Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (21 page)

“
I
do not fear you, boy,” he growled, “but you are a liability. If you were not cousin to the War Duke you would not be here that is for certain.”

Brendelon’s jaw clenched, his face was terrifying.

“Fools are always quick to put blame on others, Theol.” Arthur said angrily.

“It is you who keeps company with fools, Duke Arthur,” Theol retorted.

Brendelon jolted forward, but Bedivere and Gawain caught his arms before he could attack Theol.

Theol laughed wickedly. “S
urprise, surprise, Sir Brendelon cannot control his temper. Did I not warn you of this?” He was speaking to Arthur, but kept those beady eyes on Brendelon. “I would not be surprised if he murders me next!”

Brendelon ground his teeth, shaking Bedivere and Gawain off. I could see he was fighting to stay in control
, but it was difficult.

“What I did to the Saxons will be nothing compared to what I will do to you,” Brendelon threatened.

I saw terror flash across Theol’s face, and though he was quick to cover it, Brendelon caught it too and began to smile wickedly.

“You think it is
humorous to take the life of so many innocent people?” Theol asked, disgustedly.

“I would hardly call them innocent.”

“You have no love for anybody save yourself!” he hissed.

Brendelon
smirked. “Not even myself.”

“You really do not care, do you? You fool! You will be the death of all of us!”

The antagonizing green eyes turned a shade of sinister, but the smile remained. “You think yourself to be so brave with your words, but I doubt you would be so brave without the protection of your friends.” He nodded to the small army that lined up behind Theol.

Theol
laughed darkly. “As would you,” he retorted nodding at Arthur.

Brendelon
folded his arms. “Just you and I then and I shall give you the first hit. In fact, you can choose two of your comrades to help you.”

I heard Kay stifle a laugh, but Arthur gave him a dark look
, and he quickly straightened up. “Enough of this,” Arthur commanded. “There will be no fighting within my halls.”

Brendelon shrugged his shoulders, staring at Theol, tempting him to come forward.

“Aye, I shall not disrespect the War Duke,” Theol dripped then his eyes suddenly caught sight of me, and his beady eyes stared right at my chest, and his whole face changed. I lifted Chance up higher trying to block his view, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. He moved closer to Brendelon, extending out his hand in peace. Brendelon’s smile faltered, as the game was coming to an end before it even began, and the disappointment was evident in his eyes. Theol placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper something as his dark beady eyes looked over at me, peering seductively, making my skin crawl.

Suddenly Brendelon’s arm was pulled back and before anyone could stop him his fist smashed in Theol’s face sending him flying
backwards. He lurched forward—clearly not finished—but Gawain tackled him from behind.

Theol lau
ghed, holding his bloodied nose as he stood, watching Brendelon thrash about ferociously.

“Enough Bran!”
Arthur shouted.

But Brendelon, unable to control himself threw Gawain off his back, roaring.
Theol stopped laughing and took a step back, just as shocked as Gawain was by Brendelon’s strength and rage. Kay jumped on to hold him down and now he had both red-haired giants on him but his rage was still stronger as he continued to roar unintelligible things at Theol. Finally, Bedivere jumped in as well, and the three of them were able to keep him pinned to the ground, but he refused to give up, continuing to lash about like a caged animal.

Theol shook his head mockin
gly. “How are you to be High King, War Duke, when you cannot even control your own men?”

“Enough of that Theol,” Arthur said in an unfazed tone
, but his face was stone cold and angry.

“Always saving his skin,” Theol muttered before signaling his men to attend to his side. “Mark my words, your cousin will be the death of you,” he warned with a smile
. “Most gracious appreciation for your hospitality, but I think my men and I will find more comfort lodging in the village.” He turned away abruptly. “The Saxons are coming. You need the alliance of the other kings, and we need the guidance of a strong leader,” he muttered loud enough for all to hear, as he walked away.

Brendelon finally
gained some control of himself, and Gawain and Kay pulled him to his feet holding him by the arms, caution upon their faces as though they still did not trust his actions.

Arthur took two long strides, coming face to face with him, arms crossed ov
er his chest. “Explain yourself.” He kept calm but I could tell he was on the verge of exploding. “What is the meaning of this?’

The green eyes flickered in my direction
, but he quickly looked down to the ground. “It … it is nothing.”

“No
thing? You make us all look to be fools and it is nothing?” he spat. “You need to learn how to follow orders!” he roared. He was angry, really angry. “Where have you been?” he asked again.

He loo
ked up at him with burning eyes. “I am not a prisoner here, Bear. I can leave when I please.”

Arthur clenched his teeth.
“I never said you were a prisoner here.” He was clearly fighting to stay calm. “But you need to inform me of where you go.”

“I control my own decisions,” he muttered.

