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

by Donna Hosie

  “The Round Table of Camelot has spoken,” announced Merlin.

  “But it has revealed nothing,” cried a tall, thin male who didn’t look much older than Arthur.

  “It has revealed everything, John, son of Jacob,” replied Merlin. “It has revealed that not one of you waiting in the shadows is worthy to sit in the seat afforded to Bedivere, exiled son of Duke Corneus of Lindsey. The Round Table is giving Bedivere a chance to prove himself once more.”

  “Come, Lady Natasha,” cried Lucan, as cheers rang through the hall. “Let us go find my brother at once and impart the good news together.”

  People were starting to leave. The only person who hadn’t moved was my brother.

  “You go,” I replied. “Tell Bedivere I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Arthur was sweating. The bags under his eyes were tinged with green. He looked ill.

  “What’s happened?” I whispered, kneeling down beside him.

  He shook his head. Not because he didn’t want to talk, but because he didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.

  I waited patiently until the last footsteps faded away. It was just Arthur and me left.

  “What happened, Arthur?

  Arthur had once come across a dead body in a field. I think he had been fourteen years old at the time. He had boasted about it to his mates, and it had merely cemented his reputation as the king of cool, but once his friends had left, only I saw him crumple and shake with the shock.

  It was exactly the same now.

  “It was her eyes, Titch...” His hand convulsively went to his damaged cheek. “Something happened to Sammy’s eyes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seven Days

  “Is she still in the castle?”

  Arthur’s grim face nodded. I swept his long fringe away from his face. There was only a year in age between the two of us, but for the first time, I felt like the oldest. I had to look after him, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to do that properly if I stayed in the castle with him.

  Do it, encouraged Gwenddydd; she wasn’t just a presence in my mind, she was reading it.

  “I have to leave Camelot, Arthur,” I whispered. “I have a job to do, and I think I’m the only one who can do it.”

  “You can’t take on Nimue alone, especially if she’s joined forces with Mordred.”

  “I won’t be on my own, Arthur. Bedivere would come with me regardless of how ill he was, and I want to take a few of the others as well, if you can spare them. Definitely Lucan, and Gareth would need a crowbar to remove him from Bedivere...”

  “You don’t have to leave Camelot, Titch. You can have this hall, have any part of the castle you want. Merlin has placed his protection over it, so Nimue can’t get in again. There’s nowhere in the world safer than here.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  “I don’t...”

  “Because if I stay here I’ll kill Sammy, Arthur.”

  Arthur’s face blanched.

  “You didn’t really mean to push her down the stairs, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I replied, staring deep into his lifeless eyes so he would know I was telling the truth. “But I can’t trust myself around her, not anymore. I think she’s cast some kind of spell on you, and here in Logres her hold over you is even worse. And now there’s Mila...”

  But Arthur was shaking his head. “There’s no spell. I love her, Titch. I don’t know why it’s so...intense, but I’ve never felt like this about any other girl.”

  “You won’t always feel like this, Arthur,” I said with exasperation. “You can’t let her control you like this.”

  “But I don’t want to be a crap dad, Titch. I don’t want to be like our dad is now.”

  “You’re not like him. You’re nothing like him.”

  “You can’t remember what it was like before Patrick died. Dad was a laugh. Even when he was working, he always found the time to be there, to be a dad. I can’t let that happen with Mila. I won’t let it happen with my baby.”

  Arthur put his head in his hands. I didn’t know what to do, to say. I had been to more psychiatrists and counsellors than you could shake a stick at, but not one of them had ever given me the tools, the words, to deal with something like this.

  “It was Sammy’s eyes, Titch,” repeated Arthur slowly. His muffled voice sounded higher, younger.

  “Did you see blue flame?” I asked quietly.

  “There was none of that blue flame you’ve talked about, but she said something...something weird. Her voice was deeper than Bedivere’s, and he sounds like he’s swallowed gravel half the time.”

