The Spirit of Nimue (The Return to Camelot #3) Read online

  Lucan pulled me from the tent. Mordred’s crazy shrieking was still echoing through the air. I could hear heavy thumps behind me, and I knew that a couple of the guards were now giving Mordred a kicking.

  Yet it just made his screaming cries last longer. I put my fingers in my ears, but his voice still found me.

  “This is my time...my time...and Lady Natasha knows it to be the truth. This is my time...”

  Chapter Two

  Arrows and Fire

  We found Guinevere chatting up a huge knight called Sir Lamorak, just outside Arthur’s tent. She was twirling her hair and moving her body, and she made flirting look so natural and normal. If I ever tried it, I would just look like I was having a seizure.

  “Hail, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” she called, as Lucan and I walked towards her.

  “We aren’t seriously going to call each other that now, are we?” I replied. “It’ll double the length of every conversation we have.”

  “Such a title befits two brave warriors,” said Lamorak, bowing before me. “It is an honour, Lady Natasha, to finally make your acquaintance.”

  “When are Sir Mordred and the other Gorian prisoners to be moved, Sir Lamorak?” asked Lucan. “I have a sense of foreboding at their traitorous hides joining the king’s procession to Camelot, and Sir Mordred’s outburst has done little to quell my fears.”

  “The king and his court are leaving soon,” replied Lamorak. “He wishes to travel under the cover of darkness. Sir Mordred and the prisoners are to remain here until the morrow.”

  “Then that is welcome news, for I long to see Camelot again,” said Lucan. “It has been too long.”

  “For all of us,” said Lamorak. “Will Sir Bedivere and your good self now make the court of Camelot your homestead? It grieved me to hear of your father’s banishment.”

  Lucan must have sensed my reaction to the memory, because he gently placed his hand on the small of my back. It wasn’t a hug, just a friendly touch.

  “I do not wish my brother to be denied his name and place,” he replied, “and so I pray that my father will overcome his stubbornness and will see the truth before the end.”

  “And if I ever see Duke Corneus of Lindsey again, he will be seeing more than just the truth,” snapped Guinevere. “He’ll be seeing the point of a sword.”

  “Forgive me, Lady Guinevere,” said Lucan quickly. “I forgot you shared the torment of my dear sister.”

  “And yet all have forgotten me.”

  My head whipped around. Where had that whisper come from? I had actually felt the breath on my neck. I rubbed my fingers against my cold skin. It was damp. I looked at the others. Had anyone else heard it?

  Do not say a word, especially in front of Guinevere.

  Why did my inner voice assume I was a dumbass? Ever since I had returned to Camelot, I had been all too aware I was constantly treading a fine line between different and insane. People like Bedivere were happy to see me as unique, but then there were those like his father who were quick to condemn me. If I stayed here, I would always be wobbling on that tightrope, and so keeping a friend like Guinevere on my side was more important than anything. I didn’t need my inner voice hissing at me to keep quiet.

  “Are you ailing, Lady Natasha?” asked Lamorak. “The colour in your cheeks is waning like the moon.”

  “I’ve always been pale,” I mumbled. “It’s nothing.”

  But Guinevere knew me too well by now. Her eyes were narrowed into suspicious slits.

  “The Ladies of the Round Table will retire now. Thank you for your companionship, sirs,” announced Guinevere very suddenly and very theatrically. She grabbed my arm and started dragging me away.

  “Which voice was it: the sorcerer or the Lady of the Lake?” she hissed.

  “Neither.”

  “A voice belonging to another? Lady Natasha, you are truly a witch or a seer.”

  “The last time I got accused of being a witch I ended up being tied to the stake, so could you please keep your voice down?” I whispered, hurriedly looking around for anyone who might have overheard us.

  Then my eyes were drawn upwards. Arthur’s red Ddraig was now circling in the sky with a line of dark grey smoke stretching behind it, like the trail from a plane. Someone needed to douse that creature before it drew too much attention to us.

  “Arthur’s leaving, and he’ll be looking for us,” I said, trying to change the subject.

