“Trust, Tessa, have faith.”
“Right.” A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. How many times had she known real, genuine fear since that night in the library? A hundred? A thousand? Could anything in her world come close to the terrors she’d known here? Or the joys? “I’m not the same person I was when I came here.”
“I too have changed.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled. “’Tis for the best I think.”
“I think so too.” She followed silently for a few feet. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Oh, what the hell. She loved him and regardless of how this relationship would inevitably end, maybe he deserved to know. “You’ve come to mean a lot to me. I—”
“Be still, Tessa.” Galahad whispered firmly. “The outer opening is ahead.”
Galahad slowed his pace. He approached the exit, caution in every step. At least she thought it was the exit. In spite of his torch, she couldn’t see more than a yard in front of them. Eventually, she made out a wall directly before them, thickly covered with vines and weeds. Her heart hammered. The tunnel stopped here. There was no way out.
“Galahad.” She clutched his arm. “What do we do now?”
“Hold this.” He thrust the torch at her. She grabbed the beacon and held it out before her. He stepped to the wall, pushed his way through the growth and vanished.
“Galahad!” she called in a fierce whisper. “Don’t leave me!”
She heard the faint swish of his sword against the vegetation and within seconds Galahad had cleared a path back to her.
“Come, Tessa, quickly.” He sheathed his sword, grabbed her hand and led her through the irregular arbor he’d carved. She lowered the torch and pushed her way through the underbrush.
They stepped into a small clearing bounded by the ivy-covered castle wall and the woods. The moon shone nearly full and bright enough to see. Tessa bent and rolled the torch on the ground to extinguish it. She could hear the shuffling and whinnying of their horses hidden just behind the trees.
“I don’t see anyone,” Tessa said cautiously. For the first time since they’d encountered Mordred’s men, that light at the end of the tunnel might not be an oncoming train. Would they actually make it out of this mess alive?
“Nor do I.” His grim tone told her more than his words. They weren’t out of danger yet. “We must be swift.”
“Maybe we lucked out.” Tessa refused to give up the slim hope up dangling elusively before her. “Maybe Mordred figured we’d take another way out. Or maybe he thought—”
“Or perhaps he preferred you to come into the open to ensure there would indeed be no escape.”
Chapter Twenty
Mordred stepped from the shadows of the trees, sword in hand.
Tessa’s heart plunged.
Galahad calmly drew his weapon and positioned himself between her and the prince. “My lord, ’tis so good of you to bid us farewell.”
“’Twould be impolite of me to allow you to leave without bidding you a safe journey.” Mordred nodded, apparently the signal for his small army of biker guards to emerge from the trees.
The two rivals circled each other. Galahad’s voice was cool. “As ever, the gracious host.”
Mordred’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “’Tis nothing more than common courtesy.”
Tessa wanted to scream. This was like some kind of macho ritual dance. Two wild beasts stalking each other. Sizing each other up. Waiting to strike.
“Ah yes, but while I would not wish to offend you, I must say the accommodations were not up to your usual standards.” Galahad shook his head. “’Twas a disappointment.”
“My apologies, Galahad, I shall try to do better the next time.”
“The next time?” Galahad raised a brow. “Will there be a next time, Mordred?”
Mordred laughed, an evil sound that shivered through her veins. No doubt about it, Mordred was out for blood—Galahad’s and probably hers as well.
“Alas, sir knight, I regret this meeting shall be our last.” Mordred thrust his sword at Galahad.
“’Tis a shame,” Galahad said through clenched teeth, parried and the fight was on.
Tessa had never seen a sword fight outside of an old movie. These weren’t the thin, elegant, Three-Musketeer type swords. No, these were heavy and wicked-looking and required each man to use both hands. This was real. There was no dramatic, adventurous music setting the scene in the background, just the terrifying clang of metal against metal and the grunts and gasps of two men reaching the limits of their strength and beyond. And the thudding of her own heart. It was a battle to the bitter end and tension hung in the humid air like the specter of death.
