LANCE OF TRUTH (8 page)

She sat quietly against the wall with the dragon shield across her lap and picked at the splinters. They glimmered faintly in the
firelight, reminding her of her dream when they had formed into a red dragon and flown up through the roof.

As the Avalonian music filled the ruin, the shadows drew back a bit and the men smiled in wonder. The pieces in Elphin’s lap began to glow. So did the broken lance. She caught her breath as the light brightened and her friend’s fingers moved faster over the strings.

Some of the splinters rose into the air, and Lancelot stiffened. “Keep going,” he grunted. “I think it’s working…” But even as he spoke the glow faded, and the pieces fell back into Elphin’s lap.

He silenced the strings, breathing hard. Sir Lancelot examined the point and shook his head. Rhianna looked at the lance in disappointment. It seemed just as broken as before.

“I’m sorry,” Elphin said. “I think some of the pieces might be missing. I can try again later.”

“Not here,” Lancelot said, gathering the splinters back into his bag and signalling to his men. “If Mordred’s bloodbeards heard that, they’ll be sniffing around this place come morning. The magic failed last time I used the lance, anyway. I’m not sure I’d trust it against the dark knight. You’d best ride with us until Bors and Agravaine get here. Then perhaps we can make a proper plan to deal with Mordred, as I said we should have done long ago.” He gave Elphin a stern look. “And no more fairy music for the time being, or I’ll confiscate that harp of yours.”

Seeing her friend’s eyes darken, Rhianna put her hand on Excalibur’s hilt.

But Sir Bedivere covered her hand with his.
“It makes sense, Damsel Rhianna,” he said. “We want to get the queen back safely, don’t we? And it’s a good idea to make sure Mordred doesn’t get his hands on any of the Lights, however broken. I never much liked Bors’ idea to take him Excalibur. Everything else can wait until after we know Queen Guinevere is safe.” He looked meaningfully at Sir Lancelot.

Rhianna wondered what ‘everything else’ meant exactly. But she relaxed her grip on Excalibur. Sir Bedivere was right. They’d gain nothing by killing each other.

“Sir Lancelot must have trusted magic once,” she whispered to Elphin, as they mounted their mist horses. “Or he couldn’t have used the Lance of Truth as my father’s champion, could he? Something must have happened to make him so suspicious of it.
I wish Cai was here… he’d soon tell us.”

Her friend smiled. “Cai’ll have quite enough to tell us once he’s ridden all the way up here with the knights, as it is. We probably won’t be able to shut him up all summer.”

Rhianna thought of the lookalike sword strapped across Cai’s saddle and felt a bit guilty. She hoped the squire was safe.

They breakfasted on the last of the supplies. Then they rode east, keeping to the ditch for cover, following the Wall. Lancelot led the way on his big white stallion with Sir Bedivere on his chestnut beside him. Gareth and Arianrhod rode the pack pony, the girl awkwardly clasping Gareth’s waist. The squire didn’t look very happy about this, but since the alternative was
walking he did not complain. Rhianna and Elphin rode their little mist horses in the middle, flanked by her two Camelot guards, while Lancelot’s men brought up the rear.

The Wall seemed to go on for ever, winding up and down the ridge. Every mile they came to another crumbling tower like the one where they’d spent the night, and Lancelot sent his men to check it out. All turned out to be deserted, making Rhianna despair that they would ever find the queen. Whenever she thought of that chain on her mother’s wrist, her hand tightened on Excalibur’s hilt.

Gareth kept looking at her, as if he wanted to tell her something. Finally, when Lancelot and his men galloped off to check yet another tower, the boy held the pony back and said in a sly tone, “If you want to know how Sir Lancelot
broke the Lance of Truth and why he’s scared to mend it, I saw it happen.”

Rhianna stiffened. “How did it break?”

“He was trying to kill your father, of course.”

“That’s not true!” She halted Alba so suddenly that the little mare threw up her head in protest.

That hurt my mouth,
the mare complained.
I will mist if you do it again.

Gareth smiled. “How else do you think those splinters ended up stuck in the Pendragon’s shield?”

Rhianna stared at him, remembering how the splinters had glimmered when the Lance of Truth was near. A shiver of excitement went through her. “Are you saying Sir Lancelot jousted against the king?”

