by Donna Hosie
“My aunt,” I answer, and the scowl that crosses Melehan’s face cannot be camouflaged in the dark.
“You don’t like her aunt, do you?” says Rustin slowly. “I saw the way you looked at her, and that knight called Sir Gareth.”
“My quarrel with Sir Gareth and Lady Natasha is not your concern,” replies Melehan.
“It is my concern,” I reply. “She’s my aunt, and family is everything.”
“If family is everything then you will understand, Lady Mila,” says Melehan. “For Sir Gareth and Lady Natasha were responsible for my father’s death, sixteen winters past.”
“What? How?” I gasp. “It must have been an accident.”
“A sword plunged into a man’s chest, a knight’s chest, is no accident,” says Melehan quietly. “Nor is the despoiling of his body for the crows to feast upon.”
He turns and starts to walk away from the castle. I swap looks with Rustin. If ever we’re going to admit this is a mistake, now is the time.
“Mordred was a bad guy,” whispers Rustin, leaning in to me. “If they killed him, then they must have had good reason.”
“I know.”
But the thought that my aunt willingly had something to do with the death of someone else is hard to bear. Auntie Titch is resourceful and smart; she isn’t a murderer.
Who do I trust? I would be safe in the castle, protected by guards. I could sit back and wait for other people to find the cure for Lilly’s curse. No one would think any worse of me.
But…
A big fat but is knocking on the inside of my skull. It’s demanding to know what I’m waiting for. My father and aunt have been preparing me for this. Well, maybe not this exactly, but they certainly seem to have had some kind of foresight that one day I would come back here.
Back here to the place I was born.
“They’re here,” says Melehan suddenly.
Gliding out of the trees, like silent spectres, are black-cloaked figures. They move so gracefully and so silently, it’s as if they’re floating about the ground. I count nine, in a V-shape, with a lone figure at the front point of the shape.
Rustin instinctively puts himself in front of me; I jostle him out of the way. Chivalry is big here I know, but hey, I’m the one who can do magic, and already I can feel the pressure on the back of my neck and head. It wants me to tip my head back. Strange words whisper in my head. I want to fight it, but at the same time, I don’t. I’m inquisitive. I want to know what will happen if I just succumb to it.
I’m also starting to suss out what the trigger is. I first saw purple sparks when I rode into Camelot. I was being chased by guards. Then I got scared in the corridor and shot purple flame out of my hands to light the torches.
Being scared is the trigger. It’s a defensive mechanism. Learning to be brave is probably the key to controlling it.
“We have waited for your return, Lady Mila,” says the figure at the point of the cloaked figures. The voice is female, but old. Really old.
“Melehan says you can help save my sister,” I say calmly, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, just like Rustin prompted.
“We can,” replies the old woman. I can’t see her face or any part of her body. A hood hides her features and the cloak falls as far as the ground.
“Will you?” says Rustin. “Because if you won’t, then we’re going straight back the way we came.”
Two cadaverous old hands, with fingers so bony they are skeletal, inch out of the cloak. The old woman pulls back her hood and reveals her face. She’s completely bald, with a head shaped like an egg. Blue veins criss-cross her scalp which shines in the silvery moonlight.
“We will give Lady Mila what she wants, if she gives us what we want,” says the old woman cryptically.
“And what do you want?” I ask.
The old woman cackles and I can see the white foaming drool pooling in the corner of her mouth.
“We want the artisan.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hide Us
“I’ve heard that word before,” says Rustin. “But I can’t remember where. What’s an artisan?”
“No idea,” I reply.
I look to Melehan but his face is impassive, a blank page.
“Tell us what it is and we’ll tell you whether you can have it,” says Rustin.
The old woman starts to speak, but her words are immediately drowned out by a crescendo of bells now ringing from the castle. It’s not like the warning of before. These bells are just being rung in a frenzy. It’s panic.
“The artisan for your sister,” says the old woman again. There’s more urgency in her voice now.
