by Donna Hosie
“I didn’t choose anything,” replied Arthur. “I didn’t do anything.”
Merlin laughed. “Did you not hear the scream of the Lady of the Lake? It has been a long time since I have heard her anger resonate through these lands.”
“I didn’t choose you over Nimue.”
“Me? No. But you chose to believe your sister’s word, and that was enough to break this enchantment,” replied Merlin. The look on his old face was mischievous, but his eyes weren’t twinkling. They looked black and dense, like the darkness that had just left us.
“Nimue said it was you that caused all of this,” said Arthur. “Why?”
“It was not I, although my magic certainly stopped it from getting worse. The Lady of the Lake has her own quest, and she will go to any lengths to see it come to pass, including turning man against man, knight against knight, and king against counsellor.”
Merlin turned to me and smiled; his crooked stained teeth looked even grosser in the daylight.
“Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table, you have borne many trials and come through them with honour. Your courage is a worthy trait of the House of Avalon.”
“Byron died,” I replied. “I wouldn’t call what I did courageous.”
“Your request to summon the dwarf put events in motion that have led to this moment. Arthur is now at liberty to reign once more, with me at his side. The sire of his loins will be safe, for now.”
“Urgh!” I shuddered. “Do you have to talk about my brother like that?”
“Where is she?” asked Arthur quickly. “Where’s Sammy? Is the baby okay? Titch said she was with Mordred and the Gorians.”
“Your lover is alive and well, and the last I heard, she was...as you say in your future time...driving Sir Mordred to distraction.”
“We’re going to get her,” announced Arthur. “I’ve got over one hundred knights here. More are on the way, and Bedivere should be returning soon. As soon as he gets back, we’re leaving to get Sammy.”
“May I speak, sire?”
Tristram stepped forward from the ranks of knights that had been standing silently watching Arthur and Merlin. He bowed to both.
“The Gorians are hidden well with dark magic. How are we to find them?”
“Why, the Ddraig of the king, of course,” replied Merlin. “The red Ddraig that Arthur sent out was circling my lair. Find that, you find her and the heir apparent.”
Tristram turned to a wall of knights that were standing behind him.
“Send out search parties to the south, east and west. Find the red Ddraig of the king.”
I made a face at Tristram. What the hell was he doing? He had seen Slurpy firing blue missiles at my head. She had sucked the life out of Byron and caused his death. We had just removed one psycho with an obsession for my brother. We really didn’t need another one as a replacement. As far as I was concerned, Slurpy could rot in hell.
And how could I get all of this across to my brother and make him believe me? He believed me over Nimue, but Slurpy was another matter entirely.
“Merlin, why can’t you just magic Sammy here?” asked Arthur. “You took her from my time and my house. Can’t you do it again? You’re way more powerful than Mordred and the Gorians.”
“Her confinement is upon us. It would not do well for the heir of Camelot to be moved within the passages of time,” replied Merlin. “I can change time around her, bend it to move faster or slower, but I will not move her within it. Alas, I can give you my counsel, Arthur, but I will not risk harm to your heir. He is too important.”
Arthur went white. He swayed like he was about to faint.
“You said...he. Is it a boy?”
“Of course.”
Arthur grinned at me. “It’s a boy, Titch.”
“Does it really matter? Mum and dad are still going to have a fit when they find out you got your girlfriend pregnant.”
“Hey, good one, Titch,” said Arthur suddenly, punching me on the arm. “Merlin, can you travel back to my time and give a message to our mum and dad?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Arthur.”
“I would be happy to, Arthur,” replied Merlin.
“No way, Arthur!”
“Titch...”
“Are you insane? Have you completely lost your mind?” I cried. “Mum and dad are going to freak out big time if he turns up with a message from us. We’ve already been in the news once for disappearing and then coming back. Can you imagine the fuss they’ll make if some crackpot – no offence – knocks on their door saying he’s seen us? We should just leave the plan like it was. Let them think we’re backpacking.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Arthur, scratching at his head. “I just don’t like the thought of mum being on her own with no one there to support her, that’s all.”
If Arthur was trying to make me feel guilty, then he was doing an excellent job. As the knights started gathering in groups, I sat down on the grass and thought back to mum’s reaction after Arthur went missing the first time. She ended up being sedated, she was so out of control with grief.
I can’t go back - I won’t ever go back, I thought to myself, pulling up weeds and dead grass from the ground. I don’t belong there, I belong here. I’ve always belonged here. I still couldn’t explain why this felt like home, but I could tell that Arthur felt the same pull to this world, as well. He really believed he was their king, and he was a natural at it. I could be someone as well, someone important. I already was: the first female knight. Back in my own time I was a suicide waiting to happen, or at least that’s what my parents and the shrinks thought. Not here though. Here I was special.
“You certainly are, my Natasha.”
All of the activity in the background - the knights, the horses, the yelling, and the slapping of chests - disappeared. The only thing that was clear to me was the sight of Bedivere, standing just feet away.
My Bedivere.
