Crown of Dreams (17 page)

“Prince Mordred was already at the gates, Princess,” the big man said. “I’m sorry. We did what we could, but he left his devils to defend the ditches. You saw what happened back there. The same thing happens every time we try to get near Camelot’s walls. They’re already dead, so we can’t kill them. But they can tear our souls
screaming from our bodies. It’s impossible to get past even the first ditch, and Odin only knows how many more of the devils are hiding in the mist between here and the walls.”

“But how did Mordred get inside?” Rhianna said, dismayed. She stared up at the dark knight’s eagle banner flying from Camelot’s highest tower. “Was he wearing the Crown? Did he use its magic?”

“Magic enough.” Cynric grunted. “He had your dragon shield and your boots. He told everyone you were dead and showed them to the queen. Then there was this bright green flash, and she fainted, or worse… sorry, Princess, but they had to carry her back inside. Then the gates opened and he went in after her. We haven’t seen him since.”

Rhianna turned cold. If Mordred had
killed her mother, she’d never forgive herself for taking all the knights out of Camelot.

“That’s because the guards will have dealt with the traitor,” Cai said. “Especially if they think he killed Damsel Rhianna and hurt the queen!”

“I’m not so sure,” Cynric said. “He had some of them bloodbeards with him. Not many, but enough to keep order inside if all Camelot’s knights have gone off to Dragonland, as you say.”

“If the guards don’t kill him, the squires will!” Cai said fiercely. “They know the story of how he killed King Arthur. Gareth hates Mordred. He’ll do it.”

“They’re probably dead by now, too,” Cynric said glumly. “Poor brave lads.”

Rhianna stared up at the closed gate and clenched her fists.

Mordred wanted to use the Crown of Dreams to wipe her father’s name from history and take the throne. But if King Arthur had not existed, then neither would the court at Camelot, which he had built, so there would be no throne for him to take.

It was so crazy, she laughed.

The Saxons gave her sympathetic looks. “Poor maid,” they muttered. “It’s the shock, you know… Lost her father, and now maybe her mother too…”

“Where are the knights?” Chief Cynric asked Cai in a low tone. “Don’t tell me they all drowned in the floods, like Mordred claims?”

“They’ll be here, don’t worry,” Rhianna said, sobering. “They’re just slow, as usual. They had to go the long way round.”

Cai, who had been giving her a worried look,
grinned in relief. “Yeah, we rode right across the flood! It was brilliant fun. Elphin let me borrow his fairy horse, and he’s riding Sandy. I hope he keeps him safe. At least it’s a bit drier up here…” He frowned at the castle. “So how are we goin’ to get inside, Damsel Rhianna? Do you want me to challenge Prince Mordred to a duel?”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Chief Cynric said, looking at Cai with more respect. “If you can lure the little rat out here, we might be able to grab him for you.”

“I’ll duel with the dark knight if you want me to, Damsel Rhianna!” Cai said bravely.

She smiled at his determined expression. “No – there isn’t enough dry ground left for you to tilt on, anyway. I’ve got a better idea.”

She took Chief Cynric aside and quickly explained what she wanted him to do.
He gave her a doubtful look.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait for the knights, Princess?” he said. “It’d be safer.”

“We haven’t time to wait!” Rhianna said. “I’ve got to get my father’s jewel from Arianrhod before Mordred destroys it, and this is the only way I can think of to get inside. Just don’t tell Cai until we get up there. I don’t think he’s going to like it very much.”

She could tell Cynric didn’t like her plan, either, but he didn’t have any better ideas. They made their preparations quickly. She remounted Alba and drew her sword. She waited until Cai joined her on Evenstar and gripped Excalibur more tightly. “
I call on the knightly spirits bound to this sword
,”
she whispered.
“I need you to fight for me now!”

The jewel on Excalibur’s hilt brightened, and its blade glimmered. The air around her rippled as the spirits of the men who had been knighted by the sword and later killed in battle joined them. Maybe she did not need the living knights to win this battle. She saw the Lance of Truth glimmering too. Her friend’s eyes shone with excitement.

“Straight up to the wall, fast as you can,” she muttered to Cai. “No heroics.”

The boy bit his lip. The Saxons had lent him a helmet, which was a bit big. When he nodded, it slipped down over his eyes.

