A series of shouts went up inside the fort. I could only assume the Saxon horde had found their leader dead.
“Elga had horses tethered down by the stream,” the guard said between ragged breaths. “We must hope we get there before someone comes searching for us.”
A shiver coursed through me as a hound bayed. It was not one of the war hounds. That was a tracking dog, and it had caught our scent. Likely, I had left a trail of blood that would lead them right to us.
I was shaking uncontrollably by the time we reached the horses. Kiara had to hold me upright while my rescuer mounted his steed. Then she passed me up to him like a sack of grain. When he reached for me, the sleeve of his grimy tunic inched back and I saw a pattern of blue swirling up his arm. Suddenly dry-mouthed, I looked again. Covering his right arm was a dragon, the sign of the house of Lothian. But the men of that line were all dead, except for Gawain, and he was back at Traprain Law. Wasn’t he?
The baying was getting closer. Before my thoughts could go any further, we were off, galloping as fast as Elga’s steeds would carry us. I clung to the horse’s mane as well as I could with my better arm, praying my rescuer’s grip on my waist would be enough to keep me seated.
We had been riding for quite some time when he yelled for Kiara to slow her horse. We pulled up beside her and she helped me down, keeping one steadying arm around me.
My rescuer removed his helmet, rubbing his face with both hands.
When he dropped them, I stared into brown eyes I thought I’d only see again in the Otherworld. My lips parted in an astounded breath as I struggled to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew to be possible. Perhaps I had died at Elga’s hand after all. It was the only explanation for how I found myself staring into Aggrivane’s face.
Chapter Nineteen
When I next opened my eyes, I was facing the peaked roof of a cloth tent. Where was I? How had I gotten here? I breathed deeply, surveying the pains in my body. Nearly every part of me ached, but especially my hips and my arms. Glancing down, I found my left arm was splinted with a tree branch and immobilized in a sling, and my right arm was heavily bandaged. Slowly, carefully, I sat up, putting as little pressure on my bandaged arm as possible.
Fighting off a wave of lightheadedness, I took in my surroundings. Four canvas walls, one of which was split in the middle to make a door that rippled in the soft breeze. A small fire burned not far away. Hesitantly, I swung my left leg off the pile of blankets that served as a bed and tried to stand. My right hip was bound tightly to restrict its range of motion, but I guessed it was not broken. As long as I didn’t put my full weight on my right leg, I could remain upright. Walking might prove to be a different matter, however.
I took tiny, halting steps toward the door flap as pain flared in my limbs. Memories of the previous day returned in a rush, as though carried back to me on a gale. In flashes, I remembered scaling the wall, relived Elga’s attack and knowing I was going to die. Morgan’s intervention still puzzled me. I owed her my life. Please, Mother Goddess, let her live. She deserves a few years of solace after what she did for me. In a flash, I remembered Aggrivane, but I pushed that thought out of my mind. It was too much; I would think about him after I learned where I was and how the rest of our troops fared.
By the time I reached the door, I had to grasp onto the material to stay upright. Sweat drenched my brow, yet my teeth chattered. But I willed myself onward. I had to find out where I was and what was happening.
Before I could venture outside, voices caught my attention—a man and a woman, not far away. They weren’t exactly arguing, but speaking intensely.
“I must return to finish what I started,” Kiara said. “Our warriors deserve better than to remain exposed, food for the carrion birds. We must burn their bodies and take word of our defeat back to Evina.”
“If the carnage is as bad as you say, then you will need my help,” the man insisted.
My heart stopped. It really was Aggrivane.
“No. You stay here with Guinevere. There are other Votadini who can help. When you can, flee. Do not return to Din Eidyn. Go anywhere else you will be safe. Just keep Guinevere out of Evina’s reach. I will calm her wrath as best I can.”
I could not stand to be in the shadows any longer. I limped out of the tent toward their voices. “Was it really so bad? Were we so roundly defeated?”
They looked up, startled by the sound of my voice.
Kiara rushed to my side, allowing me to lean on her. “I am afraid so. I just returned from what is left of our camp. By my count, less than fifty of our men and women remain, though some may have already fled north. We were slaughtered. Corag and Ailith are among the dead.”
My shoulders sagged. “It is all my fault. I led us here. Calliac warned us I would bring about their deaths, but I did not listen. I should have died alongside my men.”
Aggrivane handed me a stout branch. “Use this to balance your weight. It is not your fault. I was there. I saw what you did to try to save Lancelot. Be assured Elga was going to kill him even if you had taken your own life before her eyes. Both of you were but pawns in her game. For weeks, she talked of nothing but wiping out the Votadini. She may not have succeeded, but she dealt us a fearsome blow.”
“May each of the dead be a curse upon her spirit,” Kiara spat. “But even though she is dead, her people will try again. I may not have your gift of sight, but I know in my bones this is the first of many battles. Accolon still lives, and the men of Rheged will not stop until they bring the Saxons to their knees. Luckily for us, I am alive and so is Cinon. If I can convince Evina that she needs us to rebuild her army so that we can fight another day, we may yet live to see victory.”
