The Book of Mordred (42 page)

She made it past the edge of the camp, beyond to the dense underbrush that bordered the field. Branches snapped, leaves crackled. She was smaller; she should have been able to get through places the pursuing wizard would have to go around. But still she could hear him close behind her. She dove into a pile of leaves near a giant oak. Her breath came in retching sobs.

If Halbert wanted her that badly, he could have her.

In another moment she calmed down enough to cram the back of her hand into her mouth to muffle the sounds she was unable to stop making.

She heard his footsteps—how could such an old man not get winded?

He slowed. He walked beyond the tree, then returned. "You cannot get away from me," he said softly, and his fingernails clicked against the red stone on his chest. "Come."

Come and get me,
she thought. But he must not have known for sure that she was here, for he did not approach. She tried not to squirm under the gaze that she was sure must be directed at her, and closed her own eyes as though that would help. She resisted the temptation to check whether the leaves covered her entirely.

She heard his footsteps, not a handbreadth from her face. Then he kept on walking.

Kiera kept her eyes closed. Her shoulders shook. If he returned, he would see the pile of leaves trembling, but she couldn't stop.

A long time passed, and she caught her breath.

A longer time passed, and she thought about climbing out. Eventually, she brushed away the leaves from in front of her face.

From where she lay, the angle of her body, the tilt of her head—she could see nothing but more leaves, ground, bushes, the roots of the oak. If Halbert had circled back, if he was—for example—behind her, he had already seen her move and she needed to be ready. She jumped up, and out of the corner of her eye caught a movement. She whirled, with an involuntary gasp, and the jay she had startled gave an uncharacteristic
squawk
and almost toppled from the branch it had just landed on.

It beat its wings, started to fly off, then returned, on a higher branch, to chatter down insults at her.

Kiera sat heavily on the ground, half laughing, half crying, knowing she was making enough noise for even the most inept of wizards to find her.

The jay swooped down as though to make sure Kiera understood its opinion of her.

"I'm sorry," Kiera said. "I thought you were this bad man who is chasing me. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but that's the truth." She put her hand out. "Come, don't be angry with me. I have few enough friends as it is."

The jay landed on her finger—birds were the least likely of any creatures Kiera knew to keep a grudge—and immediately it started preening itself.

She smiled, looked up, and saw Halbert watching. "No," she whispered.

The jay fluttered about her head, screeching at her to flee.

Halbert smiled and crooked his finger at her.

She stood up. She took a deep breath.

The jay launched itself at Halbert's face.

"Don't!" she cried, for the wizard could blast it into a cinder.

And the bird flew through Halbert's head.

She blinked, disbelieving what she knew she had seen.

Halbert continued to smile, continued to beckon.

The determined jay made another diving swoop into his face, again coming out on the other side.

Kiera picked up a stone, threw it at the smiling wizard, and heard it hit the tree behind him. And still he only menaced, never approached, never touched. Unable to find a bigger rock, she scooped up dirt and leaves and pebbles. He was nothing but an illusion, a trick. She flung the handful of debris at him, saw it spatter on the ground behind. Somebody had set him on her all this while...

She felt her insides turn cold.

Morgana.

A second handful of pebbles dropped from her numb fingers.

Morgana.

"Come to me, little Kiera," the illusion of Halbert purred. "I will not hurt you."

She walked through him, and felt nothing. She began walking faster, toward the field.

"Come," Halbert continued, for that was what he was created to do. "You will come." He followed after, running but never catching up, his footfalls making sound, but not disturbing the leaves he passed over.

The field was an ocean of fog. She ran along the edge. There was a clear boundary: no trailing tendrils or patches of half-visibility. When she felt she was close to the middle, she stepped into the mist.

The nature of it changed as she advanced. It tasted of dust here, and smelled of burnt wood and meat, which didn't bear thinking of. She could hear others now, horses and men. Some were dying, and some were shouting to get their bearings, but many were still fighting: Swords clashed, maces thudded, a lance clunked against a shield.

"Arthur!" she screamed. "Mordred!"

Shapes moved close by, but none approached or tried to interfere with her or with the still-trailing figure of Halbert.

Behind her, Kiera could hear hooves tear up the ground as two of the still-mounted knights came at each other. Metal crashed. Someone cursed. The momentum of the horses carried both men forward beyond the point where they could find each other again in the mist.

She rubbed her hand on the skirt of her dress to ease the sudden burning sensation. The more she walked, the stronger it got: Nimue's ring was nearby.

She came upon two men: One was a knight sprawled on the ground, half under a horse that still twitched; the other was a peasant, sitting on the ground, using his back to push against the dying horse. For a moment she wondered if he couldn't see, or wouldn't admit, that the knight was obviously beyond help.

But at the noise of her approach, the peasant pulled a sword out of the burlap bag by his feet and held it, two handed; pointed in her general direction. A looter.

She made a show of holding her hands away from the folds of her dress lest he think she had a weapon of her own.

The looter's eyes, blank in an empty face, shifted to the wizard, a half-dozen paces behind her.

"He's with me," she explained.

Halbert stopped when she stopped, for he had been created to threaten, not to actually touch, which would have given him away. "Come with me," he urged her.

The peasant said nothing.

Kiera eased to the right, a wide circle around knight and peasant and burlap bag.

The tingling of her hand lessened, and she saw she needed to edge back to her original path. But a hand came out of the particularly dense mist, and clasped hold of her wrist. She jumped. "Morgana," she gasped.

But there were two women, and though one was a once-again-young-and-beautiful Morgana, the one who actually held her was Alayna.

"Kiera!" her mother said. "Thank the Lord! I was so worried—" She stopped, gazing beyond Kiera's shoulder, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. She took a step backwards, pulling Kiera with her.

