Part 15 (1/2)

Agravain returned from the feast, more than half drunk and bad-tempered. It had been a difficult day for him, as well. After a while, Bedwyr and the two others, Rhuawn and Gereint, also returned.

”I have spoken to Arthur,” Bedwyr told me quietly. ”He says that he does not think we can risk accepting you, not at such a time as this, and mentioned his distrust of the Queen Morgawse your mother, who by your own testimony is plotting against him. But more than this he will not say. I do not understand it: usually he is willing to give anyone at all a chance to prove himself.”

”Gwalchmai must be a sorcerer, then,” said Rhuawn, a lean, long-faced man.

”Be quiet,” said Agravain harshly. ”I have said that he is not.” I recognized the signs: my brother wanted to fight someone. Apparently Rhuawn recognized them as well, for he was quiet.

Finally Cei returned, quite drunk, but controlling it well. ”Hah!” he exclaimed when he saw me. ”Still here, are you?” He was very pleased, with himself and with his judgement. ”I'd've thought you'd've gone running from here like a whipped dog by now. Or a whipped hawk?” He snorted with laughter. ”But hurt hawks don't run, do they? Don't even fly. They just...sit. And brood. And glare. As you are. Hah!”

”Hush,” said Bedwyr. ”You have no cause for that.”

”That practice of sorcery is cause enough for cursing,” said Cei. ”And I think our lord judged well!”

Bedwyr shook his head. He came over to me and said, ”I am sorry, Gwalchmai. Understand, it is not Arthur's usual way, this decision. And this is Cei's way only when he is drunk.”

”I'm not so drunk as all that,” said Cei. He sneered again. ”Well, Hawk of May, where are your spells?”

I realized that I, too, would not mind fighting someone and having some release for my anger. It was absurd, and I realized the absurdity, but still...

”Let him alone,” snarled Agravain.

”Why?”

”Because I'll challenge you if you don't,” replied Agravain quickly. He would, and would enjoy it, though I thought that Cei was not too drunk to fight.

Cei blinked at him, then shrugged and fell silent. However, a few minutes later, noticing Caledvwlch leaning against the wall where I had set it, he went over and picked it up, holding the loop of the baldric and swinging it back and forth, whistling between his teeth.

”Stop!” I called, abruptly ending my fit of brooding.

”What? You don't want me touching your precious magic sword?”

”Put it down,” I said. ”It is not for you.”

”Are you still trying to say that it is...”

”It is. My story is true, even if Arthur disbelieves it.”

”Liar,' said Cei.

Agravain stood, clenching his fists.

I could not let my brother fight my battles for me, however much he wished to. ”Stop,” I said again, also standing. ”Cei, put my sword down before you come to some harm.”

He laughed, eagerly. ”So, at last you are willing to defend yourself! Laus Deo! Do you want your magic sword? I will show you how magic it is...”

”No!” I shouted, seeing what he planned. But he had already closed his hand about the hilt and begun to draw the sword.

The dormant fire leapt, once, like summer lightning or a falling star. Cei screamed and dropped the sword, stumbled back against the wall. I was across the room to catch the weapon as he dropped it; I closed my own hand about the hilt and, without thinking, drew it. The fire blazed, pure, cool, and brilliant.

”Are you hurt?” I asked Cei. He stared, opening and closing his mouth, quite sober now. ”I said, are you hurt?”

He looked at his hand. It appeared slightly burned, as though by the sun, but otherwise uninjured. ”No,” he whispered. ”G.o.d. G.o.d.”

”By all the saints,” muttered Rhuawn.

I looked at my sword, then sheathed it. ”It is well,” I told them all. ”This sword is a powerful thing, and I think that, had you drawn it, it might have killed you. Let it alone now.”

”I will,” said Cei. ”G.o.d. I...I wish to sleep, now.”

No one said anything as we settled down for the night: I, on Agravain's insistence, on his bed, and he on the floor.

I held Caledvwlch beside me in the darkness. The power was real, real enough to burn Cei when he touched it, real enough to have killed him. The Light was real-my lord, how could I doubt it? And the Light had led me here, and I had come, with high hopes I only fully recognized now that they were gone, and the miracle, somehow, still, had failed, and my soul ached with darkness.

I closed my eyes and ran my fingers over the sword hilt, feeling the cool smoothness of interlaced metal on the grip and the hardness of the single jewel. Simple steel and lifeless stone, yet they could fire with an unearthly light, and burn the hand that ventured to touch them. So could I, all doubts and uncertainties swept away in that white fire that three times now had burned within my mind. And yet, why should such things have happened to me? The Light needed neither men nor swords. Nothing that I did could matter. I had been delivered from the Darkness, and that ought to be enough for me.

