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

by Donna Hosie

  A cool breeze was now sweeping through the tunnel. We were getting closer to our exit.

  “We should leave in pairs again,” I called out to Tristram and David. “Guinevere, you and Gareth go first. You know exactly where the others will be waiting. We’ll follow.”

  Guinevere had dressed all in black, and had tied her long blonde hair into a bun. Within seconds, she had disappeared into the long undergrowth that grew at the entrance to the tunnels. Gareth went next, then Tristram, and then David. I was reminded of their attack on the Gorian encampment the previous year, as the sound of calling birds quickly replaced the chirping of insects.

  “Taliesin, you go next with Bedivere,” I said quietly. “I need to check we aren’t being followed, so I will hang back a while longer.”

  The loyal physician passed me with another contemptuous mutter. Slowly, he manoeuvred his ageing body through the long grass and over the stone boulders: remnants of Merlin’s demolition job on the castle. The gaping holes had been repaired, but the original black stone lay scattered and broken. Bedivere was sure in his footing, and even though it was clear his balance was still off, it was the knight that helped the older man.

  Everyone was gone, consumed by darkness. I looked up towards the towering black mass that was Camelot. The first time I had seen it, I thought the castle was the most terrifyingly beautiful sight I had ever seen. The black stone had been covered by a strange haze, like the heat distortion from a scorching hot road. The same haze was still there, but now it stretched and blurred the stars around it, making them look like white paint splodges rather than twinkling lights.

  I could hear music coming from one of the upper floors. Drunken laughter. Arthur was in there – somewhere. I shivered, and not because it was cold. The hairs on my arms rose to attention. A thousand years in the future, someone was walking over my grave again.

  Slurpy was also in the castle. Mila too. Not for much longer. Arthur would get them out of this world, and then he would come back. They didn’t belong here – we did.

  But where was Merlin? He hadn’t been in my head since Gwenddydd had promised to keep him out. But we hadn’t seen him either.

  Was he waiting? Biding his time?

  We had to be at the Falls of Merlin within the next two days. Arthur had ordered the castle into preparation mode for Mila’s baptism. They would be leaving tomorrow. Who would be the first to notice Excalibur was gone? Arthur had given it to Guinevere earlier in the day. She didn’t question why. The others didn’t know – yet. That would be the first thing I would tell them, once we were all at the rendezvous point. They had to be prepared for Nimue. We had to draw her away from Arthur so he could make the journey without incident. Then everyone - magical and not - would converge on the one spot: the Falls of Merlin.

  I let my fingers graze the tips of the long grass as I made my way towards the woods. I was so used to following the sound of bells or wind chimes that it was a novelty to follow the call of birds. The Irish one was the most melodic, and it made me smile.

  But as I reached the first group of trees, I sensed a shadow behind me. I was being followed. Holding my breath, I stopped walking. My fingers reached for my sword, and I slowly pulled Angharad from its scabbard. It didn’t make a sound, as it slid like a hot knife through butter in the warm night air.

  I crouched down, and then swivelled one hundred and eighty degrees until I was back facing the castle and the entrance to the western tunnels. There was another noise behind me: feet on gravel. A body bent down low beside me.

  “What is it, Lady Natasha?” whispered Tristram.

  “Not what - who?” I replied, pointing to the shadow that was slowly inching along the wall.

  “I will go closer,” said Tristram, but I held him back.

  “Wait.”

  I was watching the rippling shadow. I had already realised who it was. He was coming with us. And behind him, another taller shape loomed large.

  “We should just leave now,” I whispered. “I don’t know what would happen if we disturb him. We should just leave him be, for now.”

  Tristram’s mouth had dropped into a perfect circle. “Sir David was right,” he gasped. “But how can this be?”

  I pulled Tristram’s arm, and we walked into the cover of the trees. Tristram kept looking over his shoulder, his face disbelieving as to what his eyes were showing him.