We were silent for a while, the sounds of forest animals and birds a calming backdrop to our sobering thoughts. Finally, I broke the quiet. “You said they were going to burn the bodies. Can I not return to see Lancelot is properly attended to?”
Kiara swallowed hard. “I am afraid they have not recovered his body, nor Morgan’s. We fear the Saxons took them as prizes to celebrate their victory.”
Aggrivane put his arm around me, no doubt intending to comfort me, but I shrugged him off. The fury I hadn’t even realized had been building inside me unleashed like a broken dam.
“Will I never get to say goodbye to anyone I love?” I shouted, tears streaming down my face. “Why is that finality always denied to me? My mother, Arthur, you.” I looked at Aggrivane. “Now Lancelot. Everyone I love dies, and I never get the chance to bid them farewell.” Sobs racked my body, rendering me mute. Kiara reached out to me, but I shrank away, lowering myself painfully into a ball on the ground.
“I will make sure a memorial stone is erected for him in our homeland,” Kiara said. “He was much loved by our people and died defending them. They would never let anything less stand. It is not much, I know, but at least he will be remembered.”
She was right. So many of our best had gone home to our ancestors with nothing to mark that they’d ever lived.
I wiped my tears. “Thank you. I’m sorry for my outburst.”
Aggrivane helped me to stand. “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. You have more strength than me. I would have broken down the moment I remembered yesterday’s events.”
Kiara glanced at the sun. “I am sorry to leave you, but I must be getting back to camp.”
I hobbled over to her and embraced her with my one good arm. I knew I would never see her again. “Thank you for everything. You were my first true friend in that land, and I will never forget the kindness you have shown me. Will you do me one last favor?”
“Name it.”
“On the night Cinon, Corag, and Ailith were chosen as our battle leaders, I promised myself I would protect Ailith’s little sister. Since I cannot return to watch over her, will you take special care of her and do your best to see her grow into a st
rong woman?”
Kiara nodded solemnly. “Of course. I will make it my goal to foster her whole generation in Ailith’s memory.”
I hugged her one more time, squeezing tight. “You are truly a blessing. Watch yourself around Evina. She is likely to take out her wrath on you since I will not be there to abuse.”
Kiara waved away my concerns. “I can handle her. I thank you as well for your friendship. We are blood bonded, remember? We will always be in one another’s hearts.” She nodded to Aggrivane. “Take care of her.”
“I will.”
Kiara mounted and set off toward Catraeth. As she faded from sight, all the strength left my body, as though she was taking it with her.
Holding on to Aggrivane with my good arm, I staggered toward the tent. “You are limping. Are you injured as well?”
“No. Just the remnant of my brush with death that I will nurse for the rest of my days,” he said with a wry smile.
“What happened? I saw you die. How is it that you are here?”
Aggrivane helped me onto the blanket bed. “That is a story for another time. You need to rest. We should be safe here for a few days.” He kissed the top of my head. “Sleep now.”
I lay in my bed, staring at the tip of the tent, completely hollow, for several days. I had no concept of the passage of time, only of the pain in my heart and of what I had lost. My mind kept replaying Lancelot’s final moments, guilt goading that I could have done more to save him. I cried so hard my abdomen ached and the tears coursing down my cheeks formed chapped lines that stung with every fresh wave of grief. I recreated my encounter with Lancelot from every vantage, even trying to put myself in Elga’s place—what would I have done if I could have abducted her husband?—but no matter now I turned it around, the outcome was the same. Aggrivane was right; Elga would have killed Lancelot no matter what I did. Now I had to learn to live with his loss.
For his part, Aggrivane let me be, interrupting my mourning only to change my bandages or to feed me soup. I was nearly as incapacitated as I had been when Malegant broke all ten of my fingers. I wanted to believe Aggrivane’s ministrations were genuine, but the part of me that was still deeply wounded by his betrayal of Lancelot and me to Arthur expected him to deliver me to the Saxons at any moment. After all, he had been posing as one of Elga’s guards. It wasn’t so great a stretch of the imagination to think he could still be working for their side.
The rational part of my mind knew that was ridiculous. He had helped me escape capture by the Saxons. That should have put an end to all of my suspicions, but in my grief, I needed someone to take the blame for Lancelot’s death. Elga was dead, so I couldn’t rail at her; Aggrivane made for a convenient substitute. I was grateful to him, yes. Without his intervention, I would be dead. But that didn’t mean I had to trust him.
I startled awake in the gray hours before dawn, unsure of what had woken me. I strained to make out any movement in the pitiful light cast by the embers. Nothing seemed out of place, so I stilled myself and listened. Above the sound of Aggrivane’s breathing came the forlorn howl of a dog. I froze, every muscle on tense alert. Could it be one of Theodoric’s hounds, finally caught up to us? Or was it merely the vocalization of one owned by a nearby farmer?
I gently shook Aggrivane. “Wake up. Wake up.”
He came alert slowly, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. “What is it?”
“I hear a dog. I think the Saxons may have found us.”
Wait. What if that was why Aggrivane had insisted we stay here? What if he was waiting for the Saxons to catch up? We couldn’t be too far from Catraeth. I felt the color drain from my face.