“Can you see in that thing? she asked.

“Not much,” he admitted.

“Probably just as well,” Cynric muttered.

Rhianna straightened Cai’s helmet, checked
the Saxons were ready and raised Excalibur in the air. “Charge!” she yelled.

As their horses approached the first ditch at full gallop, the mist rose to surround them with an icy chill. Like before, she glimpsed shadows writhing inside it. Frost formed on Alba’s mane, and she wondered if they might freeze to death before they got past the ghostly warriors.

A long, shadowy arm reached up to grab her rein. The little mare misted to avoid it. Excalibur brightened and its hilt warmed under her hand. She brought the sword down on the arm and heard a wail of pain. The shadow fell apart before her eyes. The arm twisted out of the ditch, curled up like a burning leaf and vanished in a puff of smoke. The rest of the shadow rose after it into the sunlight and
went howling back across the water towards Dragonland.

She looked anxiously at her sword and laughed. Excalibur’s blade still gleamed brightly. At least she didn’t have to worry about blooding the blade in
this
battle. Ghosts did not bleed.

Beside her, she saw Cai spear another ghostly warrior with the Lance of Truth. The same thing happened. When the magical weapon touched it, the shadow disintegrated, smoked in the sun and fled back to Annwn.

“We can kill them!” she shouted, swinging Excalibur more confidently at another ghost and taking off its head. “Four Lights stand against the dark, remember? And we’ve got two of the Lights!”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the dead
knights in their shimmering armour battling the ghostly warriors of Annwn in the ditches. The strength of a hundred men filled her. She laughed and looked hopefully for her father’s spirit, but could not see him. She practised using her sword in either hand, swapping it over each time they took a breather. Her blood sang, and she began to enjoy herself.

As they jumped the last ditch and galloped up the hill with the Saxons running behind, Mordred’s ghostly warriors howled and launched a final attack. She glimpsed eyeless helms and maimed limbs, horrible scars and gaping wounds – the injuries that had killed these men and sent their souls to Annwn. Shadowy axes and swords swung at Alba and Evenstar, but glimmered through the two mist horses without harming them.

They had almost reached the walls when a tall, ghostly warrior wearing a winged helm stepped out of the shadows right in front of Rhianna. He had the bearing of a king, and his eyes gleamed with curiosity as they studied her.

“So, this is my infamous granddaughter,” he growled. “You’re brave enough to have fought your way through my army, that’s for sure. But a girl cannot be the Pendragon. Let that young fool Mordred sit on the throne for a few years, and come with me back to Annwn where there is no pain. I’ll make sure Lady Morgan looks after you.”

“Never!” Rhianna yelled, swinging Excalibur at his head. What had he called her? Granddaughter? That meant he was part of the Pendragon family she’d come to the world of men to find… except he was dead now.
She wondered why he hadn’t been taken to Avalon when he died, like King Arthur.

The ghostly warrior ducked. “That’s no way to treat your old Grandpa Uther,” he said with a chuckle, drawing his rusty sword and leaping towards her. “If you want a fight, I’ll teach you a few tricks.”

“I’ll teach
you
some tricks, you mean!” Rhianna said, swapping Excalibur to her left hand and telling Alba to mist past him.

The ghost of Uther Pendragon spun round in confusion and squinted at her. While he was distracted, Cai swung the Lance of Truth at his ankles from behind. Uther tripped over the lance and stumbled backwards down the slope into the ditch, where Alba trampled him with her enchanted horseshoes, sending him after the other ghosts.

He forgot to look behind him
, her mare said.
No wonder he is dead.

Rhianna grinned. She heard a yell of warning from Cai, and swung Excalibur to behead another shadowy warrior whose long fingers had knotted around Chief Cynric’s neck.

“Thanks,” he grunted as the shadow wailed away. The Saxon chief grabbed Alba’s tail and held on grimly as she pulled him out of the ditch.

Rhianna checked Cai was safe, and risked a look behind.

Now that their leader had gone, shadowy warriors were pouring out of the ditches behind them to flee back across the water in a green cloud. She saw ghostly horses with them, and felt a bit sad. Those poor horses had already carried their riders into Annwn once.