“Ha!” Gareth said. “They jousted all right.
At dawn up by that lake where you found your father’s sword. It was misty that morning, so they never knew I followed them. King Arthur rode his golden mare and carried Excalibur. Sir Lancelot rode his big white horse and carried the magic lance. When they met, you could hear the crash back at Camelot.”

“How do you know, if you were watching them at the lake?” Elphin said.

Gareth scowled at him. “I know, all right? The other squires told me. Anyway, there was this big flash, like lightning, and the lake went all sparkly. When I could see again, the king lay on the ground and Sir Lancelot was standing over him. But the lance was broken, its head splintered. King Arthur drew Excalibur, and I thought he was going to kill Sir Lancelot. He wounded him, I think. I saw blood on his arm.
But then this woman with long green hair came up out of the lake – stark naked! She must have been swimming in there. While King Arthur was staring at her, Sir Lancelot grabbed the broken pieces of the magic lance, jumped on his horse and got away. Ran back to Camelot to hide behind the queen, like the coward he is.”

Gareth smirked at them. “So now you know. I reckon that woman in the lake was your father’s secret love, and that’s why he never really bothered too much about Sir Lancelot loving the queen.”

“Don’t listen to him, Rhia!” Arianrhod said, shaking her head. “It’s all lies. Your mother and the king loved each other very, very much. Anyway, have you ever seen a woman with green hair? He’s just a stupid squire. He doesn’t know anything.”

But Rhianna knew differently. “It was Lady Nimue in the lake,” she whispered, thinking of the fish-lady who had given her Excalibur last year.

Gareth’s eyes lit up. “See? What did I tell you? The Lady Nimue… King Arthur’s secret love!” Turning, he pushed Arianrhod so that she fell off the pony. The girl rolled down the bank into the ditch with a little scream, while Gareth laughed at her. “Stupid squire am I, witch’s maid?” he called. “I can ride better than you, anyway!”

Sir Bedivere, who had been watching Lancelot’s men return empty-handed from the tower, approached with a frown. “A knight would not let a lady take a tumble like that, Gareth,” he said. “I thought I told you to look after her?”

“She slipped, sir, and she’s not a lady anyway. Nobody’ll ever marry her with a scar like that.”

Arianrhod said nothing. She fingered the pentacle on her cheek and avoided looking at Gareth.

“You can ride with me, Arianrhod,” Elphin offered.

The girl gave him a grateful smile, and one of the guards legged her up on Evenstar’s hindquarters behind the Avalonian boy.

Alba snorted.
I have told Evenstar not to mist, or the human girl will fall off again.

Rhianna barely heard. She was still trying to make sense of what Gareth had just told them. Her father and Sir Lancelot had fought over her mother, setting two of the Lights against each other? No wonder the lance had broken! But one thing made sense in her confusion.

“We can mend the Lance of Truth now,” she told the knights, “The missing pieces have been stuck in my father’s shield all the time.”

R
hianna tried to persuade Sir Lancelot to try the magic again straight away. But he just galloped off on his white stallion to check another tower whenever she mentioned it, ordering her to stay out of sight. He seemed too embarrassed to talk about it. Sir Bedivere gave
her a hug and said he’d never realised the lance had actually broken on her father’s shield, and she was clever to work it out.

“Don’t worry, he’ll do it,” Elphin said, staring after the pale-haired knight. “He just needs to get his courage back. I think he’s afraid the magic will turn on him again.”

Rhianna frowned. She wondered if the champion knight intended to visit every crumbling ruin the entire length of the North Wall, but towards evening he led them off the moor into a wooded valley. They rode in single file along twisty paths and emerged in a small clearing. A single mossy stone stood in the centre. Nearby was a cave, its entrance almost hidden by ivy.

“Oaks,” Lancelot said, waving a hand at the trees. “This is an old druid grove Merlin
showed us last time he was up here. We’ve camped here before, and we can risk a fire in the cave. We can at least cut a new shaft for the lance, and it’s as good a place as any to try your friend’s magic again.”

He posted sentries, and they tethered their horses outside. Rhianna’s neck prickled as Excalibur’s jewel began to glow and the pieces of the lance stuck in her shield sparkled like tiny stars. Light shone from the Lance of Truth, too, haloing Sir Lancelot’s hair in silver. “Hasn’t done that since Arthur was alive,” he muttered.

Elphin smiled and opened his harp bag to show them the strings, which also glimmered faintly. “There’s power here,” he said. “I think it’s going to work this time.”

