The Quest (The Sons of Camelot Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

John had slept little on the cold, hard ground. Though he’d spent nights out in the countryside and away from an inn before, he hadn’t been prepared for how cold it was. His blankets and the pad beneath him were simply not enough to provide the necessary comfort to invite sleep. If the lack of those necessities wasn’t enough, his imagination and active mind finished him off. Tested in battle, he was confident up to a point, but there were so many unknowns in the challenges to be faced. There was magic, sorcery and savagery, no doubt, hiding behind every tree stump or boulder. Before dawn broke, he had completely given up on trying to sleep.

“You’re an early riser this morning,” Alpina commented when she saw him approaching where she was working on building a fire. “I was under the impression that a knight’s squire arose before the knight in order to prepare his things for the day.”

“Chatburn isn’t up yet?” he asked with a smile.

“No one is up,” she replied. “Only you and I.”

“That’s not an entirely terrifying prospect,” he responded. “Although the reason for my early rising is mostly because I don’t believe I slept for even a moment during the night.”

“Delicate backside?” she laughed softly.

“My mind and imagination, mostly.” John couldn’t and wouldn’t admit to not being conditioned for sleeping out. He’d become accustomed to it at some point, but the cold was going to be another problem. “That and the cold. I’m simply not accustomed to it.”

“Did you try keeping your head covered?” she asked.

“I’m not sure that I understand how that would help.”

“I’m not sure either, I just know that I was taught to sleep with my head covered when I was cold.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mused.

“So, what horrible tricks are your mind and imagination playing on you?” she asked after she’d coaxed a flame to life and began to add fuel which the flames eagerly engulfed.

“So many unknowns,” he responded. “So many new challenges that I’ve never known before.”

“Did you fight in Mordred’s War?” she asked.

“I did,” he replied.

“Weren’t there plenty of challenges to face during those battles?”

“There were, but somehow, I was better prepared for those battles. Like I knew what to expect.”

“How can one expect any particular thing once a battle starts?”

It was a valid question; one that he did not know the answer to. “I suppose one can’t. I guess that it is the myth and the mist that bother me most.”

“My story got under your skin, did it?” she laughed.

“It did,” he replied, joining her laughter. The admission came easily and he was beginning to realize that, like the warmth of the fire penetrated through to his bones and brought him warmth, so had the new-found warmth and comfort that came with Alpina. He meant to say something about how she’d changed, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

“I ought to apologize for that story, I suppose,” she smiled at him.

As she spoke, she looked up and their eyes locked upon one another. John was certain that she could see right through to his soul and he felt a sense of fear mixed with joy. That lingering glance ended when she turned away quickly.

It seemed impossible to continue with any other conversation after that moment and John sat quietly, content to be near her as she went about preparing their breakfast. Had he tried to draw up a new conversation, it would have been short-lived, however, because Chatburn, followed shortly after by Dufton, had left their beds and had approached the warmth of the fire to take the chill off before they went on with their morning duties.

John was not alone in his insomnia; it seemed that everyone but Merlin and Alpina had struggled with sleep and the cold was to blame. None of them were quite prepared for the thin, crisp air. Alpina repeated her advice to all of them as they discussed the matter over breakfast and Merlin suggested a sleeping spell for the coming night. Shortly after dawn, they were on their way once more. Within that first hour of the morning, however, their first challenge rose up before them.

When John saw the thick fog tumbling down the slope toward them, he tried to steady himself and swallowed the lump in his throat. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he felt himself being surrounded by the cold, moist air and slowly watched everything around him disappear. So thick was the mist that the ears and head of Ganador were little more than a shadow in front of him and he could certainly not see Alpina or any of the others. He felt as if he was floating.

All around him had become silent and John could hear nothing but breathing, the creak of the saddles and the sound of the horses’ hooves upon the trail. Suddenly, from in front of him the sweet voice of Alpina started in singing:

“O waly waly up the bank

And waly waly doon the brae,

And waly way by yon burn side

Where I and my first love did gae.”

Her voice rang out, penetrating not only through the fog, but also through his fears. It was a sound sweeter than his mother’s lullaby when he was a young child and it soothed him with equal effect.

“Noo Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,

No sheets shall e'er be pressed by me,

Saint Anton's Well shall be my drink,

Since my fause love's forsaken me.

'It is not the frost that freezes fell

Nor blawin' snaw's inclemency,

'It is not sic cauld that makes me cry

But my love's heart's grown cauld tae me.”