His chestnut coloured hair was longer than I had ever seen it, and just as messy. He was wearing a black cloak over dark green pants, and a belt was slung low over his hips. The newly-released sun reflected off the blade of his sword, making him look ethereal.
And, of course, he hadn’t shaved for days. Not that the stubble mattered, because his beautiful green eyes were still the only thing anybody would ever notice.
“I was talking aloud again, wasn’t I?”
Bedivere laughed. “You could not keep a secret if your life depended on it, my love. You are an open book.”
I threw myself into his arms. He picked me up and buried his face into my neck.
“I am so ashamed for the actions of my father, Natasha. Can you ever forgive me?”
“It wasn’t your fault.” My mouth went looking for his, but Bedivere seemed reluctant to kiss me.
“I should never have taken you into danger. I was blinded by blood ties.”
“It really doesn’t matter, not now.”
“I do not deserve to be recognised as a Knight of the Round Table. My judgment of late has been woeful.”
“Will you shut up and kiss me?”
“You still want me?”
“You boys are so dumb. Of course I still want you. How could you think I wouldn’t?”
“But my father...”
I pressed my finger to Bedivere’s lips; they were soft like fleece, but pale and bloodless.
“None of us are responsible for our parents. I love you. You’re my home.”
Bedivere’s eyes softened as the worry left him. His scarred face was paler than his lips, but with no sun for months, we were all walking ghosts. Finally he kissed me.
“Can’t you two get a room?”
Bedivere immediately pulled away and I swore. I could totally kick Arthur’s ass at times.
“Sire.” Bedivere went to go down on one knee, but I pulled him up. I could accept my brother as king – reluctantly – but hell would freeze over before I let people bow and scrape on the ground before him. Hi
s head was big and stupid enough, thank you very much.
“Titch is like a boomerang, Bedivere. It doesn’t matter how many times we throw her away, she keeps coming back.”
“He doesn’t know what a boomerang is, moron,” I replied, turning to Bedivere. “A boomerang is a shaped piece of wood in our land that is excellent for hitting brothers with.”
“It is as if the past cycles of the moon had never happened,” said a laughing Irish voice.
“I cannot say I approve of maidens with such a wilful manner,” said another voice.
“But Lady Natasha is unlike any maiden we have met before, Sir David,” said a third voice.
“Sir Tristram, I do declare you are correct,” said a weaker, fourth voice.
Bedivere, Tristram, Gareth, Talan and David: five strangers who had become our five friends.
“Like old times,” said Arthur grinning.
“Very old times,” I replied.
“The knights are ready to set out, Arthur,” said Tristram. “Three groups to search for the red Ddraig. Sirs Daniel, Tor, and Bors are leading.”
“Has anyone come back with Guinevere yet?” I asked.
“Sir Lionel has not yet returned,” replied Tristram. “Give him time. He will not fail.”
Bedivere’s calloused fingers were stroking the skin on my wrist. It tickled, but I didn’t want him to stop.
“Sire, I wish to make myself useful,” said Bedivere. “I would like to ride out with Natasha to find Guinevere myself. The more eyes looking for her the better, and after the terrible misfortune that has befallen her family for our cause...”
“Does Guinevere know Byron is dead?” interrupted Arthur. Several of the knights made the sign of the cross.
“She knows,” I replied.
“Go get her, Titch,” said Arthur, “but I am warning you, no funny business with Bedivere on the way.”
“Bite me, hypocrite.”
“And come straight back.”
“We will,” replied Bedivere.
But Bedivere and I never made it to the horses.
Nimue wasn’t finished with me yet.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Falling Down
Nimue knew the best way to terrorise me was to get into my head. My tolerance to the nightmares and the visions was now pathetically low. What she was adding to the mixture was pain. Lots and lots of pain.
The first sensation I felt was the fire again. The intolerable heat blistered my blackened skin, which bubbled and cracked as it was roasted from my body. The taste of acrid fatty smoke strangled my throat as I screamed for the agony to stop. I couldn’t move as a terrifying paralysis crippled my body. I wanted to run, but I was stuck fast to the flames.
Then relief, as the crimson fire liquefied into a blue rush of water. My body felt whole again as my limbs floated in the cold.
But my brain was screaming at me. Blue was the colour of pain. The kind of pain that tears out your heart and sucks the air from your lungs.
Water was in my mouth. I had to stop breathing or I would drown. I could hear loud laughter, amplified by the crushing pressure that was bearing down on me. My eyes strained to see which way was up, but the light was slipping away.
More water was in my mouth. Why was I screaming? No one could hear me. The water started to flow down my throat, burning as it went.
Then I was lying on rocks. A never-ending spray of water, so fine I could barely feel it, hung in the air. The roar of gushing water pounded at the ground, causing the rock to vibrate violently.
The rocks started to crumble beneath my body. Forked lightning, the colour of fire, speared through the sky.
“Make a choice. You cannot save all,” cried a woman’s voice.
“This is not the way it was supposed to be,” growled a deeper male voice.
“You brought them back into this world – my world.”
“You took what was not rightfully yours.”
