Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (11 page)

“When you love people you want to stay with them,” I shot out
, aggravated at his officious manner and dense logic.

“Love only makes you weak,” he said nonchalantly, keeping his eyes focused on dressing.

My mouth hung open. I wasn’t sure what was more shocking: the fact that he really felt that way, or the fact that it was bothering me far more than it should have. “Don’t you love Arthur?” I blurted out, not forgetting the way he smiled when he spoke of him.

He lifted his dark eyes to me
. “Do not be absurd, Katarina.” He was angry now, taking on a very authoritative role which only irritated me all the more. “He is my cousin.”

“But do you love him?”

He grimaced. “Do you not love warm clothes and a fire in the midst of winter?” he said irritably, as he adjusted the rerebrace plate on his upper arm.

“Yes, but needs and
emotions aren’t the same thing.” I raised my eyebrow, as I stood up brushing the dirt and leaves off my burgundy dress.

“Of course it is. It protects you, helps you...”
He shrugged, pulling the crimson tunic over his head. “So you love it and fight to have it. Even a mindless fool understands that,” he added rudely.

“So you are saying you only love Arthur because he protects and helps you?” I asked snidely, unable to control myself.

His menacing green eyes tightened. “You really are preposterous,” he said disgustedly, stepping towards me. “He is my cousin, and I took an oath to defend his life with my own. I owe him that, and there is no more to it. Now, get on that damned horse.”

And before I could protest, he lifted me by my waist like I was a child and roughly placed me on the saddle. His face was callous and eyes burned so dark that the green was barely evident; I clamped my mouth shut and faced forward.

I wasn’t one for submission, but he was terrifyingly unstable and with such contradicting qualities, I didn’t know what reaction I would get, and though I should have heeded it as a warning, it only intrigued me more. 

He adjusted the sword snugly in the sheath that hung from the brown belt he fastened around his waist, before slinging himself up onto his horse. His eyes were still dark and furious
, but he raised an eyebrow and smirked at me egotistically as though he had won this small battle. I rolled my eyes and looked away. His smug attitude drove me to the brink of insanity yet gripped me into a tight hold before I fell off. I could control my mouth from speaking to him, but it was impossible to control my mind from thinking of him. It was evident that not only did his pieces not fit, but some were clearly missing, and I was undeniably determined to find them.  

*****

The beginning of the ride was only filled with silence. He would occasionally turn around with fuming eyes, I assumed to check on me, but as time went on the brooding eyes became bored eyes and finally—in what seemed like his inability to handle the dullness—he began talking to me again. We moved north back through the forest and out onto open rolling hills. He showed me the pathways that led to different areas and pointed out the animals along the way and all different kinds of wildlife. It was clear he had a passion for nature and the great outdoors, very likely because it represented freedom, but he didn’t share anything about himself or his past and I didn’t want to spoil his decent mood by asking.

We reached Caerleon by midday, just as he had said. The land was beautiful with green hills showered in golden sunlight and sprinkled with bright colorful flowers. The buildings and walls were in need of repair, but it appeared to be a perfect fortress, guarded by many different strongholds, which protected the entrances from the surrounding valleys and rivers along the nearby coast. It wasn’t the romantic version of Camelot that was idolized in the stories I had heard, but I figured that was to come, after all Arthur wasn’t even king yet.

We approached the gates,
and a guard standing high above in the turret nodded to Brendelon as we passed through. To the right stood a tall, broad shouldered, fair-haired young man pointing out spots in the walls of the stronghold to another man who was so large, he could have passed for small giant. They were both dressed in black pants and long sleeved shirts with a tight fitting gray tunics and capes at their shoulders: one crimson and one black. As we approached closer, the blonde-haired man turned around with a large grin on his face, which was very different from Brendelon’s half-smirk but just as charming, and I instantly knew who he was.

If one could even come close to the beauty of Brendelon, it would have been Arthur. He was
almost
as handsome as his cousin. Their attributes were similar: straight noses that created a perfect angle structurally set on their handsome face, slight streaks of crimson under their cheek bones, strong square jaws, and tall bear-like builds. But where Brendelon was dark and brooding, Arthur was fair and joyous, like a shadow to the sun.

“Hail Bran!” Arthur roared when he saw us approaching. He jogged towards the horses with the giant of a man following behind him. Brendelon swung himself out of the saddle, grinning from ear to ear. The two grasped each other in a bear hug that would have been bone crushing to anyone else. Brendelon’s dark mood instantly lightened. His green eyes danced as he spoke with his cousin then clapped the giant on the shoulders in greeting before turning back to Arthur.

“I thought you to be on a journey cousin,” Arthur said.

Brendelon looked confused. “W
ell, I have most certainly been on a journey.”

Arthur looked at him puzzled, and then for the first time he seemed to notice me.
His light blue eyes rested on mine then flickered back to Brendelon for a quick moment before returning to me. “Hallo Lady, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He bowed to me slightly then reached up to help me off the huge beast. I felt myself blush. This was
King Arthur
.
The
legendary King Arthur. And he was lifting
me
off a horse. I forced myself to act as calm as possible and smiled politely back.

“Hello,” I said, glancing at Brendelon awkwardly, who just gave me an antagonizing smirk. He definitely needed to take a few tips from Arthur on being a gentleman.

“Artos, this is Katarina,” he finally said, acting bored.

Arthur nodded but kept his blue eyes on me. He took my hand a
nd twirled me to face the giant. “This here is my cousin, Gawain.”

