With My Last Breath, Book Three (20 page)

I rushed to my mother, embracing her.

‚We did it!' I cried in astonishment. ‚We did it.'

But Aphrodite was looking past me over my shoulder, shaking her head in shock.

‚No, we didn’t,' she replied. I turned and found Lachesis once again lumbering to her feet, my dagger still embedded in her heart. She looked at me and laughed.

‚Did you really think it would be so easy?'

In one fluid motion, she leaped to where I stood, knocking my mother out of the way. Lifting me by my neck, she held me high in the air as I gasped to breathe.

‚You will die,' she said calmly, ice dripping from her words. ‚Somehow.'

I couldn’t breathe. Lack of oxygen was blurring my vision and as I gasped, everything around me seemed to turn into slow-motion. Lucan had his back to me, helping my father fight Clothos. My mother was crumpled motionlessly on the ground to my left and Ortrera was struggling against a group of five knights to my right.

Screams and howls filled the air and the smell of blood filled my nose as I allowed my eyes to flutter closed. Perhaps she would win after all. I didn’t even have the breath left to scream.

But I didn’t have to. Another horrible screech filled the air and I opened my eyes weakly. Merlin was seated atop a massive Minotaur on the horizon. From here, it seemed to be as large as an elephant and most definitely was the most terrifying sight I had ever beheld.

The Minotaur had the body of a massive bull, but the fangs of a lion. His giant horns extended for two feet on each side before curling around. Each horn was as thick as my thigh, his giant hooves cloven. His eyes were blood red, his lips thick and curled back, exposing his massive fangs. Even on the verge of passing out as I was, the sight of him made my heart race.

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Behind them, the three ancient Keres floated in mid-air. They were horrifying and each looked like a rotting corpse. Their faces were pale and wrinkled, their eyes streaming blood. But their gazes were all fixated on me.

‚Now!' Merlin bellowed and his voice filled the countryside. The Keres launched into flight, their voluminous cloaks streaming behind them as they aimed for me.

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Chapter Twenty Three

As the three ancient hags separated in the air, Thanatos aimed for Clothos, Ker hurtled toward Atropos and Moros threw herself into Lachesis, knocking me from the Moirae’s grasp. I tumbled to the ground and lay gasping as I tried to fill my lungs with much-needed oxygen.

Lucan shoved through the masses of people around him to get to my side, kneeling next to me.

‚My love,' he said anxiously. ‚Are you alright?'

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the mid-air battle above me. All three Keres were warring with the three Moirae in an epic battle that the world had never seen before.

Their shrill shrieks split the sky as claws flew and blood dripped the ground below.

‚By the gods,' he breathed in disbelief.

The Keres fought with everything they had, and the Moirae returned each effort back to them. It was a grotesquely fascinating sight. Scrambling to my hands and knees, I crawled to my mother, turning her over.

‚Mother,' I murmured, shaking her. ‚Mother, open your eyes.' Her eyes opened and I stared into the silvery depths. ‚You have to see this.'

Obligingly, she lifted her gaze to the sky and then her eyes widened. None of us had ever seen such a thing. We silently sat watching as the scene in front of us unfolded.

Lachesis lunged, her fangs taking a chunk from Moros’ shoulder. Moros screeched and charged back, her claws ripping at Lachesis’ throat. Blood flowed but none of them fell. But then, Moros ducked her head, her cloudy stare directed intensely at me.

‚Open the gates!' she ordered. ‚Open them now.'

Open the gates? I was bewildered for a moment before realization washed over me in a cold wave. She was talking about the gates of hell. I quickly appealed to Hecate, muttering my request.

‚Hecate, please open the gates. Open the gates,' I murmured. When nothing happened, I screamed. ‚Open the gates!' My voice was shrill and carried far across the Camelot hills and I knew that if Hecate was watching, she would hear.

And the ground opened up.

The horrifying screams from hell floated from the underworld and Moros smiled a deathly, bloody grin.

‚It is done, Keeper.'

With that, she and her sisters used their remaining strength to drag the Moirae with them into the yawning, black tunnel. The Moirae’s screams were futile, because they weren’t strong enough to stop it. I saw the tips of someone’s black cloak swirling into Courtney Cole 137

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the hole before the other hounds of hell followed them. Then the hole closed up, the grass where it had been completely undisturbed.

Everything was still, as everyone around us remained frozen in the sudden silence.

‚It is done,' I repeated, wrinkling my forehead. I looked to Lucan. ‚It is done?'

He nodded. ‚It must be.'

Before anyone could move or resume their fight, I shouted at Hecate. I knew for sure she was watching us now.

‚It is done, witch.
Do it now
!' I cried.

I envisioned her plunging the sword of Zeus into the onyx scabbard next to his throne, freeing the world of the Fates’ rule. I imagined that any minute, we would witness an explosion or something of equal magnitude.