“Yah!” Cai said, shaking his lance after them. “Run, you cowards!”

The Saxons had re-formed in the shadow of the wall. They looked up grimly at Camelot’s high battlements. Rhianna’s arms ached from swinging her sword, and her hair crackled with frost. Despite the chill of Annwn in the ditches they had crossed, she was sweating under her armour. But they’d done it. Only two of Cynric’s men had been lost to Uther’s warriors as the Saxons fought their way up the hill.

Cai flopped over Evenstar’s neck and rested the Lance of Truth on the ground with a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t skewer Mordred if he stood right in front of me,” he groaned. “So what’s the plan, Damsel Rhianna? Are we goin’ to climb the wall now? Because I think I need a rest first.”

Rhianna sheathed Excalibur so that its magical light died. She checked that nobody was watching from above before she dismounted. She unbuckled her scabbard, strapped the sword to Alba’s saddle and took the reins over the mare’s head.

This was the part of her plan she did not like so much.

“Dismount,” she told Cai. “Let Evenstar loose, and hide that lance somewhere.”

The boy looked puzzled. “But what if I need it inside?”

“It’ll be safer out here. So will Evenstar. He’ll go and find Elphin and tell him where we are.”

The boy looked as if he might argue. But then he slipped off the mist horse’s back, scrambled into the nearest ditch and covered
the Lance of Truth with fallen leaves.

Rhianna felt tempted to do the same with Excalibur. But the Sword of Light had to be inside the castle for her plan to work. She might not get out again so easily once she was through the gates.

Her sweat had cooled, making her feel shivery. While Cai was busy hiding the Lance, she kicked what remained of the rags off her feet and passed Alba’s reins to Chief Cynric. “Don’t mist, my darling,” she whispered to the mare. “This man will make sure you get to your stable.”

Why can you not take me to my stable?
her mare snorted. I am very sweaty.
I need grooming.

“I know you do, my darling. Cai will groom you. I have to see someone first.”

She took a deep breath and held her hands
out towards the Saxons, wrists pressed together. “All right, tie me and make it look good. If Mordred thinks I’m your prisoner, he’ll let you in.”

L
ast year, Rhianna had ridden into Camelot while her father’s people cheered and showered her with white rose petals from the walls. This time, everyone watched in silence as Mordred’s bloodbeard captain
led her, bound and barefoot, across the courtyard. His other hand clutched Excalibur in its red scabbard.

The Saxons followed, scowling under their damp furs. In their midst, a small warrior wearing an oversized helmet cast worried glances at Rhianna.

She hung back a little on her leash. “Stop looking at me,” she hissed. “You’ll give us away.”

The bloodbeard gave the leash a tug. She bruised her toes on the steps, but bit back her angry words.
Act meek
, she told herself.
Then he’ll think you’re beaten and will forget to be careful.

She lowered her head so her hair hung in tangles across her face and limped a bit. The captain looked down at her bare feet and chuckled. “Missing your pretty boots, Princess?
You won’t need them in the dungeon. No place to run down there.”

Rhianna hoped he would take her straight down to the cells so she could talk to Arianrhod and find out what had happened to her father’s jewel. But no such luck.

As they passed the dining hall, the bloodbeard turned to the Saxons and growled, “What are you lot still following me for? I think I can handle a barefoot damsel! Go and get drunk or something. No doubt Prince Mordred will reward you later for your treachery.”

The small warrior in the oversized helmet hesitated. The others hustled him along with them into the dining hall, calling for mead. Two frightened maids ran in to serve them, casting Rhianna nervous glances on the way.

“That’s right.” The bloodbeard chuckled at
their shocked expressions. “Take a good look at your princess – not so proud now, is she? This is what happens to damsels who defy Prince Mordred. Tell all your friends.”

Rhianna kept her head down so she wouldn’t catch the girls’ eyes. They were used to seeing her looking scruffy after she’d been sword training with the squires. It didn’t matter what they thought, but she wished she could ask them about her mother. She hoped Mordred had not hurt the queen.

While the bloodbeard was distracted, she twisted her hands against the rope. Chief Cynric had only tied the knot loosely, and she had the other end clutched in her hand so it would come undone quickly. But she needed to pick her moment.

