remove them. The poison had swollen your legs to the size of tree trunks,” replied Merlin.

  “Guinevere, please help me,” I begged.

  But Merlin was muttering under his breath. He made the same movement that I had seen Nimue perform before, as if he was pulling away an invisible cover. Suddenly, lying on the edge of the bed, were a pair of red satin slippers and a matching dress.

  “Those are bloody hideous, Merlin.”

  Guinevere burst out laughing.

  This was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Five

  Lady Knights of the Round Table

  Guinevere eventually found some light brown suede pants, and a fleecy black top that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 21st century. She also tried to make me wear a conical headdress and veil, but that was more for her fun than anything. I told her where she could shove it, which made Merlin stagger back against a wall, clutching at his heart.

  Slowly, we wound our way through the labyrinth of long black stone corridors which made up the castle of Camelot. My fingers brushed the cold, damp stone as we walked. I knew what lay behind every door, what was ahead around every corner. I was following a shadow of a life once lived here.

  “When will you tell me about my past, Merlin?” I asked, as we walked past a pair of long dusty tapestries, which showed a group of knights battling a one-eyed giant. “I left Bedivere and Arthur to ask you. The least you could do is give me a clue.”

  “Why do you care about what has already come to pass?” replied Merlin. “Your thoughts must be focused on the present and the future.”

  “I just want to understand.”

  “You want to know why?”

  “Yes.”

  Merlin sighed. “The quest for knowledge brings with it a great burden. Be careful what you wish for, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table.”

  “It won’t change how I feel about my brother and Bedivere now,” I replied, as we started to descend some narrow steps. Cobwebs draped down like nets. The torches that lined the way down caused our shadows to climb the walls. I did a double take when I realised Merlin’s shadow was not of a man, but of a squirrel.

  “I am attached to the creature,” said Merlin. “It was my sole companion for such a long time. I am not yet ready to say goodbye.”

  Guinevere had stayed quiet throughout my conversation with Merlin, but I could see by the look on her face that she was dying to find out what on earth I was talking about. I decided I would share. She was my friend. I was never going to discuss nail polish or shoes or downloads with her, but death and judgement, yeah, that was my life now.

  By the time we arrived at the large double doors of the Great Hall, Guinevere’s mouth was so wide she could have caught bats in it – and to my horror, we had come across several of those monstrosities on the way.

  “Your brother cast you to the pyre? And your lover threw down the torch?”

  I nodded. “I don’t understand it, and I wasn’t then who I am now, Guinevere, but that’s what I see in the visions. I can feel it too.”

  “Is the Lady of the Lake behind this?”

  “The Lady of the Lake is responsible for many sorrows, Guinevere, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” interrupted Merlin. “And the end of her time is approaching. Now, come quickly into the Great Hall of Camelot, for now is not the time for idle gossip. The siege longs to be revealed – can you not hear its song?”

  I strained my ears. The castle was quiet because most of the inhabitants were still sleeping, but Merlin was right. Music was coming from the enormous stone table, like a low-pitched humming. It was mournful and reminded me of funerals. An involuntary shudder rippled through my body.

  “It is a good deed th
at I did not retire for the evening,” called an Irish voice. “I hoped that it would not be too long before our lady knights found their way to the Round Table. I would not wish to miss this for all the riches in my beloved Ireland.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” I asked Talan. He was standing by the door with a huge grin on his face. The table had stopped humming, and the place suddenly seemed warmer for Talan’s appearance.

  “You touch the stone, Lady Natasha,” replied Talan. “Touch the stone, and watch as the siege is revealed.”

  I looked at Guinevere. “I’ll go first. I’ve stood on the table before. It won’t hurt me.” I walked towards the enormous circular table with my hands outstretched.

  Pretend it’s Sir Bedivere.

  “Piss off,” I muttered. Merlin started laughing.

  “Stay out of my head, Merlin.”

  “Why? For it is so entertaining, and I have missed...I have missed...” He trailed off. What had he missed?

  “Wait,” called Guinevere. “Do not touch the table alone, Lady Natasha. We should do it together.”

  “The correct choice,” called Merlin. “You are wise indeed, Lady Guinevere...”

  “NOW,” I cried, before Merlin could add the epithet about lady knights. Both Guinevere and I slammed our hands down onto the dark grey table.

  A small bubbling fountain of gold immediately rose out from the centre. It was tiny, only a few inches in height, but the liquid immediately started to spread outwards across the stone. It curved and looped, like a giant invisible hand was writing with a spidery thread across the table, filling in the deep etchings that had suddenly appeared throughout the stone. Images that I had never noticed the first time, suddenly materialised: unicorns, knights jousting, and stars and the moon.

  “It is beautiful,” gasped Guinevere.

  “And now the names of the knights,” sighed Talan. “I have seen this more times than I remember, and yet it still fills me with awe.”