“Hello,” I said quietly looking up at his towering form, unable to believe this was the son of Lot and Margause.  He was rather intimidating. If Arthur and Brendelon were like bears, Gawain was Big Foot. His hair was dark red but the sunlight picked up all the copper in it. I could see his coloring was like his mother’s
, but besides that and the womanizing glare of his father, he looked nothing like either one of his parents. He kept his arms folded and smiled at me like a hungry wolf licking his chops. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “W
here did you come across such a treasure?” he asked, as he looked at Brendelon for some explanation on who I was, but Brendelon only laughed as if he liked the suspense of it and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“How long have I been gone?”

Arthur exchanged a confused glance with Gawain. “About two fortnights, maybe less. What is this, Bran?”

He sighed and shook his head.
“You will not believe me.”

Arthur crossed his arms and twisted his mouth to the side, not appearing to be amused. “Come now, have at it,” he said.

Brendelon raised an eyebrow impishly. “I have been in a curse for centuries.”

Gawain roared with laug
hter, bending over at the waist. “Some jest Bran, you can do better than that! Now tell us the truth, where did you find this beautiful maiden?”

I blushed at the compliment.
“It’s true,” I said in a small voice. “I freed him from a painting.” Arthur and Gawain both looked at me incredulously then back at each other, not sure if they were being duped.

“I swear it,” Brendelon said
, putting his hand up, “and after she freed me, we were forced through a vortex that moved us through time bringing us back here.”

Gawain laughed again.
“I would very much have liked to see that! Did you scowl or smile prettily?”

Brendelon glared at him, but I saw the amusement tug at the corner of his mouth. Arthur elbowed Gawai
n in the side, shaking his head. He wasn’t entertained at all. In fact, he seemed quite angry. “What means you that you were cursed? Who did this to you?”

“Morgaina.”

Arthur scowled. “Why?’

“I know not
, Bear. I cannot remember anything clearly, except that I was about to destroy her and then suddenly I was in this strange room with Katarina in a land that has not yet even been discovered.”

He seemed to be bragging about the last part
, but Arthur only clenched his fists. “I know not what to make of this,” he said almost to himself.

“Maybe Merlin will know; where is he?” Brendelon asked
, looking towards the castle.

“He should be returning any day now,” Gawain said, keeping a wolfish eye on me.

Arthur turned to me. “Katarina, I cannot thank you enough for freeing my cousin from such a dreadful curse. I can only be glad that he has returned with what seems like no time has passed. We are indebted to you, and I promise we will do all we can to return you home. In the mean time, anything you need, you shall have,” he said graciously to me. He turned to a man dressed in a similar gray tunic standing near the turret. “Dothian,” he called authoritatively, “bring these horses to the stables.” He pointed to them as the man bowed slightly and quickly moved to take the reins. Arthur turned to Gawain. “Have one of the ladies set up a chamber for Katarina.” Finally, he clapped Brendelon on the back still looking rather upset. “Come cousin, we have much to discuss.”

Gawain wrapped a huge tree stum
p of an arm around my shoulders. “Aye, come Katarina. I will show you your
chamber
.” He smiled waywardly at Brendelon.

             
Brendelon’s eyes met mine, and I tried to give him a pleading look to save me, but he boorishly laughed instead, leaving me to my fate as he turned to follow Arthur towards the castle. 

I added
uncouth
to the list.

Once out of sight, Gawain slipped his arm off my shoulder, looking down at me with the same wolfish grin, hazel eyes dancing. I gave him a slight smile. “So tell me now,” he said, “where did Bran really find you?”

“He is telling the truth.”

He gave me a sideways look. “I
f I find him to be playing a game on us, he will be sorely sorry.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I
t’s not a game.”

He put his hand up to his smooth, ta
nned face, scratching his cheek. “Well, I suppose it
could
make sense… after all, this is a first!” He nodded towards me as he belted out another laugh. I smiled weakly, not quite understanding the joke, and still feeling rather nervous around this giant.

We walked through the castle, and he showed me the chamber in which I was to stay then he gave me a long tour of the castle, spending a great deal of time showing me the long halls and grand rooms. His face beamed with pride at each repair they had done throughout the years and made sure to point out each one that he was personally responsible for. Caerleon was not lavished in decor the way Mordegrant’s castle was; it was simple, but it had an amicable feel to it, and I felt safe.

Though his size was daunting, I realized Gawain was a lot like a playful overgrown child and was very likable when he wasn’t making brash pokes that I didn’t quite understand.
He led me into the hot smoky kitchen smelling of cooked meat and seasonings, where a stocky man with red hair so fiery it made Gawain’s look brown, turned around to face us. A wide grin broke out across his freckled face. 

“Well, well, Gaw
ain, who is this lovely lady?” He reached out a hand to me. “I am Kay.”

I gave him my hand.
“I’m Katarina.”

He kis
sed the top of my hand. “A lovely name to be sure,” he said with a smile.

Gawain roared in laughter
, and Kay stood straight, cheeks turning as red as his hair.

“D
o not get started with this one.” He jerked a thumb in my direction, as he glanced impishly at me. “
Bran
brought her here.”

Kay gave me an odd look as a sly smile slid up his face. “Bran?” he asked Gawain, while keeping his blue eyes on me. “Is that some jest? When did he return?”

Gawain laughed again, leaning up against one of the large tables, crossing one ankle over the other as he folded his arms over his large chest. “The truth I tell you! It is no jest. He returned with her just a few moments ago!”

I looked at Gawain, feeling comfortable enough with him
now to demand to know the joke. “Why is that so funny?”