The thickest of the fog only lasted a few minutes during which time, Alpina’s sweet voice soothed them and served as a beacon to guide them forward. As the mist became lighter, the scene around them had changed completely, as though they had passed through a tunnel and into another world.

Looming high above them was an ominous, bald-faced mountain whose somber mien kept a steady watch over them as they passed below. It reminded John of how a cat peered down at a mouse before pouncing upon it and he couldn’t help that his glance tended to return again and again in its direction.

The trail followed along the top of a narrow, treeless ridge. On either side and all around the slopes below them, the thick fog through which they had passed filled in the valleys and made John feel as though they were atop a cloud. The sensation was frightening, for he felt as though he might tumble off and sink into a bottomless depth.

“Makes you feel like you’re floating on a cloud, doesn’t it?” Alpina asked, dropping back to ride alongside him. They had ridden single file along the trail all morning and it was a welcome change to be able to ride beside her again.

“It does,” John replied. “But it sometimes feels as though we might fall off.”

“It takes getting used to,” she replied. “How do you feel after surviving the mist?”

“It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be,” he replied. “Your song was a comfort. You sing beautifully.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“How could you guide us through? Is it some magical thing?” he asked.

“I’ve a gift for seeing through the fog,” she replied. “It’s why Merlin asked me to come along.”

“Merlin asked you to come along?” He’d wondered about her sudden appearance, but that was the first time that he’d heard that it hadn’t been by accident.

“He did,” she responded. “To guide you through the mists and through the mountains.”

“So you aren’t a barmaid and innkeeper at all.”

“Does that disappoint you?” she laughed.

“No. I just…” John couldn’t finish the sentence. He wasn’t sure if he felt betrayed or not. Neither he nor Thomas had even considered questioning how she had come to be in the inn in Penrith, but things were beginning to make a little bit more sense; except, of course, for the tone that she’d first taken with him.

Chapter Twelve

“You’re ridin’ where ye don’t belong,” the voice called out to them.

It was past midday and they’d just started along their way when John began to feel uncomfortable; like something or someone was out there watching them. They’d survived the fog and had the pleasure of watching it slowly dissipate and reveal the valley below. They had taken their midday rest in that valley and were following a stream that led up the bottom of it toward the bald-faced mountain that had stood over them all morning.

At the sound of the voice, they stopped and John announced himself. “We are Sir John of Leeds, Sir Thomas of Manchester and Merlin, along with our squires and Lady Alpina of Auchavan. We bring you no harm.”

“She of Auchavan, I’ve heard of, but the rest of ye aren’t welcome,” the large man chuckled as he stepped out from his hiding place and into the trail in front of them. John heard and felt others appearing all around and behind them. “I’m not worried ‘bout harm comin’ to me, my concern is for you.”

“We have been given authority to pass through this land on an errand of Arthur, King of the Britons and ruler of Camelot,” John replied. “We are in search of my father, Jofrit, a Knight of the Round Table and will not turn away from our quest. You would be ill-advised to bring us harm.”

“Arthur is no king of mine,” the man answered, leaning on a long, heavy sword as he spoke. “Aroun’ here, I’m the king; me an’ my brothers. I haven’t given my authority to you.”

“This land is part of the claim of Arthur and your duty is to obey your king.”

All around them, the laughter of the men was hearty. Feeling the sting of their mockery of King Arthur, John started to draw his sword, as did Thomas.

“Stop!” Alpina commanded. “Steady your hands, knights. You’ve no advantage here.”

“They’ll not insult my king and live,” John hissed through gritted teeth. The flash of anger in his eyes burned through her.

“There will come a time for such display of honor and duty, sirs,” she whispered. “But, I assure you, this is not it.”

“Claimin’ a place and holdin’ it are two different things,” the large man said glaring directly at him. “In fact, to us, this appears like an invasion by your king, though he ought to have sent an army instead of two puny knights and their seer. By the way, knight, I know about your father and he’ll not be ridin’ home with ye, so you might as well turn back.”

“What do you know of my father?” John started Ganador forward, drawing his sword further from its sheath.

“And the high wizard of Briton. You’ve forgotten about me,” Merlin joined in, chuckling softly and then whispering to John. “Steady, my boy.”

“Who are you?”

“I just told you,” Merlin replied, still smiling. “I’m the high wizard of Briton.”

