The Prison Of Ice & Shadows (Prophecies Of Fate Book 2)

by T J Mayhew

  “You!” Lancelot demanded, pure hatred filling his voice.

  Where, once, Morcant had stood was now a woman; she was slim with unnaturally pale skin, framed by hair as black as night. Slowly, she rose to her feet, her black robes falling about her. The knights stared in disbelief.

  The woman’s gaze quickly found Lancelot; she grinned wickedly. “As you see, Lancelot,” she confirmed before turning her attention to Cai who, instantly, felt unnerved by the intensity of her gaze. “And this…” she continued, “…must be the famous heir of King Arthur we’ve all heard so much about.” She bowed mockingly. “We meet again, Cai Pendragon.”

  Morgan le Fay… He’d recognise that voice anywhere…

  Taking a step towards him, she reached out but Kay and Logan stepped in front of him, preventing her from making contact.

  “You will not touch him, Morgan,” Kay declared vehemently.

  Morgan’s laugh echoed around the chamber as she turned away from Cai and the knights. Rounding on them once more, she announced, “What a brave King we have in our midst! Cai Pendragon: a coward.” Her cold gaze met Cai’s once more. “If your father could see you now; he’d be so proud!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  At the mention of his father, Cai’s temper flared; pushing past Kay and Logan, he pulled Excalibur free.

  Morgan’s eyes lit up hungrily at the sight of the weapon. “And you still have the sword, I see…”

  “Of course he has it; it was always destined to be his, not yours,” Lancelot growled.

  Slowly, Morgan tilted her head to one side. “We shall see about that,” she said determinedly.

  Tightening his grip on Excalibur, Cai demanded, “Morgan, if you want to fight me, then fight me.” He indicated the knights. “None of them will interfere: this is between you and me.”

  Morgan chuckled. “On the contrary, my dear boy; this isn’t between us, this is between you and my son, the rightful heir of Camelot.”

  “Then tell me where he is and I’ll go there,” Cai demanded. “I’ll meet him in battle and end this, once and for all!”

  Morgan smiled. “Very well…” She paused, taking her time, savouring the moment. “He is awaiting you, Cai; he’s awaiting all of you,” she added, slowly moving her gaze from one knight to the next.

  “Where?” Lancelot demanded, his voice hard and unyielding.

  Morgan held her hands out to her sides. “Where else… but the place this all started? Where else would be a fitting place for your defeat, but Camelot?” She returned her gaze to Cai. “But make haste; there’s no telling what damage we may do, if driven by boredom.”

  Instantly, black swirling smoke surrounded her feet, becoming denser as it rose higher, until it had engulfed her entire body. When the smoke had cleared, she was gone.

  A stunned silence filled the hall.

  “What the bloody hell just happened?” Logan demanded, his gaze darting around the room.

  Ignoring him, Cai turned to Lancelot, fear gripping him. “They’re at Camelot,” he declared. “My mother’s there… Merlin…” Aelwen… he added silently to himself.

  “I know, Cai,” Lancelot muttered.

  “We have to leave… We have to…” His mind was racing as everything that had happened began to sink in.

  “I know, Cai!” the knight snapped, his fear evident. Turning to Percival, he looked imploringly at his old friend. “Are you still willing to support us in this?”

  Percival nodded. “My forces are yours,” he confirmed as he crossed the room. “Come!” he called to his men. “We leave immediately.”

  Suddenly, the castle was alive with activity as every man made preparations to leave; orders were shouted as men collected their horses and weapons and provisions were gathered.

  Cai watched, helping out where he could but too many scenarios were flashing through his mind for him to think straight.

  “Hey, it’ll be OK,” Logan reassured him as they mounted their horses. “We’ll get back to Camelot and…” He frowned, reining in his horse as she paced impatiently beneath him. “Well, I’m not sure what we’ll do exactly, but we’ll definitely get rid of Mordred.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not doing a good job of convincing me,” he muttered.

  Logan glanced at him guiltily. “Sorry; I was just trying to be positive.”