I rolled over on the bed and looked up at the thatching of the roof, letting the sword lie on the floor where my hand could easily reach it. It is not as bad as all that, I told myself. This will not kill you. You have only to seek service elsewhere, and there is doubtless much else you can do.

Why a sword? I asked myself again. Why not a harp or a brooch or a ring, as in some tales? If I am not to be a warrior, why an instrument of war? And if I am not to serve Arthur, why be a warrior? No other king has set out to fight the Darkness...

The Darkness. My mind touched it at last, and I remembered Morgawse, as clearly as if she stood there in the room, and the things I had learned from her worked in me like yeast. Morgawse's eyes found mine behind my closed lids, and she smiled and smiled. I turned my mind from the thought. Eventually, I slept.

I dreamt that night, the only such dream I have ever had.

In my dream I rose from the bed and opened the door of the house to look out at Camlann. I saw all of it at once, with the walls finished, glowing in a golden light, splendid and strong. Arthur was before the gates, sitting upon a white horse, and he held a torch in his hand, the source of the light which filled the fortress. A man I did not know held the horse's bridle, a dark-haired man on whose forehead blazed a star, and his eyes were filled with infinite knowledge. Arthur lifted his torch, and the light of it sprang across all the west of Britain. I saw the whole island, from the Orcades in the north to the southern cliffs, the forests, fields, mountains and rivers and proud cities, lying like a child's drawing in the sea. But the east and north was covered with a profound shadow. I saw Aldwulf standing in the north, a black flame burning above his scarred face, and Cerdic in the south, lifting his arm to command an attack, though with an odd expression of puzzlement on his face. No armies answered his command, but a great white dragon, the symbol of kings.h.i.+p, rose into the sky on cloud-like wings. In the west, Arthur's dragon standard twisted, became a true dragon, and rose to meet the other. Yet I did not watch the combat, for a shadow fell across Arthur and he dwindled to nothing. I looked up and saw Her, ruling in the north and east, Queen of Air and Darkness, Lady of Shadows. Beautiful she was in the flesh, but in the dream the flesh was gone, like a dimming veil, and she blazed in dark splendor across the universe. My heart came into my throat, and my terrible love for her returned. I wanted to fling myself before her feet and beg her forgiveness, but I reached for my sword. It was not there. She smiled, and my strength vanished, so that I could think of nothing but her.

”So, my falcon,” she said, in her infinitely soft, deep voice, ”the Dragon does not want you? It is most foolish of him, for you are a great warrior.”

I was filled with joy at this, and wanted to run to her and...but I forced myself to hold back. ”Arthur is free,” I answered. ”He may do as he wills.”

”Of course,” she whispered, ”though he obeyed me once. But your new Lord permits you also to do as you will.” She leant forward from her throne of shadows, her eyes drinking me, like wine. I remembered, with night-edged clarity, a word she had taught me to fend off spirits. I whispered it, and some of my strength returned.

She smiled, a very sweet, dark, secret smile meant for me alone. ”My clever falcon! Yes. You see why I wished to kill you? It can be used against me and for Arthur, to establish the High King's power in Britain.”

I tore my eyes from her and looked back to the island I stood on. Arthur seemed very small after the Queen, and his power only fragmentary. I felt a touch of pity for him. I saw the battle lines forming, saw myself ride up on Ceincaled, lift my hand, and speak a word of command. Cerdic clutched his throat and fell to the earth, and Aldwulf died, amazed. The Saxons were swept by plague and famine, storms destroyed their s.h.i.+ps, and Arthur conquered all Britain. He reigned in Camlann, and I stood beside him, his most trusted counsellor, honored by all. My father came from the Orcades with words of admiration and praise, and chose me to be the heir of his kings.h.i.+p. The Light ruled in Britain.

I looked again at the Queen, and met her eyes fully. She smiled for a third time, and those eyes were full of promises. ”Ah, my hawk of spring,” she whispered. ”You were always my favorite, and now that you are older...you are a strong enemy, more powerful than Arthur, and a greater sorcerer than that fool Aldwulf.”

I felt deep pride and a searing black joy that she should say so. More than ever I longed to approach her. I could make Arthur accept me! I could use what she had taught me for the Light, instead of the Darkness. Then I thought of what she had taught, and remembered the look in Connall's eyes when he knew that she would kill him, and the black lamb struggling under my hands while she looked for the future in its entrails, and I felt sick again, and thought of how Medraut was lost. But I needn't use the worst, I told myself.

”Where is Medraut?” I demanded of the Queen.

”That is of no consequence.”

”He is your son.”

”I have plans for him that are no concern of yours, my falcon. He hates you, my hawk, because you left and betrayed us.”