Chapter Thirty-Eight
T hings were not right at Castle Camelot.
After leaving Lancelot and Guinevere to their conversation, Gawain and I had ventured into the forest to gather wood for my forge—a task I usually put off till the last moment but something had instinctually told me I would need to get it done this very night.
When we returned a few hours later the air in the castle was changed . Arthur had returned, but with him he had also brought in men in green livery belonging to King Lot… and he had also brought Saxons.
I had pulled Gawain to the side after that, realizing something had gone very awry and I believed it had everything to do with the Lady Morgana who was walking about the castle as if she owned it with Arthur obediently following as if he were her dog.
Rumors of the woman’s ability to control the minds of others had been pervasive throughout the land for many years—but I had never seen such magic on such a scale aside from what Merlin could weave. This? This was a complete takeover.
None of the castle servants spoke. Not to us and not to each other as we moved slowly about the castle, avoiding Morgana’s eerie gaze. None could be trusted and we did not know where Guinevere had gone. Was she safe? Was Lancelot?
It took until the early hours of the morn for us to finally find her in the last place I ever thought my queen, my omega, would be put.
Her eyes were red-rimmed as she stared up at us through the small hole that served as a window to the dungeon. A torn linen sheet was wrapped around her naked body. I could see bruises on her arms from being tightly gripped and a heavy metal collar had been placed around her neck. As I stared at her, I was quickly able to put together the events that had preceded her imprisonment.
Especially once her scent hit my nose and I smelled that she was in heat.
I had to force the growl gathering in my chest down at how my omega had been mistreated by our king—magical coercion or not.
The desire to march into his study and shake the spell from his eyes and ask how he dared to do this to our omega who was vulnerable and in heat. Did he not know such things could make her ill?
“They hurt Lancelot,” Guinevere told us softly as she reached for Gawain’s outstretched hand and hung on for dear life.
I glanced into the window neighboring Guinevere’s and found, with horror, that Lancelot was lying face down with wounds crisscrossing his back.
“We will break you free from here,” Gawain said, his face pale with shock as he seemed to be trying to figure out the best way of doing so.
But Guinevere just shook her head. “No, it’s too risky. If Morgana finds you she could put the same spell on you too. You need to get to Merlin—he’s the only one who can break the spell on the people of the castle.”
“We cannot just leave you here,” I told her, finding the very idea of it abhorrent.
Guinevere’s lips pressed into a firm line and I could feel her stubbornness through the bond. “You don’t have a choice, Bedivere, if we’re going to get out of this then we need him. Go—he’s trapped in between two stones an hour or so ride to the east. We also need my father and his men so that we can push the Saxons out once the spell is broken.”
I was taken aback by her logic. Everything Guinevere told me about her place in the future told me she was not familiar with such things, but here she was giving orders as if she had seen battle before. It was almost as if I was listening to Arthur speak.
“Gawain,” Guinevere said, giving the younger alpha’s hand a squeeze. “You ride faster so I’ll need you to go to Cameliard. Bedivere, you will need to find Merlin.”
“I do not—” Gawain began to protest but I put my hand on his arm to stop him. There was no more arguing with her. She was our queen before she was our omega and she was giving us an order for the good of Camelot.
“How am I to release Merlin from his prison once I find it?” I asked as I had no experience with breaking magical spells.
Guinevere seemed to think about it for a moment, her hand drifting up to the collar around her neck. “Merlin once told me that etched spells like this can be disrupted if you are able to break enough of the runes. Take a chisel and a hammer from your workshop and break as many of the runes as possible. Merlin should be able to do the rest.”
I gave her a firm nod, my mind already moving ahead on how we were going to get the horses out of the stable without being discovered.
“Please be careful,” Guinevere said, reaching up through the bars to touch my knee. “And come back to me in one piece.”
I wanted to lean down to kiss her, but the small dungeon window impeded that. Instead, I crouched down until her hand could cup my face, her skin fevered from the heat.
“We will come back and get you out of this, sweetling,” I promised, my chest burning with the desire to protect her from harm.
Guinevere’s smile was bleak, but she still nodded. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
It turned out that getting the horses from the stable was no task at all. The place had been abandoned as revelry began to take place in the great hall. The Saxon invaders demanded a feast and it was evident that every hand in the castle was needed to make it happen.
We were able to pull Breac and Evefir with ease and make off as the afternoon started to ease into the sky. The two horses seemed relieved to be away from the place, their nerves easing as we galloped away and Camelot grew into a small dot in the distance.