Sir Lancelot nodded. “Let’s go inside.”
He cleared away some dead leaves that had blown into the cave and carefully laid out all the pieces of the lance.

Elphin told Rhianna to bring her shield. “As I play this time, try using Excalibur to loosen the splinters,” he whispered. “I think that’ll help.” He sat cross-legged and rested his harp in his lap. A gentle chord echoed around the rocks, making her neck prickle again.

The others crowded round the entrance, eager to see the magic working. Rhianna scowled at them. “Careful,” she said. “Give us some room.”

“You be careful,” Gareth said. “We don’t want to break Excalibur, too. The fairy boy doesn’t really know what he’s doing, does he? I bet Merlin wouldn’t do it like this.”

“Quiet!” Elphin hissed.

Rhianna settled for glaring at Gareth. She felt tempted to give him a tiny cut, just to wipe the smirk off his face – but almost cut Arianrhod instead when her blade slipped on the shield. Sir Bedivere hauled the maid back with one hand and Gareth with the other. He motioned the men to stand back, too.

“Watch your fingers, Damsel Rhianna,” he said, sounding worried.

Sweat broke out on Elphin’s brow as he played. The pieces of the lance brightened so much that they could no longer look at them, and one of the splinters left the shield and darted into the light. Rhianna felt a surge of energy flow along her arm into the sword.
Mend
, she willed.
Please mend.

Two more splinters shot from the shield into the light, making Arianrhod give a little scream.
Rhianna smiled. It was working! Elphin’s harp sang louder, echoes rippling around the cave.

Then suddenly the air was filled with flying silver darts, which pinged off the rock, making everyone duck. There was a blinding flash and Sir Lancelot yelled in pain. The horses tugged at their tethers in terror, and the men drew their swords and looked round for an enemy.

The music had stopped. Elphin slumped over his harp, panting, his dark curls hanging across his face. Rhianna felt almost as tired as she had done after the battle with the shadrake. She looked eagerly at the Lance of Truth. It lay glimmering faintly in the gloom, whole… no, not quite. Cracks showed in the head where the pieces had fitted themselves together. Even to Rhianna’s eyes, it didn’t look very strong.

Lancelot frowned at it, hugging his hand,
which had blistered as if he had put it into a fire. “Are you sure you mended it right?” he said. “It doesn’t look like it would survive a tilt against the damsel here.”

Rhianna clenched her fists.

But before she could challenge the champion knight to test this, a furious voice bellowed from outside.

“It’s your own stupid fault Lancelot, you fool! You shouldn’t have broken the thing in the first place. We have you surrounded. Get out here at once and hand over that lance, before I skewer you like you deserve.”

Sir Lancelot wrapped his cloak around his blistered fingers and grabbed the lance, frowning as the head wobbled. His men, still sleepy from Elphin’s music, drew their swords and stumbled towards the cave mouth.
Rhianna dragged out Excalibur, desperately trying to shake off the effects of the magic. If Mordred had found them…

Then a fair-haired squire, not quite as plump as before, ducked under the waving blades and rushed to her side.

“I thought I saw your mist horses!” he puffed. “I guess the spiral path magic must’ve worked, then? We saw the light shining through the trees, and Sir Bors recognised Sir Lancelot’s horse… but I’m warning you now, he’s in a foul mood. We’re lucky to be alive! Mordred’s bloodbeards ambushed us on the road. They took the sword, the sneaks… seems they never meant to exchange the queen for it in the first place… good thing we swapped them, only Sir Bors don’t know that yet, of course! You’re going to have to tell him,
Damsel Rhianna. Rather you than me… Hey, are you all right?” The boy frowned at her as she swayed in relief. “Sir Lancelot didn’t hurt you, did he? Why are Elphin’s fingers bleeding?”

Rhianna relaxed. “Cai,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t you ever stop talking?”

Elphin smiled, too. “Told you we’d never shut him up, didn’t I?” he said, setting down his harp. “Rhia, I’m afraid you’ll have to handle this. The magic was difficult this time. It felt like something was working against me. I don’t think my fingers are up to making peace between Sir Lancelot and the other knights just now.”

Rhianna gave her friend’s bleeding hands a concerned look. But she’d seen them like that before, after he’d played the Saxon camp to sleep, and they had healed fine.