The seconds stretched to minutes and the minutes stretched endlessly. Mordred would strike out. Galahad would counter. The Big Guy would take the offense. The prince would defend himself. They hacked at each other and with every blow of sword against sword she held her breath, certain one or the other would draw blood at any moment. Hatred glinted in Mordred’s eyes, determination in Galahad’s. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Mordred’s skills were damned near equal to Galahad’s.
The combat took its toll on both men. Sweat trickled down Mordred’s face. Galahad’s muscles strained with every thrust. They were too evenly matched to predict a clear winner. This would go on until they both dropped. Galahad needed the odds tipped in his favor. She was his partner. She was supposed to watch his back. Keep him safe. She had to do something.
The two warriors battled on, blades slashing through the night air, oblivious to Mordred’s men encircling them. Thank God they made no effort to help their prince. Would they stand by him if he was wounded? Would they take their revenge on Galahad if Mordred was killed? Or would they scatter without a leader?
Sooner or later exhaustion would claim Galahad or Mordred and give a slight edge to the other. Fear clenched her stomach. Would it be Galahad? Not if she could help it.
She searched the clearing for something, anything. Why hadn’t she taken the dagger? Her gaze fell on the abandoned torch. It was about the size of a good, old all-American baseball bat. She lunged and grabbed the potential weapon. A spilt second later, burly arms held her in an iron grip. She glanced over her shoulder and into Oscar’s gap-toothed grin.
“No way, pal.” She struggled in his grip and his hold eased just enough for Sister Abigail’s premier move. Tessa shifted and spun and jabbed only to find her elbow meeting thin air. Her momentum flung her to the ground. She scrambled to her knees and jerked her head up. The point of Oscar’s sword rested at the hollow of her throat.
“Tessa!” Galahad’s roar echoed through the forest.
She snapped her head toward him and his gaze caught hers. Terror, not for himself but for her, colored his face. The moment she met his eyes she knew it was a mistake. A fatal mistake. The world slowed to the speed of a dream. Galahad’s gaze shifted back to Mordred but it was too late. The prince’s sword struck home, driving deep into Galahad’s torso, just below the breastbone. His head was flung back, his sword dropped from his hand and he jerked like a rag doll on a skewer.
“Galahad!” Tessa screamed and, without thinking, pushed aside Oscar’s sword, knowing only that she had to get to Galahad. She scrambled to his side and pulled him into her arms.
“No!” Frantically, she felt for a pulse in his throat. There was none. “You can’t do this to me!” Blood soaked through his tunic and onto her lap.
“I knew she would be his downfall.” Mordred’s words struck her as deeply as any sword. God help her, he was right. Horror swept through her. This was her fault.
“My Lord, what would you have us do with her?” Oscar said in a low tone.
She could hear the shrug in Mordred’s voice. “Leave her to her noble knight and the wolves. I no longer care. She’s of no interest to me now.”
Tessa pulled her gaze from Galahad’s blood-soaked body and st
ared at Mordred with all the hatred in her heart. Her voice rang like the voice of doom. “You’ll pay for this, Mordred. You think you’ve won but you haven’t. Till the end of time your name will be synonymous with evil and treachery. And he…” She glanced down at Galahad’s still form and struggled to keep from choking up. “He’ll be a hero. In the centuries to come, when kings and princes and wise men and even fools speak of things noble and good they’ll speak of him. He’ll be loved. Always. And you’ll be…” she spit the word, “nothing.”
Even in the moonlight she could see Mordred pale. “Your curse does not scare me. You are naught but a mere woman and whatever quality you possess that would have helped him in his quest is useless to him now.” He scoffed but there was a vague note of unease in his voice. “I was right. You and he belong together. He saw the world and the men in it as honorable and just and fine. He never would have struck home when his opponent was distracted. ’Tis why he is dead. He was a fool.”