“We can’t give you something we don’t have,” I cry. “Melehan, you said you would help us.”
“And I will, Lady Mila,” he replies.
The bells are getting louder. Auntie Titch must have alerted my father. This isn’t what I wanted. I thought she would be able to persuade him that I was doing the right thing. I go over the message I sent to her in my head.
Dear Auntie Titch – please don’t freak out, but Rustin and I have left the castle. We’ve found people who can help us heal Lilly. You have to keep my father calm. You understand what’s happening to me, I know you do. That thing that happened to my mother, the reason people are so scared of her, it’s happening to me. It’s the reason the ring cursed Lilly. It’s my fault. I have to make this right, so please trust me – love Mila x
Ps- please make sure my dad doesn’t send dragons out. I need Rustin conscious!
Humour doesn’t come naturally to me, but I had to show Auntie Titch that I wasn’t scared. I need her to believe, because then my father might believe it too.
And then I might believe it, because the truth is, this terrifies me.
I know Auntie Titch will understand my cryptic sentence that what happened to my mother is now happening to me. I just hope it doesn’t turn her against me in the way it clearly turned her against my mother.
“Your want, Lady Mila,” demands the old woman, and just the tone of her voice is enough to persuade me that this will be the last time she offers. “I will teach you how to control the flame, how to master the flame. We will accompany you to the Vale of Avalon where the Ring of Morgana now dwells in the water of the enchanted lake. You alone have the gift to restore your kin, but we alone can show you how. Without us, you are dangerous, and with us, you are dangerous. The risk is ours. Your want, Lady Mila?”
The cloaked figures are starting to move away. A deep hum is coming from all of those still hiding their faces. I’m glad they are. If they’re as hideous as the old woman standing before me, I don’t want to see them.
“You can have the artisan, whatever it is,” says Rustin loudly. “Just don’t leave.”
“Rustin,” I cry, but he pulls me back, away from the disappearing figures that are gliding into the trees.
“Think about it, Mila,” he whispers. “What’s the only thing that matters right now?”
I don’t have to think about it. “Lilly,” I reply immediately.
“Exactly. If they teach you how to use this power thing you’ve got going on, just imagine what you can do with it. Get Lilly well first, and then deal with everything else later. Your dad will probably be so happy to see your sister well again, he’ll offer them gold and jewels and whatever else is the real currency here. They might not even want this artisan thing when they’re dripping in diamonds.”
I’m running out of time. Six of the Gorians have already disappeared from view. The bells from the castle are now ringing out with such ferocity I can feel the earth vibrating beneath my feet. The old woman’s bald head is bulging with thick blue veins. I can see the blood pulsing through them.
“Alright,” I cry. “Just help us. My sister is dying in there.”
“Put these on,” instructs Melehan, handing Rustin and I cloaks. The old woman has already turned around and is following the others into the trees.
&nb
sp; “I’ve already got one,” replies Rustin.
“These are Gorian cloaks,” says Melehan patiently. “You will need them. Please, trust me.”
Rustin and I quickly fasten the long black cloaks around our shoulders. There are two clasps, and they seem to be magnetic because they snap shut without any pressure.
“We are so dead, Mila,” says Rustin quietly, as we follow the Gorians and Melehan into the trees.
“Better us than Lilly.”
Silvery light from the moon guides us away from the castle as we wind through the trees. The further into the woods we go, the boggier the ground becomes. It isn’t long before Rustin and I are struggling to put one foot in front of the other.
“How are they doing it?” shouts Rustin. “They aren’t knee deep in crap. They’re all floating above the ground.”
He’s right. The V-shape of Gorians is gliding along the forest floor.
Like ghosts.
“It was you,” I cry. “You were in the woods outside my house the day this all started. That’s why my dad freaked out. You were the ghosts.”
“You could hear us that day, child, because your time was near,” says the old woman. “The Gorians do not need to travel through time to see through time.”