“I feel as if this is a mistake—to leave Guinevere behind,” Gawain shouted over the wind whipping around us.
I felt the same, but I could not let the younger alpha know that.
“We must,” I replied, not looking over at him. I knew he could feel my reticence through the bond we now shared, but I chose not to dwell on that. If we had any chance to save our omega and the rest of our pack, we needed to do this. “This is where we part ways, Gawain, steer your horse true and bring back the assistance we so desperately need!”
Gawain shot me one last determined look before he yanked his reins to the left and our paths veered off from one another.
It was nightfall by the time I reached a section of the path that contained hundreds of hoof-tracks. This was undoubtedly the way that Arthur had come earlier.
Steering Evefir up the hill and following the weave of the river, I happened upon a small clearing about halfway up the mountain, surrounded on all sides by high rock walls.
There were a few dozen bodies scattered in the dirt, most wearing the plain brown that identified them as Saxons.
Sliding down from my saddle, I examined the area. I could see how the skirmish had started. Saxons must have come down from above, right on top of Arthur and the men.
They had fought—and then it seemed as if their steps had stopped. Even I knew that a high-level of magic had occurred. I could feel it still sizzling in the air.
Morgana was rumored to be a sorceress, but how had she gained this level of power?
Shoving my thoughts aside, I pulled my chisel and hammer out of Evefir’s saddlebags and set out to find the stones that Guinevere had described.
They must have been large in order to trap a fully grown man, but no such stones existed in the clearing I was standing in.
An idea came to me as I glanced up at the high walls surrounding me. There must have been some way for the Saxons to get up there and I doubted they had scaled the walls.
Carefully traversing the length of the cliffs I eventually found it: a thin, switchback path that zigzagged up the wall until it reached the top. This must have been it.
Making my way carefully to the top, I came upon a craggy cliff and what looked to be two flat stones that were pointing to the sky.
The full moon overhead illuminated the space in an eerie light, making the rocks seem dangerous and the thin, scrawled runes covering them felt ominous as they glowed underneath the moonlight.
There must have been hundreds of them etched into the sides of the stone.
“Merlin,” I said softly as I approached the stone. “Can you hear me?”
There was no answer. This was not the sort of trap that was built for a typical man—no it was built for a being created by magic as Merlin was.
I needed to get to work as the night was growing late and my worries of Guinevere’s fate were growing more dire by the hour.
Cradling the chisel in the crook of my elbow, I awkwardly began to systematically break away the seals.
As the first one cracked off, nothing happened as the sliver fell to the ground and the seal continued to glow.
Frowning at it, I stood a step back and wound the hammer back, bringing it down on the seal and cracking it in half. The glowing ceased, adding another layer to my task. Each seal would not only need to be broken off of the rock face, but would also have to be destroyed entirely for any hope that this would work.
It was a struggle, as if the seals were resisting me each step of the way as I hammered at them. It felt as if hours passed as I continued to break the seals off and destroy them with the hammer.
By the time nearly every single seal was cracked off of the surface of the rock, I was losing faith. The trap still held tight and I was growing exhausted after getting hardly any rest over the past two days.
“Merlin,” I finally tried as I leaned against the rock, sweat pouring down my forehead. “If you can hear me, Guinevere needs you. I have broken most of the seals on this trap, but I fear I am working in vain.”
Silence.
Frustration grew in my chest as I took my fist and pounded on the stone. “Merlin! You are as much a pack member as the rest of us—will you truly be able to live with yourself if she’s hurt? Arthur is out of his mind with that witch’s spell. He’s bruised her, Merlin. She’s locked away alone and in heat.”
Again, silence met my ears.
This was a useless venture, I realized as I straightened and stared at the trap again. Merlin was not coming out and we could not rely on him to help us—I needed to go and meet Gawain and King Leodegrance for the best chance at saving Guinevere and the rest of Camelot.
Turning away from the rock, I began to stride away when a strange noise stopped me. It was the sound of a distant rumble that grew closer and closer until the very ground beneath my feet began to shake.
Then, although there was not a cloud in the night sky, a bright flash followed by the sound of a large crack filled my ears, making me duck to avoid whatever was coming from above.
Behind me, the rocks split in two and crumbled to the ground in many pieces as Merlin, who had been standing with his arms raised, gasped.
Whirling around, I faced the man with my mouth agape. “You freed yourself.”
Merlin, despite his disoriented expression and pale face, shook his head. “No, you freed me, Bedivere. Now shall we defy fate and go save our pack?”