LANCE OF TRUTH (9 page)

The talk turned to the Lance of Truth and whether it would work properly now it had been pieced together. Lancelot got up to examine it again, and muttered something about an oak shaft maybe making it stronger. He sent a couple of men off to cut one.

Rhianna heard wing beats in the night above the trees. She peered nervously up through the branches, remembering the shadrake that had attacked them last year. But it was too dark to see very much, and whatever it was flapped away.

Sir Lancelot frowned at the sky, then knelt by the lance to help his men attach the new shaft. This proved a slow process, with much cursing and arguing. They didn’t have the right tools, but were making do with a battleaxe and their daggers. Sir Bedivere had nodded off, his head against the stone. Sir Bors and Sir Agravaine muttered together in the shadows, casting the occasional glance at Rhianna.

Something pecked her hand, and she looked down with a scowl to see a small hawk. It fixed a bright eye upon her and cocked its head. She couldn’t see the colour of its feathers in the dark, but her heart gave an extra beat as she recognised the shape of its wings.

“Merlin?” she whispered in relief. “Is that you?”

He had lost one of his jesses, but otherwise
looked unharmed. She quietly put her hand on Excalibur’s jewel so she could talk to him.

“Of course it’s me, silly child. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“We did wait! But Sir Bedivere wanted to find Sir Bors and the others, and then Sir Lancelot came…”

“Fools, the lot of ’em,” grumbled the bird, hopping on to her wrist. “Young Elphin’s magic was bright enough to light up two worlds! If Mordred’s not seen it, goodness knows what else has. What do you think you’re up to, Rhianna Pendragon? I agreed to help your friends bring you here so you could use Excalibur to rescue your mother. I didn’t say anything about trying to mend the Lance of Truth! Carry me over to the horses. We can talk there.”

“But that’s why we had to mend it.” Rhianna explained about the duel as she carried the merlin over to the trees, where her friends were rolled in their cloaks, fast asleep. “Did you know about Mordred’s message to Sir Lancelot?”

“Can’t be in two places at once, can I?” Merlin fluffed his feathers.

Alba sniffed at the bird.
He says his wings are very tired. He has been flying around the spiral path for a long time.

Seeing the sentries coming her way, Rhianna patted her mare.

They smiled at her. “Bored with all the talk, Princess?” one said. “They’ll be up all night arguing, I’ll bet. Your father was the only one who ever got anything done around here.”

“
I
got things done, you mean,” Merlin said, 
giving the man’s wrist a peck. “Arthur wouldn’t have known where to start without me.”

The sentry sucked his hand. “I’m glad to see you’ve got your falcon back, Princess, but you’ve got to learn to control the bird. Where’s its hood?”

“I left it in the stone circle at Camelot,” Rhianna admitted. “I didn’t think I’d be needing it again.”

She hid a smile as Merlin glided from her wrist to perch on the withers of Lancelot’s white stallion. The big horse fidgeted and laid back its ears, but didn’t throw him off.

“Hmm, so this is what it feels like to sit on a champion’s horse,” the druid said. “Very tall.”

Rhianna squeezed through the other horses and frowned at the bird. “If you just came here to peck people, I’m going back to sleep,”
she hissed. “I had to use Excalibur to help Elphin mend the Lance of Truth, and then to stop the knights killing Sir Lancelot, and you know how the sword feeds on the Pendragon’s energy. I’m tired.”

“No doubt that’s why you’re so grumpy tonight,” Merlin said. “I only peck people if they don’t listen, so pay attention! If Lancelot wants the lance’s magic to work for him when he meets Mordred, then he’s got to carry it with the right reason in his heart. You’ll have to tell him, since he can’t seem to hear me in this bird’s body.”

“He wants to rescue the queen… isn’t that the right reason?”

“Yes and no,” said Merlin in his cryptic way. “
Why
does he want to rescue her? That’s the question.”

Rhianna sighed. She felt too weary to think about it. “To save her from Mordred, of course. The same reason I do, so she’ll be at Camelot for my father when he returns.”

“Really? I can’t see into Lancelot’s heart, child, and nor can you. Just make sure you tell him what I said before the duel. Only he can know what’s in his heart when he rides against Mordred… though we’ll find out soon enough, and if the lance doesn’t work for him then I expect I’ll have to sort everything out, as usual.” He sighed. “As if things weren’t difficult enough when I had my druid’s staff to help people out of sticky corners like this one. We’ll just have to hope your Avalonian friend made a good enough job of mending the thing.”

Rhianna frowned at the druid. “Can’t you help Elphin mend it properly?”

