The Book of Mordred (26 page)

Mordred rode too low, vulnerable, and a bad position for fighting, but he was bent over in the saddle to give her what protection his unarmored body could.

Who would attack them practically on King Arthur's doorstep?

She was getting dizzy and almost opened her eyes, but at that moment Mordred shifted balance. Her own body felt the shock that jarred his right arm as he parried a sword blow. His left hand was on the reins, but the arm was holding her in; he was mostly guiding his mount with his legs. "Gently," she whispered in the horse's ear, "our lives rest with you."

The destrier gave no indication whether it heard.

She waited for the blow she was sure would kill them both.

But then she realized the pained, ragged panting so close to her ear was not that of Mordred but his opponent. She heard a sharp intake of air, and Mordred didn't wait to see the man fall. He jerked the horse around, lifted Kiera off and onto the ground, and was halfway toward the others before she fully caught her balance.

There were two more of the attacking knights down, and one horse. Her mother must have picked up a sword from one of them, and she circled one of the knights. Kiera had a sudden clear memory of Alayna in a strange castle Hall, holding a sword, circling, circling a tall blond man who looked something like her mother, but whose eyes were soulless. Kiera shivered at the fragment of memory.

The other four knights were closing in on Agravaine when one of the attackers' horses screamed in panic, a disconcertingly human sound. The animal reared and twisted and frothed at the mouth as the rider pulled up tight in an attempt to regain control.

Kiera covered her ears, but could still hear, could still understand. The horse's cries were frenzied, maddened, speaking of conflicting, fantastic, horrific images. The other horses backed away, struggling against their riders. She watched in horror of her own as the afflicted horse threw itself on the ground. Its rider managed to untangle himself from reins and saddle just in time to avoid ending up under the horse.

Ntmue,
Kiera thought.
Nimue can't stop the knights, hut she's affecting the horse's mind

In the confusion, Mordred whipped through the crowd from behind, slashed at two knights, killing one and gravely injuring the other. Then, without breaking stride, he came against the knight who fought Kiera's mother. Now Agravaine had only one knight to overcome. Meanwhile Nimue, a look of dismay on her face, watched the dying horse thrash.

"Nimue!" Kiera shouted, seeing the knight whose horse it had been struggle to his feet. "Nimue!" But her small voice didn't carry above the sounds of battle. "
Nimue!
"

Finally—finally—the young enchantress looked up.

Too late. The knight dragged her off her horse.

The last of the mounted knights had been killed. "Nimue!" Kiera screamed yet again, and finally Alayna, Mordred, and Agravaine turned to find Nimue with a sword to her throat.

"Don't," that knight warned from between clenched teeth.

"Pinel," Mordred said, and that was when Kiera recognized him. Pinel was a lanky young knight whose lack of skill made him a liability on tournament teams, though he was personable enough to always get invited anyway. Then, a fortnight ago, he'd attempted to poison the head of the Orkney clan, Sir Gawain. Kiera assumed there must have been a reason, of the kind that the adults were unwilling to talk about in front of the young people. All she knew was that the plot had been discovered and Pinel had disappeared from court.

And now he tightened his grip on Nimue and touched the sword point to her throat. "Not exactly as I planned it," he said, "but here we are anyway, Mordred.
Keep back
"

Mordred had dismounted. He sheathed his sword, then stepped back, his hands before him, palms out as a token of peace. "Since when do you fight ladies, Sir Pinel?"

"Just your lady."

Mordred's voice was quiet and even. "Your quarrel is with me."

"Back-stabbing bastard," Pinel growled. Then, "Keep your hands where I can see them." That was directed behind Mordred to Agravaine or Alayna—Kiera hadn't seen. "And I told you to keep back."

Mordred, who had not moved, took a backwards step.

Pinel was shivering, like a man fevered.
Dangerous,
Kiera thought,
very dangerous.

"Mordred—" Nimue began.

Pinel shoved her to her knees. "Back!" he screamed at Mordred and the others.

Kiera bit her hand to keep from crying out.

Pinel dug the fingers of his left hand into Nimue's shoulder and aimed the sword at her back.

