The Fire of Merlin (The Return to Camelot #2)

by Donna Hosie

  “Of course I got burnt. I was tied to the stake and set on fire.”

  Guinevere made a slow vowel sound, as the realisation I had not been protected by magic dawned on her.

  “Perchance Byron’s magic...could not reach...as far as Lady Natasha?” groaned Gareth once more. His face was getting redder and redder, and his chest was rattling with every breath.

  “I was three feet away from Guinevere.” Gareth and Guinevere quickly made to shush me again by gesturing with their hands. “Byron isn’t that little! Was he going to let me burn?”

  “Of course he wasn’t,” snapped Guinevere irritably, “and Byron’s height in no way diminishes his abilities, Lady Natasha. He has been unwell for many months now. His toil for the knights drains him.”

  Embarrassed, I quickly apologised.

  “I’m sorry, Guinevere. That was really tactless and rude. I didn’t mean...”

  The flap to the tent opened again; my mouth clamped shut. It was Mordred. How much of our conversation had he overheard?

  “The healers have prepared a potion for Sir Gareth,” he said quietly, looking at the three of us in turn. “Without it, Sir Gareth will not last the night.” In his hand was a glass cup. The liquid inside it was clear, although it was smoking with pale blue wisps. As Mordred spoke, the purple rash on Gareth’s skin started to multiply. It looked like a million tiny bruises erupting under his skin.

  “His blood is poisoned,” gasped Guinevere, and she immediately knelt at Gareth’s side.

  “What are you doing to him?” I cried. “Stop it. You’re going to kill him.”

  “The damage has already been done.”

  “Give him the potion,” begged Guinevere. Already the rash had covered Gareth’s bare body, and was slowly creeping up his neck. Gareth’s eyes rolled in his head, and he let out an anguished cry.

  “Allow me to pass over with honour, Sir Mordred,” begged Gareth. “Reunite me with my sword.”

  “I cannot,” replied Mordred coldly. He turned to me. “Your want, Lady Natasha?”

  “What are you waiting for?” I cried. “Give him the potion.”

  The rash had now reached Gareth’s face. Dark blood started seeping out of his nose and ears. Then his eyes rolled again, and his back arched violently.

  I tried to snatch the potion from Mordred, but he held out a flat palm and started muttering under his breath. An invisible barrier appeared between us, and however hard I pushed against it, I couldn’t touch Mordred or the potion.

  “Your want, Lady Natasha?” repeated Mordred again. “I am not as foolish as some believe. I want your blood oath, sworn on the blue flame, that you will willingly acquiesce to my demand. That while you are with me, you will forsake any rescue attempt by Sir Bedivere, Arthur or any person, whether knight or not.” Mordred gave a pointed look towards Guinevere.

  Tears of blood were streaming down Gareth’s face. Every breath he struggled to find gurgled in his throat. He was drowning in his own blood.

  “I agree to anything,” I cried. “I’ll do whatever you want, just give Gareth the potion.”

  With a single swift movement, Mordred pulled out a glittering silver dagger, inlaid with emeralds, and slashed down at my forearm. I cried out as he clenched the wound with his free hand, and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. His fingers became tendrils of blue fire, which seared into my bleeding skin.

  Gareth’s body started jerking; he looked like he was having an epileptic fit. Mordred lowered his hand and quickly covered the ground to Gareth. He placed the glass cup to his bleeding lips and poured the smoking liquid down his throat.

  Gareth shuddered and closed his eyes. One long exhale left Gareth’s lungs. His head flopped to one side, and a single streak of blood slowly trickled down his face.

  “You killed him,” I screamed. “YOU KILLED HIM.”

  I launched myself at Mordred. The glass cup shattered as it fell to the ground. Mordred raised his hands to defend himself. I knew I had only seconds before his eyes started rolling, and so I pushed my thumbs into his eyeballs. Mordred roared with pain, as Guinevere grabbed a shard of glass from the ground and plunged it into his chest.