She turned her attention to the knights.
Things looked tense at the cave mouth. Sir Bedivere stood between Sir Lancelot’s men and those who had ridden up from Camelot with Sir Agravaine and Sir Bors. He had his arms spread to keep the two groups apart, and was trying to explain. Meanwhile, Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors glared at each other over Soft Hands’ shoulder. They looked ready to kill anybody who got in their way.

She elbowed her way through the men to reach Sir Bedivere’s side, raised Excalibur and shouted, “STOP FIGHTING!”

Since they still stood in the mouth of the cave, her voice echoed powerfully around the rocks as Elphin’s music had done earlier. Excalibur gleamed brightly in the shadows, and the Lance of Truth glimmered in response.

Sir Bors stared open-mouthed at the sword
shining in her hand. “Damsel Rhianna! What are
you
doing here? And you’ve got Excalibur! But Mordred took it from us in the ambush… So how…?”

Sir Agravaine pushed forward and scowled at Sir Lancelot. “I don’t know what tricks you’re playing, or how you got the girl up here when we left her safe in Camelot,” he growled. “But you’re not going to hand her over to Mordred like you gave him Guinevere! I’ll throttle you with my bare hands if I have to.”

“He didn’t
give
my mother to Mordred,” Rhianna said. “Can’t you see? He’s trying to get her back! And it’s a good thing we didn’t let you take Excalibur, or Mordred would have it by now and we’d all be in trouble. Lancelot, sir, please put that lance down. Sir Bors, tell your men to put away their swords. Why don’t you
all sit down around that stone out there and talk about this, like you do at my father’s Round Table. Everyone has a voice, right? You told me that’s how it works. So Sir Lancelot should have a voice, too.”

Her arm trembled from using Excalibur’s magic to control the knights, but it did the trick. Sir Bedivere’s lips twitched. “Well done, Damsel Rhianna,” he whispered. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

Sir Bors and Sir Agravaine eyed each other, but stepped aside. Sir Lancelot gave Rhianna a grateful look. He pushed between the two knights, glaring at the Camelot men until they stepped out of his way, too. He propped the Lance of Truth carefully against the druid stone, sat on a nearby stump and folded his arms. His gaze darted warily about the grove
as he waited for the others to join him.

Sir Bors sighed and sheathed his blade. “Damsel Rhianna’s right. Let’s put our differences aside until the queen’s safe, huh?” He held out his hand.

Lancelot nodded, and they clasped hands.

Sir Bedivere spread his cloak for Rhianna, and she sat beside him with some relief, while Cai and Gareth went off to settle the horses. Alba misted back through the trees, where she and Evenstar had fled from the flash caused by Elphin’s magic when he’d mended the lance.

Is it safe now?
asked the mare, laying her soft nose on Rhianna’s shoulder and breathing into her ear.

“I think so, beautiful one,” Rhianna whispered, sheathing Excalibur at last so she could soothe her little mist horse. “At least
they’re going to talk instead of killing each other.”

The men talked long into the night. There was quite a lot of arguing, mainly about tactics for defeating Mordred if he brought an army along with him to the duel. Apparently, this would take place inside an old Roman fortress, where the road passed under the Wall and there was space for mounted knights to tilt on neutral ground.

Rhianna remembered the squires tilting at Camelot, and shuddered at the thought of two grown men carrying full-length lances. Nobody seemed very pleased with Sir Lancelot’s explanations of why he had ridden off with Queen Guinevere. But they all seemed to agree that he was the best knight among them,
and so should be the one to answer Mordred’s challenge.

“If Mordred hasn’t got Excalibur, then it won’t matter if the lance’s magic works or not, will it?” Sir Agravaine said. “If Lancelot can disable the traitor for us, then that’ll leave the way open for us to rescue the queen, even if his bloodbeards don’t honour the bargain.”

“And if Mordred kills Lancelot?” Sir Bors said.

An uneasy silence fell. The knights all looked at the king’s champion, his pale hair shining in the moonlight as brightly as the mist horses’ coats.

“Then it’ll save us the bother, won’t it?” Agravaine growled.

Lancelot met their stares defiantly. “If he does, I’ll take the witch spawn with me,” he said.
“Just promise me you’ll look after the queen and get her safely back to Camelot. None of this is her fault.”

Sir Bors grunted. “We’re not goin’ to hurt Guinevere, you fool. She’s the girl’s mother, ain’t she?” He glanced at Rhianna.