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

by Donna Hosie

  “And how do we accomplish that?” asked Tristram. “We are mere mortals. We cannot bend the will of sorcerers to our own.”

  This is where you come in, Gwenddydd, I thought. Tristram’s right. How do we do this?

  The Falls of Merlin must be attacked by the sword of the king. It is the only way. In the same way that Excalibur can slice through the solid stone of the Round Table, so can the blade release the heart from the falls. My brother will believe the Lady of the Lake is desecrating his sacred monument, and he will respond with the fury of the earth.

  And who is supposed to do that? If Excalibur only responds to the rightful king, then Arthur will have to stay behind.

  There is another.

  Me?

  Think again.

  There was a heavy rustle behind me. It was coming from inside the abandoned stone building. Tristram, Talan and David pulled out their swords. Bedivere picked up Drudwyn from the ground, and Guinevere grabbed Excalibur from its cloth. Gareth and Gawain had already mounted their horses, but they both twisted their bows from their backs and quickly fitted arrows to the string. Lucan and Taliesin snatched up short spears, which were lying by the physician’s feet.

  “You are surrounded by Knights of the Round Table,” shouted Bedivere. “Show yourself and you will not be harmed.”

  A deep cackling voice laughed from inside the Haven of Dwellmere. A freezing wind spread out across the forest floor to each and every one of us. It blew up my legs, causing my top to billow out. Goosebumps erupted over every part of my skin, as it puckered up in the sudden chill.

  Guinevere was the only one to step forward. She was the only one who could. My legs felt wooden and stiff. I knew I could move, but I had forgotten how to. My brain had turned into mush.

  “There is devilry at work here,” said David. I could see him trying to swing his sword, but he looked confused. His eyes narrowed, and his forehead creased with concentration as he tried to remember. He looked how I felt.

  But Guinevere continued to walk slowly across the forest floor with Excalibur in her hand.

  “Guinevere,” I called. “Don’t go any further. We can’t move. We can’t help you.”

  As I spoke, my legs were freed of the binding sensation, and I suddenly remembered how to walk. It was so simple. One foot in front of the other. How could I have been so dumb as to forget?

  “It is a trap,” cried Bedivere. He was struggling more than any of them because his balance was already uneven. Even the horses were pulling their heads up and down, as their hooves stayed glued to the terracotta dirt.

  There was another deep cackling laugh, but this time the wind that raced along the ground was hot.

  “I think I know who is inside,” whispered Guinevere, reaching out for my hand.

  We inched towards the arched doorway. Dark green ivy, covered in tiny delicate cobwebs, trailed across the brickwork. Above the arch was a deep stencilled image of the sun, with thick rectangular rays splaying out in even blocks. I made out the word ignis etched into the stone, but inside the domed building it was pitch black.

  “Natasha,” cried Bedivere. “No.”

  “It’s okay,” I called back. “He won’t hurt us. He’s here to help.”

  “Enter with me, sister knight,” whispered Guinevere. We were still clutching each other’s hand. Guinevere bit her nails like me, but that just made them rough and sharp as we dug into each other for courage. I was crapping bricks. The thought of seeing a ghost at a distance wasn’t that scary, but coming face to face with one in a dark contained building was sending my heart into spasms, especially a structure that had no clear exit other than a doorway that was already showering grains of white brick down on our heads like fine snow.

  “Lady Knights, stand down,” yelled Lucan.

  But Guinevere and I continued to ignore them. I let go of Guinevere’s hand and held Angharad aloft like a torch.

  “I’ll go first, Lady Natasha,” said Guinevere, as we stood inches from the doorway. “If it is a trap, then you can make your escape.”

  But I shook my head. “My quest, you run,” I replied, and I stepped through the veil of ivy into the darkness.

  I clenched: hands, toes, butt cheeks. Waiting for something - someone - to jump out. Even the light from the entrance to the stone building had been extinguished. We were in total and impenetrable darkness.

  The ghost of Byron cackled.

  “You swine,” hissed Guinevere. “Show yourself, or I’ll be showing you the back of my hand.”

  “As Lady Natasha is already aware, I like to be dramatic,” said Byron.

  “What have you done to the knights?” I asked. “And where are you? What have you done to the entrance? Can we get out again?”

  “I have unfinished toil in this world, Lady Natasha,” replied Byron. “I am here to offer you and my sister my services, one last time. Only then can I be released into the next world.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Still as stubborn in death as you were in life,” snapped Guinevere. “Now show yourself, brother. Or are you even more hideous in death?”

  Guinevere suddenly screamed.

  “He slapped my rear.”

  Byron cackled again. “Let me have my fun. The dead are so morose.”

  “How can you help us, Byron?”

  “You are planning to vanquish the spirit of the Lady of the Lake from Logres, are you not?” asked Byron, still in absolute darkness.

  “Yes.”

  “And my sister is to wield the sword, Excalibur, to start the chain of events?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that is where my place will be,” said Byron. “I always knew you were special, Lady Natasha, but perchance I should have looked a little closer to home all this time.”

  I heard a sniff next to me and my heart melted.

  “Do not weep tears for me, sister,” said Byron.