  The earth started shaking. It was more violent than any tremor we had experienced so far. It knocked the three of us off our feet; Mordred landed on top of me. An explosion, like an erupting volcano, quickly followed. We could hear screams outside the tent, which was now bathed in a bright orange glow.

  “What is this devilry?” cried Guinevere.

  Don’t fight it, said the voice in my head. He’s coming for you.

  Bile rose in my throat as I struggled to push Mordred away. My fingers were still clamped around his head. I snatched two handfuls of his fluffy hair and pulled them apart like a Christmas cracker.

  Mordred yelled and slapped me around the face with the back of his hand. Then suddenly, we were out in the open as the tepee flew skywards, ripped from its foundations by a swirling blue wind, which was fighting against the orange fire cloud that had swamped the camp.

  “Hold on to something,” screamed Guinevere.

  As the trees surrounding us started to explode into fireballs, I saw Gareth roll onto his front and cover Guinevere with his body. The relief I felt at seeing him alive slackened my senses. As I relaxed, I was grabbed in a vice-like grip which started at my ankles, and quickly wound its way up and around my legs, body and then arms. Only my head was left free of the sensation.

  The world went black as my head exploded with pain and noise. Every voice that had ever spoken, screamed or taunted me was now in my head.

  Then, just as quickly as the voices appeared, they fell silent. I was floating in darkness.

  Gold dust, like sprinkles on a cake, started to appear. I tried to touch my eyelids, just to see whether my eyes were open or closed, but I was still trapped in the coils of something I just couldn’t see. Where was Gareth? Where was Guinevere? Had they been taken as well?

  My legs were freed first, and then the bonds around my body were slowly released. A long wet tongue licked at my throat, only pulling away as the tip reached the underside of my chin. A cackle of laughter, and then I was falling through darkness and then cloud.

  I tensed my body for the landing, but when it came, it was soft. The only part of me that hurt was the cheek that had been slapped by Mordred. It felt hot and prickly.

  With the sleeve of my white tunic, I wiped off the glutinous mess that had been left on my neck, and crouched down in the mist.

  “Guinevere?” I whispered. “Guinevere, are you here?”

  It was silent, except for the repetitive sound of dripping water.

  “Gareth?”

  “We meet again, Natasha,” called a male voice from the clouds. It was old, and very deep.

  “Who are you?” I called. “Where are Gareth and Guinevere?”

  The deep voice laughed in the dark grey mist. I couldn’t tell which direction the man was speaking from, but I knew he was close. Very close. I pulled my tunic away from my body. It was already saturated with moisture. One arm was stained black: burnt blood from Mordred’s oath.

  “I had no need for the valiant Sir Gareth, or the fair Guinevere,” said the voice. “You are my quarry, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table.”

  It was the beggar I had seen on the street back in London. Back in my own time.

  It was Merlin.

  “What do you want with me?”

  He didn’t answer. He may have intended to, but another voice had cut across his. A female voice. A Welsh voice.

  “I’m freezing and I’m wet. I don’t like being either.”

  The mist started to swirl. It looked like it was being sucked into a giant vacuum cleaner. There was a heavy tap on my shoulder, and I jumped with fright as the wizened old beggar, painfully ancient but not stooped this time, appeared at my side.

  “Welcome, Natasha,” he said with a toothy smile. His teeth were badly stained and crooked, like tiny neglected headstones
in a mossy overgrown graveyard. “It is a pleasure most agreeable to have company so radiant, after all this time alone.”

  As he spoke, he stroked at his long grey beard, and I was suddenly reminded of another encounter.

  “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the squirrel?”

  Merlin threw his head back and laughed. A crescendo of deep church bells rang in my ears.

