The Ring of Morgana (The Children of Camelot) Page 10

  “I’m going to spend the rest of my life being paranoid,” I say to Rustin. “I’ll be questioning every person I meet for the rest of my life.”

  “Beats Tenerife, Mila,” he replies with a wink.

  “You didn’t tell your mum, did you?”

  “She won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  “But what if something happens to us?”

  “You’ve got everyone looking out for you, Mila. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

  We walk a bit further in silence. There’s stuff I want to say, but won’t. I want Rustin to know that I’ll be looking out for him. That while I can’t remember grabbing hold of his hand just then, I’m glad I did. And that time at the hang-out when we kissed was my first kiss. My first proper kiss. And I liked it, and I wish he would mention it because I want to know he liked it too.

  I want Rustin to take my hand now. I could take his, but I’m too chicken to do that too. I’ve spent sixteen years trying to live up to my mother’s vision of normal, but I can’t even do that.

  I hope she’s still with Lilly. Dad said the past changed my mother. I should have asked how. The sky above is getting real dark, real quick. A black shadow has covered the entire ruin on top of the Tor, but it’s strange. It looks like a heat haze.

  It’s moving.

  “Oh shit.” Fake bravado and pretence is gone. I grab Rustin’s hand. He sinks his fingers into my skin.

  “Don’t let go,” he says. “Whatever happens now, we stay together.”

  There are voices coming from the church. Someone is singing. I look behind me, but the family that passed us earlier are specks in the distance.

  “That’s Talan,” says Auntie Titch. “He must be waiting on the other side.”

  My dad slips his arms around my waist, but doesn’t keep it there. He seems happy to let me walk through with Rustin, although dad’s eyes linger on our tightly clasped hands.

  “Just walk through, Mila. Follow your aunt. I’m right behind you.”

  When we were at the bottom of the grassy hill, I could see straight through the door of the tower to the other side. Now the black cloud has completely covered the structure. It’s like walking into a room with no lights or windows.

  The singing is getting louder. The black cloud starts to wrap itself around my body. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming. It feels like cold fingers are grabbing me. We’re at the door of the church tower. Rustin and I are still holding hands.

  “You’re doing great, Mila. Just keep walking,” calls my aunt from the darkness.

  “DAD!”

  I get no reply.

  “DAD!”

  Still nothing.

  “Keep walking, Mila,” calls my aunt.

  “Rustin, are you still there? I can’t see you.”

  “You can’t see me, but you’re certainly feeling me, Mila,” he replies. “And I think you’ve broken every bone in my hand.”

  “MILA!”

  “DAD!”

  Suddenly the darkness leaves us. A vivid pink sunset splays out across the sky. I’m looking at the same green plains of Glastonbury as before, although the village has disappeared.

  “What’s happened?” I ask. “Where are the houses? What’s happened to all the people?”

  “Whoa!” exclaims Rustin. “Look behind you, Mila.”

  I turn and stare up at the tower on top of Glastonbury Tor, but it’s completely changed. It’s no longer the rectangular beacon of before. Now it’s a proper church, with a long mid section and round end. It doesn’t look like a ruin at all.

  Talan’s head appears as he climbs up the grassy hill. He grins, and then bows.

  “Lady Mila, it is my honour to welcome you to the great kingdom of Logres. Your birthplace and your birthright. Ruled by the great King Arthur and defended by the Knights of the Round Table. Welcome home, Lady Mila. Welcome home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Disobedient Daughter

  The need to check my body parts comes before the capacity to speak. My fingers pat down my body. Legs? Check. Fingers? Check. Hair not scalped? Check. Whatever happened back there didn’t change me physically. Mentally is another thing entirely. A maelstrom of questions surge through my head, making it pound.

  Rustin is copying my movements. His hands move over his body quickly before settling on his neck.

  “You look good,” I say. “I mean you look okay. You look normal.”

  “You too,” he replies. “That was something else. I’m glad you don’t have nails. You almost impaled your fingers on my hand you were gripping so tightly.”