"Don't!" Mordred cried. Kiera had known him most of her life, and it was the first time she had ever heard him raise his voice. Then, more calmly, he said: "Don't hurt her."

"That's the way you killed my cousin," Pinel said, "in the back."

"No," Mordred said. "I killed Lamorak in fair contest—"

"Murdered him!" Pinel shouted.

Mordred swallowed hard. "...in fair contest with—"

"Liar!"

"...witnesses," Mordred finished.

"Gawain and Agravaine," Pinel spat. "Your brothers. Who held him down while you butchered him."

"Nobody held any—"

"Shut up!"

Mordred closed his eyes and didn't dispute.

"There was another witness that you did
not
know about: Sir Bayard of Castle Ridgemont of Ravens' Rock."

The name meant nothing to Kiera, but Mordred swore. Then he said, practically spitting the name, "Bayard. Bayard was nowhere near—"

"You and your brothers have been trying to annihilate my family for years," Pinel said. "Your mother..." He took a deep breath, got his voice to sound less strangled, more under control. "I'd always heard Queen Morgause was a witch. She must have been a powerful one to seduce my cousin when he was young enough to be her grandson. And you killed him—you killed both of them—for that. Bayard saw you gang up on Lamorak, while Gaheris stayed inside, and Bayard never guessed..." He shook his head. "A foolish seventeen-year-old boy
and your own mother.
"

"Bayard and I have an old score between us. He lied about being there, and he lied about what happened. I killed Lamorak in a fair fight, and Gaheris killed our mother by accident."

Pinel's fingers dug deeper into Nimue's shoulder. She flinched. Head bowed, one long blond curl hung beyond the edge of the cloak's hood—Mordred's cloak, because Nimue hadn't brought hers and they had all been worried, not an hour gone by, about getting rained upon.

"Don't hurt her," Mordred said. "She is not involved. Your fight is with me. Not Agravaine, not the women. Me."

"I said keep back!" The sword above Nimue shook.

Mordred's hand clenched and unclenched, but he kept it away from his sword.

"Did Lamorak beg for his life?" Pinel asked. "Did he?" And when Mordred didn't answer, he asked, "Agravaine?"

Agravaine shook his head.

"I didn't think he would. My kinsman was young, but he was a good knight. He probably would have begged for your wretched mother's life, if it had ever occurred to him that she was in danger from her own sons. A cold-hearted, degenerate brood of devils, you."

"Pinel," Mordred started, "you are—"

"Can you stand there and watch your woman bleed?"

"What do you want from me?" Mordred asked.

"I want to hear you beg."

"
What do you think I've been doing?
" Mordred screamed at him.

But even this wasn't enough for Pinel. "
I want to hear you beg
" he repeated. "I want you on your knees. And I want you to say, 'Please, Pinel, spare Nimue.'"

Kiera, where she stood, mouthed the words.

Mordred dropped to the ground, never taking his gaze off Nimue. His voice was quiet, but barely controlled. "Please, Pinel, spare Nimue."

"No." Pinel raised his sword.

His arm had just started to plunge, when Agravaine flung his sword. The blade went in at the base of Pinel's throat and out through the back, no doubt killing him instantly.

But it could not stop the momentum of his swing.

Pinel's sword sliced through the huddled form at his feet, hard enough that the sword passed completely through Nimue and lodged itself into the ground. Only then did his own dead body pitch forward to land on top.

"Lord in Heaven," Agravaine whispered.

For a moment no one moved. Then Kiera darted closer, unwilling to believe what she knew to be so. Her mother leaped off her horse. "Don't," she said. "There is nothing we can do."

There had to be something. There was always
something.
Kiera bit her lower lip to stop her teeth from chattering.

Agravaine had dismounted too. He stood with his hand on his brothers shoulder. Mordred still knelt. He hadn't moved at all.

Eventually Agravaine moved away. Kiera closed her eyes, knowing where he was going. She felt her mother's fingers tighten in her hair.

Then Agravaine stifled a surprised oath.