  Despite himself, Cai was grateful for the effort but nothing Logan could say, or do, would make him feel better right now; his mother, Merlin, Aelwen… they were all at their mercy and there was no telling what they would do…

  They needed to get back to Camelot and they needed to get there, now.

  27

  Darkness enveloped him in its chilling shadows.

  Cai swallowed hard and peered around at the cold, barren landscape. He had no idea where he was, only that he was scared, scared beyond words; something was hiding out there and it was waiting for him.

  He didn’t know how he knew it, he just did.

  Moonlight broke through the clouds barely illuminating the trees that rose from the ground, skeletal hands seeking, grasping at freedom from their underground tombs. Fear rose in his chest; suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

  A scream of pure anguish from somewhere ahead of him spurred him into action. He raced across the bare landscape towards its source, oblivious to everything apart from the hollow beating of his heart and the harsh sound of his breathing. Just when he thought he couldn’t run any further, just when he felt his chest was about to burst, he skidded to a halt in front of a tree.

  Bound to the tree before him was Merlin, his head hung forward, his chin on his chest. Sweat ran down his face... at least Cai thought it was sweat. At the sound of his approach, Merlin looked up and Cai gasped in horror; it wasn’t sweat that ran down the older man’s face, it was blood.

  Merlin met Cai’s gaze. “Run,” he whispered urgently, struggling to keep his eyes open, his voice harsh and desperate.

  Cai stepped closer and grasped frantically at the rope, trying to locate the knot.

  Merlin shook his head heavily. “No, leave me, Cai,” he insisted. “Leave now; she is waiting for you. They are all waiting for you.” His eyes darted warily to and fro as if he was searching the shadows for something… or someone.

  “But...”

  Cai glanced around, reaching for Excalibur, as figures took shape in the darkness surrounding them. One moved ahead of the others, becoming clearer with each, advancing, step; the silhouette was tall and lean and, as it neared, Cai could make out a helmet hiding the figure’s face.

  “Go!” Merlin demanded, straining against the ropes binding him with what little strength remained.

  Finally, jolted into action, Cai jumped back, stumbling over his own feet. A scream from above drew his attention just as a black mass dropped from the sky, landing heavily on him, forcing the air from his lungs.

  Cai looked up at the shrouded, faceless figure. Shrill laughter echoed in his head; from the corner of his eye, he could see Merlin still struggling, in vain, against his bindings.

  The figure leaned over him, a woman, he was sure, her breath cold on his cheek. Raising her index finger to his temple, she tilted her head to one side, studying him closely as she slowly drew her fingernail down his cheek, until, finally, resting it on his chin.

  “Now you are mine...”

  Cai sat bolt upright, fighting against the, now familiar, terror in his chest. Moonlight illuminated the camp and he saw, with a rush of relief, that Logan and the other men were still sleeping. He glanced to his right where Kay sat at the edge of camp, his back against a tree; the older knight nodded towards him.

  Cai dropped his head into his hands and sighed, desperately trying to vanquish the memories of the dream; the same dream that had plagued him since they had left Percival’s castle several days ago: Merlin was always being held prisoner while people watched from the shadows and a woman, lying in wait for Cai, attacked him, as he tried to free his friend.

  Lifting
his head, his heart sank as he saw Kay making his way towards him. Dropping back to the ground, he closed his eyes.

  “Cai.”

  He feigned sleep, hoping Kay would return to his post.

  “I know you’re awake,” Kay murmured, dropping to one knee beside Cai’s bed.

  Reluctantly, Cai opened his eyes and sat up.

  “Another dream?”

  Cai stared up at him. “How did you…?”

  Kay gave him a pointed look. “Do not think me ignorant, Cai. Ever since we heard the news, your thoughts have been elsewhere.” Cai scoffed at these words and Kay smiled wryly at his understatement. “We all feel the same,” he revealed.

  Cai sighed with relief. “I just feel so…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Useless,” he confided, rubbing his forehead, trying to order his thoughts.