  He shows me his upturned hand and the four crescent moon shapes that have left deep imprints in his pale skin.

  “Thanks for not letting go of me,” he whispers. “I was crapping myself.”

  He wasn’t, but it makes me feel less stupid for crying out for my dad like a little kid.

  “How are you both feeling?” asks my father.

  “Freaked out,” I reply.

  “I hate that word,” replies Auntie Titch. “But I understand what you mean.”

  “So, we’re in the past?” asks Rustin. “We’ve just travelled through a time portal?”

  “Yes,” replies my father. “Why it only opens to a few people, we’ve never worked out. But as long as it remains open to us, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You mean it could close up?” I cry. The thought of not getting back to my time again hadn’t even occurred to me. I never believed they were serious about being able to travel to a difference time, let alone getting back again.

  “We’ve been using this portal for sixteen years, Mila,” replies my father. “Everything will be fine.”

  But I’m looking down from the top of the Tor, having seen an entire village disappear, and I’m not so sure.

  “Talan, where’s Bedivere?” asks my aunt.

  “Readying the horses, Lady Natasha,” replies the Irishman. “Sir Lucan and Sir Dagonet have already left for Camelot.”

  “Horses?” asks Rustin. “No one mentioned horses.”

  “Cars haven’t been invented yet,” replies my father, without sarcasm. “It’s a two day journey on horseback, but I want to cut that down as much as possible. We need to get to Sam and Lilly right away.”

  “Have you thought about summoning the sorcerer, sire?” asks Talan.

  “I have,” replies my father. “Merlin and I discussed it back at the house, but the danger of Lilly deteriorating further if he isn’t there to control the power of the ring is worse than us using him to get to Camelot quicker. Better to take two days to get there, than have Merlin leave her side for a minute.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose to try and relieve some of the pressure building up in my head. It’s all just too much to comprehend. Discovering that a well-established myth is real would blow most people’s minds, but finding out my father is a legendary king is dissolving my brain into mush. I wanted the truth, but as the actor in one of dad’s favourite old movies screams, I’m not sure I can handle the truth.

  Rustin and I follow my father, aunt and Talan down the grassy layers of the Tor. Rustin and I continually look behind at the large church on top of the mound, but it just looks like a normal abbey. The black haze has completely disappeared.

  “We’ll be able to get back, won’t we?” I whisper.

  “Right now I’m more worried about getting on a horse, Mila,” replies Rustin. “I’ve never been on one before.”

  “I know how to ride,” I say. “You can sit behind me and just hold on.”

  I feel myself flush as soon as I’ve said it. Thankfully the wind is starting to blow a gale and my long dark hair is being whipped around my face, so I don’t think anyone can see me blushing. Then I get angry with myself for being so stupid. Rustin and I have been friends for over ten years. Why should our friendship change, just because everything else is? Rustin needs to be my one constant of normal in all of this weirdness. He’ll understand it all,
but it won’t change him, and therefore it won’t change me.

  I can’t and won’t let him out of my sight.

  “Watch the ground, you two,” calls my father. “The earth here is far boggier in this time than back in the 21st century. You’ll need to follow our footsteps as we get to the flat, or you’ll end up sinking down and getting stuck.”

  Auntie Titch starts running towards a tall figure who has just stepped out from a small copse of evergreens that look like Christmas trees. He’s leading a large chestnut coloured horse by some reins. Rustin swears loudly.

  “What the hell happened to his arm? Your uncle lost an arm.”

  It’s Uncle Bed leading the horse. The fabric of his tunic is tied up around the stump of his left arm, just below the elbow. He smiles at us and then my auntie as she reaches him.

  “Didn’t you know my uncle only had one arm?” I say to Rustin. I guess I had never mentioned it, but then it is rather personal.

  “Bedivere lost his arm sixteen years ago, Rustin,” says my aunt. “He wears a prosthetic when we’re forward in time because people stare much more than they do here. It draws too much attention to us.”