Kiera forced herself to look, ready to avert her eyes quickly. Agravaine had used his foot to roll away Pinel's body, for it had fallen on top of his victim. Now they could see the cloak, flat to the ground, pinned there by the sword.

It was Mordred who moved first, and it was Mordred who yanked the sword out. He stooped and gathered up the cloak.

No body.

How could there be no body?

There was blood, quite a lot, but no way to tell whether Pinel's or Nimue's.

"Could she do that?" Mordred asked nobody in particular. "I don't ... think ... I ever saw..." Very gently he gathered up the cloak, and something dropped: Merlin's ring. Mordred picked it up, held it tightly, looked as though he might be praying. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper. "She would never have left this behind."

No,
Kiera thought.

"Perhaps..." Agravaine started.

"What?" Mordred jumped at the promise of the vague word.

Agravaine made a helpless gesture.

"Perhaps," Mordred finished the thought the way he wanted, "she ... somehow ... traveled to safety. And she will come back."

Yes,
Kiera prayed.

"Oh, Mordred," Alayna said.

"It could be," Mordred insisted.

Alayna looked away. "It could," she murmured.

Kiera could tell she didn't believe it.

In her heart, Kiera didn't believe it, either.

Mordred looked away also. He bit the knuckle of the fist that held the ring. "So we shall wait here until she comes back."

Agravaine and Alayna exchanged a look. Then Agravaine checked the sky, which was darker than ever. The air smelled of imminent rain. He said, "We must bring these"—he indicated the bodies of the knights—"back with us lest we get accused of ganging up on someone again." Their wounds would be proof—Kiera knew he was saying—against the accusation of treachery and stabbing in the back.

Mordred said nothing.

"Kiera, stay..." her mother started, but then apparently realized that there was no good place for her to stay.

Kiera looked back the way they had come, and saw that Ebony had caught up but stopped far back on the road. The little pony wouldn't pass the first dead body but just stood there, all lather and heaving sides.

She went—her own eyes rigidly forward—to fetch the frightened pony and scratch his nose. For the first time she realized she still clutched the hair ribbon. She opened her hand and stared at it, all crumpled and damp. "Oh, Ebony," she said.
Poor, poor Nimue

The pony butted her gently with his head.

She looked back once, saw her mother, Mordred, and Agravaine arguing. Agravaine had strung the surviving horses together, with the dead attackers tied across their backs like so many practice quintains with the stuffing knocked out. It was harder to hate them now that they were dead. Kiera buried her face in Ebony's neck.

After a while, Alayna came from behind and caressed Kiera's hair back from her cheek.

"Ebony says it feels like a bad storm coming up," Kiera mumbled into Ebony's mane.

Her mother let it pass. "Mordred will wait a little longer. Agravaine will stay with him."

Kiera looked to where Mordred still knelt in the middle of the road. Agravaine was crouched beside him, the picture of controlled impatience.

Her mother walked between Kiera and the horses with their grisly loads. Ebony snorted, but allowed himself to be led to the head of the line.

Kiera couldn't think of anything to say. She had always felt a nagging resentment of Nimue: Who could compete against that beautiful face and perfect hair and easy self-assurance? The young enchantress had come between Mordred and Alayna, between Kiera and her expectations for the two people she loved most. Nothing had been the same since her coming. Nothing. From her childhood Kiera remembered the almost imperceptible scar Mordred had had along his left cheekbone, a reminder of the adventure he and her mother had shared, the time they had rescued Kiera from the evil wizard. Mordred had been injured and her mother, with her knowledge of herbs, had cured him so that the scar was so thin and faint you couldn't even notice it unless you knew it was there. Then Nimue came, and took it away with her magic. And then she had taken Mordred away. But now she was gone, and neither herbs nor magic would bring her back, no matter what Mordred chose to hope.

But Kiera couldn't just leave. She went to Mordred and kissed his cheek, and he squeezed her hand. Still, he didn't look at her and she didn't think he really knew she was there.

Agravaine had moved onto the grass, where he sat hunched up in his cloak.

Her mother pulled her away, and the raindrops started before they reached the first curve in the road.