  This is not your quest. You must let Arthur deal with his own battle.

  I knew what I had to say, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. My way was clear now: I had to destroy the spirit of Nimue. She had to be removed from Logres once and for all, or she would always be a danger to those here. It would be difficult, but with help, I stood a chance.

  But Arthur – no. This wasn’t fair. He was going to have to make the impossible choice, a choice I didn’t want him to make.

  “I have to get Sammy away from Logres, don’t I? For good?”

  “Yes.” My reply was so quiet, I’m not sure he even heard me.

  “How am I going to do it, though?”

  “You have to come up with something. Think like a king, not like a boyfriend.”

  “I could take them both back through the Falls of Merlin,” said Arthur; he was looking at me with pleading eyes. He was desperate for help without asking for it. “I was thinking about it on the way down here. I’ll mark the spot where the tunnel comes out. Then I’ll get Sam and Mila settled back with her mom, and then I’ll come back. It’s like you said before, we’ll just travel between the two worlds. A week here, a week back there. It’ll work, won’t it?”

  His eyes had rekindled some of their blue intensity, and they were staring at the wall, seeing a world beyond it. He was trying to convince himself that his idea would work.

  Yet all I could think about were Merlin’s words, spoken inside my head as he tried to persuade me to take Mila.

  Your future is not with Arthur. You and Arthur are destined to be parted.

  But Arthur was smarter than anyone. He could deal with a crisis without making it too much of a drama. He had no choice back with our parents. Our father was missing most of the time, and our mother was a living ghost trying to find a way to reach Patrick. Arthur was the adult, the sensible one. This plan was our way forward. This was what Merlin meant. The old man didn’t prophesise that it was forever. Destined to be parted was just Merlin’s way of saying our choices right now were different. I could get rid of Nimue, Arthur could get rid of Slurpy, and we could be happy.

  Be happy. My wish at the well was coming true.

  Nimue will not let Arthur leave without a fight, and Merlin will not allow his precious heir to leave for good either. You must not reveal your intent to anyone else.

  “We have to keep this just between the two of us,” I whispered, quickly checking the hall for lurking sorcerers. “Merlin mustn’t find out you’re taking Mila away.”

  “What if Gwenddydd tells him?”

  I won’t.

  “She says she won’t.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  I had no choice if this was to succeed.

  “Yes.”

  “So how do we plan this?” asked Arthur. I smiled. My older brother – the king – was asking me for advice.

  “I was serious when I said I had to get away from Camelot, Arthur,” I replied. “I can’t stay where Sammy is. And I want Bedivere and Guinevere away from her too. So I’ll leave with them, and as many knights as you can spare, and head for the Falls of Merlin. I’ll need at least one physician - Taliesin - to care for Bedivere. Then you, Sammy and Mila take a different route to the falls, and we’ll meet there. You’ll have Merlin to protect you and the remaining knights.”

  “How am I going to get Samm
y to the Falls without revealing the plan and telling her we’re going home?”

  I thought for a second, but it was Gwenddydd who provided the perfect answer.

  Baptism. My brother will be beside himself at the thought of the heir being christened in his sacred falls.

  “You tell Sammy that Mila is going to be christened in the water there. Merlin will be so distracted that he won’t notice if you make a run for it, and it will also be an excuse to get loads of knights there for protection under the cover of having a party.”

  “And what will you be doing?”

  “We’re going to lure Nimue there a different way.”

  “Jeez, Titch! That doesn’t sound like a plan – that sounds like suicide.”

  “Nimue doesn’t scare me.”

  “But she can do magic – dark magic.”

  “And we’ll have someone on our side who can do magic as well.”

  “Who?”

  “Byron.”

  “But he’s dead.”

  “We’ve seen him: Guinevere, Talan and I. It was after we left the travelling court and arrived here. He was outside on the battlement below.” I pointed to the window of the Great Hall where Guinevere and I had seen the red-cloaked figure of Byron.

