Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (22 page)

Brendelon shook his head, slouching back in his
chair, away from Arthur’s touch. “Do not feed me this Artos. How can I possibly believe that a god—”

“Not
a
god,
the
God,” Arthur interrupted firmly, pointing at him as he stood to his feet.

Brendelon rolled his
eyes annoyed, crossing his arms. “Fine, how can I possibly believe that
the
God laid down his life for someone he does not even know, for someone who is not worth any of it?”

“Because of His love for you.
” Arthur looked at him with the smile of an angel as he walked behind his chair and leaned his hands against the back of it, the flames of the fire dancing on his face.

“
Why?
” it came out so innocent, it was childlike.

Arthur shrugged.
“There is no reason; that is the grace of God.”

Brendelon searched his face,
as though trying to find doubt, deceit… anything that would prove Arthur didn’t really believe what he was saying, but it wasn’t there. His face was pure, jubilant even. He believed it, there was no denying that.

Brendelon’s face looked confused and unsure; he blinked a few times then tightened the space between his upper and lower teeth. “It cannot be,” he finally growled. “You l
ive on ideals and false beliefs.” He seemed angry now.

“No, I live on the truth,” Arthur said assertively.

“Maybe He did for you, Artos, but not me.” He stood, visibly uncomfortable.

“For
you
, Bran.” He was confident. “Good will prevail. You must learn to forgive yourself and others. You have to keep hate, anger, and pride from your heart. They are all things darkness holds onto and it will take its foothold wherever it can.”

Brendelon’s eyes tightened as his face twisted awkwardly at Arthur’s words. “
Forgive
myself?” he spat out. “For what?” His face was full of disgust. “Is this why you brought me here?” He gestured to the room. “To save my soul
for killing blood thirsty Saxons?” he snarled out condescendingly.

Arthur paused a moment, crossing his arms over his chest
, as he rocked back on his feet. “For killing… whether they are Saxons or not.”

Brendelon glowered at him. “Y
ou think I care? It bothers me none.” He crossed his arms, looking very much like a young stubborn child.

“Aye
, I think it bothers you because you are a good.”

“Then you are wrong.”

Arthur chuckled. “No, it is you who is wrong and you must let go of these shadows that surround your heart, and do not give me that talk that you have none because I have seen it.”

“I do not take you to be a fool
, but what you speak of are just stories given to children by priests to make them behave.”

“If you trust me at all, you will believe me
when I say that I have seen it; I have felt it. I have seen visions of glory that I cannot explain. The Lord Jesus made the greatest sacrifice of all when he took the penalty for us. I was meant to fight to spread this knowledge, to help rid this world of its evil and black magic.” He looked intensely at Brendelon. “And you were meant to help me to do so.”

He walked around the chair, closer to Brende
lon and gripped his shoulder. “Take care of what you need to and know that we are always by your side, and the Lord is always with you. Let go of whatever Morgaina has over you.”

Brendelon pu
shed his hand from his shoulder. “She has nothing over me,” he muttered. “I am free.”

“Forgiveness and repentance set you free,” he corrected
. “Pride and resentment keep you chained, do not forget that, Bran.”

“Now you sound like a monk,” he said curtly, as he turned his back to him, facing the picture of the man once again
, but I personally thought he now sounded a lot like Merlin.

Arthur sighed and gav
e him once last pat on the back. “Think on what I said cousin, and I will see you in the morn.” He flashed me a gentle smile. “Good night, Katarina,” he said softly.

“Night,” I said as I watched him exit.

Brendelon turned to me. “Can you believe that nonsense Arthur speaks?” he huffed; it was meant to be rhetorical.

“I
believe it,” I answered anyway. “I think God was the only reason I made it through some of the things I did.” I thought of the misery that consumed me after my mother’s death and the divine warm embrace that comforted my pain when my grandfather took me to church. God was certainly there.   

He flashed his
eyes up to me, surprised almost. “You really think that
the
God would love meaningless people enough to lay down his life for them?” he asked as if perhaps I had misunderstood the question the first time.

“Yes, that is what Arthur meant by the ultimate sacrifice.”

He shook his head as he looked at the inscription, chewing on his thumbnail. He was quiet for some time. “You mean to say you believe that one just has to ask for it, and He will forgive him even if he is the worst of sinners?” he asked in a sarcastic tone, but his eyes gave away the seriousness of the question.