  “I’m...not,” sobbed Guinevere.

  “You’ll protect Guinevere?” I asked.

  “I have Gorian magic still within my spirit. I will use all I have to guard both my sister and you, Lady Natasha.”

  Guinevere gave up all pretence of not caring and started howling. I could feel her bumping into me. She was groping in the dark.

  “You cannot touch me, sister. I am no longer corporeal,” said Byron.

  “I don’t want to touch you, you oaf,” replied Guinevere. “I am looking for the way out. I want to start this quest.”

  “Byron, can I talk to you alone?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  Then Guinevere screamed. “You said you were no longer corporeal and I couldn’t touch you. So stop pushing me.”

  “You cannot touch me, but I can certainly make contact with you, and with a behind the size of yours, it would be hard not to, dear sister. Now stop your squealing and do as Lady Natasha asks. She requires privacy. I am showing you the way out.”

  “You are not showing me the way out, you are pushing me...”

  But then Guinevere’s voice was immediately cut off. Not a whisper, not an echo. Nothing.

  “Where’s Guinevere?”

  “My dear sister is no doubt regaling tales of her bravery and daring to the knights outside. I long to see them, but alas, I do not have much strength left now, Lady Natasha. I am fading.”

  “Then I won’t keep you long, Byron. I want you to forget about protecting me. I need you to protect Guinevere. Concentrate everything you have on keeping Nimue away from her.”

  “And what of you?”

  “Just promise me you’ll do everything you can to protect Guinevere. Too many people have died for me. I can’t bear the thought of losing her. Please, Byron.”

  “I give you my word, Lady Natasha, but I fear these will now be the final words I ever share with you.”

  The darkness was starting to hurt my head. I was straining my eyes, trying to see the slightest hint of light, but there
was nothing. Just a cool crisp chill on my skin.

  “Byron, when you died...”

  “You want to know of Morgana’s role in my death, do you not? She certainly hastened the end, but my demise was inevitable. I had made peace with that. Morgana is not herself. She is torn between her memories of the past and her wishes for the future. She is in separate worlds and she is scared.”

  “You don’t expect me to feel sorry for her?”

  “No, but I wish for you to not be so hard on your brother. I have seen his heart and it is pure. He is in love, and with that comes all the pain that fools endure.”

  “With a psycho.”

  “You have suffered greatly at her hands, Lady Natasha, but not every soul is black or white.”

  “No, hers is blue.”

  “You will never see eye to eye with Morgana. So just heed my words, Lady Natasha. Do not judge your brother by his weaknesses. He was a great king of old, and he has returned renewed. Make certain that when he leaves this world with his lover and child, the last words he hears from your mouth are not of anger or spite. Final words should always be filled with love. My sister will certainly hear mine when the time comes, even if she is as troublesome as the plague in summer.”

  I felt hands on my back. Byron was pushing me away.

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  “You will all see my spirit one last time before the end, Lady Natasha, and I will do as you request. But now it is time for my last words to you.”

  I could see a faint silvery glow in the darkness. It was shaped like a small child, but there were no discernible features.

  “Do not be afraid of failure, for you will only regret that which you did not try.”

  “I won’t ever forget you, Byron.”

  “And above all else, Lady Natasha, be dramatic.”

  I fell through the doorway into the dirt. The knights and Guinevere surged towards me like a human wave. Tristram and David stumbled over one another. Gareth and Gawain were distracted by their horses, which reared as they were released from Byron’s spell.

  Bedivere staggered towards me. His face was pale and sweaty.

  “I’m okay,” I called, spitting out the mouthful of terracotta dirt that I had managed to inhale.

  “Lady Guinevere said it was Byron,” said Lucan. “What did he want? Why is his spirit haunting us?”

  “Byron is here to help us,” I replied. Bedivere was already at my side, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I should tell him just how much I loved him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on tip-toes to kiss him hard.

  “I love you so much,” I said. “Never, ever forget.”

  Bedivere’s cold lips parted. I spread my fingers and brushed them through his long hair. He smelt of grass, but tasted of aniseed.

  “Do they wish to be alone once more?” asked an Irish voice.

  It was Bedivere who broke away.

  “Tell me that was not a goodbye,” he whispered.

  “Never,” I replied.

  Taliesin chose to ride double-bank behind Tristram. The knight was one of the better riders, and the physician was hopeful that he would get to our destination quicker, and therefore, by default, off the horse quicker. Guinevere now had her mare back because Bedivere was riding with me once more.

  In just a couple of hours our game of musical horses would be over, and then the real battle would begin.

  We followed the trail of pale grey smoke left by the Ddraig, which had vanished behind some white cliffs. It had not reappeared. The sound of galloping hooves thundering across the ground made communication almost impossible. No one was slowing down.

  “They will have set up camp not far from where we tarried last winter,” shouted Tristram, pointing to his right.

  “Then this is where my noble brother and I will leave you,” cried Gareth. “We will alert the king and rejoin you at the vine crossing.”

  Gawain said nothing, but he clenched his fist and punched his chest before raising it in a salute. Gareth looked directly at Bedivere and me, made two thumps to his heart, and nodded.

