Lancelot and the Wolf (30 page)

She smiled, “You are going to have your revenge whether you like it or not.”

“
No,” I almost sobbed.

She forced the handle of the lash into my left hand, “Yes, or they will die.” I heard Else scream and worst yet, so did Geraint. The heat must be cooking them slowly.

Where the hell was Merlin? I dare not look but I could delay no longer. If I did not please this fey bitch, saving us all would cease to be an option. Nimue lifted her hand, signalling her intent to lower Geraint further toward the coals.

“
Alright,” I cried. “Alright, you win. I’ll do it.” I couldn’t say, 'I’ll flog Arthur to death'. I lacked the courage.

“
Wolf,” he said in tones he used only for ceremony. “I forgive you. Just do what you must, that is an order.”

My hand shook, Arthur bent his head to the post. I raised my hand.

“
Now,” Nimue barked.

My hand ripped forward, the whip whistled over my head and the point struck home. I tried to pull the sharp end back, but Nimue laughed, the whip controlled by her magic. It found its mark without my help. The whip sliced into Arthur’s back on the first pass. His back arched, his head pushed into the wood of the post, blood flowered, skin split.

I did not have the courage of my King, I sobbed. Tears blinded me. My hand came back on Nimue’s order and forward, she laughed and crowed in delight. After five strokes, she danced to Arthur’s side and tormented him. I heard nothing but the beating of my heart inside my mind. My right hand grew numb. I felt numb. My left hand came back, no longer under my control and I watched more blood flow down Arthur’s back, he grunted heavily under the pain.

“
Nimue,” a new voice, an old voice, the voice I needed. “I think it’s time you let the Wolf stop this silliness.” Merlin limped forward, his hand full of something.

Nimue’s eyes settled on me, “What is the point of you becoming king if you don’t obey me, Lancelot?” she sounded peeved. Her hand twitched, bones cracked and I stopped breathing. Ribs, she’d broken some of my ribs with just a thought. My knees hit the floor. I tasted blood.

“
Wolf, on your damned feet,” Merlin barked.

“
Lancelot, fight,” Arthur managed to give an order I understood. I forced myself upright and backed toward Merlin. I fought with the pain and won.

The wizard spoke to Nimue, his right hand stretched out toward her, “You have inconvenienced me for long enough, you damned fey witch. If you don’t release us, I will crush this fetch and you will die.”

The soldiers took a step forward and I finally realised they were all one beast. Each man identical, like the golem but less smelly.

“
You sent the monsters after us?” I choked out.

She glared at me, “Traitor.”

I needed to understand but Merlin held me back, “Don’t, boy. With me you are safe.” He waved a small bundle of rags at Nimue, “This fetch is made with my hate and your hair, fey enchantress and seducer. You know I can use this, let them go and send us home or you will die.”

“
You wouldn’t dare you old soak,” she snarled. “Your foolish intention to drag the world of men away from the old paths will never work.”

“
Yes, it will, it has to and Arthur is the answer to that, your time in our world is over. Your power must return to what it was before the worship of man, Nimue. You are drunk on that power and killing your people because of it. This is not the fey path,” he waved at the soldiers. “You are selling your souls, you and the rest of the Seelie nobility.”

“
You understand nothing, half bred scum,” Nimue lunged at Arthur. I yelled and ran toward her, a soldier moved to intercept me, I lashed out with my left hand and punched him in the face with the back of my fist. He toppled, the token resistance not enough to prevent me from taking his sword and plunging onward to Nimue. Her hands were around Arthur’s throat, choking the life out of him. I couldn’t breathe but I could kill. The sword found the sweetest path through Nimue’s guts, straight through the golden armour under my power. Gold, stupid stuff to make armour out of. She screamed and turned, releasing Arthur.

Merlin held the fetch over the fire. Nimue’s hair smoked, blood splattering everywhere and I reached for Arthur, pulling the sword from her guts. The hole increased to spill her intestines. I raised the sword, cleaved the stake and chains over Arthur’s head. His hands came free and he rose in one movement catching hold of me. I toppled into his arms. My blood mingled with his as he tried to carry me back to Merlin. We shuffled together.