For a moment nothing happened. Everything remained the same and the small skirmishes began to continue around me. Just when I was looking to Lucan in confusion, the earth rumbled and I froze.

The sky’s brilliant red hue faded to cloudy white then to blue. The sun broke free from clouds and began to shine brightly and I lifted my face to its warmth. The undead chieftains were gone and I happily assumed that they were now at rest.

‚It is happening,' I cried joyfully to Lucan. ‚We did it!'

Under our feet, as we watched, the brown dead grasses turned green, fluttering lightly as the cool, refreshing breeze blew. Rain began to fall and as it soaked my hair and clothing, I had never been happier in my life.

‚We did it!' I cried again, wrapping my wet arms around Lucan’s neck and pulling him down for a celebratory kiss. ‚We did it.'

Over Lucan’s shoulder, I spotted Arthur, still perched on the hill top. His face was confused for a moment, then it regained his customary kind expression. I began to raise my hand to wave to him, when I noticed his gaze harden on Lancelot.

‚What…' my voice trailed off as I watched Arthur gesture his knights into formation. They each picked themselves from the ground, even Kay who had been killed, and formed themselves behind their king, ready for battle.

‚What is going on?' I asked in bewilderment. The knights were no longer the hardened killers that they had been a moment ago, but they clearly were riding toward Lancelot now.

And then it occurred to me.

‚Oh, dear god no.'

Time had been restored, which meant that Arthur was being forced into fighting Lancelot for sleeping with Guinevere. Mordred, who was even now riding directly behind the king in the champion’s normal position, had arranged for Arthur to find Guinevere and Lancelot together. Arthur had no choice but to act. Lancelot and Guinevere had committed treason and Arthur was nothing if not fair.

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‚Father!' I cried. Ares turned his large head toward me, his eyes filled with sadness.

‚I know, Harmonia,' he replied tiredly.

He knew that Mordred’s actions would be the death of Arthur this day and there wasn’t anything we do to stop it. In resignation, he turned to face the advancing knights, all of them his brothers-in-arms.

Just when I thought we had won, it appeared that once more, all would be lost in Camelot. But this time, it was simply history repeating itself. Sadness welled in my heart as I observed the scene around me.

My mother, tattered and beautiful, lay curled on the green grasses. Lancelot, powerful and brave, stood ready to fight a legion of his brothers. My husband, skilled and strong, stood at my father’s side. I climbed to my feet and crossed to my mother’s side, picking up her limp hand.

‚Lancelot,' Arthur called. ‚You were my most trusted knight. I valued you above all others in my army. You were as a brother. But you repaid me by dishonoring my wife. What have you to say?'

My father leveled his dark gaze at the king that he so respected. There was truly nothing to say, for Arthur was right. While here in Camelot, my mother was his wife.

Both she and Lancelot had disrespected her vows and the king.

Lancelot lowered his sword and dropped his head.

‚I beg your forgiveness, your highness,' he said. ‚You are correct. I have wronged you in a most grievous way.'

‚But it was not his fault!' a clear voice rang out.

Turning in surprise, I found Morgan, her skirts fluttering in the wind around her legs, facing the king behind us.

‚It was I,' she continued, ‚Who bewitched your trusted knight and your wife. It is I who has done this wretched thing to you, my brother.'

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd and I found myself overwhelmed by confusion. What was Eris doing?

‚Can this be true?' Arthur asked and I could see on his face that he would give anything to make it so. Morgan nodded without hesitation.

‚It is true, brother. I beg your forgiveness and will do anything to repay you for my transgressions. I have been horrendous to you of late, as you know. I beg you to forgive me. But even if you cannot, please do not hold Lancelot and the queen accountable. They could not help their actions. My magic is powerful.'

Arthur stared at her sharply, his thoughts evident on his face. He believed her and he lowered his lance.

As he did, Mordred spoke from behind.

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‚Your highness, your sister has admitted to using witchery. How can we trust her?

She is most likely lying to you.'

The king didn’t turn, but spoke with his gaze frozen lovingly on my mother.

‚Do you think I do not know my sister, good knight? I know her character and her heart. She speaks the truth.'

Arthur slid from his horse and strode toward my mother, his face flooded with love. He paused for just a moment where Lancelot knelt, placing his hand silently on his knight’s shoulder. Then he continued, quickly crossing the field.

‚Guinevere, I am sorry that I doubted you,' he called as he approached. ‚I will never doubt you again.'

‚Because you are a fool!' Mordred snarled from behind him, leaping from his horse and lunging toward Arthur with his sword drawn.

Arthur whirled, surprise freezing his handsome features and he barely had time to draw his own sword in order to defend himself. His knights quickly approached, flying to their king’s aid, but I froze as I saw the horizon.