“You think I’d dare meddle with one of the four Lights, do you, Rhianna Pendragon? Even if I still had my druid’s staff and my old body, I wouldn’t have that kind of power.” Merlin shook his head impatiently. “No, no, if Avalonian magic can’t mend the Lance of Truth, nothing can, and we haven’t time to try again now anyway. The duel’s set for tomorrow, and it’ll take you that long to ride up to the fort and secure your position. Young Elphin did well. The lance looks whole enough for the purpose. Its magic should work, provided whoever carries it has a true heart! Talk to that fool Lancelot. He doesn’t listen to many people, but you’re Guinevere’s daughter so maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Maybe not,” Rhianna muttered, thinking of how the she’d put Excalibur to the champion
knight’s throat earlier. She opened her mouth to ask what reason Sir Lancelot
should
have in his heart when he jousted against Mordred. But just then the white stallion put down his head and gave a huge buck, sending the startled bird flying through the trees, flapping his wings for control.

Rhianna couldn’t help a laugh.

“I hope you’re not laughing at me, Rhianna Pendragon!” Merlin called as he righted himself in midair and flew off into the night. “Got things to do. I’ll meet you back at the stone circle.”

“Which one?” she called. “When? Where are you going
now
?”

But the merlin had already vanished into the dark.

Probably off after another mouse, Rhianna
thought with a sigh as she quietly rejoined her friends. Without waking them, she lay with her back against Elphin’s, for warmth, and her head resting on her father’s shield. She tucked Excalibur inside her cloak in case of trouble. But with so many knights around them, she felt safer than she had since leaving Camelot.

Although tired, she couldn’t sleep for thinking of meeting her cousin Mordred again. She wondered if he’d be as handsome as the shadowy versions of himself he’d sent using dark enchantments to scare her last year. Or would he be the crippled one-armed boy she’d met at midwinter when she’d taken the spiral path to his lair – if she’d actually
gone
there in the flesh, and it hadn’t just been a dream brought on by Merlin’s magic… Well, tomorrow she’d find out.

She tried to pick up the knights’ discussion again, though the men’s voices had quietened so she couldn’t hear all the words. She heard her name mentioned a few times. But eventually, the knights stopped talking and settled down to sleep. She thought about creeping across to tell Sir Lancelot what Merlin had said. But before she could bring herself to leave the warmth of her cloak, she dozed off into a muddled dream of her cousin Mordred galloping towards her in his glittering black armour with the Lance of Truth aimed at her heart.

She woke with a start, her back cold, to find the sun slanting through the trees. Half the men were already on horseback. Elphin was saddling the mist horses.

She sprang to her feet and looked anxiously for Sir Lancelot, but there was no sign of the champion knight or his white stallion.

“Where’s Sir Lancelot?” she said. “I’ve got to talk to him…”

“Don’t worry, Damsel Rhianna,” Sir Bedivere said, catching her arm as she hurried towards Alba. “Lancelot and Bors have gone on ahead to spy out the fort. Agravaine’s still here with half the men. We’re to ride after them, and then if Mordred’s up to any tricks, at least he won’t get hold of you or Excalibur.”

“But I’ve got to see Sir Lancelot before the duel!” Rhianna said, thinking of what Merlin had told her. “It’s very important. Has he taken the Lance of Truth with him? We don’t even know if the magic will work yet…”

Sir Bedivere smiled and tweaked her messy
braid. “Trust me, Rhianna, we know what we’re doing. Arthur himself taught us the arts of war. Yes, of course Lancelot’s taken his magic lance with him. But we’ve got Excalibur, and your friends are all here – look, here’s Arianrhod now. She’ll sort you out with some breakfast.”

“I haven’t time for breakfast!” Rhianna said. “You don’t understand.”

The knight gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you’re worried about your mother,” he said quietly. “But things are going to work out just fine now we’ve got Lancelot back on our side, you’ll see. Prince Mordred’ll soon have second thoughts, once he realises we’ve joined forces against him – and we have you to thank for that. I think old Bors is glad you’re up here with Excalibur, even if he acts like he’s not. But you’ve got to be sensible and let us deal
with Mordred now. This joust isn’t going to be a little tumble for fun, like the squires’ tilt. It’s a duel to the death.”

D
ARK
T
RICKS

M
ordred halted his horse and frowned around the old fort he’d chosen for the duel against Lancelot. It had started to rain, turning the grass to sticky mud. His bloodbeards crawled over the walls, making things ready for tomorrow. They kept looking nervously to the south, where last night the sky had lit up like a beacon. Some mischief caused by Arthur’s knights, no doubt. But they couldn’t do much without Excalibur.

“No, no!” he shouted, as his men began to stack arrows above the archway that led south to his Uncle Arthur’s lands. “Not there, you fools – Lancelot will see them,
and then he won’t come inside alone.”

“But Master!” said his bloodbeard captain. “That’s the most vulnerable spot. What if he brings an army with him?”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Mordred trotted his horse into the shadowy archway under the Wall and aimed a kick at the bloodbeards. They scattered, wary of his temper since he’d realised the trick with the boy in the cloak.

