by Donna Hosie
“I’ve seen the Heart of the Falls before,” said Slurpy, running her fingers over the stone. “I know what to do. It’s all here in my head – and I hate it. I hate him, and I really hate her.”
“Whom is she talking of?” whispered Guinevere.
“I think she’s talking about Merlin and Nimue,” I replied, “but stay close to me. We need to run as fast as we can once this starts.”
One by one, the three of us stepped through the cliff entrance.
I gasped, although I was the only one who did. We were standing in a cavernous dome, made completely out of shimmering, pale blue ice. It was cold enough to make my breath steam, but my skin remained warm – too warm. I could already feel the rough tightness around my body as my wet clothes started to dry.
In the dead centre of the cavern was a raised circular ice dais, and on this, was a transparent sculpture of a woman. She was thin, with long hair that floated around her shoulders and arms. The face was oval shaped, and the mouth was open, like it was singing.
“It has ceased shaking,” said Guinevere. Her voice magnified in an echo around the ice cavern. “I think it is melting.”
“It isn’t melting,” I replied. “It’s crying.”
A thin trail of clear watery crystals was cascading down the sculpture’s cheeks.
“Who is it?” asked Guinevere.
“It’s Merlin’s sister,” replied Slurpy. “The Heart of the Falls – it’s his sister.”
Primal wailing, even worse than when Slurpy gave birth, ricocheted through the cave. Ice stalactites came crashing down around us, as the entire cliff seemed to rock. It lasted no more than a few seconds.
“How did you know that?” I asked warily.
“My head hurts,” said Slurpy, ignoring my question. She had both of her hands on either side of her face; her nails were digging into her pale skin. “I don’t want this anymore.”
“Does the sorcerer know this is here?” asked Guinevere, stepping towards the dais and the sculpture.
There was another primal cry and this time the ice figure shook. I suddenly realised that it wasn’t singing, the open mouth was screaming.
Gwenddydd?
But the voice in my head stayed silent.
“How did you know this was Merlin’s sister?” I asked Slurpy again.
“Because I was the one who put her here. Just coming back to this place. I remember it all now.”
Slurpy lowered herself onto her knees and started moving her hands in circular motions on the ice. I could hear her muttering in a low voice. Dark swirling patterns were appearing on her skin. She was going to use magic. Guinevere and I had been led straight into a trap.
“Get out of here now, Guinevere,” I cried. “Climb back up the rope and tell Arthur to take Mila and run.”
“I’m not leaving you, Lady Natasha. We have a quest to complete, and I will not rest until we have done so. I know what I must do. The sword Excalibur sings to me.”
Then Guinevere charged at the ice sculpture. Slurpy made no attempt to stop her. The point of Excalibur plunged deep into the chest of the woman. Into the heart of Gwenddydd.
“Freak, you need to put your hands on it,” yelled Slurpy. The soft Welsh voice was gone.
A hole had appeared in the mouth of the ice sculpture. It was ringed with blue fire. Gwenddydd was melting. Guinevere still had her hands on Excalibur, and Slurpy was still on her knees, muttering and drawing images in the ice with her fingers. My instincts were telling me to do the exact opposite of what Slurpy had told me, but I couldn’t - wouldn’t - leave Guinevere. I ran forward and covered the sculptures hands with my own.
When I am gone, the sword Excalibur must be plunged into the dais, Natasha. Merlin and the Lady of the Lake will both appear. The three of you will have but a short time in which to escape.
The sculpture was burning my hands. The pain was agonizing. My body was screaming to let go, but I was stuck fast. I could feel the skin on the palms of my hands starting to blister. The mouth of the ice sculpture was widening. The face imploded first, falling in on itself like a collapsing soufflé. Guinevere screamed as an ice stalactite, at least two metres long, crashed down next to her as the cavern shook.
What will happen to you, Gwenddydd?
My soul and body will be as one to move into the next realm. Morgana recreated me after I was burnt at the stake. Not a full body, but more than ash. She was not my ally, never a friend, but she helped me because of her hatred of the Lady of the Lake. This is why she has been able to see me within you. By releasing me, she will hope to release herself.