  Bedivere was being fussed over by Taliesin and Guinevere. He was sitting on a moss-covered boulder that looked like a large furry tortoise. Lucan was standing behind him with his hands on his brother’s shoulders. Gawain smiled shyly as I approached.

  “I am honoured to join your quest, Lady Natasha,” he said with a quick, short bow.

  “Are we being followed?” asked Talan; he was holding two sets of reins in each hand. David held the same number.

  “We are, but it’s okay,” I replied. “Nothing at all to worry about.”

  I knelt down beside Bedivere. “How are you feeling?”

  “I am eager to depart, if only to stop this mothering,” he replied.

  Then Guinevere cried out; Tristram had finished explaining that Byron was following us.

  “And to think you questioned my honour,” crowed David. “Did I not say Byron had risen?”

  “I did not question your honour, Sir David,” replied Tristram. “Merely your senses.”

  “When do we leave?” asked Bedivere.

  “As soon as we’ve packed up the horses with the supplies that Guinevere has collected,” I replied. “We’ll need to spread the load over the eight horses, but two will need to be lighter because Taliesin and Bedivere will ride with me and Talan.”

  As if ruled by telepathy, the knights started to distribute the clothes, food and weapons that Guinevere had collected. Taliesin clutched a leather bag, the size of a tote, to his chest.

  “My medicines stay with me,” he snapped.

  “Guinevere,” I called. “The package that Arthur gave to you this afternoon – where is it?”

  “Here, Lady Natasha,” called Guinevere. She was pointing to the cart, but her eyes were fixed on a gap in the trees. It was obvious she was waiting for her brother’s ghost to appear, but Byron had stopped following us, for now. As had the other shadow. One that Tristram had clearly not seen, because he had made no mention of it to those who would care.

  “What is in this mysterious package?” asked Talan, picking up a long thin object that had been wrapped in black cloth. “Lady Guinevere made me stay here all afternoon guarding it, under threat of having my tongue removed by her blade.”

  With trembling fingers, and with my ears primed for the sound of wind chimes, I untied the string that had bound the cloth. An unremarkable sword, plain and heavy, devoid of jewels or carvings, lay flat in my hands.

  “Why, that is Excalibur,” gasped Gareth and Gawain together.

  “Our quest involves the king’s sword?” asked Tristram, bending down on one knee.

  “Partly,” I replied. “I’m showing you this, because you need to be on your guard.”

  “Our unknowable quest involves the Lady of the Lake then?” asked Lucan.

  I nodded. “It still isn’t safe to tell you all exactly what we’re doing. I need to protect you all from anyone who can get into your head and find out what Arthur and I are planning. But it does involve Nimue, and you have to be on your guard, because she’s a danger to us now.”

  “So we do not know of the quest, simply to stop others from finding out?” asked Gawain.

  “Yes.”

  “But how are you protected, Lady Natasha? How is the king protected?”

  “Arthur is protected because Nimue won’t hurt him.”

  “You are placing yourself in enormous danger, Lady Natasha,” said Lucan. “Do you truly know what you are doing?”

  “I do,” I replied, placing Excalibur back beneath the folds of soft cloth. It felt warm to the touch. A little piece of Arthur with me.

  Revenge and respec
t. Was there really that much difference between the two? I wanted revenge against Nimue for what she had done to my life; Gwenddydd wanted revenge against Nimue for her death.

  But I also knew that if I was the knight to finally get rid of the one who had caused so much terror and hardship over Logres, then I would be forever someone special. No more freak or weirdo. No more being ignored or bullied. I would have respect.

  Did my motives really matter? It wasn’t just for me. I would save more innocents from being burned alive. Never again would Logres be put to sleep for one thousand years, or left in a terrifying darkness for months on end.

  Nimue needed to be snuffed out, just as she had crushed my spirit, my father’s, my mother’s.

  I knew exactly what I was doing, Tristram, I thought. I was going to destroy the spirit of Nimue.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Monster of Albion

  I wasn’t going to make Bedivere suffer the embarrassment of riding in a cart. He was a Knight of the Round Table, regardless of what that round block of stone had decided. He would be on a horse, where he belonged.