  Bedivere made the strangest noise, like a strangled gasp.

  “My sword hand - I cannot reciprocate, Natasha.”

  “Then I will do it for the two of us,” I said, and I took my left hand off the reins and gestured twice back to Gareth.

  He turned his horse and raced to catch his brother. Their glossy brown horses were soon specks in the distance.

  Two specks that were quickly joined by a third. Sir Agravaine, tall and leggy on a black horse with blinkers, galloped to join them.

  I had known from the moment we had left Camelot that he had been following us. His was the second ghostly shadow behind Byron’s. I knew he would follow. I had known from the moment I had said no to him.

  Because I would have done exactly the same.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Separate Ways

  Ten had become eight.

  “I can hear the falls,” said Guinevere. She dropped the reins and jumped down. Guinevere stroked the long nose of her horse as she looked skywards. “Long have I wanted to gaze upon their magnificence.”

  “Have you not seen them before?” I asked. “But you and Byron lived not far from here.”

  “The Falls of Merlin are sacred, Lady Natasha,” said Taliesin. “Only those afforded a seat at the Round Table may gaze upon them.”

  “But you can’t miss them,” I replied. “There’s got to be at least twenty waterfalls here.”

  “This land is governed by the deepest magic,” said Bedivere, stroking my hair. I felt a slight tug and realised he was absentmindedly winding the ends around his fingers. “Taliesin can gaze upon these cliffs and the outer waterfalls, but he is not permitted to go further.”

  My stomach dropped. “You mean you can’t come with us? But what if we need you? What if Bedivere needs you?”

  “If I had known of your quest before we left Camelot, then I would have advised you of this, Lady Natasha,” replied Taliesin. He didn’t sound smug, although I deserved it.

  “But when I was captured by Mordred and the Gorians, two of them saw the falls, and Byron did as well, and they weren’t knights.”

  “They had magic in their blood,” replied Taliesin. “Those who worship the flame are protected by their own brand of dark art. As a physician, I may work wonders with herbs to achieve balance within the humours of the body, but I am no magician and no sorcerer’s apprentice.”

  This was a disaster. We hadn’t been at the falls more than two minutes and already things were starting to go wrong. There was no way I could risk taking Bedivere if Taliesin couldn’t come as well. He was recovering quicker than anyone had dared hoped, but I had still seen the stain of blood on his bandages by the Pool of Sidus.

  And then it got worse.

  “You are all forgetting,” said Bedivere quietly. “I am no longer a Knight of the Round Table. I can go no further, either.”

  Tristram and Lucan cried out. Talan stood frozen with his eyes and mouth wide open in horror, while David stabbed his sword into the earth with such force it stayed upright, long after he had thrown his hands up into the air in anguish.

  I just wanted the ground to open up and the devil to claim me. What had I done? I should have done more research. I had allowed my hatred of Slurpy and Nimue, and my anger at Gwenddydd, to cloud everything. My arrogance had outweighed Arthur’s cautiousness, and I had placed the person I loved more than anything in danger.

  “Sir Bedivere, you must ride on to the court,” ordered Guinevere. “We cannot leave you and Taliesin here unprotected.”

  “My place is here,” replied Bedivere. “I will hold the cliff face for as long as I have strength.”

  “Hold the cliff face? Against what?” asked David.

  But I had already seen them. A long thick black line in the distance. Straining my ears, I heard a low grunting sound in the air.

  Saxons.

  Guinevere sc
reamed. The knights started arming themselves. Even Taliesin was reaching for a quiver of arrows.

  “Go, now,” urged Bedivere, pulling his hand away from my hair and reaching for his sword.

  “But you can’t fight them alone. It’s suicide. Get on a horse now and ride to Arthur.”

  “My place is to protect you, and if I can give you more time to reach the inner falls, then it will be worth it.”

  Digging my heels into the earth, I grabbed his shirt and started to drag him towards the horses. I wasn’t going to let him do this. It was insane. He and Taliesin would be murdered.

  “I am begging you, Bedivere,” I cried, as tears of pure terror and shame streamed down my face, “please get away. Take Taliesin and get out of here.”

  “I have never run away in my life, my Natasha,” said Bedivere forcibly. “I will not start today.”

  “BUT THEY WILL KILL YOU,” I screamed. I started pummelling his chest with my fists. Why couldn’t he see that running away wasn’t cowardly?

  “Sir Talan, can you find the vine bridge?” asked Lucan.

  “I can take the Lady Knights of the Round Table to it,” replied the Irishman in a faltering voice.

  “Then lead them,” said Lucan. “For I will stay with my brother. We will give you and the king as much time as we can, dear sister. The travelling court of Camelot is not far, and they will have women and children with them for the festivities. Sir Bedivere is right. We must be the first line of defence for all.”

  “Then I will stay as well,” added Tristram.

  “And I,” said David.

  “NO, NO, NO,” I screamed. The low grunting was becoming louder. “No one is staying.”

  “You said you loved me, Natasha,” said Bedivere urgently. He wrapped his right arm around my shoulders. The hilt of his sword pressed painfully into my upper arm, but I didn’t care. I never wanted him to let me go.