“Aye, you
control
yourself
wonderfully!” he yelled angrily.

Brendelon put his hand to his hair, gripping the curl that I was now convinced was not natural but created by this nervous gesture. He dropped his hand to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists
. “I—I left to clear my head,” he said finally.

Arthur sighed, pushing his short blonde hair to the side with the palm of his hand, as he kept his disco
ncerted blue eyes on the ground. He took deep breaths, trying to calm down, looking very much like his cousin. Finally, he placed a hand on Brendelon’s shoulder—ice meeting coal—and gave a weak and clearly forced smile, then turned on his heel and walked back into the meeting room shutting the door behind him.

Gawain and K
ay shook their heads, still gripping Brendelon’s arms, but he finally shook them off as Bedivere turned on his right foot—now standing in front of him with his arms crossed. Kay and Gawain moved to his sides, surrounding Brendelon in a half circle. He carefully moved his gaze to each one of them as his face contorted like a confined animal about to attack.

“Artos might let you off that easily but you be
tter explain yourself to us,” Bedivere demanded. “I know you are hiding something.” His face was as hard as steel, clearly not afraid of the wrath of the raven.

Brendelon
stepped forward and shoved him to the side, but Bedivere grabbed his arm roughly and pushed him back. Brendelon looked down at the grip. “Release my arm, Bedivere,” he said quietly, but the threat was clear.

Bedivere
squeezed his hold. “I know you know something.” He dropped his hold, glancing to his left and right at Gawain and Kay. “We all do.” But they both looked clueless. “We cannot help you if you do not tell us what is happening.”

I saw
Brendelon’s eyes flashing, and I could feel the tension of him about to snap. I prayed Bedivere would just drop it before they were all sorry.

“Nobody asked for your help,” he said darkly.

“Well, I suppose we do not work they way you do,” Gawain cut in, clearly offended. He crossed his arms. “We see ourselves as family, helping each other out, staying together and all.”

“Aye
, two are better than one, for if either of them falls down; one can help the other up. But pity the one who falls and has no one to help him.” Bedivere quoted a verse I recalled from the Bible.

Brendelon
rolled his eyes. “I care nothing for those words, Bedivere.”

K
ay put a hand up a calming hand. “Bran, just tell us. We want to help you. You are our brother. We care about you.” His face was sympathetic.

He wouldn’t make eye contact; he only lowered his gaze, keeping it bar
ely above ground level.  “I—” He sighed and shifted on his foot. “Sorry Kay, I know nothing.”

Gawain huffed out a breath,
as he threw his arms in the air. “Fine, you stubborn …” He stormed away, grunting obscenities.

Kay gave
Brendelon a rueful look. “I will speak with him,” he promised before hobbling after Gawain.

“Look
Bedivere,” Brendelon said, putting a hand up to his hair, “I do not need you scolding me.”

Bedivere
snorted. “You certainly need someone to scold you. The more you keep us in the dark, the greater danger you put us in.
All
of us.”

Brendelon kept his face stone, refusing to look at his friend in the eye. “Are you done?” he muttered.

Bedivere blew out a long breath, holding his hands up in defeat as he turned and walked away.

“You are cousins,” the old man stated.

“Cousins?” Arthur choked out, with an expression he was certain mirrored his own.

             
“Aye, you are the son of Uther Pendragon, and you are the rightful heir to the throne of Britain.”

             
The boy burrowed his eyebrows together, clutching the chunk of hair above his ear, trying to formulate the words in his head… son of Uther? And though he was angry at being deceived for so long, he also felt a strange relief. He was not the heir that they had been whispering of, and the weight that lifted off his shoulders was surprising.

             
Arthur shook his head. “I—I do not understand. Why was this kept from me?” The blue eyes looked at him once again. “Why was it kept from both of us?” he demanded, turning back to the old man.

             
“It was important to keep you safe until you were old enough to rule as High King. The time has finally come and when you pull Excalibur from the stone at the Christ Mass all the kings and lords of the land will see the truth.” Then for the first time, the old man turned to face the boy. “And you will be his greatest protector,” he said proudly. “If you two stand together, you will never be alone.”

             
He stared blankly for a moment. He had been feeling sorry for Arthur; to be king was responsibility that only resulted in heavy shackles, not one he would wish upon anyone, especially one at only fifteen summers, but he could not help the curl of his lips that began to form because being a protector was an adventure without the price of chains. He would have quests and battles but most of all with his cousin as king, he would be free to do as he pleased and he liked that.

             
The older man turned back to the stunned face of his cousin. “Having your cousin standing by your side will soften the blow for many of these men. They already know him to be the nephew of Uther and Aurelius; your resemblance alone will help. Much conflict will come your way, even after they see you pull the sword. You must learn how to harden your heart without losing who you are deep inside.” 