“Don’t move your hands, freak,” screamed Slurpy, “and don’t pull that sword out, other freak, until I say so.”
The ice sculpture’s shoulders went next, quickly followed by a buckling of the legs. It collapsed down, drenching us in ice-cold water. Slurpy was now bellowing the same three words over and over again in an unnaturally deep voice.
“Existum proculus unusatis, existum proculus unusatis, existum proculus unusatis...”
“What is Lady Samantha doing?” cried Guinevere. She leant against me as the sword moved lower and lower in the melting chest of the sculpture. The hands were now the only discernible part of Gwenddydd left. I was stuck fast to them. I wanted to pull away; the pain was stabbing at every part of me.
Be as one, be as one, be as one...
Excalibur flew out of Guinevere’s hands and span in the air as the two of us collapsed onto the dais. Nothing was left of the ice sculpture. Gwenddydd was gone.
“Get the sword,” I screamed, pushing Guinevere off my legs. “We have to finish this.”
Slurpy groaned and collapsed face down onto the ice. The swirls on her hands were bleeding and blistering with angry red welts. I rolled her over onto her back. Her long black hair was still dry, but as I pushed it away from her face, I realised her white eyes weren’t changing back.
“She’s not breathing.”
Then a pale blue wall of ice exploded, burying Guinevere. I covered Slurpy’s face with my body and felt the rain of ice shards falling like hailstones around us.
“You foolish child,” cried Nimue. “Did you not listen to me in the forest? Did you believe you could turn my own weapon against me? Did your arrogance lead you to think you could keep me away from Arthur?”
I didn’t dare look up. The cavern was still raining shards of ice. There was another explosion, quickly followed by another. The ice-cold ground we were lying across was shaking.
“Guinevere...Guinevere.”
Nothing but the echo of my own voice called back.
“Arthur is mine,” screamed Nimue. Her voice was getting closer.
Then I felt Slurpy stir underneath me. I moved my body just a fraction to give her space to breathe.
“You get to the other freak,” whispered Slurpy. “This one’s mine.”
But as I was about to move, I felt the rush of something blazing hot streak over my head.
“Go back to the water, Lady of the Lake,” boomed an older voice, and the deep sounds of bells started to ring inside the cavern.
I finally looked up. Standing on the lip of a jutting ice rock was Merlin. He was dressed in crimson red robes, and his long grey hair was flying in a vortex of wind that wound up and around his body in amber swirls. His staff was pointing across the cavern and it wasn’t just glowing, it was actually on fire. It was aimed directly at Nimue, who had both of her hands outstretched with balls of pale blue flame in each.
“We have to get Guinevere,” I said to Slurpy.
“The sword. You must take the sword and plunge it into the dais. Only then can I be freed.”
Gwenddydd was no longer my inner voice. She was in the cavern. We all heard her. A floating spirit. Nimue cried out a cold, bitter laugh, and lobbed one of the balls of blue flame towards the pile of ice that had trapped Guinevere and Excalibur, but Merlin deflected it with a wave of his staff. It connected with the entrance to the cave, and another showe
r of ice exploded with a deafening crack.
And that was the moment I knew. The moment I remembered one moment of crazy from a catalogue of visions.
I had witnessed this scene before. And it was the reason this place didn’t exist in the 21st century.
Because we weren’t going to destroy the Heart of the Falls – we were going to destroy the falls themselves.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Worlds Collapse
The bells and wind chimes were fighting for dominance once again, but it was unlike any sound I had ever heard. It was like a group of kindergarten kids had been let loose in a music room, and were bashing the max out of every metal instrument they could lay their hands on. It was bedlam in my head. There was no point in attempting to speak, as Merlin and Nimue continued to fire blue and red flames at each other. Thin lights, like laser beams, criss-crossed the cavern, bouncing off the pale blue ice, which was starting to disintegrate into rushing waterfalls within the cave.
We were going to be buried alive, or drowned, if we stayed.