“Yeah,” I answered again, watching him carefully. “That’s God’s grace…”

He continued to chew on his thumbnail and then as though suddenly remembering it was there he unwrinkled the crumpled drawing from his hand, studying it for a moment.

“Maybe
what you think to be God’s grace is really just pity…” he mumbled so quietly it was hard to hear, “and pity and love are not the same.”

“No, they’re not,” I agreed. “P
ity doesn’t last forever but love does.”

He snorted.
“No, it only lasts until you stop earning it.”

“Love doesn’t have to be earned,” I said carefully.

He scoffed. “Everything has to be earned, Katarina,” he said disparagingly.

“No, not everything.”

He rolled his eyes then dropped his gaze to the drawing. “Do you mean for me to make this?” he asked, voice low but not unkind.

“Well
, you don’t have to do all of the work. I can help you with most of it. I was just thinking at least that way Chance could get around and not be so helpless…” I rambled, partially excited to make the contraption but the other part nervous that he would be annoyed. I hadn’t forgotten how much physical strain he had been through. 

He
looked at Chance for a moment then pushed his hand across his eye, looking awfully tired. “I was not going to hurt him,” he muttered.

“I know,” I lied.

“No,” he said, as he folded up the drawing. “I saw your eyes.” He lifted his gaze to me, eyes slightly drooped downwards. He turned once more to the drawing of the man. “Eyes give away everything.” He didn’t wait a moment longer, and I watched in dismay as he strode out of the chapel. I stood to follow him, but I caught sight of the picture and for the first time, I noticed that the eyes that looked down at the man did look full of pity.

She looked across the church yard to the group of men huddled around the old stone. They were murmuring amongst themselves in awe and shock, most disbelieving, but the others angry. She weaved her way through, had her son pulled the sword yet? She peeked through the large bodies. There was Merlin. She smiled. He had done it; he had raised the next High King. She moved to the right, and her breath caught in her throat as her eyes rested on her son for the first time in eight years.

He ha
d always been an adorable child; it was the single best thing about him, but now his looks were absolutely stunning, and she could not help taking pride in his beauty. He was tall as she always knew he would be and though he was slender, his shoulders were broad, and she knew he would fill out the same way her brothers had done. He had the strong jaw line and smooth complexion of a Pendragon with Aurelious’ slight crimson streak under the cheekbones, and Uther’s perfectly structured nose. The wicked, yet altogether charming smile that played on his lips was his father’s, but the rest belonged to her; everything else was Pendragon, and that made him important.

She felt a sudden familiar pang
, as she stood dumbly staring at the handsome youth whom she hardly knew, yet shared her blood and came from her very body. Over the years it had gotten easier, but seeing him brought back the painful memories. She took a deep breath reminding herself of the weakness love caused. The purpose of this trip was not to dwell on fifteen years of negligence; it was to guide him into his rightful place, the place of the High King, the king who would hold the mighty sword, and suddenly in that moment, she realized that it was not he  who had it. 

Her eyes flittered to the familiar looking boy on his right, not quite understandi
ng how she knew him but she did. A boy who for some reason held the magnificent sword in his grasp, a boy who looked an awful lot like her son, one who stood at the same height and shared the same squared jaw line and angled nose, so similar except for hair that was as golden as… UTHER! Gasping, she realized what was happening. 

She gripped the sparkling jeweled necklace at her chest, cringing with hatred. Uther and Igraine had hidden him! Merlin had lied! The
baby was not a stillborn as he was said to be and worst of all, the deceiving wizard had raised HER son among this lowly bastard. She clenched her teeth, staring as her son stood by looking nothing more than bored as his birthright was stripped away in front of his very eyes. She should not have been surprised; he had always done everything wrong.

She fought back the fury that began to rise, squeezing her small fists. She would put an end to this. She wo
uld put him in his proper place and clean up after his mistakes like she had always done. But Merlin…Merlin would pay for deceiving her this way. 

“Katarina,” a voice called from behind me. I turned to see Merlin looking frazzled. “Where is Bran?” he asked glancing around me and Elaine as we ate at a wooden table.