Lines and lines of mounted Saxons were poised and ready to ride toward us.

‚What the…' I breathed. My mother gripped my hand tightly as we watched the riders approach.

‚Saxons,' my mother said quietly. ‚Mordred must have bought them to topple Arthur. Mordred knew he could never turn the Roundtable knights, so he went outside of the kingdom.'

A split moment later, Mordred confirmed her theory.

‚Gunner,' Mordred called to one of them with a menacing smile. ‚You are very timely. Kill them all!'

The Saxon mercenary grinned in response, a menacing gesture that stilled my heart.

He would have been handsome, with sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes, but his cold calculation only made him deadly instead. He pushed into the knights swinging two swords at once.

Once again, mortal combat broke out around us. My mother and I stared at each other helplessly as we moved to the perimeter of the field. We weren’t sure what to do.

This battle was meant to take place and we had already seen what changing time could do.

We stood still, watching the bloody men fighting in front of us. I watched Lucan fighting a Saxon and took a step toward him.

‚No,' my mother cautioned. ‚You know you cannot.'

I froze in place, my heart numb as I watched the Saxon swing a mace into Lucan’s leg. I cried out and gripped my mother’s arm tightly.

‚I cannot stand here and do nothing!' I cried. ‚This is impossible.'

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Lucan crumbled to the ground, but as the Saxon swung his sword for a death blow, Lucan blocked it with his own.

‚Lucan won’t die by the Saxon’s hand,' my mother said knowingly. And he didn’t.

He fought the Saxon off and plunged his sword into the Saxon’s heart before staggered into Bedivere. Bedivere wrapped his arm around Lucan’s shoulders and helped him walk as they limped toward Arthur and Mordred.

Arthur and Mordred were fighting hand to hand. Arthur had shed his cloaks and he stood facing his nephew in a shirt and trousers. He already had a thin line of blood on his shoulder where Mordred had sliced him.

‚Heleyne,' Arthur called. ‚Is my wife alright?'

I startled. I couldn’t believe that he would take his focus from his adversary to ask such a question.

‚She is fine, your highness,' I answered limply.

‚Too bad we cannot say the same for you,' Mordred sneered and he plunged his sword once more into Arthur’s shoulder, bringing his uncle to his knees with a shout.

Arthur wrenched away in time for Kay to intercept Mordred’s next blow, returning it with equal force and sliding his sword smoothly under Mordred’s ribcage.

‚Ah, Kay the dependable,' Arthur said gratefully. ‚Thank you, my brother.'

Kay nodded, switching his sword from hand to hand as he faced Mordred.

‚If you want another swipe at my brother,' he growled. ‚You will have to come through me.'

‚Gladly,' Mordred sneered and he motioned his army of Saxons forward.

Gunner, the lead mercenary, charged forward and plunged his sword into Kay’s thigh. With a groan, Kay dropped to the ground and I heard a loud crunching noise as the large Saxon withdrew his sword. I cringed. That noise was Kay’s split thigh bone.

Every knight was preoccupied defending their lives against the Saxons and there was not one left who was available to protect Kay in his injured state.

Gunner planted a thick boot into Kay’s chest , knocking him over and as Kay lay heaving for breath, Gunner brought his foot forcefully down into Kay’s skull. I heard a loud crack and Kay lay limply, his eyes sightlessly staring straight ahead.

A tear slipped down my cheek. There wasn’t a thing I could do about these atrocities. These were man-made and I couldn’t interfere, but they were ripping my heart from my chest.

With Kay out of the way, Mordred advanced once more on Arthur. As Arthur lunged forward, Mordred tripped him and Arthur stumbled. Using the momentum, Mordred plunged his thick sword into Arthur’s back. Arthur cried out, a horrible cry of agony, before whirling and embedding his own sword into Mordred’s side. Blood gushed and Mordred twisted away, crawling toward the hilltop.

Arthur dropped to the ground, his breathing shallow and quick.

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‚Guinevere,' he called weakly.

My mother opened her eyes. She was wounded, but even in her weakened state, she could hear the life fading from his voice. She staggered to her feet and leaning into me, we limped to where Arthur lay in a pool of blood. She dropped to his side, picking up his hand.

‚I’m so sorry, Arthur,' she murmured, stroking his hair back from his face. ‚You did not deserve this.'

‚I did not?' he asked simply. ‚I did not deserve a beautiful wife and the love of an entire country? I have been blessed, wife. Do not cry for me,' he said as he watched tears stream down her cheeks. ‚I will leave here at peace, for I have done what I was sent here to do.'

His eyes fluttered closed and my chest froze. I couldn’t breathe or swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of this great fallen king. My mother continued to hold his hand as every knight in the field dropped to one knee and lowered his head in deference to Arthur. Even the Saxons stood still, allowing the Britons a moment to honor their dead king.