             
“I—I am not sure I am ready,” Arthur stammered pacing the room, gripping the back of his neck. And once again, the boy found himself thankful that the tedious task of king did not befall to him. Aye, for the first time in his life fortune had favored him over his faultless cousin.  

             
“You are ready, you have been ready since birth, look inside your heart and you will know it to be true. You will bring the light to this dark time.”

             
Arthur blinked and nodded his head. “I feel it Merlin,” he said quietly then he turned his face back to the boy, seemingly unsure. “We stand together, aye?” he asked.

             
He grinned at his cousin’s unusual apprehensive eyes; it was not like him to be unsure. “Always,” he reassured him, and he meant it because for half his life, his cousin had been the one to stand by him, and now it was his turn to repay the debt; his cousin was deserving of it, and for the first time ever… he knew right where he was meant to be. 

“What did Theol say to you?” I asked him once Bedivere was gone.

His eyes flashed black. “It is irrelevant. I will kill him first.” But I remembered the way Theol looked at me and couldn’t help but feel I had something to do with it.

“You’
re hiding something,” I accused. “What do you remember? And why don’t you want them to know?”

“I know nothing,” he hissed, face contorted.

“You… you knew a secret,” I blurted out. “I could see the look on your face in the picture, and I think you remember it.”

His malice expression was splashed with irritation. He began walking away, clearly choosing to ignore me. I scurried after him, deciding to drop it.

“Wait!” I called, a bit annoyed at his rudeness, but not wanting to leave his presence so soon. “I want to show you something.”

He continued to take long strides forward making it difficult to keep pace especially while holding Chance. The dog whimpered sending an echo through the vacant halls, as his bones bounced with my speed. Brendelon stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders tensed up
, and then he slowly turned around with a petrifying gleam in his eyes. 

“Um
… here,” I said, unable to stop the wobble of my voice as I got a good look at the expression on his face. I awkwardly thrust the drawing towards him. He grabbed the paper from me, crumbling it in his hand, without once taking his terrorizing eyes off me.

“Why are you carrying around that worthless dog?” he snarled. My heart beat picked up, as a real fear of him finally took over me. He was different. He was the Brendelon I first saw in the storage room; the one who was going to destroy Morgaina, except this time
there was no comfort of the contradicting grin, and the darkening castle halls lit up by small flames only added to the malice on his sinister face. His evil glare turned onto Chance, and I could see the muscles bulge in his jaw and suddenly he jolted forward.

“Stay away!” I screamed, twisting my arms to the side, trying to protect my dog by separating them with my body.

He froze in place but moved his black eyes to mine. “I should have put that dog out of its misery!
You…”
he pointed threateningly at me, looking disgusted, “
you
are ruining me.” He tightened his eyes.

I was in shock;
mortified at the pure hate written across his face, and pained by the repugnance that shot forth from him at my very existence. What did he mean
ruining
him? He looked at me as though I were some disease. Clearly I was still an unwanted burden, and I could feel the annoying hot tears form, but I wouldn’t cry in front of him; he didn’t deserve any emotion from me. I turned to make my escape, but I heard another wicked crack of thunder and like the night before he was suddenly doubled over, letting out an agonizing moan.

A passing servant, who had been lighting the hall lamps, glanced over at us. “Go get Arthur!” I commanded her, pointing down the hall. She nodded without a word and scurried off.

Brendelon shook his head. “No, I am fine,” he muttered, but he stayed bent over looking at his wrist, but this time it was his right not his left. He adjusted the metal forearm plates pulling them down lower and stood slowly with his jaw thrust forward, keeping up with the tough charade he had been playing, but his eyes were filled with something very close to fear. He gave me a dirty look, ready to turn on his heel, but Arthur and the servant were already within feet of him.

“What is the matter?” Arthur demanded, clearly out of breath.

“Nothing, I am fine,” he lied.

“That’s not true,” I stated, ignoring his nefarious look. “He keeps doubling over in pain.”

“Just bruised bones, Artos,” he said quickly moving back as Arthur stepped closer to him, putting his hands up. “I came out of a curse and fought a small dragon and a troll all in one day then I come here and have Gawain, the half-troll, trying to rough me up,” he dropped his hands, letting out a frustrated sigh, “and then to add to it Theol tempts me into a fight. I am just sore and tired that is all.” He gave me a threatening look, so I kept my mouth closed and for a moment I did feel sorry for him; he really had been a lot, and maybe his excuse was partly true, but the thunder cracking against clear skies was not merely a coincidence.

Arthur looked him over.
“I will tell Gawain to leave you be,” he said, ignoring Brendelon’s eye roll. “Come, I want to speak with you.” He looked at me. “With both of you,” he added.