  “Does it concern you, Rustin?” asks my uncle. “I am happy to endure the false hand if it makes you less troubled.”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” replies Rustin awkwardly, making a pained face at me for forgetting to mention it before. “I just didn’t know. I thought for a second it had sliced off when we time travelled. How did it happen?”

  “Dark magic,” replies my aunt, with a pointed glare at my father. He just sighs and shakes his head.

  I remember back to what was said at the house. Auntie Titch lives here all of the time. Just how much does she know about dark magic? They have no proper medicines here. I’m starting to get a better idea of what will be required to make Lilly well again, and it isn’t an intravenous drip and antibiotics.

  And I was born here. Does that mean my mother went into labour without drugs, or did she use magic too? In medieval times, women regularly died during childbirth. Not just when babies got stuck, but with infections afterwards. We learned about it in history class. My mother was only a bit older than I am now when she had me. I don’t think I could go through that without drugs...or magical pain relief. Did some of that magic transfer into me? Merlin said I had awoken the power of the ring. Was that how I did it? And if so, does that mean I’m dangerous? What else could I touch and corrupt?

  “How are you, Mila?” asks Uncle Bed. “And you, Rustin? No ill came of travelling for the first time?”

  “It was fine,” I say. “A bit weird, but painless.”

  “That part was alright, but I’m in trouble if I have to ride,” replies Rustin. “A horse kicked my dad between the legs once. He had internal bleeding and his bits swelled up like watermelons.”

  “Show your steed respect but no fear,” replies my uncle, trying hard not to laugh. “Failing that, ride behind someone who can. Mila is an excellent horsewoman. You should hear the king tell the court of her prowess.”

  I smile. I like hearing that my dad has said I’m good at stuff.

  “I can ride, I can fight and I know how to gut a fish,” I say, looking at my father and then my aunt. “You two have been preparing me for this, haven’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “Not overtly,” replies my father. “But yes, a council of the Round Table was convened several years ago, and it was decided that it would be better if you were prepared, just in case.”

  “But you didn’t tell mum.”

  “Your mother and I have an understanding, Mila. She doesn’t ask about Logres, and I don’t tell her.”

  Sounds like lying to me, but I hold my tongue.

  While the adults start getting the horses ready, Rustin pulls me to one side.

  “Mila, what are they expecting you to do, once you get to Lilly?” he asks in a hushed voice.

  “I don’t know. But it’s my fault Lilly’s ill, so I’ll do whatever they want.”

  “I just have a really bad feeling about this,” replies Rustin. “Your dad, he already seems...I don’t know...kinda superior. He’s a king, which means your aunt and uncle are important people too. They aren’t going to be used to people saying no to them.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “We’re teenagers, Mila. We’re supposed to rebel against rules and parents and the shit life throws at us. I don’t want you to forget who you are. I don’t want you to forget that you can say no.”

  “I have to make Lilly better, Rustin.”

  “It was an accident. Whatever happened to your sister is way beyond anything you did or didn’t do. That ring was sucking the life out of your hand, Mila, and there was something in that stone that was alive. It was like a face, or something, materialised inside it. I saw it. Look, we’ve gone back in time to a place that isn’t supposed to exist outside of legends and books. This is way beyond ghosts in the graveyard. This is magic and dark power and it’s going to be dangerous.”

  “It’ll be okay, Rustin. Dad’ll protect me.”

  “Like he protected your sister?” replies Rustin, raising his eyebrow high into his messy hair. “They’re all clinging to you to save Lilly from this spell because you were born here. Just don’t do anything stupid. You’re my best friend - my oldest friend. I don’t want...I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t,” I whisper. “But I did this, Rustin, and I have to take responsibility.”

  “Just not at any cost. This isn’t your fault.”

  But when I think back to what I did to my hand, I know he’s wrong. I feared it and wanted it at the same time. I lost control.

  “So, who are you gonna ride with?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Don’t try and get out of this. And I was serious when I said I can’t ride,” he replies.

  “Well, I can, so shut up worrying.”

  “Rustin will ride behind me or Bedivere,” calls my father. “Or Titch or Talan. Anyone, but my daughter.”