  “You mean Byron isn’t dead?”

  “Talan said that Byron had unfinished business here and his ghost, or spirit, or whatever he is now, wouldn’t be at peace until his work was through. I bet you anything this is it, Arthur. All the pieces are starting to fit together. We’re going to do this, I can feel it.”

  Arthur stood up from his seat and walked over to the window I had pointed at. The stained-glass showed a man with a crown, surrounded by men on bended knee. The king was holding a goblet, and angular rays were pouring down on him from yellow glass.

  “What about Mordred, Titch? He’s out there, somewhere, as well. Bedivere...well, Bedivere can’t protect you anymore. You do know that, right? Bedivere will go with you, but he could barely stand through the Knights’ Council.”

  “I’ll have the others.”

  “But would they die for you? Because in this time, only that’s good enough for me.”

  I walked over to where Arthur was standing, gazing out over the now empty scene below. The travellers, who had come to the seven days of feasting to celebrate the arrival of Mila, had left by day three. Bedivere’s injury had left most of the castle in no mood to party. All that was left were the extinguished fires, and the unhygienic stench of hundreds of people lingering on the air.

  “I’ll need to take Excalibur,” I said, tracing my finger across the leaded strip of glass that outlined one of the knights; I thought it could be Bedivere. “Excalibur will draw Nimue to us and away from you. That will give you time to get to the falls by a different route.”

  “I want you to take Tristram, Talan and David as well,” said Arthur. “They looked after you the last time we were here.”

  “So when should we do this?”

  “As soon as possible,” replied Arthur, leaning his head against the glass. “Within a week at least, but you’ll have to plan your side carefully, Titch. The others can’t know what we’re doing. If one of them was to be taken and tortured like Gareth was, well, everyone will be in danger then. And we put nothing in writing.”

  “We can’t do that,” I said. “We’ll need to communicate somehow.”

  “How do people exist in this time without a cell phone?”

  “Look, we’ll work it out. The Falls of Merlin aren’t that far from here. It will take us a couple of days at the most to get there.”

  Arthur pulled his head back. The lead edging had left an imprint on his skin. It was shaped like a sword.

  “That rabbit of yours has got a lot to answer for, you know,” he said, with a smile.

  “You leave Mr. Rochester out of it,” I replied, punching him on the arm. “And you were the one who bought him for me.”

  We stayed like that for a few more minutes, just gazing in silence around the Great Hall. The hexagonal room was very peaceful and reminded me of a church. Each stained-glass window showed an image of a king with wavy blonde hair and deep blue eyes, although the images around him were different. One showed him – I presumed it was supposed to be Arthur – riding a red Ddraig. Another had him feeding a white unicorn. My favourite, though, was the window that showed Arthur standing next to a female: an angular-faced girl who had wavy blonde hair. She was the only representation of a female that wasn’t wearing a long dress and conical headdress. Instead, she wore the same cloak as the men, a deep crimson colour, and in her right hand was an emerald studded sword.

  I think it was supposed to be me.

  The Round Table was an enormous dark grey block of stone once more. The golden ink, highlighting all who were worthy to sit at it, had disappeared.

  How many more names would be removed before the end? Sir Gaheris had been replaced by Guinevere; I had never asked Bedivere who had previously sat at my seat. I didn’t really want to know. I was sitting in a dead man’s chair. One day, someone would take my seat.

  “What do you think mum and dad are doing right now?” asked Arthur.

  “Well, dad will be working,” I replied waspishly, “and mum...”

  But even though I wanted to say that she was probably drowning in pills and vodka, I just couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  “Mum’ll be alright, especially if you return,” I whispered. “Just come back.”

  “Course I will,” grinned Arthur. “Who else am I going to call Titch if you’re not there?”

  “You’ve been calling me that for seven years, Arthur. Don’t you think – seeing as I’m a knight and all – that you could think of another nickname for me? I’m not that much smaller than you.”