We followed him down the long halls and into a large lit up room that was not quite a chapel but was clearly meant for prayer. It was filled with rows of chairs facing a large cross that hung from the wall at the end of the room, surrounded by candles. The walls were lined with statues and covered with paintings and then my eye caught a familiar piece of art.

“I am with you,” I breathed reading the inscription under the cross with the man knelt beside it, blanketed by watchful eyes in the clouds.

Brendelon loo
ked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You read Latin?”

“No, but Mr. Riley showed me this inscription from a picture.”

“Aye,” Arthur said smiling, “the Lord Jesus is always with you.” He gave a quick glance at Brendelon, who was still staring at the inscription. “And good will always overcome evil, if one chooses to accept it.”

Brendelon
sighed. “What do you mean to discuss, Bear?” he said seemingly unsure.

“I am sorry for getting so upset with you over Theol. He deserved what he got. I know it has been difficult for you,” Arthur started, gesturing for me to sit, as he pulled two more chairs from the row, creating a small triangle, and sat down.  He leaned forward and ran a hand through his short ha
ir pushing it off to the side. “I have not been as sympathetic to your situation as I should. We stand together you know that.”

Brendelon sighed again, plopping down in a chair adjacen
t from him, leaning back lazily. “Do not be sorry, Artos. He is right, I cannot be counted on.” The guilty look flashed across his face for an instant, but it was replaced with hardened anger.

“
You are my greatest protector, Cousin,” Arthur said with admiration. “I would not want anyone else by my side.”

Brendelon leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, holding a fist in his hand as he kept his eyes to the floor. I couldn’t help but feel that he was lowering his face to hide the guilty expression that kept rearing up. “I will always f
ight for you, Bear,” he mumbled. “Lead me where to go, and I will follow.” He glanced up at him, with innocent green eyes.

Arthur nodded.
“I know,” he said softly then his eyes drifted to me. “I asked you in here because I want to personally apologize to you, Katarina,” he said sincerely. “For the time being, I will not be able to put forth all my efforts into finding your return as I had promised. I do hope you can forgive me and give me grace as the circumstance has changed but know until my last breath I will fulfill my oath to you.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” I replied, feeling guilty that he appeared to be distraught over it, especially when I found myself hardly c
aring about when I would return. “I know it will be figured out.”

He nodded gra
ciously and turned to Brendelon. “That being said, I want you to go to William Cole’s manor to learn more of this. I am sorry I cannot go with you, but I need to send out scouts and rally the warbands to decide on the best plan of defense.”

Brendelon glanced away again. “N
o, the curse is of no importance right now, let us deal with the Saxons first.”

“I believe it may all be connected.”

Brendelon’s eyes clouded. “What means you?”

“Well, suddenly you return and the Saxons decide to attack. We have
been at peace for some time now.” He sighed, looking to the floor. “Merlin had word of a Black Army forming. We can only assume the dark army is of Morgaina’s doing.” Brendelon clenched his jaw, shifting it to the left, as his dark eyes moved rapidly.

“What is a Black Army?” I asked, feeling very nervous.

“An army of men controlled by black magic,” Arthur answered. “They barter their souls to the darkness for power or greed, and it consumes them.” He turned to look at Brendelon but his gaze was elsewhere. “They become mindless and subservient. It makes them far more dangerous because they do not think for themselves; they become fearless as they cannot reason against danger.”

I nodded taking a deep breath.

Brendelon chewed on this thumbnail, deep in thought. “You think this is because of my return?” he asked in a small voice.

Arthur sighed.
“I do not know, but I certainly think it is of Morgaina’s doing, and the more we learn of her reasoning, the more we will know how to counter her plan,” he continued.

He scratched the top of his hair and opened his mouth as though to speak
, but suddenly shook his head and looked away again, pausing for a moment. “Perhaps, Bedivere would be better suited for the task…”

Arthur narrowed his eyes.
“I trust you with it,” he said firmly.

Brendelon put his head in his hands
, but I saw his look. It was a mix between relief and panic, and Arthur must have seen it too because he reached across and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on to what you believe, Bran.”

“I do not know what that is anymore,” he mumbled.

“Search deep inside your heart.”

He blew out a long breath, shaking his head slowly and looking anythi
ng than his usual arrogant self. “I will not like what I find,” he said slowly and quietly.

Arth
ur gripped his shoulder tighter. “Do not let the night become the day, Cousin. The darkness robs you of your sight. An unfortunate set of circumstances was bestowed upon you. It might shape parts of you, but it does not control you.” He lowered his face to meet Brendelon’s eyes. “The Lord Jesus loves you. He gave the ultimate sacrifice and paid all your debts, all will be forgiven; you just need to accept Him. Trust me.”