  “Whom did you hear?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Guinevere.”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because you’ll think I’m crazy - infected with madness, as you would say.”

  “You are infected with madness,” replied Guinevere, “but you have a true heart and I love you, and Byron believed you to be special...” She trailed off with her eyes widening.

  My stupid face must have reacted in some way to her brother’s name.

  “You heard Byron.” It wasn’t a question. Guinevere knew.

  “I’m so sorry, Guinevere. I don’t know why this happens to me. I know your brother is dead.”

  “Is he dead, Lady Natasha?” replied Guinevere excitedly. “You heard Sir David’s words. My brother’s body was gone, with light footsteps leading away from the grave. And now you hear his voice. Tell me, what did he say?”

  I sighed. “He said, ‘and yet all have forgotten me’.”

  Guinevere clutched at her clothes, as if she were grabbing for her heart, and I felt sick with myself. My little brother had died – almost certainly at the hands of Nimue. I knew how awful it was. How it changes your life forever. I totally understood Guinevere wishing Byron was alive, but she hadn’t seen him in those last hours. It wasn’t a sudden accident. The pain in his face had told the story better than I ever could. Byron was dead, and it had been a long time in coming.

  “Guinevere, please...”

  “I will see my brother again, I know I shall,” said Guinevere, “and I will give him such a hiding when I do, leaving his king and the knights before his time was finished.”

  There was no point in arguing. If Guinevere wanted to believe Byron was alive, then why shouldn’t she? If that gave her hope, then who was I to take it away?

  “We need to find Arthur. If we’re leaving now, then I want to make sure I’m travelling with him and Bedivere.”

  Guinevere started pouting. “Alas, I have been ordered to travel as an escort to the king’s lady and the bairn. All of those knights riding up and down on horseback and I shall not...”

  “Guinevere! You’re boy-mad.”

  She sighed as two knights in chain mail walked past us and bowed.

  “You have your madness, Lady Natasha. I endure mine.”

  We were giggling like idiots by the time we had walked over to Arthur. Guinevere’s laugh was sweet and pretty; mine was like a pig being chased by men with knives. Then Arthur’s Ddraig decided to swoop down towards us, and my laughter was guillotined in one thud.

  “Can’t you control that thing, Arthur?”

  “Why? It’s funny watching you wet yourself every time it comes near you,” he replied with a grin. Then he winked at Guinevere, and I swear her knees buckled.

  “Don’t encourage him, Guinevere,” I said. “His head is so big already that he won’t get through the doors of Camelot if it swells even more.”

  An Irish voice called out from behind a large cart that was draped in red velvet hangings.

  “Sire, Lady Samantha and the child are settled.”

  Talan walked towards us; he was leading a pure white horse. The stallion’s hair had been braided with red ribbon.

  “It’s a good job mum and dad paid for those riding lessons, Titch,” said Arthur. “I never thought they would come in use, but this is definitely the way to travel.”

  “Anything is better than that heap of junk you called a car,” I replied, but as Arthur and I spoke, a heavy weight seemed to press down on my chest, like I was being pinned dow
n by something.

  “See, you can’t just forget about mum and dad, Titch,” said Arthur softly. “Even if you think you want to.”

  “I’m not forgetting them,” I whispered back, “but I won’t be made to feel guilty because I don’t want to be around them anymore.”

  “You will face many choices, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” croaked an old voice, as Merlin pulled back the drapes on the cart. He groaned as he lowered his bent body down the wooden steps towards the ground. “Yet that is not a choice to be made today.”

  Merlin’s back made a painful clicking sound as he straightened up. “Have you given the order, Arthur?”

  “Yeah, we’re leaving now,” announced Arthur. “Talan, can you find Bedivere and Tristram and tell them that I need their horses at the front and back of Sammy and Mila’s carriage. With any luck, both of the girls will sleep most of the way to Camelot.”

  Right on cue, a high-pitched cry, barely muffled by the hanging drapes, wailed into the darkening sky.