I had to get Guinevere and Slurpy out, but one was buried under ice, and the other was now arching her head back and rolling her eyes.
Then I saw a pulsing light in the middle of the ice that had buried Guinevere. A silver point appeared in the icy rubble. It grew longer and longer until the vertical blade of Excalibur was free. A pale hand was clutching it.
Dodging the flames that were firing through the cave, and with my head ringing with the deafening noise, I crawled across the ground towards Guinevere. Behind me, I could hear the freaky deep voice of Slurpy Morgana now crying out some spell. I tensed up, waiting for something painful to hit me.
Nothing did.
“BYRON, HELP ME,’ I screamed, as Guinevere’s arm and shoulder broke free of the icy tomb. His ghost had said he would protect us, so where was he? My skin was blistered from holding the sculpture’s hands, but with adrenaline dulling the pain, I started digging through the shards of ice.
Grabbing a handful of Guinevere’s long blonde hair, I pulled her out. Her lips were purple, and tiny snowflakes had lodged in her eyebrows and lashes. She looked like an ice princess, but her eyes were open and she was taking in deep gasping breaths of air.
Words were booming out from Merlin in a deep baritone voice, but they were in one continuous stream, and he wasn’t pausing for breath. His feet didn’t move, but his arms were flailing as his staff fired streaks of red flame at Nimue. There was a dangerous snarl on his face. This was more than righting a wrong. This was revenge.
Nimue was moving about like a ballet dancer. Her hands and legs made graceful swirls as she dodged the red flame and fired back her own blue weapons. And unlike Merlin, she was silent. The wind chimes singing throughout the disintegrating cave was her voice, her song.
As I dragged Guinevere to her feet, I realised that Slurpy was climbing up the ice cave towards Nimue. She had created steps which looked like powder-blue clouds.
“The dais - we have to stab the dais with Excalibur,” I said.
Guinevere nodded. Thin streaks of watery blood were starting to run down her face. She had a long jagged cut above her right eyebrow. I pulled out Angharad and spread myself wide to cover Guinevere as we splashed back to the dais. The melting ice water was now up to our knees. All, but the final step, of the dais was covered.
Then Nimue cried out and shot a blast of blue flame at Slurpy; the Lady of the Lake had only just realised she was there. My brother’s girlfriend had reached the ledge without being seen. But I didn’t have time to watch their fight, as my hands were groping in the freezing water - the dais had been completely submerged by the water now flooding the cave. All I could see were black shadows, long and thin like eels, swimming in the water.
“Get onto the dais,” I yelled, and without waiting for an answer, I pushed Guinevere up and out of the water. I had seen those shapes before. They had taken Patrick. I wouldn’t let them take her.
Guinevere dragged herself to her feet, raised the sword high above her head, and plunged Excalibur through the water and into the dais.
The ice cave, Merlin, Nimue, Guinevere and Slurpy disappeared. Hundreds of images flashed through my head: a little boy running through a field; a heavy-set man with black hair leaning in for a kiss; an old man, with a crooked walking stick, crying...
On and on went the images that I instinctively knew were not mine: a dark square room with straw on the floor; men in red cloaks with cloudy opaque eyes; then Arthur mouthing the words guilty as charged...
These were Gwenddydd’s memories.
Thank you, Natasha. With my heart and soul, I thank you.
“GET US OUT OF HERE,” I screamed above the noise.
Listen to me carefully. I will linger for just a moment longer, but the dwarf will lead you to safety at the end. Morgana knows the spell to encase the spirit of Nimue. It is the same spell that the Lady of the Lake used to entrap my brother. She is performing it now. Morgana must take the spirit of Nimue back to your future land, because the Lady of the Lake must be separated from those in Logres who worship with blue flame. She must not endure in Logres, even in spirit form.
But I didn’t care about any of that anymore, because Guinevere and I were treading water in a cave that was now bleeding torrents of icy cold water. All that mattered was getting out of the cave, and somehow, back to the golden rope, before we were flushed out down a drop that would definitely kill us all.
“Hold my hand, Guinevere. We have to stay together.”