“No.” She raised her chin. “He was a knight.”
“As you wish.”
“I won’t let him die! I won’t!”
“My dear lady,” Mordred’s voice dripped with false pity, “you already have.”
“No!” She turned her attention back to the man in her arms. Mordred muttered something to his men and they disappeared into the woods.
“Come on, Big Guy, don’t leave me.” Tears slipped down her cheek. “We’re in this together, remember? You and me. The quest isn’t over yet. You can’t give up. Not now.” She pulled him tighter against her as if to share her life with him. “You know I love you, don’t you? Sure, you know. What woman wouldn’t love you? You’re a knight.” Her tears fell faster. She smoothed his dark hair away from his face. “A legend. Legends don’t die like this. I don’t know what to do. I would do anything, anything to save you.”
“There is little anyone can do now.”
Tessa raised her gaze and hope leaped within her. Merlin stood a few feet away. “Merlin! Do something. You can’t let it end this way.”
An expression of utter sadness passed over the sorcerer’s face and for the first time he didn’t look anything like a tap-dancing movie star or even a wizard. Just a very tired old man. “I did not expect this.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“No!” She screamed until her voice echoed in her ears. “I don’t believe that! I won’t believe that! Use your magic, Merlin. You can move people through time and space! Why can’t you do this?”
“There are rules, Tessa, that govern even beings like myself. What you ask…” He hesitated. “No, it’s impossible.”
“What? What are you thinking?”
“It would never work.” He stroked his beard and paced the clearing. “Would it?” He stopped and stared at her, his eyes narrow, his voice level. “How badly do you want him to live?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Answer me, Tessa.”
“I don’t know.” I offered once to sacrifice my life for his. Even so there was always the chance I’d survive Mordred’s hospitality.
“And if there was no chance for survival?”
“I…” No chance at all? Could I give my life to save his?
“Could you?”
She gazed down at his beloved face, his head cradled in her lap and calm flowed into her. It didn’t matter that he was long dead before she’d been born or that her world didn’t think he’d lived at all or anything else. “What do I do?”
“I was right when I chose you, Tessa St. James.” Merlin’s voice was quiet. “You have a great deal of strength in your soul.”
“What do I do, Merlin?”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “There is no turning back.”
“I know.”
“What do you believe, Tessa?”
She shook her head in frustration. “What do you mean?”
“What do you believe in, Tessa. Now, at this moment?”
“Damn it, Merlin, not another riddle. Not now!”
“Tessa!”
She tried to think. What did she believe in? “You. And Arthur. The story, the myth, I believe it. All of it.”
“More!”
“I don’t know!” Think, Tessa, think! “Honor and loyalty. I don’t know. Trust and faith and…” What else?
“And?”
“Magic!” Her breath caught and she gazed down at Galahad. “Love.”
Merlin’s voice filled her mind. “And by all that you believe in, all that you know, would you give your life for his?”
“And by all of that,” her voice broke, “yes. For him.”
“No!” Fire flashed white and hot and Viviane stood in the clearing. “It’s over, Merlin!”
“Viviane!” Merlin swiveled to face her. “Tessa may be able—”
“Stop it, Merlin!” Viviane’s voice rang in the night. “There is nothing that can be done. They’ve failed. It’s time to go home!”
“But Tessa is willing—”
“So she says. Words, Merlin, it’s nothing but words.” Viviane’s tone was hard. “You know as well as I do, the words alone are not nearly enough. Proof is required. Those are the Rules, Merlin, your Rules.”
“I know them better than you.” Anger colored Merlin’s voice. “Do not try my patience, my love. I taught…”
“Words alone are not nearly enough…”
The edict exploded in Tessa’s mind and she knew Viviane was right. She stared down at Galahad. It wasn’t enough to say she was willing to die for him. Not enough to simply say she believed.
“Proof is required.”