“Wizard, witch, knight or squire makes no difference to us. You’ll not be passin’ through this way without payin’ yer due or feedin’ yer blood to these stones.”

“Our due?” Merlin asked, taking charge of the conversation. “What, exactly, is our due? Do you intend to rob us?”

“It would be much easier if ye just handed over what ye got an’ not make a struggle out of it.”

“What is it that you want?” John asked.

“To start with,” the big man began, “my feet ache from scurrying over these stones and I’d like to rest them on the back of that flea-bit nag you’re ridin’.”

“You will have a taste of my blade before I give him up,” John hissed.

“You’d die for a nag?” the man laughed. “What would your king have to say then?”

“Don’t press him,” Alpina warned in a quiet tone. “He’s only baiting you into a fight.”

“You know these men?” he responded.

“I do,” she replied. “They are all brothers and a very bad lot. The one doing the speaking is Dunmor.”

“Then perhaps they ought to die as a family,” John retorted.

“Let Merlin do his work,” Alpina warned. “Any of us dying here will not help your father.”

“He knows something about my father and I will have it out of him,” John replied.

“There will be nothin’ but bloodshed,” Alpina snapped. “Give it time and an opportunity will present itself.”

“A lot of whisperin’,” Dunmor called out. “I hope she’s advising you to give up your mount instead of your life.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort, Dunmor!” John snapped. Alpina’s advice was sound, but John was confident that he and Thomas, with the aid of the squires, who, though they were not knighted, were quite adept with their swords, would fare well in spite of the odds against them. “I’ll ask you and your brothers to step aside and you’ll tell me what you know about my father.”

“Ah, so she’s provided you with my name, then,” Dunmor laughed. “At least you’ll know the name of the man who took your life before the dark shadow comes over your eyes.”

“Mister Dunmor,” Merlin broke in. “If I might break in for a moment. I was just wondering if this would be payment enough to get you and your brothers to step aside and let us be on our way.”

Merlin tossed a large, heavy sack to the ground in front of them. By the heavy sound that it made when it hit the trail, John could tell that there were a great number of coins in it. He turned to look at Merlin with his mouth open wide. Where had the wizard come up with such a sum? He doubted that they had that much between them and he certainly hadn’t seen Merlin lugging anything heavy about.

The sound of the bag of coins hitting the ground brought a wide smile to Dunmor’s face. He stepped forward cautiously, opened the bag, peered inside and then dipped his hand into it, bringing out a large handful of coins. One of the nearby brothers gasped at the sight and the entire lot of them exchanged broad smiles.

“A very nice sum, indeed, wizard, if that’s really what you are,” Dunmor laughed. “But I think that we can have this and whatever else you’ve got.”

“I was afraid that you’d say that,” Merlin replied aloud. Then, in a low tone, he told the group to be ready to ride fast.

“You’re whisperin’ again, are you?” Dunmor laughed. “No doubt you’re cookin’ up some magic spell.”

The entire group of brothers laughed at Dunmor’s comment.

“Now!” Merlin cried, tossing some object, which John did not recognize at the feet of Dunmor. The object exploded in a flash and Dunmor started and fell as he stumbled away from it in a start. The surprise of the explosion caused the others to leap back as well. At that moment, the group touched spurs to their horses and charged ahead. For good measure, Merlin continued tossing the objects at the men to keep them from pursuing.

Alpina led them up the valley at a rapid pace for some distance before bringing the pace down to a gap-making trot. As the valley widened and their pace slowed to a walk, John held up enough so that Merlin could ride beside him.

“Where did you get the gold?” John asked.

“It was a little something that I threw together at the last minute,” Merlin replied.

“And the flashes of fire?”

“Another little trick of mine. I’d think you’d be used to that sort of thing by now, Sir John,” Merlin chuckled.

“There is no getting used to wizardry,” John responded. “I don’t know that giving them such a large sum of gold was the best thing to do. With that, they might only become more dangerous and pursue us all the more.”

“I should hope that they’ll pursue us,” Merlin responded. “They know something about your father.”

“But I…” John was baffled by the statement and was unable to complete it.

“They’ll come running along at the speed of a stag come morning,” Merlin continued. “They’ll stalk us before taking their chance and there won’t be any talk, but I’m afraid that when they come, they’ll be coming like a nest of hornets.”

“Why do you say that?”

“On the morrow, that bag of gold will be nothing but a bag of pebbles.”