Aggrivane sat up, ears perking to pick up the sound. “Are you unwell? You are pale as a bone.” He listened for a long time. The dog called twice more, then was silent. “We should pack up and move. You need the services of a true healer.”
“What I need is time,” I protested. Nothing could be done for my broken arm or my hip except wait for them to heal. As for my other arm and the relatively minor cuts and abrasions on the rest of my body, those were nothing that could not be solved with a mixture of yarrow and other herbs. Even with a sore arm, I could make such a poultice. But more than that, I needed time to trust him again and time for my shattered heart to knit.
Aggrivane dipped a rag into the last of the wash water and cleaned my face. “Time is something we may have none of or all we wish, depending on what we do next. Hold still.” He grabbed my chin with his thumb and forefinger to keep me from fidgeting.
“I may not be able to lift a spoon, but I am capable of cleaning myself, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Not without difficulty,” he pointed out. “Besides, I miss touching you.”
My heart warmed, but I turned away. “Aggrivane…”
He turned my face back toward him and continued stroking my skin. “I know. This is all very sudden for you. I am not suggesting anything. It was simply a statement.”
I glared at him. “It was more than that. Please, be patient. I have not yet grieved my last love, much less come to terms with your return.”
He plunged his hands into the bucket before splashing water over his face and hair. “Fair enough. I will treat you only as a friend until you tell me otherwise.” He puttered around the small tent, gathering up the few supplies. “So where should we go now?”
It was a good question. The world as we had known it when last we were together had completely changed. As Kiara had said, heading north was not an option. “What about going to Lothian?”
Aggrivane shook his head. “Gawain and my mother do not know I still live, and I fear the shock would kill her. I wish them to live out their days in peace. Besides, Evina knows you came to her from Traprain Law. She would think to look for you there.”
He had a point. But how was I to know where she would and would not search for me? Or even if she would make the effort? Was that to be my destiny then, always on the run, always shrinking from shadows, too scared to settle down? I hadn’t stopped running since Elga let me leave Camelot, and I was fed up. If all the future held for me was looking over my shoulder, then I would have been better off if Morgan hadn’t taken the blow meant for me.
Aggrivane packed up our meager belongings and saw to the horses while I sat, useless and restless, as we discussed our options. We could not journey south, as that would take us into the heart of Saxon territory. Constantine controlled much of the land beyond that, and we were uncertain whether he would consider us friend or foe.
“We could always appeal to his mercy. He may be kind to us if you renounce your role as queen,” Aggrivane said.
“The last thing I want to do is take that chance. I am tired of being the prize in the constant quest for power. I do not think he would allow us to live in peace.”
There was a small chance we could return to Gwynedd, but neither of us knew who held power in Northgallis now. Since my cousin Bran had died in the last battle with Constantine, I did not even know if Northgallis was an autonomous kingdom or part of Constantine’s burgeoning empire. Anywhere farther south was out because that was his base. But there was one place even Evina couldn’t find.
The next time Aggrivane came into the tent, I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to go home?”
He looked at me, confused.
“To Avalon. It is the only safe place left.”
“Are you certain they will allow me to enter?”
“They allowed you to cross their borders once. Why not now, after you have spent your life defending one of their own? You are still loyal to the old ways, are you not?”
Aggrivane nodded.
I fought a sudden, unexpected, and perplexing urge to kiss him. “Then they will allow you in.” We lapsed into silence until a thought flashed through my mind. “What ever happened to the Grail?”
&
nbsp; Morgan had called for it in the chaos after Camlann. Had it been used to try to heal Arthur? No. If it had, he would have lived.
Aggrivane blinked at me, having trouble following my change of topic. “I truly do not know. I think it is still there in its castle. Why?”
“If the last few years have taught me anything, it is that this land and its people are no longer worthy of it. We need to return it to Avalon.”
“I don’t know if returning to Camelot is wise,” he protested.
“Why not? Everyone who wished us harm is dead.”
“But it has surely decayed. Are you sure you do not wish to preserve your memories of it?”
I smiled without warmth. “My memories of that place are of my trial and burning. They are nothing a little ruin will harm.”
Aggrivane sighed. “Surely there are others, brighter memories.” He tied the last bag onto his horse’s saddle. “But I have known you long enough to know when to yield. Camelot it is.”
The journey across Britain was slow. We were careful to avoid the main cities unless Aggrivane knew for certain someone he could trust was living there. Otherwise, we begged charity from farmers and shepherds, often sleeping in their barns, in the tent, or under the stars, as the weather allowed. In many places, we were welcomed warmly by virtue of my priestess mark, but in others, it was best to keep it hidden under the folds of my veil. We told no one our real names. Yet again, I posed as Corinna, and Aggrivane adopted the name of Declan, a tradition in his family as well.
One night, as we were lying in a grassy field, gazing at the stars, our bellies full of stew made from the hare Aggrivane trapped and the vegetables I saved from the last housewife’s generosity, I found the courage to ask Aggrivane the question that had been niggling at me since I first saw his face. “I saw you die on the battlefield at Camlann. How is it possible you are here?”
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