“I haven’t seen him,” I replied but truth be told, I was wondering the same thing. Kay had met us in the dining hall not too long before to give me the new contraption for Chance, looking more pleased than even I was at how well it worked. His face beamed as he bragged about building it with Brendelon and showed me the revisions he made himself
, and while I was more than thankful to him, I had yet to see Brendelon to thank him for his part in it. 

Merlin
scurried out of the dining hall. I looked at Elaine, and she smiled. “I will look after Chance. Be careful,” she said with all sincerity.

“Thanks Elaine, I owe you,” I said
, giving her a big smile then I grabbed my backpack, hurrying after the frantic wizard.

I fo
llowed Merlin out of the castle. It was still early but the sun was taking no mercy as it sizzled down, burning away the fresh bite of cool morning air. He headed towards the familiar stables, and like a lighthouse warning ships in the dark sea, the sun’s glare bounced off the shiny metal armor leading us to the impatient black-haired knight. Merlin picked up his pace, and I followed quickly behind. A young horse reared up at the sight of us. Bedivere put his hands up to calm it, but as it came back down on its front legs, it knocked him to the ground, right into a small puddle of mud. Brendelon doubled over in laughter, while Bedivere glowered at him, not amused. Irritated, he grabbed a glob of mud and flung into Brendelon’s face but he ducked only getting slightly sprayed with it.

             
“Brendelon, enough of that!” Merlin called. “And Bedivere control your horse!” They both straightened up like two little boys in trouble. Bedivere looked down sheepish, and Brendelon fought to keep the smile off his face, but he was terrible at it. Bedivere turned back to tend to his horses, but made sure to give him a hard nudge with his shoulder on his way

             
“Brendelon, come hither!” Merlin commanded angrily. Brendelon’s smile faded at the tone. He walked towards us across the damp grass as the mud squished under the weight of his boots, searching my face for any insinuation. I shrugged my shoulders, as clueless as he was.

             
“We are not going to William Cole’s castle,” Merlin said resolutely, crossing his arms. “We have other important matters to handle.”

             
His eyes flashed as the sun’s glare caught them sending of a magnificent shade of green. “I am leaving now whether you come or not.”

             
“Patience is a fruit of the soul,” Merlin retorted.

             
“And I have none of it,” Brendelon returned. “Those words might work on Arthur, but they will not work with me.”

“You are to stay here and follow orders
, and I will hear no argument of it; do you understand me, boy?” he shouted, pointing his finger at him, as he lost all the fruits of his soul. I flinched at his harsh tone, almost feeling as if he was a completely different person.

Brendelon crossed his arms and shifted his jaw as he looked away.

“Eyes on me!” Merlin barked, and the dark eyes turned. “You are to stay here,” he repeated.

“Fine,” he mumbled, black eyes burning.

“Fine, what?” he scathed.

“I heard you,” he growled in response.

Merlin glanced him over. “Take off the armor, you will not be in need of it,” he said a bit quieter then nodded his head and scurried off towards the castle, mumbling something to himself. Brendelon waited until he was out of sight then I saw the wicked half-grin and knew it was trouble.

“What are you up to?” I asked closing the gap between us careful of the damp spots that had not dried yet in the hot sun.

              He smirked. “First, hand me your bracelet,” he said slyly, pointing to my wrist.

             
I glanced at the bracelet. “Why?”

             
“I need it.”

             
I clenched my jaw, I understood where he was going with this; he was going to run, and he was planning on leaving me behind. “I’m going with you,” I said stubbornly. 

             
He lowered his eyebrow, not amused. “No, Katarina. You are a weight with no need to be carried.”

             
“Then you can’t have my bracelet,” I said, knowing perfectly well how much I sounded like a brat. 

             
He grabbed my arm roughly. “I could just take it from you,” he growled menacingly close to my face.

             
I gulped. “I’ll scream bloody murder and tell everyone your plan,” I threatened.

             
His eyes flashed, but his lip curled upward sadistically. He raised his hand to my neck. “I could silence you,” he said darkly, coals burning into me.

I should have been terrified, but I wasn’t because for some reason it caused embarrassing places on my body to tingle. I put my hands behind my back holding on tightly to the bracelet with my other hand. “You wouldn’t dare.”

In one quick motion, he had a bear paw wrapped tightly around my wrists, pinning them behind my back. His fingers wrapped around my neck firmly but he didn’t squeeze, keeping his sinister eyes peering into mine. I shouldn’t have found this attractive but I did. “It would not be hard,” he threatened. “Give it to me.”