He wasn’t surprised his cousin hadn’t brought the sword north herself. No doubt she was too scared. But he couldn’t understand why its jewel remained so dull and cold. It had always blazed brightly whenever King Arthur drew Excalibur. Had she got her fairy friend to put a spell on it?

He checked no one was watching, and
pulled out his mother’s mirror. As he peered into the dark glass, the temperature dropped and the rain turned to sleet. His horse fidgeted uneasily.

“Mother?” he whispered. “Are you there? You’d better link my spirit to Excalibur now, in case Lancelot comes early.”

Her image swirled to life, its beauty spoiled by a frown as she examined the sword hanging at his hip. “That’s not Excalibur, you fool of a boy! Why didn’t you contact me before? I think we have a problem.”

Mordred turned cold. “What do you mean, it’s not…?” He stared at the white jewel that looked so much like the one on his Uncle Arthur’s magic sword, and felt faint. He clenched his good fist on the reins, imagining they were around his cousin’s neck.
“The sly little vixen! That’s why I can’t feel its power, isn’t it? She’s sent me the
wrong sword
!”

Did she think he wouldn’t notice? Of course, if he hadn’t needed to rely on his men to snatch it in the ambush, he might have noticed the swap sooner. He almost wished he had let the knights bring the sword all the way to him now. Then he’d have had an excuse to kill the lot of them.

“Mordred!” snapped his mother. “Are you listening to me? I said we have a problem.”

“Yes, it’s called my cousin,” Mordred agreed. “She’s still got Excalibur, so what? At least she’s not here. When I’ve killed Lancelot and the Lance of Truth is mine, I’ll ride to Camelot and make the stupid knights surrender. Then I’ll deal with her and get the sword as well. She’s only a damsel, after all.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” the witch hissed. “Are you a complete fool?”

Mordred stiffened. “At least I’m still
alive
.”

“And don’t forget you wouldn’t be, if not for my magic!” she snapped. “So you’d better not disappoint me, my boy.”

She no longer looked so beautiful. Shadows writhed in her hair, and her eyes flashed black in the glass. He bit his tongue, afraid of her power.

But she sighed and said, “Listen, and listen well. The knights have mended the lance somehow. I don’t think it’s as strong as when it was made, and I doubt Lancelot can use its magic unless he’s had a change of heart since the last time he tried, but you must be very careful. Strike first and make sure you unhorse him. Once he’s on foot, he’ll have
to drop the lance and fight you with his sword. He might be fooled by your lookalike Excalibur long enough to give you the element of surprise.”

A chill went down Mordred’s spine. “But nobody’s ever unhorsed Lancelot in a tilt, except King Arthur that time when the lance broke…”

“Pull yourself together, boy,” the witch snapped. “I’ll help you, of course. Now show me that sword they gave you.”

Mordred reached automatically for the hilt with his missing right hand. He scowled as his empty gauntlet flapped against the fake jewel. Gripping the mirror against his saddle with his knee, he drew the blade left-handed to show her.

She was silent a moment. Then she said,
“I sense Avalonian magic in this, but there’s no enchantment on it now. It’ll do once you’ve sharpened it. When I’ve gone, you’ll see a snake. Get your men to milk it, and use its venom to poison the blade. There’s more than one way to kill a knight.”

Mordred swung the lookalike sword, feeling a bit more confident. It was a good enough weapon, well-balanced even if not magic, and he had to admit that it looked the part. Hopefully Lancelot would not be able to tell the difference, either. He looked forward to seeing the champion knight’s face when he thought he was fighting against the Sword of Light.

“Where’s the queen?” asked his mother, interrupting his thoughts. “I trust you haven’t been stupid enough to bring her down here?”

Mordred smiled. “No, she’s still tucked up safe in her tower. I left the spirit channel to your mirror open so she can watch the duel.”

“You’re a soft-hearted boy,” his mother said, more fondly now. “Good. Between us, we ought to be able to deal with Lancelot. His two weaknesses are his knightly code and his love for Guinevere. He won’t do anything to endanger the queen’s life. Now then, put that mirror where I told you, and leave the rest to me.”

Mordred obediently reached up and wedged the glass in a crack above the archway that separated his lands from his Uncle Arthur’s. A chill green mist breathed along the Wall, making his bloodbeards shiver. The mist curled around the ruins, and a shimmering green curtain filled the archway
behind them. Beyond it, thunder rumbled, and a black snake slithered out of the shadows. The horse leaped forward with a surprised snort.

Despite his injuries, Mordred hardly moved in the saddle. The animal would jump like that at the start of the tilt, and he’d been practising. Admiring the way the green light reflected in the jewel of the Excalibur lookalike, he ordered his men to catch the snake.

So Lancelot had stupidly mended the Lance of Truth to bring to this duel? Mordred laughed. He was ready to take it from him.