  “Gross, dad,” I call, feeling myself flush with embarrassment again. “We’re friends.”

  “And I have no doubt there will be many more friends calling upon the great halls of Camelot once word reaches the kingdom that the princess has returned,” says Talan with a smirk. “You will have your work cut out for you, sire. Keeping the wolves at bay.”

  “Wolves!” exclaims Rustin. “There are wolves?”

  “It’s a metaphor, Rustin,” replies my aunt, making a hand cradle for Uncle Bed to step into as he mounts his horse.

  “Should we tell the young sir about the wolf-riders?” asks Talan, mounting his horse too.

  “Let’s just get to the castle,” says my father. “Rustin, you’re with me. Titch, you lead. Talan and Bedivere, you two flank Mila.”

  “Get you, all bossy boots,” I say, stroking the long nose of the only horse left: a dapple grey with a soft, black and white mane. It neighs and nuzzles into my hand.

  “What are wolf-riders?” asks Rustin, but my father doesn’t answer, because at that moment, a huge roar, like the sound of jet plane taking off, comes from behind us in the direction of the Tor.

  I can see the enormous wings, flapping like bed sheets on a clothes line. I can hear the swooping sound that vibrates deep into my chest. And I can feel the heat blast from the ten metre long flames that gush out of its razor-sharp mouth.

  But this is now a myth too far. A monster too far. My brain is swelling and thumping against my skull as I try to take in what I’m seeing. I can’t breathe. I stumble backwards, pointing at the sky, gasping for oxygen that has been sucked out of the air.

  All of the horses are startled by the roar, but they settle quickly, although mine is pawing at the ground. Then there’s a thud and my father swears.

  Rustin has fainted and fallen off the back of dad’s horse.

  “Didn’t I say this was a bad idea, bringing Rustin,” says my father. Auntie Titch dismounts and I
quickly follow. Uncle Bed and Talan are too busy laughing to care.

  “Leave him alone,” I say, finding my breath at last. “You didn’t tell Rustin there were dragons, and he was already feeling sick with the thought of getting on a horse. He hasn’t eaten anything at all today because he didn’t want me to feel ill in the car, and he doesn’t like animals, dad. Just because this is normal to you, it isn’t to us.”

  Tears are prickling my eyes. I feel embarrassed for Rustin and ashamed of my father. He’s supposed to be the cool dad, and back home he is, but here he’s definitely got a crown shoved up his butt.

  And I don’t like it.

  Rustin is groaning. I push his messy brown hair away from his face, which is cold and clammy. His mouth is slightly open and I can see his tongue resting behind his teeth. I get a flashback of the time we kissed down at the hang-out and butterflies swoop in my stomach.

  “Up you get, Rustin,” says my aunt, and together we pull him to his feet. He leans into me and I am very conscious that my head is resting against his.

  “That was a...”

  “A dragon...I know.”

  “There can’t be any more surprises and so I won’t do that again,” he whispers. “Your dad already thinks I’m an idiot.”

  “If you do freak out, I’ll know you’re still you,” I whisper back.

  “I won’t change if you don’t.”

  Rustin holds out his little finger. A pinkie swear. We haven’t done this since we were eleven, but I think it’s his way of reminding me who I am.

  “Do you want to ride behind me?” I ask. I don’t wait for an answer in case it’s a no.

  It’s not the first time I’ve disobeyed my father, and it won’t be the last. And the satisfaction I get from riding away with Rustin clinging to me far outweighs the shock of having a dragon lighting the way.

  I’m in Logres, the place of my birth. But this is not home. This will never be home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Spitting Image

  I love horses. Some of my earliest memories - and injuries - have come from riding. It’s an addiction, and no matter how much you ache, how much you hurt, you get back on. I like the fear and thrill of trusting in something that has very organic instincts. Horses want to gallop and explore, and depending on how good their rider is, they’ll do that with a certain amount of control. But they will never let you forget where the power really is, and it’s that rush of the unknown that makes riding so exhilarating.