  “Very astute of you to make the connection, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table. It was indeed I you encountered that day by the waterfalls that bear my name. My duplicitous lover, Nimue, had imprisoned me in the ground in an eternal sleep. Alas for the Lady of the Lake, in my unconscious state I was still able to carry my thoughts through time itself. And once Arthur returned, so did my strength. In animal form, I was able to break through the bonds that had caged me for so long. I saw you approaching that day, and knew how special you were. You took the bait I dropped, and my inner mind was able to transport through time. Now you are needed, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table. The second coming of the house of Arthur will soon be upon us.”

  “Still freezing, still wet,” screeched a voice.

  “Will you shut the hell up? I’m trying to have a conversation here,” I said.

  “You can’t tell me to shut up,” she snapped back. “I’m pregnant.”

  “What the hell has you being pregnant got to do with anything? You’re fat, not crippled.”

  “Don’t call me fat.”

  “I’ll call you what I want. I can’t believe you’ve trapped my brother with this. He’s eighteen years old. He’s way too young to be a dad. You’ve ruined his life.”

  “You think I want to be pregnant, freak? You think I want stretch marks? My dolphin tattoo is now the size of a killer whale. My body is ruined.”

  “Is that all you care about? You really are the vainest...”

  “Ladies, do you think we could take this most enlightening conversation inside?” interrupted Merlin. “I believe you will both be more comfortable within my lair.”

  His lair? Wasn’t that the word used to describe the den of a wild animal?

  “Why indeed that is so, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” laughed Merlin. “I have been used to my animal form for so long now, that it is still hard to think of myself as a man.”

  “I didn’t say that aloud.”

  “He can get inside your head – although why anyone would want to be in your head....”

  Slurpy finally came into view through the disappearing mist. I gasped. Her stomach was swollen to the size of a beach ball.

  “What are you giving birth to? An elephant?”

  And with that, Slurpy burst into tears.

  Merlin made a path through the wet mist with his staff. The mist hissed and spat as he waved his way through it. Keeping a gap of several metres, I followed next. A sniffing Slurpy brought up the rear.

  A large pool appeared before us, reflecting a mirror image of the cave above it. Placed together, the cave and the reflection in the pool looked exactly like a skull lying on its side. There was a round black cave where the eye would be, and a pile of flat slate tiles that formed the mouth and bared teeth. Blackened moss-covered boulders formed the nose, and water splashed out of a gap between them. There were more flattened rocks that trailed down from the rocky chin, just like a beard.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know anymore,” sniffed Slurpy, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She was wearing a long, pale blue dress that she certainly hadn’t bought on the High Street. It was the same dress I had seen in the vision at Byron’s house.

  As I turned to Merlin, he waved his staff in a circle. The knobbled tip glowed with an orange burst and then dulled. The pool surface started to bubble like boiling water, and then circular stepping stones rose up, forming a walkway into the skull cave’s eye.

  My skin was covered in goosebumps. I didn’t want to enter that cave.

  “You returned to Logres of your own free will, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” said Merlin slowly, “and you will be needed for what is soon to come to pass. The heart of the Lady of the Lake is with Arthur, and always has been. She will stop at nothing to ensure her legacy is completed. We must now join forces to repel her devious ways. The second age of the House of Arthur is almost upon us.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means he’s speeding up time,” sobbed Slurpy. “It means I’m about to have this baby.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Speaking in Riddles

  “But Arthur said you were only five months gone. How can you be about to drop it now? Doesn’t it take nine months or something?”

  Slurpy was incoherent and doubled over with the effort of sobbing. I called after Merlin, who had continued walking towards the cave.

  “What have you done to her? She isn’t about to give birth to some mutant alien thing is she?”

  Merlin stopped, and turned around to face us; his movements were slow and deliberate.

  “The heir of Arthur will be born after the ninth month has elapsed.”

  “He’s...done something...to time,” sobbed Slurpy through hiccups. She had her hands cradled around her swollen stomach.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s speeded...up...time. Every day here...is like a month...in real time.”

  “But you’ve only been missing for a few days.” I counted back in my head. “I’ve been in Logres three days, and you went missing the day before we left.”