"He's not real," she assured her mother. "He's an illusion. Morgana made him to keep me from helping Mordred and Arthur."

Mordred's aunt shook her head. "No," she said, all hurt innocence. "Who is this man? I've never seen him before. Your mother and I have been looking everywhere for you. We have been together all afternoon." She raised her hands, palms outward, toward the figure of the wizard, who waited patiently just beyond reach, his arms folded on his chest. "But you are right," Morgana continued, "he is insubstantial; he cannot harm us. Maybe he is some trick of Vivien's. She must have been afraid you would help Mordred. She has ever been interested only in Arthur."

Kiera hesitated, weighing all this. But she remembered the snake.

"We were so worried," Morgana was saying. "I'm so relieved we found you." She sniffed and buried her face in her hands. "We became lost in the fog ... We looked everywhere. We couldn't find you, we couldn't find Mordred ... I was so frightened."

Alayna was finally able to take her eyes off Halbert, and now she watched without comment as Morgana's shoulders shook with loud sobs.

"This isn't yours?" Kiera asked, nodding toward the wizard, her confidence shaken but not broken.

Morgana shook her head, her face still behind her hands.

Kiera considered. Perhaps. It was hard to insist the woman was a liar in the face of her tears. The fact that she cast spells to make herself appear young and beautiful proved nothing. "You may come with my mother and me, then, if you wish."

Morgana grabbed her arm. "Oh, no, please! Just give me a moment. You don't know the things I've seen: Dead men. Pillagers slitting the throats of the wounded. Scavenger animals..." She covered her face again and shook her head. "Please be patient with me. I'm sorry."

Alayna glanced at Kiera. She had always had to work at being patient with helplessness. "Really..." she told Morgana.

From the direction in which Kiera had been headed came the clash of swords.

"I'm sorry," Morgana wailed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

But Alayna also had heard the fighting. Eyes flashing, she turned toward Morgana.

Kiera stepped backwards.

Once again Morgana's hand whipped out to hold onto her, but this time Kiera noticed that the hands, as well as the face, were perfectly dry—no tears at all. "There's a looter there," Morgana said in a frightened voice, "with a knife."

Kiera hit her hand. "Let go of me."

Morgana's fingers tightened. Her left hand scrabbled for a hold on Kiera's dress at the waist. "If you'll only just stay—" she pleaded.

"Mordred!" Kiera screamed. She pulled Morgana's wrist in front of her mouth and bit.

Morgana slapped her, but had to release her hand to do so. Kiera twirled around. She felt the fingers of Morgana's left hand dig into her side, trying for a more secure hold.

"Let go of her!" Alayna shouted, prying at the fingers.

Suddenly freed, Kiera staggered several steps backwards.

Alayna grappled with Morgana, and both fell to the ground.

Kiera turned and ran.

Before her, shadow shapes fought; behind, she could hear footsteps—her mother's, Morgana's, or Halbert's, she didn't turn to check. Suddenly she broke through the mist.

Mordred and Arthur fought in a clearing as totally devoid of mist as the woods had been. Neither seemed aware of her. Both had their visors up—a calculated risk that weighed exposure against the ability to breathe—indicating they had been at it for a while already. For the moment their swords were locked.

Mordred forced in closer, twisting upwards. Metal scraped against metal. Mordred pushed Arthur backwards. Arthur put one foot back to steady himself, then swung his sword, Excalibur, in and up. But Mordred had already begun his own swing, a wide one that left him open, but gave him deadly momentum.

"Mordred!" Kiera screamed. "Don't!"

The sound rebounded off the walls of surrounding mist.

Slowly, in dream-time, Mordred looked up—distracted from Arthur—and turned toward her, his gray eyes wide and startled, perhaps searching for some secondary threat. And settled on the illusion of Halbert that had broken through the mist beside her.

Slowly, in dream-time, the point of Arthur's sword continued its swing. Kiera saw Arthur set his teeth, start to shift his point of balance, try to hold back the force of the blow. Her scream continued to reverberate off the inside surfaces of her skull.

And then the moment ended.

Arthur's sword pierced Mordred's armor, angled up under his rib cage. The follow-through from Mordred's aborted swing caught Arthur, flat-edged but powerfully, against the side of his helmet.

Both men staggered. Arthur dropped to his knees. Mordred had his hand to his side, and blood ran through the fingers, down the sword he still clutched.

Kiera looked on helplessly.

Behind her, Alayna broke through the mist. Seeing Mordred standing, Arthur on the ground, she gasped, "Arthur!" and she ran to help the King, to pull off his helmet.

That left Mordred. Kiera stepped toward him, but before she reached him, his sword dropped, and he followed, landing hard on his knees. The arm of his black armor was slick with blood.

She tried to pry his fingers from his side, but he was bent over. "I cant breathe." He gasped for breath, sounding close to panic.

The mist quivered, almost closed in on them, then she felt Morgana's hands steadying her own. For a moment, she almost went for the other woman's throat; but together they got the helmet off and Mordred gulped at the air.

"Mordred," Morgana said, "give me the ring." She had twigs and pieces of leaves in her disheveled hair, and the sleeve of her gown was split at the shoulder from her struggle with Alayna.

"No," Kiera warned.

Breathing hard, Mordred took all this in, and said nothing.

"I can't hold the mist back from us much longer—Vivien's magic is stronger than mine. You know she is on Arthur's side. She doesn't care if we lose you in the mist and you bleed to death. Mordred, trust me. I just want the ring to get rid of this fog so we can get help for you."

"Mordred," Kiera said. "That was just an image of Halbert you saw." The wizard was finally gone. "Morgana created him. And she released that snake of hers on purpose—she
wanted
the battle. Don't trust her."