  I could tell that the others approved. It was silent, but the knights nodded to me as we got ready to leave. The only one who didn’t like my plan was Taliesin, but I could live with that. He wouldn’t be happy unless Bedivere was back in the castle under his watchful gaze. I tried to understand what the old man was going through, but I was also getting annoyed with him. Bedivere didn’t want people fussing around him and treating him like a kid. He needed people who would treat him like a knight.

  So Bedivere would ride with me.

  The first time we had ridden a horse together – after that meeting by the lake – Bedivere had sat behind me, securing me with his arm as I fell asleep, weary with exhaustion and adrenaline after the attack by the dwarf-riders. Now it would be far more difficult. I would have to sit behind him because I could not risk hurting his damaged arm. I didn’t have legs up to my armpits, but I was still taller than most girls. Somehow, I would have to position myself, hold the reins, and ride without seeing where I was going.

  Bedivere was helped onto the horse by Gareth and Gawain. I was impressed by his agility in the circumstances, but even his bravery couldn’t muffle his pained groan as he knocked his arm against the muscular neck of the horse.

  Gareth linked his hands together into a finger cradle. I placed my boot into it and swung my leg over behind Bedivere. He had leant forward, and was now stroking the horse with his right hand, whispering words to it that I could not hear.

  “Lady Natasha,” called Guinevere. “We are in no hurry. Those of us riding without a companion will wait for those who do.”

  “Nay, Lady Guinevere,” replied Bedivere. “Taliesin is in safe hands with Sir Talan, and I am in the safest hands of all. We ride hard and true, and Natasha will lead the way.”

  I gave his body a squeeze with my arms.

  “I will be your eyes, my love,” he whispered. “I have ridden Olwen during many a quest, and he will not fail us this night.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered back. “I know it was selfish asking you.”

  Bedivere twisted to his right and landed an awkward kiss on my nose.

  “I will learn to be a new man,” he replied, “and I cannot do that without you.”

  “We are ready, Lady Natasha,” called Lucan. “Lead on.”

  I tugged gently on the reins and kicked my heels into the horse.

  I need you to guide me, I thought to Gwenddydd. I had no idea where the Falls of Merlin were from here.

  Gwenddydd didn’t reply. Instead, she showed me a vision. I was still in the same forest, but it was as if someone had lit the way with millions of tiny lights, all leading in a straight line above our heads, like a canopy of stars.

  Bedivere as my eyes, Gwenddydd as my navigator. I had never been so blind and yet so confident of the way.

  “Follow me,” I called, as Olwen immediately picked up the pace. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see that Gareth was to our left, and Lucan was to our right. I could hear Talan singing, but his voice was much further back. Where Tristram, David, Guinevere and Gawain were, I had no idea. I just gripped the reins, leant back slightly and followed the lights.

  Every so often the stars above me would veer slightly away from the straight course. I would whisper to Bedivere and he would control Olwen. It was hard riding with someone who was also controlling the right rein. I wanted an extra weight on the left to balance things out, but every time I had that thought, I felt guilty.

  Bedivere was doing more than his best. He was exceptional.

  My time gauge was well and truly suckered. I had no concept of how long we had been riding. All I knew was that it was still dark and the temperature was dropping fast. I knew that at some point Bedivere would need to rest, but I didn’t want to be the one to make him. I listened to his breathing. I had learned from sitting by his bed, that when it became short and shallow he needed pain-killers and sleep. Right now it was long and laboured. I wasn’t sure whether that was any better.

  Gareth stayed on our left side. I knew he was preparing to be Bedivere’s left hand, if necessary. If anyone nefarious came at us in the dark, then they would have to cut through Gareth to get to Bedivere. I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe I had been too rash in dismissing Agravaine’s offer of help. I had to look after Bedivere and get us all - and Excalibur - to the Falls of Merlin before Nimue guessed our plan. I didn’t have the eyes to spare for any suicidal quest of Gareth’s.