But how? How could she prove something like that? How…
The jewels on Guinevere’s dagger winked in the moonlight as if in answer to her prayer.
Guinevere gave it to you for luck.
She reached out and pulled the knife from its sheath, now covered with Galahad’s blood. She gathered him close to her with one arm, gripped the dagger in her other hand and held it against her chest, right below the breastbone.
“I do believe,” she whispered. “My life for yours.”
She squeezed her eyes closed tight and concentrated her will, her love, on the man in her arms. Tessa pulled a long, hard breath and plunged the dagger into her flesh. Pain seared through her but she refused to let her mind falter. She could feel the rush of her own blood on her hand mingling with his on the knife and still her focus on him did not waver.
I believe.
The pounding of her heart sounded in her ears. The blood pulsed in her veins. Or was it his heart she heard? His blood she felt? Her soul reached for his, her life merged with his, who and what he was meshed with who and what she was until she no longer knew a difference. And her spirit soared with his. In reunion. In joy. They were together, whether in his world or hers or another never known.
And then…
Nothing.
It was as if a power switch had been flicked off. Her pain vanished. Around her were the sounds of the night and the rustling of the forest. Was she dead? She opened her eyes and glanced down.
The dagger was gone. The blood had vanished. Her blood and his.
His eyes flickered open.
“Oh, God, you’re alive!” Her eyes widened and tears blurred her vision. She flung herself over him, touching him with her lips, her hands, to assure herself he was really living and real.
“Tessa,” Galahad whispered. “I—”
“You’re alive. And I’m alive.” She gasped for breath. “I—” She glared at Merlin, afraid this was a horrible mistake, afraid it wasn’t. “What the hell happened here?”
The wizard smiled. “You were truly willing to give your life for his because you now truly believe in love. I know it sounds simplistic but there you have it. It’s one of the basics of life, if mortals would just accept it.”
“’Twas an odd dream…” Galahad murmured.
“You are so full of it, old man.” Tessa studied the wizard suspiciou
sly. “Now tell me the truth.”
“Go on, tell her. You might as well. It’s over now. All of it,” Viviane snapped. “I never should have come here. If I had kept my mouth shut she never would have—”
“Keep it shut now, my dear.” Merlin threw Viviane a pointed glare. She huffed and in a blinding flash of light, vanished. Merlin shook his head. “She can be rather unpleasant at times.”
“Now then.” Merlin studied Tessa for a moment as if wondering how much to say. Finally he sighed. “You’re right. In spite of what poets say, love alone, even eternal love, is not powerful enough to restore life. More is needed. Somewhere in your lineage, back so many generations you could never trace it yourself, you have a touch of magic within you.”
She snorted in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
“Or rather you had.”
“Had?”
“It was something of a one-shot deal actually. You see, my dear, magic never used accumulates like a good investment. It can eventually be employed in one fell swoop for something that closes the account, as it were. As long as you truly, deep in your soul—”
“Believe,” she whispered and gazed down at Galahad and her voice softened. “How you doing, Big Guy?”
“In truth, I am not certain.” He sat up and shook his head. “’Twas as though I was here yet not here. As if I floated somewhere above you watching and waiting. A dream, I think, or a vision.”
She stared at him. “Are you okay?”
He smiled and got to his feet. “I am quite refreshed.”
“That’s one of us.” She reached up to grab his hand and he pulled her to her feet. “We’ve got to get out of here. Mordred—”
“I must return to Camelot, at once.” Determination hardened Galahad’s expression. “I must warn the king—”
“The king will have his warning,” Merlin said firmly.
“Then I shall go after Mordred.” Galahad’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis my duty to my king.”
“No, Galahad. Your duty now lies only in your quest. As does your fate. Mordred will not bother you again. You will have safe passage under my protection for the remainder of your journey.” Merlin shrugged. “It’s the least I could do. I never expected it to go this far, you know. But these things happen.”
Believe Page 27