“He has always been mine.”
The ground was giving way. My body felt heavy and useless, like I was drugged or under the power of something else. I knew I needed to move to safety, but I couldn’t shift the weight to my legs.
A huge wall of water sped towards me, foaming like a rabid dog. It was going to destroy everything in its way. Rock formations high above my head started to crumble, covering me in dust. The spray was getting thicker. It was raining, and then flooding. Screaming...
The waterfalls were dying...
Arthur, Bedivere, Tristram, Gareth, Talan and David had formed a circle. I fell forward into Talan; I had been standing through the entire vision.
“The seeing is getting worse,” whispered Talan. “It is as if Lady Natasha has been possessed by the devil himself.”
“Titch, can you hear me?” asked Arthur. “Tristram, for God’s sake, move everyone away.”
I couldn’t breathe. The pain in my chest was like something inside was trying to break out through my ribs. I could feel my heart pumping, the sound of my pulse rushed through my ears.
“She was just trying to scare you, Titch. Don’t let her get into your head.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to stop her? Do you think I want these visions? Nimue burns me at the stake like a witch, Arthur. I don’t just see or hear now – I can feel it too. It becomes real. It is real. She’s going to kill me, Arthur. She killed Patrick, and she’s going to kill me too.”
Bedivere had his arms around me. I was still shaking into Talan, but I could feel Bedivere’s chest pressed up hard against my back. Whispers and mutterings continued all around us, as the sun caught my neck with a weak ray. Instead of welcoming the sun after so much darkness, it just became a reminder of the horror and agonising pain of being burnt alive.
They weren’t just visions of what was to come. I was reliving the past. I had blocked out everything before Patrick’s death, blaming the guilt I felt for my lack of memories, but I had always thought that was for the few years before my little brother’s death.
But I had been here before. This time. This place.
I had died in this time.
Bedivere carried me into a tent. I didn’t want him to pick me up, but he insisted. I knew he was being all knightly and gallant, but I just felt even more stupid.
“I will ask Sir Talan to ride out to meet Guinevere,” said Bedivere, stroking my forehead. “I will not leave you.”
“I’m going mad, Bedivere. I keep seeing all of these things. Horrible things. It doesn’t matter if I’m here or in my time. Merlin and Nimue get into my head, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
“I’m real.” His lips brushed my cheekbone.
“Can you remember me?”
Bedivere laughed. “What questions you ask, Natasha. How can I forget you?”
“No. I don’t mean now, or even from last year. I mean before the enchanted sleep. A thousand years ago. Did we know each other back before the Battle of Camlann?”
“I was betrothed to Lady Fleur, Natasha.” Bedivere shook his head slowly. “I have often felt as if my soul was connected to yours, but I am certain I would never have forgotten you, even in passing.”
The flap to the tent was pulled back. My brother was standing in the entrance, framed by a golden haze. He had stripped above the waist to just a singlet.
“When did you get a tattoo?”
A small vertical sword, inked in green, was peeking out from Arthur’s vest.
He shrugged. “Last year, before we moved away from Avalon Cottage.”
“Do mum and dad know?”
“Titch, I’m eighteen, nineteen next month. I don’t need to ask permission for anything.”
“Whatever. But you know dad is going to go ballistic - he hates tattoos. If they weren’t already going to kill you for getting your girlfriend knocked up, they’re definitely going to kill you for that.”
“I thought it was cool.”
“It is.”
“So why are you having a go a
t me?”
“Because I’m your sister. It’s my job, and I need a distraction from my head.”
Arthur grinned at me, and made an L-shape on his forehead with his finger and thumb.
“You’re the loser.”
“I’m not the one twitching on the ground like something out of The Exorcist.”
“And that’s your fault. You have the worst taste in girls. Every single one of them is psycho.”
“Which reminds me why I came in here in the first place,” said Arthur, pushing his long hair out of his eyes. “Tristram reckons he can track back to where he found you on the edge of the Gorian encampment. I’m not going to sit here and wait – I’m going to find Sammy now. If you are fit enough for travelling, we’re going to leave today.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had a bath.”
“Good. You stink.”
“Can you not say things like that in front of my boyfriend?”
Bedivere had been watching our conversation like a spectator watches a tennis match. Arthur ruffled my hair, which was so disgusting and dirty I could feel the grease sliding down my face. He made to leave the tent and then paused.
“Titch,” said Arthur quietly. “When you were freaking out back there, you mentioned Nimue and Patrick...”
“Get Merlin to show you what he showed me.”
My brother frowned; he didn’t reply. As he left the tent, I got the impression that Arthur had no intention of asking Merlin for anything.
“Your brother disarms you,” said Bedivere quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“You are childlike in his presence. It is dear to watch, but he makes you forget your troubles. I fear that is not a wise move.”
“Sometimes I want to forget.”
“Then it is a blessing you have me to watch out for you now. I love my king, but I love you more, and I will watch all like a hawk watches the mouse.”
“You may be able to protect me from Sammy, but you can’t protect me from Nimue.”
“Then I will die trying.”