  Guinevere rode her horse alongside ours. A quick glance at Gwenddydd’s vision of stars showed me that we were heading too far to the east. I corrected the course via a whisper to Bedivere, and the sound of hooves through softer ground was replaced by the crunching of stone.

  “When do we stop?” called Guinevere. “I am tired and in need of rest.”

  She winked at me. I mouthed thank you. There was no way in a million years Guinevere was tired. She could ride for hours, especially if there were hot knights next to her. She was asking purely for Bedivere’s sake.

  “Soon,” I called back. “Tristram, can you find a good spot up ahead for us to stop for a while?”

  Two shining black creatures galloped past us. Tristram, and the ever-competitive David, raced ahead and were quickly lost to the darkness. A little while later we heard the familiar sound of birds calling, and our horses followed the scent of their friends to a small clearing. I could hear running water, but as I strained to make out any other noises in the darkness, I felt a heavy pressure starting to build in my ears. I held my nose and blew. It had no effect. The pain was getting worse. It was now starting to shoot down into my jaw.

  “Natasha,” whispered Bedivere. “Keep your eyes keen.”

  I sniffed the cool night air. Using my senses was instinct now. If I detected the sweet smell of toffee that meant the Gorians and the blue flame were nearby; a stench like rotting garbage would signal the presence of dwarf-riders. But I sensed nothing except the clean smell of wet grass.

  Guinevere was already off her horse. She handed the reins to Tristram, and took a blazing torch from David, who held one in each hand.

  “Lady Guinevere,” said Talan in a low, seductive voice. “Would you care to accompany me into the night?”

  “Talan!” I exclaimed. What was he thinking? Guinevere wasn’t Slurpy. But then I quickly realised what was making the atmosphere so heavy inside my head.

  And then I thought back to what Bedivere had said, the first time he had taken me into a forest: It is said they will bring good luck to a quest if witnessed by a virgin.

  Who makes up this crap? If there was a unicorn I wanted to see it too.

  Stay where you are. You are living in a time of superstition and magic. You cannot risk it.

  But I had always hated that kind of nonsense. I was the girl who walked under ladders, placed new shoes on a table, and would stroke a black cat if it came near me.

 
“Taliesin,” I whispered. “Can you come and look after Bedivere while I go with Talan and Guinevere?”

  The old man was wincing and walking in a strange way. It was so hard not to laugh. Poor Taliesin probably hadn’t been near a horse in fifty years.

  “I wish to see as well,” said Gawain. “If you permit my company?”

  “What are we seeking?” whispered Guinevere. “Should I arm myself?”

  I shook my head. “I think there’s a unicorn nearby,” I replied softly. I bent down and kissed Bedivere, who was lying on the soft ground with his eyes closed. David held a torch above his head to give light to Taliesin, who was already pounding dry ingredients with a mortar and pestle.

  “I won’t be long.”

  Bedivere didn’t hear me. He was already asleep.

  As we walked away, I tried blowing my nose again. The pressure remained. It was coming in pulsing waves. Crouching low, Talan, Guinevere, Gawain and I slowly inched across the ground.

  “Have you ever seen one of the beasts, Lady Natasha?” asked Gawain.

  I nodded, thinking back to what had followed. My stomach tickled as I remembered my first proper kiss with Bedivere. I would never get bored of the sensation that moment awakened.

  “It is said that good luck will befall a quest if a virgin is with you when you witness the creature,” said Gawain excitedly. “Now we shall have twice the fortune.”

  I had no intention whatsoever of correcting him, but both Talan and Guinevere turned to grin at me.

  “Piss off,” I said.

  “Well, it is my good fortune that I am saving my maidenhood for my wedding night,” whispered Guinevere, as we continued to crawl along the damp ground. “I daresay, Lady Natasha, you have found your good luck with Sir Bedivere anyway.”

  Talan was the first to stop. I could barely see him in the moonlight, which was weak and continually being covered by cloud.