The Last Knight (Pendragon Book 1)

by Nicola S. Dorrington

  I lifted my hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the sob that threatened to break free. In my head I heard the echoes of laughter from the children playing in the street. I could almost taste the sweet pastries from the old lady’s stall.

  We walked a little further and the trees parted. As destructive as they were, they hadn’t been able to bring down Camelot castle itself. Parts of the great stone walls still rose above us, odd bits of rooms still intact. The walls still half stood around the old courtyard and broken steps led up to the remains of a stone archway.

  “It feels – it feels like only yesterday,” I said in a hushed whisper.

  Lance forced a small smile. “For you it was only yesterday.”

  Wyn and Percy tried not to look at the ruins as they set about building up a fire. It was dusk and the crackling flames cast odd shadows amongst the old stones, making it possible to imagine the walls were still standing.

  I didn’t notice when Wyn and Percy disappeared into the ruins to make sure nothing was going to attack us in the night, but Lance touched my arm, drawing me out of my memories.

  “Let me take a look at your shoulder now.”

  I let him lead me over to the fire, sitting me at the edge of the flames. The heat washing over me was comforting and I half closed my eyes, soaking it up.

  Flinching, I opened them again as Lance’s strong fingers touched my injured shoulder.

  “I’m going to need you to take your shirt off,” he told me in a low voice.

  I glanced over my shoulder at him and he smirked.

  “I promise not to look.”

  The look in his eyes as he spoke sent a shiver through me, but then he was tugging my t-shirt up, helping me pull it over my head. I brought it down in front of me, holding it over my chest.

  Wearing the highly inappropriate lacy bra Percy had brought, I should have felt vulnerable, self conscious, but I didn’t. I watched Lance out of the corner of my eye as he gently cleaned the wound with water from a flask we’d brought from the Lake.

  My skin tingled under his fingers and as he slipped my bra strap off my shoulder, to keep cleaning, I shuddered, fighting the inappropriate heat coiling in my stomach.

  His fingers stopped, pressed gently against my skin.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

  His eyes met mine again and I saw understanding dawn. Eyes never leaving mine, he trailed his fingers across the top of my shoulder to the base of my neck, stroking the column of my neck beneath my ears.

  My breath caught in my throat and a tiny smile curved his lips. He leant forward, brushing his lips across my shoulder, following the path of his fingers to my neck and my ear.

  As his mouth found my earlobe I gasped, closing my eyes. He slid his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his chest as his lips explored my neck and throat. His lips were like fire on my skin and I twisted, trying to find his mouth with my own.

  He realised what I was trying to do and, in one fluid movement, lifted me, turning me so I was in his lap, my thighs pressed on either side of his hips.

  A soft moan escaped his lips as I pressed myself against him, my fingers tangling in his dark curls.

  The pain in my shoulder was forgotten. I couldn’t get enough of him, and it seemed neither could he as his hands explored my skin in feather-light touches that set my body on fire.

  I stroked my hands down his chest and found the bottom of his t-shirt. Sliding my hands under the hem, I ran my fingers back up his chest, feeling the hard, defined muscles.

  He moaned again, crushing me tighter against his chest as his lips moved to my throat.

  Abruptly he sat back, pushing me away so he could hold me at arms length.

  His eyes were burning with a look that made my stomach do somersaults and when he spoke his voice was low and rough.

  “We should stop, Cara. Before we get carried away. You’re injured.”

  I wanted to tell him that I didn’t care. I wanted to get carried away. But I knew he was right. As much as I loved him, everything was moving far too fast.

  He lifted his hands to my face, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks. He kissed me, softly, the edge of passion buried for now.

  “I love you, Caronwyn Pendragon,” he murmured against my lips.

  I felt my heart swell. “I love you too.”

  For a moment we sat still, our foreheads pressed together, his warm breath washing over my face, then he pulled back with a wry smile.

  “Where was I?”

  I laughed and scrambled off his lap, turning so that he could finish tending to my injury.

  By the time Wyn and Percy came back I was fully dressed and back in my shirt, but Lance hadn’t been too keen on letting me go. So I was curled up against his side, his arm around me, one finger twisting a lock of my hair.

  “Very cosy,” Wyn said as he reached the fire.

  Lance simply smiled. “Jealous?”

  “Of you? Never.” There was that note to his voice again and I frowned, feeling Lance tense beside me.

  “Now, now boys,” Percy said, dropping to the ground on my other side and nudging me with his shoulder. “How you doing?”

  I shrugged and regretted it instantly as my shoulder protested. “I’m fine. A little sore.”

  “Your first battle scar,” he said with a grin. “You should be proud.”

  “Proud of being useless?” I raised my eyebrows.

  Beside me, Lance made a face. “You were amazing, Cara. But now, you need to get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

  For the most part the next day brought pain. Overnight my sore muscles had seized up and I could barely move my arm. The cut itself felt hot and I worried that it was infected. Lance didn’t seem concerned.

  “Don’t worry so much. That’s fairly normal,” he said when I mentioned it.

  I made a face at him. “Nothing about any of this is normal.”