  Kay nodded. “We all do,” he agreed. “First and foremost, we are knights, the protectors of Camelot… But Bedivere and Gawain are there, as is Merlin…”

  Cai looked at him. “But that isn’t enough!” he insisted. “Merlin isn’t strong enough…”

  “Cai, stop,” Kay interrupted quickly. “I will not lie to you; they are in grave danger…”

  Cai glanced at him, frowning. “And, is that supposed to make me feel better?” he snapped.

  Kay smiled wryly and placed a hand on his shoulder, his gaze sympathetic. “Do not give way to these feelings, for they will take over; you need to be focused.” He gripped Cai’s shoulder encouragingly. “Keep in mind that we shall soon be at Camelot and we will end this.”

  Cai nodded, accepting, that right now, that was all they could do. Without another word, Kay stood and made his way back to his post. Cai watched him go, before rolling onto his back. Looking up at the stars, he prayed that all those who now found themselves at Mordred’s mercy had the strength to hold on.

  28

  As Camelot rose in the distance, Cai fought every instinct to forge ahead; this was his home, his family, his people and Mordred had no right to any of it.

  “We approach slowly; we do not wish to make Mordred, or any of his men, act in haste.” Lancelot’s earlier words kept him grounded: no matter how much he may want to, he knew that, to go rushing in, would only antagonise him, putting everyone at risk, and he couldn’t do that; he wouldn’t.

  But, now, as he watched the plumes of smokes rising from within Camelot’s walls and the silhouettes of Mordred’s men prowling the battlements, he sensed there was something not quite right; it was too quiet. He glanced around warily, that burning desire to fight, to do something, returning tenfold.

  Gritting his teeth, he gripped the reins in his left hand and slid his right hand down to Excalibur’s hilt; he felt instantly better just connecting with the weapon.

  Beside him, Lancelot frowned, reining in his horse. “Something’s amiss,” he murmured, his eyes scanning the landscape.

  There was a moment of silence before Kay’s voice rose. “There are no men.”

  “There are,” Logan retorted, indicating the men along the battlements.

  Kay glanced at him. “I meant there’s no men out here,” he clarified impatiently. “There’s no one defending…”

  “He’s inviting us to just walk in,” Lancelot interrupted. “As if…”

  “He’s waiting for us, just like Morgan said,” Cai finished, all the more vigilant. There was something wrong, something unsettling about all this; it showed Mordred had no fear of them, it showed he didn’t consider them a threat, that he thought himself untouchable.

  “Well, let’s not disappoint him then, eh?” Kay declared as he made to spur his horse on but Lancelot’s words stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “Do not provoke him unnecessarily, Kay,” he warned. Kay glared at him, as he steadied his horse, but said nothing. Lancelot was unrelenting. “I mean it, Kay; do not provoke him. A man without fear is a dangerous man indeed.”

  Kay took a moment before bowing his head in agreement.

  Satisfied, Lancelot nodded and nudged his horse slowly forward, following the path into Camelot.

  Just like he had on his first day, Cai looked up to see a nameless face disappear behind the walls and, as before, a shout went up to announce their arrival.

  But this time, Cai knew this wouldn’t be a joyous homecoming.

  Entering the Lower Courtyard behind Lancelot and Kay, Cai reached over and patted Rei’s neck, as much for himself, as for her. Now that they were finally here, he found himself faltering, all his bravado gone, instead replaced by his growing fear and apprehension.

  Rei snorted nervously as she tossed her head from side to side, clearly sensing something amiss.

  Cai wanted to reassure her but no words came; instead, he looked about, his eyes immediately finding the sentries posted on the battlements. They stood silently, hands on weapons, watching, as Cai and his men entered.

  Cai swallowed nervously and, following Lancelot and Kay’s lead, dismounted his horse, all the while, his eyes trained on the enemy, ever alert. Instinctively, his hand found Excalibur just as Lancelot caught his eye and cautiously shook his head.

  Cai paused, but, resolutely, held onto his sword.

  “What now?” Logan whispered looking at Lancelot expectantly.

  “Now we end this,” Lancelot announced quietly as he began to cross the courtyard. As he approached the stairs to the Upper Courtyard, he turned to Percival. “When I give the order...”