“Right – come on, you!” the bloodbeard
jerked her leash again. “I don’t know how you got out of that dragon’s lair. But now you’re here, Prince Mordred will want to see you. Turns out we’ve got a small problem, so you might be of some use after all.”

Rhianna’s heart beat faster as they turned down the corridor leading to the Great Hall. A small problem? Maybe she wasn’t too late to stop Mordred taking her father’s throne.

The big double doors stood open. Her cousin sat in King Arthur’s seat, slumped over the Round Table, his head resting on his arms and his dark curls shadowing his face. Sunlight poured through the hole in the roof, illuminating the Crown of Dreams, which encircled the central slot where Excalibur could be inserted into the stone. The crown flashed with colour, its large green
jewel swirling with Annwn’s shadows.

As she tried to see if her father’s jewel had been restored to the Crown, Excalibur began to glow in response. Startled, the bloodbeard held the sword at arm’s length. He cleared his throat. “Er, M-master…?”

Mordred looked up, squinting at the sun and all the flashing jewels. “What is it now?” he snapped. “I thought I told you not to disturb me in here—”

When he saw Rhianna, he snapped alert. His gaze flew to the sword in the bloodbeard’s hand, then back to her. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in her bare feet, her tangled hair, and the rope binding her wrists.

“Well well, this is a surprise, cousin! You’re proving remarkably difficult to kill.” He jerked
his head at the bloodbeard. “For Annwn’s sake, give that sword to me before it swallows your soul, and get the girl away from it!”

The bloodbeard pushed Rhianna into the nearest chair and slid Excalibur in its scabbard across the table. But the Round Table was so big that the sword didn’t slide all the way across. It came to rest touching the Crown of Dreams. The blue stone of the table began to hum, and both the Sword and Crown brightened as they touched.

Mordred pulled a face at the glowing crown and struggled to his feet. He limped around the table, holding on to the backs of the chairs for support.

As he came closer, Rhianna saw dark shadows under his eyes and a ring of weeping black blisters around his head. She winced,
realising they had been made by the Crown of Dreams.

Mordred looked exhausted. “What are you staring at, cousin?” he snapped. “It’s hard work wearing that Crown, you know. A damsel like you would never manage to control the magic. Be thankful I found it first.”

“I wore it in Dragonland,” she reminded him, unable to play the meek prisoner any longer. “And I used it to spirit-ride the shadrake! That’s more than you can do, isn’t it?”

Mordred laughed. “Still got a bit of fight left in her, I see. Leave us, and lock the doors behind you. My cousin and I have unfinished business.”

“But Master…” the bloodbeard protested.

“Leave us, I say!” Mordred scowled and pressed his palm to his forehead, where the
largest blister wept sticky fluid into his eyes. “She’s unarmed and bound. I have the Crown and the Sword. What’s she going to do? Kill me with her bare toes? I’ll call if I need you.”

Rhianna bent over her hands and started to work the knot loose. When the bloodbeard left, she’d get her chance. Once the doors were locked, the only way in or out of the hall would be through the roof hole, which was impossible without wings. It would be just her and Mordred and two of the Lights. But she’d need to move fast to get hold of them both before the dark knight did, and the knot had been pulled tighter on her way here.

The back of her neck prickled as footsteps passed behind her. Not yet… with her head down and her hair over her face, she couldn’t see what her cousin was doing. She heard
him mutter something to the bloodbeard.

Then the doors slammed behind her.

She tugged desperately at the rope, trying to pull her wrists free. But before she could get the last loop off, Mordred’s hand twisted in her hair and pulled her head back.

“What are you up to, cousin?” he hissed into her ear.

Rhianna gave up on the knot and twisted out of his grip, leaving copper strands in his fist. She scrambled on to the table and dived for Excalibur with her bound hands. He cursed and grabbed her ankle, pulling her back. She sprawled facedown and blooded her nose on the stone, but managed to hook the scabbard towards her.

She awkwardly drew Excalibur two-handed in a shower of sparks. The sun coming through the roof hole dazzled her. Her blade flashed,
reflecting the colours of the crown.

Mordred still gripped her ankle, surprisingly strong for a one-handed cripple. She kicked to free herself and swiped at him blindly with her sword.

He ducked and laughed. “Careful, cousin. Don’t want to blood your blade, do you?”