  He smirked, kissed the top of my head and clambered to his feet.

  “Ready?” Percy asked him, a huge grin splitting his face.

  “Ready for what?” I asked, about to get up.

  Lance pushed me back to the ground. “Stay there and rest. Percy and I are just going to sort out breakfast.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t remember seeing a supermarket on the way here.”

  Chuckling, Lance lifted one shoulder in his familiar shrug. “Well, you know us. We like to do things the old fashioned way.”

  “Are you leaving me on my own?”

  “No, I’m babysitting” Wyn said from across the dying remains of the fire. He winked at me to soften the words.

  Part of me didn’t want Lance to leave. I knew it was silly, but I was frightened he wouldn’t come back. He seemed to notice my concern because he reached down, cupping my chin in his hand. Tipping my face up towards him, he kissed me gently. He was getting very free with his kisses. Not that I was complaining.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  He and Percy jogged into the trees and I watched until the forest swallowed them up. As I glanced back round I found Wyn watching me.

  “Don’t do this, Cara.” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper.

  “What?”

  He sighed. “Don’t do this with Lancelot. Please.”

  He was making some kind of joke, he must have been. I stared at him, waiting for the punch line, but Wyn only stared back at me.

  “Wyn – Gwain – I still don’t know what you mean?”

  “The people around Lancelot, the people he cares about – they get hurt.” He forced the words out, as though he didn’t want to say anything but felt he had to.

  I stood up and went around the fire to sit beside him.

  “Is that because of – all this?” I gestured to the ruins around us.

  Wyn ground his teeth together for a moment then nodded sharply. “I begged him, pleaded with him, to forget his obsession with you. I – we all – wanted hi
m to move on with his life. Elaine was a good woman, for the most part. She would have made him a good wife, provided him with an heir.”

  A little knot had twisted in my stomach at the mention of Elaine, but I tried to ignore it and focus on what Wyn was saying.

  “We all knew that he loved you, that he would always love you, even though he’d only known you a few weeks. Elaine would have settled for second choice, but Lancelot wasn’t interested. He had eyes for no one, no one but you and the Queen.” He laughed bitterly at my sudden frown.

  “Lancelot wasn’t the only one to notice her similarities to you. I saw it too, and it worried me. I would see the way he would look at her sometimes, and I could only pray that Arthur never saw it. Unfortunately he did, and over the years he grew more and more suspicious. Of course, back then life was never exactly quiet, and for the most part Lancelot never had time to dwell. It worried me most on the few occasions he would leave Camelot and return to Joyus Gard. Alone in his castle, with nothing to distract him, I knew he thought of nothing but you.”

  This was a picture of Lance that I didn’t need painting. I didn’t want to see that side of him, the side that frightened me just a little with its intensity. But Wyn wasn’t finished.

  “There was only one other thing in Lancelot’s life beside you. His training. I’m not stupid enough or jealous enough to deny that he was the greatest knight that Albion had ever seen. After all, he did everything in his power to make that the case. I thought sometimes he thought that if his reputation was so big, so widely known, it might reach you, wherever you were, and maybe bring you back to him.”

  His voice trailed off and he squinted toward the trees as though checking for Lance’s return.

  “I sometimes wonder if that was the problem. Lancelot was so good that we relied upon him too much. But I know, without a doubt, that had he been there when we faced Mordred’s army we may have stood a chance of winning. With him exiled we were always going to lose. His selfishness, following his heart instead of his head cost us that battle. And it cost Arthur his life.”

  Suddenly a few things started to make sense. “You blame Lancelot for the fall of Camelot?”

  Wyn winced. “It’s not that I blame him. Or rather, I don’t want to blame him. I’ve tried not to, but now I see him making the same mistakes again. I worry that once again he’s letting his heart rule his head, and when it matters most he will make the wrong decision yet again. That saving you will matter more than saving the world.”

  I reached out and wrapped my fingers around Wyn’s muscular forearm, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were haunted.

  “You have to have faith in Lancelot, Gwain. You can’t blame him more than he already blames himself. He would rather die than fail Arthur again.”

  Wyn forced a half-smile. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  I was about to reply when a low keening sound reached us. It set my teeth on edge and lifted the hairs on my arms. It was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “What is that?”

  Wyn was staring around with wide eyes. “It can’t be.”

  “What is it?”

  He was already on his feet, striding towards the steps up to the broken archway. I scrambled up to follow him.

  “Wyn? What is it?” I rubbed at my arms, trying to smooth down the goose bumps. The noise was like nothing I’d ever heard before.

  Reaching back, he hauled me up the last few broken steps, but kept me behind him as he pointed through the arch. The space beyond had once been the great entrance hall of the castle, I remembered it vividly, but the roof was long gone and the far walls were mostly rubble. I couldn’t spare any attention for the scenery though. I only had eyes for the golden shape in the middle of the floor.

  It looked like a bird, with coppery, golden feathers. Its long, sharply curved beak was open as it let out that low keening sound. My heart wrenched as I looked at it. I wanted to help it; somehow I knew it was in pain. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “Stay back.” Wyn grabbed my arm as I took half a step forward.