“Why me?” I call. “My mother is the one in the book.”
“Your mother did not complete her transition,” replies the old woman. “It started to consume her. She used what was left of her powers to bring down the link that Merlin created between this time and yours. You, Lady Mila, absorbed the purity of her power when you were in the womb. You are not tainted or corrupted, and you are the result of a union between royalty and mystical power passed down from father to son, mother to daughter through the ages. Now stop fighting who you are. Think. Control. Believe.”
I’m now up to my knees in the marshland. The Gorians have led Rustin and I into this deliberately. It’s a test.
“Rustin, do you trust me?” I call out.
“Yes.”
“Then stop struggling and stand still.”
We both stop moving, and immediately start to sink.
I can do this, I think to myself. I can do this.
But I can’t. I keep waiting for a surge of electricity to activate the magic in my hands. But there’s nothing. Rustin and I are now up to our asses in cold, squelching mud.
“Mila, now would be good,” he calls, and I can hear the rising panic in his voice.
“Exsiston oriorman,” cries the woman, and a quick flash of blue, like lightening, illuminates the area of marshland.
The sensation is strange. I am lifted out of the marsh and pushed forward by an invisible entity. I wobble, trying to find a hard surface for my feet, but there’s nothing. Yet when I move my legs to walk, I go forward. It’s like ice-skating.
“Do not be downcast, child,” calls the woman. “Next time I will meld with you. You will know what to do.”
Meld, mouths Rustin, wobbling next to me as we try to get the hang of gliding.
I shrug. I’ve placed myself in their hands. It doesn’t mean I trust them completely, but I’ve decided to trust that they’ll honour their word to help me cure Lilly.
“The Knights of the Round Table will be upon us soon, Freya,” calls Melehan. “We must conceal ourselves within.”
As if communicating by telepathy, the Gorians start to spread out, going from a V-shape to a straight line. My first thought is we’re going to climb trees. Judging by his smile and the fact that he’s looking skyward, Rustin thinks the same. He’ll be happy in the trees.
“Lady Mila, you and your companion must stand by my side,” instructs the old woman. She pulls down her hood, and this time, all eight of the Gorians and Melehan do the same. I can only see a few on either side, but they’re not bald like Freya. Some are male, some are female. The one standing to the left of Rustin looks the same age as me. She has short red hair and a long scar on her cheek.
Freya is standing between me and Rustin. She takes my left hand in a vice-like grip. Straight away I start to feel the now familiar tingle that means fire.
“You okay, Mila?” calls Rustin.
“Yeah,” I lie, trying to flex my fingers away from the painful hold of Freya. “You?”
But Rustin doesn’t reply. I arch my neck back, trying to catch sight of him, but Freya is blocking my view. I don’t like being this close to her, and the smell rising up from her cloak makes me gag. It’s a burnt, sweet-smelling stench.
Then I see what’s happening to our two hands and I scream. Our fingers have moulded with each other’s and have become one lump of skin, bone and tissue. That’s the smell. We’ve melted into one another.
“Think. Control. Believe,” says Freya.
But I can’t think and I certainly can’t believe. My gag reflex is working overtime as I try to block out the smell, but even when I close my eyes, I can still see the grotesque joining of our hands. It’s imprinted on my retinas.
“RUSTIN,” I scream. “Let go. You have to let go.”
But Rustin can’t hear me. He’s in some kind of trance. His feet are firmly planted, but his entire body, from his knees up, is twisting and flailing like a tree caught in a strong wind. Then I see his face, his eyes. They are white.
My first reaction is primal. Panic. I want to scream. I want to let go and run back to the castle and my family.
“Think. Control. Believe, Lady Mila,” repeats Freya. “I believe in you.”
I can’t run. I can’t. Lilly. Think of Lilly. I start to breathe in through my nose, deep, satisfying inhalations.
“The Knights of the Round Table,” cries a voice, further down the line. “Freya, you must act now.”