  “Then why...am I nine months pregnant...when I was only...five months pregnant...a few days...ago?”

  But I had stopped paying attention to her wild ramblings, because something beyond gross was happening. Slurpy’s stomach was moving. The enormous lump, which was straining against the pale blue dress, was rolling from left to right and up and down in a wave movement.

  “What-is-that?”

  Slurpy held her breath until her face went pink. Releasing an enormous lungful of air, she waited for another hiccup, which didn’t come.

  “It does that all the time now.”

  I turned once again to face Merlin.

  “How long has she been here?”

  “I am pleased to see you are already accepting the truth, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, and please stop calling me that. It sounds ridiculous.”

  Merlin’s eyes flashed white. I immediately flinched and took a step back. For some unfathomable reason, I also placed myself in front of Slurpy and the alien baby as well, shielding them with my arms. Protecting them.

  What are you doing?

  I had no idea, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

  “Time has no meaning here, not any more, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” replied Merlin defiantly. “Arthur’s heir has thrived under my care, and Nimue’s futile attempts to find them both have been thwarted time and time again. The Lady of the Lake may poison the lands and drive fear into the people, but here, in the safety of my lair, we will endure.”

  “But if time is speeding up for her, then won’t it speed up for me as well, now that I’m here?”

  Merlin bared his stained teeth as he smiled.

  “Indeed it will. Now, no more idle talk. We have tarried in the open for far too long.”

  Slurpy and I swapped looks: mine was pure horror, but hers was of resigned acceptance. We couldn’t stay here, captive or not. If a day was becoming a month, then there was every chance I would become an old woman before I found Bedivere again.

  Then I heard a long, swooping sound. It was coming from high above us, hidden in the dark cloud. I strained my eyes, and caught a glimpse of something red, slowly moving up and down like a sheet billowing in the wind.

  “Inside. Now!” snapped Merlin.

  “We had better do as he asks,” I said to Slurpy. “Are you okay to walk?”

  “Why are you being nice to me?”

&nb
sp; “Fine. I’ll just take a leaf out of your book and be a bitch, if you prefer.”

  Slurpy didn’t answer. Pregnancy wasn’t doing her any favours. Her skin was spotty and pale, and her long dark hair looked greasy and lank. Her nails – which were normally her pride and joy – had been bitten down to the quick.

  As we entered the dark mouth of the cave, I took one last look up into the sky. I tried to block out my thoughts, in case Merlin was silently lurking inside my head, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Arthur’s Ddraig was here. It had found Slurpy, and by chance, me. This was our getaway. All we needed to do was distract Merlin for long enough to get to it.

  Stop thinking. You cannot leave him, not now.

  I couldn’t stop thinking, because that Ddraig had wings. Wings that flapped. Our way out was likely to give me a heart attack.

  Slurpy sank into the dirt and groaned. She kept pushing down on the top of her bump.

  “I can’t breathe,” she gasped. “It’s crushing my lungs, playing football on my bladder, and headbutting my spine. This is the worst thing ever. I want my mum.”

  “Why haven’t you been able to magic yourself away?” I asked, crouching down beside her. “You were able to do magic the last time you were here. I still have the scars.”

  “You think I haven’t tried?” snapped Slurpy in a vicious whisper. Her eyes kept darting over towards Merlin, who was clanking glass jars and shooting small balls of orange flame from his staff towards a contraption of connected tubes that looked like a science experiment. “Just being in this horrible place with him has filled my head with all these words, but they won’t work.”

  “Why?”

  “If I knew that then I would fix it, wouldn’t I?”

  She pushed down on her stomach again, and threw her head back against the wall of the cave.

  “I wish Arthur was here. I’ve been sleeping on the floor, eating his revolting cooking, and I haven’t had a smoke for days. Is Arthur looking for me?”

  Merlin was still concocting something in the corner. He looked busy and was humming away to himself. He appeared too busy to be listening, but I didn’t want to take the chance, so I just nodded.