  Arthur ruffled my hair, which pissed me off because I had actually spent some time brushing it for my first Knights’ Council.

  “You’ll always be my little sister, even when you’re old and blind and have no teeth. You’ll always be my titchy little sis.”

  “Promise me you will come back – after you’ve taken Sammy and Mila back to Wales.”

  “Stop it, Titch. If anyone should be worried, it should be me. The thought of you going off to lure Nimue away makes me feel sick.”

  “PROMISE ME.”

  “I’ll come back. You know I will.”

  But I kept thinking back to that first day: the day I ran from the voices and fell into the grave. Bedivere and the others had been forced to wait for a thousand years. They were crumbling watchmen. Ancient blind warriors living in the dirt and dust.

  What if Arthur didn’t come back?

  I pulled out my remaining diamond earring. The stud was black with grime, and the tiny jewel had no sparkle left.

  I fastened it to Arthur’s shirt.

  “I did this to Bedivere, and he found a way back to me. Don’t ever take this off.”

  “You know, Titch, there are times when I think you quite like having an older brother.”

  “She took Patrick from us; I won’t let her take you – even if you are an enormous pain in the ass.”

  Arthur kissed my forehead, and then flicked the spot with his finger. He smirked.

  “Seven days.”

  “Seven days.”

  “We’ll meet in here every night, after dinner. Just the two of us, and we’ll go over the plans until we know both sides off by heart. Now you just need to make sure that Merlin can’t get into your head in the meantime.”

  “Gwenddydd will stop him, won’t you?”

  I can distract my brother if he tries.

  “That is so weird,” chuckled Arthur. “It’s weirder now - knowing there actually is someone inside your head - than it was before when I thought you were talking to yourself.”

  “The freak isn’t a freak anymore?”

  “You’re a total freak.” He flicked my forehead again. “But you can be cool occasionally, and you delivered my baby which is pretty awesome.”
r />   “I don’t need reminding of that, thank you very much.”

  Arthur smiled at me. It wasn’t the expensive-teeth smile reserved for pretty girls, or even the smirk he produced when he thought he had put one over on me. It was a sad smile.

  “I’m sorry I got you messed up in this, Titch.”

  “Girls are your downfall, Arthur. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, but why can’t you be gay? Then we would have none of these problems.”

  “Talking of gay...” Arthur raised a blonde eyebrow.

  “I know what you’re going to say, and it has crossed my mind before, but Gareth likes me. He would hate me if he was in love with Bedivere, wouldn’t he?”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Arthur wisely. “What do they call it? Unrequited love or something? I think Gareth knows it will never happen, and so he just wants Bedivere to be happy. Watch out for him, though. I don’t want Gareth performing suicidal heroics. He’s lost it a bit since Bedivere’s injury. All this talk about killing Mordred, and it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch.”

  “What are you two plotting?” called a voice suddenly from the doorway. Arthur and I both jumped.

  “Hey, Gwen,” he said, and the pretty-girl smile was immediately resurrected.

  “Sire, your absence at dinner is conspicuous. You should hurry, for if Sir David continues to devour anything that doesn’t move, there will be nothing left.”

  “We’re just coming,” called Arthur. He turned to me.

  “Seven days.”

  Neither of us knew then that seven days was all we had left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Unknowable Quest

  Guinevere and I went to her room. It was bigger than mine. That didn’t bother me; I was used to getting the smallest bedroom. House, apartment, castle – did it matter? A bed’s a bed in any land, mythical or not.

  She had a great view, though - now that I was jealous of. Camelot was high up on a black stone hill, and while the view from the front was just trees, the panorama from the rear was of undulating hills, and a crystal-blue river that curved like a snake whipping across sand. The ground was still brown and yellow. It would take months for the earth to recover from such a long time in darkness, but from this far away, it just looked like a pretty patchwork cloth.