“
I will kill you, you fucking meddling wizard,” Nimue screeched at the top of her voice, her hands holding her guts.

“
How much damage can you heal, lover?” Merlin baited happily. Her skin started to bubble. Geraint and Else were both unconscious but on the floor, due to Merlin’s magic, I hoped. “Home, now,” he ordered. His voice swelled into a mighty torrent of sound, far more powerful than the screams Nimue forced from my companions. I found myself cradled within this sound. It protected me and held me like a mother’s arms.

The world blurred, the heat grew. Arthur collapsed into me, driving us both to our knees. I groaned in pain but the sound vanished from my lips, I only heard it because I knew my throat vibrated. Merlin spoke words of power I didn’t know and soft dawn light with early winter grass under my hand and blue sky over my head turned into blackness.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Arguing voices, one male, one female. I heard them from a long distance away. I thought it would be good to visit them. I’d been quiet for a long time. I could always come back to my quiet place if I decided I didn’t want to stay with the voices.

I recognised the male voice. It made my heart hurt, it sounded upset. I rushed closer. Oh, now, I remembered. “Arthur,” my lips moved. My hand tried to reach for him but pain coalesced everywhere. My breath hitched.

“
He’s awake, thank God, he’s awake,” fingers encircled my left hand and soft lips brushed the surface.

“
I’ll find Merlin,” said the female voice. I caught sight of a white dress vanishing from a simple stone room. Arthur knelt by my low bedside. He gently lifted my head from a soft pillow and brought a cup of water to my lips. “Drink slowly. You’ve been unconscious for days. Merlin said he used you to bring us home. You have real power, Lancelot.” His eyes watered and he turned away, lowering my head carefully.

“
Arthur?” I made it a question. My fingers tightened on his and memories flooded me. “Oh, God, what did I do to you?” I whispered in horror.

His head snapped back, “No, don’t think about it. Don’t ever think about it, I’m healing. I,” he paused. His hand touched my face and I winced from bruises, he withdrew his fingers. “I thought I’d lost you. Merlin said you might not come back.” He kissed my fingers, then my face, my eyes, my lips.

“
Arthur,” I murmured between his kisses. “I love you and I am so sorry.” Was that enough? Would it ever be enough?

I think I washed away from him because I opened my eyes to look into Merlin’s face. He peered at me, startling me to full wakefulness. “There you are, Wolf. Glad to have you home.”

“
Where’s Arthur?” I croaked.

Merlin smiled, “We finally managed to convince him to sleep in his own room. He’ll wake soon enough.” His face appeared to have filled out, his skin healthier and his hair shone in the light from a fire and brazier.

“
How is he?” I tried to sit up, ribs ground together and I whimpered.

“
You should worry about yourself, boy,” Merlin said. His confident hands moved around me and helped me to sit upright. I found my ribs closely bound and my right hand swaddled, with pieces of wood holding my fingers and palm in place.

I lay my head back, exhausted already. Merlin made me drink something bitter. I washed it down with a long draft of water. He also produced some simple food. “Tell me about Arthur,” I repeated eventually.

Merlin sighed, “You did well. You need to know that. I know he was hurt but you saved his life, you saved us all.”

I placed my left hand on his arm, “What’s wrong?” I asked. My heart trembled along with my voice.

Merlin shook his head, “Arthur is hurt, Lancelot. I am trying to understand but it has nothing to do with his back, or maybe it has everything to do with it.”

“
I flogged him,” I said staring at the white stone wall at the end of my bed.

“
No, he flogged you but you did all you could not to hurt him.”

“
He also knows they want me to be king,” I said.

“
Nimue wants you king, Aeddan wants you dead. There is a difference,” Merlin spoke quietly. Lost in his own terrors. “Lancelot,” he took my hand, “you need to help him heal. He needs you well and strong at his side. I fear for him and,” he paused. “And I understand the love he has for you.”

I swallowed, here we go, I thought, the first of Arthur’s people to condemn me.

“
Lancelot, stop fighting what you are. Who you are. It is making Arthur miserable. He loves you, be that person for him.” Merlin spoke gently but I heard the undercurrent of steel. He clearly needed me to let my world become absorbed by Arthur’s.