  “What is it?” I asked again.

  “It’s a phoenix. They’ve been gone from this world for centuries.” Wyn’s normally cynical voice was full of wonder. “I went on a quest once to retrieve the feather of a firebird. Percy and I travelled the length of Albion searching, but we never found one. It was the only quest I ever failed.”

  “It’s hurt,” I said, taking another step forward.

  “Just watch.”

  I frowned up at him, but then turned back to the phoenix as its keening moved up an octave. It was painful to hear. Just as I pulled my arm out of Wyn’s grasp the keening cut of. There was a single beat of dead silence then the bird burst into bright, hot flames. I gasped and fell back a step.

  “Phoenixes are reborn from the ashes. The only truly immortal creature in the world. It must have passed through from Avalon.”

  I stared at the still burning bird. “But how did it get hurt?”

  Wyn went very still. “That is a very good question.” He reached to his hip and his sword materialised in his hand, his clothes shimmering before my eyes until he stood in full armour. He grabbed my arm and we stumbled back down the steps.

  The forest was still and quiet but I stared into the tress, expecting to see movement at any second.

  I glanced back to Wyn to see him stood staring upwards. I followed his gaze, but the sky was empty.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The phoenix is a bird. Whatever hurt it won’t be earth-bound.”

  A hundred questions popped into my head, but before I had a chance to ask any of them a high pitched scream ripped through the air.

  It sounded almost human, like a woman in agony, but I knew nothing human had wounded the phoenix.

  A shadow passed across the sun, but by the time I turned in that direction it was gone.

  Suddenly Wyn shoved me from behind. “Run, Cara, run for the trees.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  For what felt like an eternity I couldn’t move, I was frozen on the spot. Then I looked into Wyn’s eyes. I had never seen him look even slightly afraid, but right then he looked terrified.

  Not trusting myself to look upwards, I sprung away from him, pushing my legs to carry me as fast as they could towards the trees.

  They were so close, just yards away, when a sharp gust of wind tangled my hair. A powerful down draft nearly threw me to the ground and I glanced up just as a massive creature thumped to the ground in front of me. I fell back, staggering to a halt.

  Its body was that of a lion, covered in thick tawny fur, but its head was a giant eagle. A set of brown wings sprouted from the middle of its back, and foot long talons clawed at the ground.

  A beady, dark eye fixed on me, looking down the length of a razor sharp beak. I drew in a shuddering breath as the thing pawed at the ground.

  “Cara,” Wyn hissed from behind me. “Don’t move.”

  I hadn’t planned on it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him edging to the left, trying to get around the creature.

  “What the hell is it?” I hissed back.

  “It’s a griffin.” Wyn’s voice was taut with fear, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the griffin long enough to look at him properly.

  It was still staring down at me, and even though the beak and talons were far too close for comfort, I didn’t get the feeling it was about to attack. It seemed to be sizing me up, making some kind of judgement about me.

  “Cara!” Lance’s voice ripped through the air from somewhere to my left, but I couldn’t turn to look. There came the sound of running footsteps and then a thud. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lance struggling as Wyn and Percy held him back.

  “Wait, Lancelot. It’s not attacked her yet. If it were going to, you wouldn’t be able to stop it, and it’ll kill her in an instant if you threaten it.”

  Lance sagged, letting Wyn and Percy drag him back a fe
w steps. I turned away from the griffin just long enough to look at Lance. Our eyes met and I tried to reassure him with a tiny smile, but his expression remained frozen in helplessness.

  Overly hot breath washed over my face and I turned back. The griffin was now only inches away; close enough that I could see each golden feather on its head. It was beautiful. Beautiful and deadly.

  Caronwyn Pendragon.

  I was used to hearing a voice in my head, but this wasn’t Arthur. It was deeper, older somehow. It seemed to vibrate through my bones.

  You are very small to have such a heavy destiny upon your shoulders.

  I stared up into those black, bottomless eyes.

  The barriers of Avalon are crumbling. The voice continued. Soon nothing will remain to hold back the darkness banished long ago. I did not harm the phoenix. A creature far older and more terrible than I stalks this world once again. You must destroy Morgana and rebuild the barriers.

  “How?” I asked desperately. I knew I was in no danger from the griffin, but I still eased back a step so it wasn’t so close.

  Morgana must be killed.

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  You must, Cara Pendragon. Only Excalibur can break through her protective magics, and only you can wield Excalibur.

  I shuddered at the thought. As bad as Morgana was, the idea of killing someone made me feel ill.

  You must be strong. Have faith. But I come to warn you, watch for the darkness in the sky. The griffin bowed its scaled front legs then unfurled its wings with a sound like a clap of thunder. With one massive stroke of its wings it was air-born, above the trees in an instant.

  Suddenly hands grabbed my shoulder and I was crushed against Lance’s solid chest.

  “I leave you on your own for two seconds…” He didn’t finish the sentence, crushing his lips against mine instead in a bruising kiss.

  I pulled back a few moments later, but he kept one arm locked around my waist.

  “Should we move on?” Percy asked, coming over to join us. “If that griffin found Cara, then who knows what else may do the same.”