  “And with that noxious sound I will bid you safe travels until we meet once more in the sanctuary of Camelot, Arthur,” said Merlin. He slammed his staff into the ground, and I heard a deep single toll of a bell. Merlin walked around the edge of the cart and disappeared in a funnel of dusty wind.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to travel at night, Arthur?” I asked, as people started taking up their positions on foot and horseback. “If we’re attacked, we won’t be able to see anything.”

  “The Saxons are long gone, Titch,” replied Arthur, “and the rest of the Gorians won’t be back after that last fight, not for a while at least.”

  “It isn’t people I’m worried about.”

  “Plus, we have my dragon,” added Arthur, looking fondly into the sky where his red Ddraig was looping the loop to the cheers of those on the ground, “and I’m never going to get bored of saying that. You worry too much, but if it makes you feel safer, why don’t you travel with Sammy and Mila?”

  Safer? Not a chance. Riding on horseback in the dark was better than riding in an enclosed wooden cart, with two people I had seen creating blue fire at their fingertips.

  “I’m riding with Bedivere.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Arthur shrugging. “Gwen...do you mind if I call you Gwen? You’re travelling with Sammy and Mila, aren’t you?”

  “I am, sire, and you can call me anything you wish.”

  “GUINEVERE!”

  But Arthur thought her flirting was funny and it made him wink at her again. I pulled Guinevere back as she made to follow him.

  “Don’t say things like that in front of Slurpy...I mean Sammy. I know you’re only joking, and you do it with everyone, but she can get nasty – real nasty. Look after yourself around her, Guinevere. I mean it.”

  Guinevere kissed me on the cheek.

  “The court of Camelot is honoured to have the two of us amongst its knights, Lady Natasha. We shall show these menfolk a thing or two. No harm will come to either of us now.”

  Guinevere’s words were still ringing in my ears as we rode towards the thick bank of trees. The entire procession quickly disappeared. I couldn’t see more than ten metres in front of me, and as the sun quickly set, my line of sight reduced even further. So I listened to the trees. They were whispering. It reminded me of the woods behind our old house, Avalon Cottage: the place where I had first met Bedivere, crumbling and blind. Nimue had enchanted Logres to sleep and age until Arthur returned, and they had done so for a thousand years.

  A thousand years in my future. When I thought about time too much, it made my head hurt. What was I changing just by being here? Did it have any effect at all? I never did understand that butterfly effect theory: a small change in one place can mean a huge change in another. And what do butterflies have to do with that, anyway? They’re just pretty insects that don’t live very long.

  Bedivere was listening to the trees too. We rode side by side in silence. Tristram, Talan and David were at the front of the procession with Arthur and Gawain, Gareth’s younger brother. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since I had returned to Logres. The last time I had seen Gawain was when their third brother, Gaheris, had been killed during the Round Table battle. A fourth brother, Agravaine, was apparently guarding Mordred, and would not be travelling until later.

  Bedivere, Gareth, Lucan and I were riding at the back of Slurpy’s cart. She had pulled the red velvet hangings shut, and so I couldn’t see what she was doing. I was praying under my breath that Guinevere would listen to me. Slurpy could not be trusted – by anyone. She had somehow sucked the magic out of Byron and hastened his death. Mila had then taken it from Slurpy. I needed to make sure Slurpy never got it back. My priority now was keeping anyone magical away from my brother’s girlfriend. Merlin was already gone, and Mordred and the captured Gorians were not travelling with us. I couldn’t think of anyone else who Slurpy could use, but I vowed I wouldn’t let her get the chance.

  When full darkness finally arrived, it came quickly. There were no stars in the sky, and the moon was kept covered by quickly-moving cloud. The horses were jumpy and nervous, and would occasionally bolt forward. Mine was under control, but its breathing was heavy and quick, and the horse’s stiffness only managed to make me more nervous, as we cautiously made our way along the sandy path.

  “Sir Bedivere,” whispered Gareth suddenly. “I fear we are being tracked.”

  “I sense it too, Sir Gareth,” replied Bedivere. “Natasha, stay close to me, and keep one hand on Angharad. We are being hunted.”