I though, wanted something else, “Where are Geraint and Eleanor?”

Merlin smiled, “They are here. Geraint has sore feet, which is a miracle. Eleanor’s magic is not just empathic it seems, she has some juice in there, not that she’s going to learn to use it.” His great dark eyebrows grew together and a gentle knock distracted me from asking what he meant. Else walked into my room. My heart swelled, she looked battered and bruised but happy. Her soft brown curls danced around her face, she constantly pushed them back. She wore a long simple dress of rusty wool. When she sat beside me, Geraint hobbled in using a stick and wincing. Merlin rose and muttered about Arthur.

Else hugged me but there were no kisses. I found out I’d been unconscious for a week. We’d been spat out of Albion onto the side of the Tor, from there, Merlin and Else limped into Avalon to find help. Arthur and I were worst off, Geraint unable to stand. Of Nimue we had no sign but Else said sightings of a man matching my description made Merlin and the Sister of Avalon set seals of protection around the Abbey. We were not strong enough to confront Aeddan. But we had Merlin back, so facing Stephen de Clare and stopping his fight for the throne of England seemed possible.

While they spoke about events, I watched how they looked to each other for confirmation of ideas. How their hands touched constantly and how my beautiful girl smiled at my best friend. A lump formed in my throat and tears pricked my eyes. “So,” I said my voice sounding rough, “when are you two going to tell me about your own news?”

Geraint’s eyes snapped to mine. An honest man in his heart his eyes betrayed him, guilt is not attractive, “Lancelot, you need to concentrate on becoming well.”

“
No,” Else said laying a hand on his. “No, there have been too many lies between us.”

“
This is one occasion when lying would be a good thing,” I muttered wanting to stand and pace the small room. Tension made my ribs hurt and my right hand ached horribly. Whatever Merlin gave me to drink didn’t take away enough types of pain.

Else’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t be foolish. It’s the endless lies that have brought us here. Our whole relationship was founded on lies and that’s not a place on which to build a marriage.”

I didn’t want to hear this, “I’m not ready to hear this, please go away. Leave me in peace. Come back in ten years or so.” I struggled under my blankets and cried out in pain. Geraint rose, equally distressed, Else held her ground.

“
It’s over, Lancelot. You and Arthur...”

“
I gave up Arthur for you,” I informed her bitterly. “I want marriage, children and home.”

“
No,” she snapped. “You want convention because you are afraid to face the truth of what and who you really are. I will not play this game with you. I watched you in that place, that dungeon, with Arthur.” Tears stood proud in her angry eyes. Her sentences broke but they remained horribly lucid. “You wanted to save us, but you would have sacrificed me, us, to save him. I deserve to be happy. My bloody step family want me for nefarious reasons, Merlin wants me here learning to be like him and I want love. A love you cannot give me.”

“
I do love you.” The bleat sounded lost and lonely among her passionate words.

“
No,” she sounded so like her biological mother I flinched. “No,” she said more softly as though she’d heard the tone herself. “You love Arthur and that’s alright. I have found love, honest love, elsewhere. I will not be a poor second to Arthur, like Guinevere is to you.” She rose and took Geraint’s hand. “I am sorry and I’m sorry this is going to hurt, but it is the right thing to do.”

That was it, except for Geraint’s stricken gaze as she led him from my room. Done, over. The squire I met all those months ago, who saved me from despair in France, left me for my friend.

I lay back on my small bed and stared at the ceiling. Tears of loss tracked down my face but I didn’t have the energy for rage or heartbreak and Arthur lay next door locked in his own hell. Would I ever know peace? I was certain Arthur Pendragon wouldn’t give me peace but he did want to give me something. His heart, his life. I thought about Guinevere and wondered if Camelot would allow us to spend time together. Eventually, I slept once more and woke to darkness in my small room. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, groaned aloud in pain and saw to my toilet, made more complicated with my sudden left handedness. I hurt everywhere but I could move, so I did, out of my door and into a simple stone corridor, the floor very cold on my bare feet. I considered my nakedness with regard to the Sisters of Avalon, but decided I didn’t care when I heard gentle sobbing from the room to my left. I didn’t knock I just walked into a room lit by one small candle.