  Percival nodded curtly. “We will be there,” he assured him.

  Lancelot placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting Percival’s gaze. “Thank you, my friend,” he murmured. “It is good to have you back with us.” The two men shared a grim smile before Lancelot turned and began his climb with Kay at his side.

  Cai quickly fell into step behind the older knights, Galahad and Logan following closely. On reaching the top, Cai stood, frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene that greeted them.

  Smoke from several fires cloaked the courtyard, creeping ever closer to them, their graceful, billowing dance almost hypnotic in its movements; Cai blinked away tears, ignoring the burning in his eyes and throat, as he forced himself to look around. Peering through the smoke, he could make out piles of dead bodies, bodies of men and women who had given their lives for Camelot, for him…

  He stepped forward, reaching for Excalibur, but was stopped in his tracks as Lancelot barred his way. He glared furiously at the knight but paused as Lancelot nodded, his eyes indicating something over Cai’s shoulder. Turning around slowly, Cai was horrified by what confronted him.

  … A sea of faces stared back at him; men, women and children beaten and bloodied knelt on the ground, some huddled together, offering each other what little comfort they could. Guards stood over them, swords in hand, sneering down at them, clearly relishing their pain.

  Mother…

  His eyes immediately began scouring the crowd, searching for Guinevere…

  Relief flooded him as his eyes found Aelwen, kneeling beside Badden; despite their obvious injuries, father and daughter glared defiantly at their captors and Cai instinctively knew that, if the chance to fight came their way, they would be in the thick of it.

  Pulling his gaze away, he searched the faces of those captured; even from such a distance and through the smoke, he could see their hatred and fury and knew they, too, would all rise to battle, ready and willing to avenge their fallen friends and loved ones…

  But, try as he might, he still couldn’t find his mother…

  What’s happened to her?

  He fought every instinct telling him to run at these men, to find out what they had done with Guinevere, to know where they were keeping her, if she was even still alive…

  No… he told himself. Don’t even think it! She has to be here…

  Instead, he clenched his jaw and stood resolutely beside Lancelot, his eyes still scanning the crowd, stubbornly refusing to allow these men to see what he was feeling, to see wh
at they had done to him; he would never give them that satisfaction.

  His blood ran cold as he turned to Lancelot. “Where is she, Lancelot?” he demanded, unable to keep the desperation from his voice as his head was bombarded with terrifying possibilities.

  Before Lancelot could answer, Cai’s attention was drawn to the middle of the courtyard; he watched, sickened, as a guard step forward, hauling a body from the top of one of the piles and tossing it casually into the nearest fire as if it were no more than kindling. The flames immediately rose higher, engulfing it in their heat and Cai fought the urge to throw up as he watched it burn.

  Galahad reacted, reaching for his sword, but before he could intervene, a scream of rage rang through the courtyard as a prisoner leapt to his feet. As he charged towards the guard who had burned the body, another guard intervened, smacking him in the face with the hilt of his sword. The prisoner fell heavily to the ground, crying out in pain, clutching his face.

  Kay reacted immediately, just as the guard brought the hilt down towards its target for a second time; yanking the armoured man away from his victim, Kay pinned him roughly against the wall. The two men struggled for a moment but Kay quickly gained the upper hand, smashing his opponent’s fist against the wall, disarming him and kicking his sword away. Now, at Kay’s mercy, the man was forced to his knees.

  Reaching for his dagger, Kay held it firm against the man’s throat. “Move and I will kill you,” he promised. Glancing up at the man’s comrades, he called out, “And that goes for all of you: one move and he’s dead.”

  The threat fell on deaf ears, however, as, just like in the woods, no one reacted; no one made to help or defend his comrade.

  Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall crashed open and the men standing guard parted, as one, to reveal a solitary man making his way towards them; he was dressed the same as his men but, as well as the black armour, he wore a helmet that covered his face entirely, with only a thin slit allowing him to see. He came to a stop in front of Lancelot and pulled his helmet off as he shook his mane of black hair free.