  “By what?”

  “What do you smell?”

  I sniffed into the air. It was like rotting garbage left in a warm bin for weeks.

  “The air smells poisonous,” I whispered, “but not like dead bodies, or even burnt ones.”

  Lucan brought his horse up alongside Bedivere’s.

  “King, maidens, knights, self?” asked Lucan quietly, but his cadence had risen at the end. He was waiting for an answer from his brother.

  “In the past, yes,” replied Bedivere, and I saw him glance at me.

  “Then I am with you, brother,” said Lucan.

  “As am I, Sir Bedivere,” said Gareth.

  I had no idea what they were talking about, but all three had dropped the leather reins from one hand and were reaching for their sword hilts. I did the same.

  “What’s out there?” I asked. “I need to know.”

  “Think back to a time past, Natasha,” replied Bedivere quietly, looking around. “Think back to that first night, after we met on the shoreline.”

  I remembered being tied up, and then riding bareback for hours in skinny jeans. I had crawled in Bedivere’s cloak to get close to him, but David had been hurt...

  Dwarf-riders. The rancid smell, the fear, it was all coming back to me.

  My horse seemed to sense my sudden panic as I realised what was hunting us in the darkness: horrible, humpbacked dwarfs with poisonous arrows. They had ambushed our camp during my first night in Logres. David had been struck twice with the deadly arrowheads, and had almost died. He would have done, if it had not been for Robert of Dawes, a doctor from my time, who had also found his way into this world.

  “I must forewarn the other knights,” called Gareth. He kicked his heels into his horse, but the second he made to move, a rain of stubby, feathered arrows flew down onto the convoy.

  My horse made a noise that could only be described as a scream, as it reared up on its back legs. I was holding onto the reins with one hand only, and I fell back, rolling in the air as I went. Cries bellowed out from the front and behind, as the knights realised we were under attack. Another volley of arrows, this time from our side, flew into the trees. Several of them had been lit with fire. My horse collapsed to the ground. In the light of the torches I could see at least four arrows sticking out of its neck. The wounds were already bubbling like boiling water. With Angharad in my hand, I crawled along the sandy track.


  “Natasha,” cried Bedivere. He sprawled onto the ground beside me.

  I felt a sharp pain in my thigh. I screamed. Several bushes were now on fire, as the knights started to use flame to scare away the wolves that were snarling in the dark. I could feel the heat. It burned my skin. The pain was excruciating. I was on fire – again.

  Fight it, I begged of myself. Fight the vision.

  But I wasn’t strong enough.

  I could hear Bedivere’s voice, and Arthur’s too. Their voices were loud and harsh as they appeared in front of me. They weren’t happy to see me; they were angry. Their eyes were fierce-looking and cloudy, like they had opaque contact lenses in.

  The stabbing pain was no longer just in my leg, it was everywhere. It was burning my skin, boiling my blood. I couldn’t move, and yet I was still shaking. It was shock, terror, and pain. Unbelievable pain.

  They were letting me burn. Why were Arthur and Bedivere letting me burn?

  Snarling and growling replaced the voices. It was dark again, and the fire and smoke were further away. A man screamed. I raised my head to see a knight in a red cloak being dragged into the trees by his legs. He was clawing at the dirt, and then he was gone in an explosion of twigs and leaves. More arrows flew through the air. I felt the pain in my thigh once more. It was spreading through me, but at a slower pace now. I wasn’t on fire anymore, but I could feel my chest starting to fill with hot fluid. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Bedivere,” I gasped.

  He pulled me into his arms and cried out.

  “Physicians – now. Natasha has been felled.”

  I looked down and saw a broken arrow shaft sticking out of my ripped pants.

  “Stay strong, my beloved,” cried Bedivere. He turned his head and screamed for the physicians again.

  Lucan fell down beside us.

  “Sir Lionel is dead, Sir Safer too,” he said. “A guard of knights has driven the wolf-riders back, but we must make haste and get into the open once more.” Lucan went to pull the arrowhead out, but the pain made me scream even louder.