My breathing was escaping me;
I could feel myself tremble, but I wasn’t afraid. It might have been the heat of the sun but my whole body burned. I kept an even stare, remembering what he said about fear giving others power. “I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered.

He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw, sliding his hand from my throat to the back of my neck, gripping my hair roughly and tilting my head slightly u
pward as he leaned in to my ear. “You are going to be the death of me,” he muttered. Then he released me and stepped away. My chest heaved as my breathing returned. I looked up to his defeated, irritated face and smiled triumphantly, finding it difficult to not gloat of my success.

“Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms and not making eye contact, slightly pouting. “You can come.”

I couldn’t help smiling. It might have been a small victory, but any victory with the raven was worth being proud of.

“And
thank you for building that contraption for Chance,” I added.

His shoulders w
ent rigid. “Kay did it,” he grumbled, looking away. “He has a soft spot for cripples. I had nothing to do with it.” He turned away from me but my smile stayed because I didn’t believe him one bit. 

*****

“Hold here, Katarina,” he commanded. I pulled back on the mare’s reigns bringing her to a stop. We had ridden for most of the day, and had only stopped a few times along the way to let the horses drink and rest
, but we were still nowhere near William Cole’s castle. I was grateful for the stop, regardless of the reason. My body wasn’t use to riding horses; my legs felt cramped up and my lower back ached from sitting on the saddle for so long.

             
He slid off his horse with ease, eyes intent on the surroundings. The sun was already getting lower in the sky, cooling the air. A hawk hung gracefully above us, and I saw his green eyes watch it carefully, suddenly it swooped down near us, and he took a timid step back as a quick look of revulsion flashed across his features.

             
“What is it?” I asked.

             
His eyes snapped down to mine and widened. “Huh?” he asked dumbly, taken off guard.

             
“The hawk,” I said. “You seemed nervous…”             

His face contorted into disgust. “W
hy would I be afraid of a feeble hawk,” he huffed.

             
“I didn’t say afraid, I said you seemed nervous,” I pointed out.

He shrugged his shoulders as he averted his eyes to the left
. “Sometimes hawks destroy messenger birds,” he mumbled awkwardly as he wandered off the path towards the forest trees, kneeling down to observe markings on the ground.

             
“Do you think someone sent a message?” I asked as I followed him, still curious as to why he reacted that way.

             
“No,” he said bluntly, still observing the marks. It was infuriating, I didn’t want to have to keep pressing him for answers but he was unwilling to share any unless I did.

             
“Then why did you seem nervous?” I asked irritated.

He ran his hand along the dirt path as the right side of his mouth slid into a smile and he looked up at me, putting a finger to his lips. He held his two hands up and mouthed, “Stay” to me, eyes wild with anticipation.

              I nodded in compliance, moving closer to the mare as if she would protect me from whatever he was tracking. He held his sword pointing forward as he moved into the trees and large bushes. Soon he was hidden behind the green cover, all I could hear were the soft sounds of his boots crunching through old twigs and a few birds chirping.

             
I waited, looking back up into the sky for the hawk still wondering about it, but it seemed to have disappeared. The darkness was beginning to creep in rather quickly, shadows coming out of their hibernation, lurking around me. It was silent and unsettling so I faced the open field to my right that appeared much less intimidating. Brendelon’s horse trotted a few steps in front of my view, tempting me with the bow that hung from the saddle. Reasoning with myself that it would be a good distraction, I grabbed it and pulled back on the string, suddenly itching to test out my skills. I knew the arrows were for hunting, but I doubted if he would miss just one, and I could always go fetch it after. I plucked the arrow from the sack and set it up on the bow the way Bedivere had shown me, but from behind me I heard a sudden scuttle, followed by a loud
crack.
I whipped around to see a white dust cloud slowly rise into the air from the depths of the trees.

             
“B-Brendelon?” I called wearily, as I scurried across the dead branches and leaves to where he had walked, still holding onto the bow and arrow and taking no heed to his warnings. I found him about thirty yards off; he was doubled over, trying to stand, but gravity worked against him. I ran to him as he struggled to find his equilibrium, unable to get on balance. He stumbled around finally falling to his knees as he leaned forward using the ground for stability.