“Neither do you, if it’s
your
blood,” Rhianna pointed out, swinging at him again.

But it was awkward, lying on her stomach with her ankle captive and her wrists still linked by the rope. Her arms ached from fighting her way up the hill, making her wish she hadn’t shown off so much when dealing with the ghosts.

As she twisted round to use her teeth on the stubborn knot, her cousin grinned and raised his stump. There was a dark blur in
the corner of her eye. Before she could react, a black gauntlet flew from his belt towards her. The gauntlet tugged her bonds tight again and clamped around her wrists to stop her freeing herself. Ice flowed up her arms – cold, so very cold. Her fingers went numb on Excalibur’s hilt. Though she tried her best to hold on to it, the sword slid off the table and clattered to the floor.

The gauntlet, oozing its rotten flesh, did not let go, and she realised where she’d seen it before. It was Mordred’s missing hand, which her father had chopped off during the battle at Camlann just before the dark knight killed him. His bloodbeards had been carrying it the first time she’d met them, when their captain had used it to torture Sir Bors in the Saxon camp. It contained the shadow magic of Annwn.

All the strength ran out of her. Mordred dragged her off the table and pushed her back into her chair. She tried to get up again but could not fight the shadow magic without her sword and sank back in despair, shivering.

He smiled down at her. “That’s better,” he said. “Amazing how powerful Annwn’s magic can be when you know how to use it properly. I’ve learned a few tricks since we last met, thanks to my mother. And now I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

He picked up Excalibur and limped back to his seat. While Rhianna struggled to shake off the gauntlet and free her wrists, her cousin laid the sword before him on the table and put on the Crown of Dreams. The jewels on both Lights brightened. He smiled at her.

“I’m glad you got out of that cave, cousin.
I didn’t like to think of you buried in there – it wasn’t my idea. You can blame my mother for that. I expect you’re the reason my shadrake failed to get hold of Excalibur and the Lance of Truth, as I told it to do, but no matter. The Sword is here now, and you’re just in time to help me summon the knights of the Round Table so they can crown me the new King of Camelot.”

“They’ll never make
you
king!” Rhianna said, a flicker of hope returning. If Mordred summoned the knights, they would arrest him.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I wear the Pendragon crown. They’ll have no choice. But for some reason they won’t come when I call. You know the secret of summoning them, don’t you? My mother tells me Excalibur can summon the spirit of anyone who has ever sat
at the Round Table, living or dead. Help me call the knights who knew me when I sat here as a prince of Camelot and Arthur’s favourite, and I’ll make sure the queen is looked after. I don’t like killing family unnecessarily.”

“You killed my father!” she reminded him through gritted teeth, seeing that he meant to get the dead knights to crown him while Sir Bors and the others were delayed by the flood. “You’re a traitor, and I’d rather die than help you.”

“That could be arranged, if you continue to be stubborn,” Mordred said, frowning at her. “Though your friends will die first, slowly and painfully. Be sensible for once, cousin. I’ve destroyed your father’s jewel and changed history. The little maid was ready to die because of you. So why not keep your
remaining friends and family alive by helping me?”

Rhianna turned cold. She stopped trying to get the gauntlet off her wrists. “What have you done with Arianrhod?” she demanded. “If you’ve hurt her…”

Mordred’s smile widened. “The girl’s either very brave or very stupid. She told me she’d promised you she would guard that jewel with her life, and I hate to see anyone break a promise.”

Rhianna leaped to her feet with a cry of rage, but still couldn’t free her wrists from the dark fist. She eyed Excalibur’s blade. Maybe she could distract Mordred long enough for her to run around the table and impale the gauntlet on the sword…

“
Courage, daughter
,” said a familiar voice.
“Your maid is not dead.”

“Father!” she gasped as King Arthur’s ghost glimmered into view beside Mordred’s seat. She was relieved to see him back from Dragonland and its gate to Annwn. But if history had been changed, how long would he be able to stay? “Be careful – Mordred’s destroyed your jewel!”

Arthur frowned at the crown on the dark knight’s head, then reached over his shoulder and tried to pick up Excalibur. His ghostly hands passed through the sword, but Excalibur’s blade brightened and the crown flashed green.