“What of Lady Samantha?” shouted Guinevere, as the current started to drag us closer to the cave entrance. Her lips were turning blue.
Nimue was on her knees. Slurpy was standing over her, and her eyes were white. Merlin had encased Nimue in a cage made of fire. She looked like a phoenix, but as the water buffeted me against the rock, I realised the edges of Nimue’s dress were becoming blurred. She was dissolving into a thin blue plume of wispy smoke, which was curving through the bars of the cage towards Slurpy and the huge ring on her finger.
A waterspout started to form where the dais had been submerged. I could feel the pressure sucking at my clothes, as the direction of the current pulling me and Guinevere suddenly changed.
Do not fight it, whispered Gwenddydd. It will take you and Lady Guinevere to safety.
But what about Slurpy? I couldn’t just leave her in here. What was left of Nimue was contorting into sharp-angled shadows. I could vaguely make out the outline of her hands holding onto the bars of fire. Then Merlin slammed his staff into the ground, and the whole cave started to shake violently, as the spirit of Nimue vanished into the ring on Slurpy’s hand.
Slurpy’s upper body lurched forward and she grabbed her stomach. Her eyes regained colour. She looked down and saw me and Guinevere fighting against the waterspout with desperate front crawls. Both swords had been lost.
Slurpy jumped into the water. I grabbed her hand, just as we flew into the outer wall of the waterspout.
Farewell, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table.
I never heard Gwenddydd as my inner voice again.
The three of us landed in a bent mass, like a six-legged spider. Two gleaming silver swords fell from the sky and clattered to the ground, just inches from Tristram and Talan’s feet.
Guinevere kicked me in the back in her attempt to get up. Then she puked up green water and fell back down again. I tried to stand and fell over as well. Slurpy didn’t even bother getting up. She just rolled onto her stomach and called out for Arthur and Mila.
Why was the earth still moving? And why was Tristram here? Did that mean Bedivere and the others had made it as well?
“What’s happening to the falls? Oh my father – what have we done?”
It was the tone of Guinevere’s voice that scared me the most. We had been through a lot in the short time we had known each other, but never had I heard her voice shake with fear. Guinevere wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone.
Arthu
r was swearing his head off. He grabbed me, dragged me back across the shaking ground to Slurpy, and wrapped his spare arm around her. She and I bumped heads in the collision.
“What happened down there? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, we’ve gotta get out of here.”
Arthur’s voice was as terrified as Guinevere’s. And she was still puking her guts up.
“Sire, the vine bridge,” called Talan. Gawain was nowhere to be seen, and the Irish knight was now holding Mila.
“Tristram, where’s Bedivere?” I cried.
“I came in search of you all once we realised the falls were dying,” said Tristram, panting; his blonde curls were stuck to his face, which was puce in colour.
“What do you mean, the falls are...”
And then I saw what was happening to the Falls of Merlin. One by one, the waterfalls were collapsing in an avalanche of rock and water. Where before at least twenty falls – some tall and thin, some wide and short – had cascaded down through rainbows, now the landscape below us was crumbling into a mass of cloud and bubbling spray.
And like a row of falling dominoes, the tsunami of destruction was getting closer and closer to the cliff top we were on.
“Where’s Bedivere?” I screamed. “If people are down there, then they’re going to die. We have to get everyone away.”
“We have to get away, Titch,” shouted Arthur. He had me in one arm and his girlfriend in the other. “Tristram, get Gwen. Talan, give me my daughter.”
But I couldn’t move my legs as I watched another waterfall disintegrate before my eyes. White rock crumbled like chalk, and huge trees with exposed roots toppled into the frothing grey water. Even the rainbows were getting swallowed, as the entire earth around us continued to die.
“Titch, now, for Christ’s sake, move your ass,” yelled Arthur. “We have to get to the vine bridge. We have to get to the tunnel before the whole thing collapses.”
Talan had already made it to the violently-swaying tall trees as the ground continued to shake. Arthur and Mila were close behind. My brother had his little girl clutched tightly to his chest. Tristram was trying to drag Guinevere, but she was struggling against him.