“This must be Lady Mila’s first test,” calls Freya, and her voice is further away now, like an echo. “Think. Control. Believe.”
I start chanting the words to myself. Deep inhalations. I need to think. I have to control. I want to believe.
The electrical current is now surging up through my arm. I can feel it spreading out across my chest, down my legs. It fills my mouth and awakens my senses. My taste buds engorge, soaking in the bitter taste of adrenaline. I can see more than just the outlines of the trees around us, but I can make out the ridges and grooves in the bark. When I look down at the moulded mass of flesh that’s connecting me to Freya, I see purple fire, but not just a mass of flame, I see each twisting tendril and the different purple hue as the fire escapes me.
And I know what to do. I know what to say.
“Velierisum nosertal.”
Hide us.
The words come from me because I can feel the vibration of every vowel, every consonant, against my vocal cords. But the voice isn’t mine. It’s deeper. Sonorous. Not male. Not human.
We are hidden from the world. Men, horses, my father – nothing would be able to see us now. My mother could walk up to me and caress my face, and she would be touching air.
I am free from Freya. My hand, my fingers, are mine once more. The old woman is beaming, and although she’s still as wrinkled as a fruit stone, she also looks younger. There’s light in her eyes.
“You clever girl,” she whispers. She kisses my cheek and I gag again because I can feel the drool left on my skin.
The Gorians immediately break up into groups of three. In each group, two curl up into foetal positions on the ground, while the other sits up, watching the darkness for signs of life that can’t see us.
Rustin is lying on the ground. I go to him, so does Melehan.
“I would never have believed it possible, had I not witnessed with my own eyes,” says Melehan softly. “You truly are the salvation of us all, Lady Mila.”
I touch Rustin’s face and my nails scrape across his stubble. Then I move them up and run my fingers through his gelled hair.
“I did it,” I whisper.
“You’ll save Lilly,” he croaks. “I know you will.”
“You should both rest,” says Melehan. “I will take first
watch. We will be safe here.”
“Thanks,” groans Rustin.
But I’m too buzzed to sleep. I don’t understand how I knew, perhaps I absorbed it from Freya, but in that instant I knew the two words to say that would conceal us.
I can hide from anyone now. The thought of it makes me laugh. God, it feels good to laugh after the last few days...
Reality is a bitch, and so am I. As Rustin curls up and positions his head on my lap, I am brought back down to earth with a solid bump. This isn’t a game. My mother and father are probably going out of their minds with worry and I have deliberately hidden from them.
“You are troubled, Lady Mila?” asks Melehan. We’re sitting so close to one another our shoulders are touching.
“I’m just worried about my parents,” I reply. “They won’t understand.”
“You are fortunate to have so many who love you,” he says. “I have often wondered what it is like to have the love of a mother and the respect of a father.”
“I’m sorry, Melehan. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Do not wish your life away with regrets, m’lady. Look only unto the future and live in the now. Freya taught me that.”
“Are you close?”
“She is like a mother to me.”
Rustin’s hair is soft around the nape of his neck. My fingers gently move across his hairline. It’s like stroking a kitten.
“Melehan, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Did my aunt really have a part in the killing of your father?”
Melehan stiffens and I know it’s because he’s considering lying to me. It’s like a sixth sense. My nerve-endings are still tingly and perceptive, like I’m tuned into him. But only him. I can’t get any sense from Rustin, and not just because he’s sleeping like a baby. It’s because of the Gorian connection.
“You should rest, Lady Mila,” says Melehan. “We have a long day ahead of us.”
Melehan shifts, turning his back to me. In one of the other trios, I see a girl, the one with the scar, who was stood next to Rustin as I performed the hiding spell. She’s trying to disguise the fact that she’s looking at us, but her red hair is too short to act as a veil. I smile at her. She picks up a piece of wood and looks away. I’m a stranger here, and the more I take in those around me, the more unwelcome I feel in their midst.
