Chapter 12
Lamorna woke with a gasp. She sat up, her hand clutched to her chest, heartbeat thundering in her ears.
The floor beneath her seemed to rumble. Pushing her hair back from her face, she took a deep steadying breath.
Mordred was already up – his side of the bed was cool to touch, which meant he’d been awake for some time.
The light outside their window told her it was well after dawn.
She’d slept in. She’d never done that. Lamorna crawled out of bed and dressed, wandering into their sitting area, but Mordred wasn’t there either. He’d left a mug on the table though.
The floor beneath Lamorna’s feet shifted again. It felt strangely warm. She frowned, then gasped in understanding as a dim roar echoed through her ears.
The dragon. She hurried from the room, dashing through the corridors, not caring who she ran into. As she passed the Hall, she realised she hadn’t even put on her boots, but she didn’t go back for them.
In her mind, she’d named the dragon Firestorm. She hadn’t told anyone that though, worried they’d think she was foolish. Now here she was, tearing through the castle with no shoes, the floor growling beneath her, her heart hammering and Firestorm’s roaring in her ears.
Beneath the castle, it was dark, the air cool.
Lamorna pulled a deep breath in through her nose – she could smell damp earth, stale water and sulphur.
Swallowing, she made her way carefully down the ragged stone steps.
She hadn’t thought to bring a light. As she entered the great cavern where Firestorm lay, she quickly realised the dragon was not alone.
Standing not far from the beast was Mordred, frustration in every line of his body.
Elaine was with him, equally frustrated.
Cautiously, Lamorna approached them. Firestorm lifted his head and rolled his giant eyes towards her. He snorted in greeting, then dropped his head back onto his massive paws and closed his eyes.
‘Why won’t he listen to me?’ Mordred demanded. He turned to Elaine. ‘You told me to wake him, so I did and now the beast won’t listen to me?’
‘You performed the ritual when you woke him?’ Elaine asked.
‘I did.’
Elaine tipped her head to the side as her blind eyes gazed at the dragon, who was now in the process of making himself a nest of sorts. He flicked his tail, irritated. Lamorna smiled at him, then realised Elaine was looking at her.
‘You did not wake him, Mordred,’ the Red Sister said. ‘Therefore, he is not yours to command.’
‘I performed the spell!’ Mordred snapped. ‘I woke him with blood as…’ His voice trailed off. Slowly, he turned to Lamorna, then back to Elaine, who nodded.
‘What is it?’ Lamorna asked. Fear spiked in her blood.
‘The dragon,’ Mordred began. ‘Is not mine, it appears.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lamorna looked at the dragon, who was curled into a ball like a giant, leathery cat. She moved closer to Mordred, wincing at the sharp stones under her feet. ‘You woke him.’
‘I didn’t, Lamorna,’ Mordred said. His voice was tight.
She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It was your blood, wasn’t it?’ Elaine asked. ‘Your blood Mordred used in the spell?’
‘Yes, but why should that matter?’ Lamorna asked. ‘I don’t have any magic.’
‘There is magic in blood,’ Elaine muttered, then, ‘You failed, Mordred. You can’t fix this.’
Mordred’s face mottled with outrage.
‘I’ll fix it,’ Lamorna said quickly, taking hold of Mordred’s arm. ‘Tell me what I need to do.’
Elaine started to object, but Lamorna sent her a warning look; even if the woman couldn’t see, she’d surely feel Lamorna’s worry. Mordred pulled his arm free with a snarl, making Lamorna stumble back a step. The look he gave her caused her heart to pinch.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
He stormed from the cavern before she could say anything else – Lamorna stared at his retreating back in despair. A deep, heavy silence was left behind him, broken only by the dragon’s contented snorts. Lamorna tore her eyes away from the steps, her gaze drawn to the dragon against her will.
‘It isn’t your fault,’ Elaine said.
Lamorna nodded glumly. ‘Maybe it is.’
‘What do you mean?’ the Red Sister asked her.
She gestured at the dragon helplessly. ‘I like him. And I think he likes me. From the moment I saw him… I think I wanted him to be mine. So it is my fault.’
‘Lamorna,’ Elaine began. ‘That isn’t how it works. A dragon is not a normal beast. They are bound to one master, and one only. They will listen to no one but that person. He will feel what you feel, as you will him. He will respond to your thoughts and follow your command.’
‘I didn’t want that,’ Lamorna objected. ‘I just… I don’t know.’
‘Come,’ Elaine told her, taking her arm.
‘I’ve never seen Mordred so angry,’ Lamorna mumbled, realising how stupid she sounded.
She didn’t know him. Not truly. She was still learning him, and while she was better at reading his face and the things he did not say, she didn’t know him, not in the way she knew her sister or her aunt.
Firestorm was watching her through its liquid golden eyes.
She liked the dragon’s eyes. They reminded her of the way the sunlight would catch on the water in late afternoon.
Her lips curled into a smile; the dragon huffed a gentle breath, then tucked its head beneath its wing.
Lamorna followed Elaine up the steps and into the castle.
As they passed the hall, she heard Mordred’s raised voice from behind the doors.
She wondered who he was raging at and what he was saying.
She swallowed and let Elaine lead her away.
When they were seated in Elaine’s room, Lamorna sighed, pulling her foot into her lap and massaging away the hurt of the stones.
There was blood on her skin. She stared at it, then at Elaine.
‘You said there was power in blood – what did you mean?’
The Red Sister sat opposite, her hands clasped in her lap, spine straight.
Her robes were the same red that littered the sole of Lamorna’s foot.
‘Blood is part of life, as it often is death. It runs through our bodies. Blood holds our life energy, our vitality, and connects us to our bodies. Blood is also something we all share and that makes it powerful.’
‘Yes, I understand that, but how did my blood wake a dragon?’ Lamorna asked.
‘Your blood gave him life,’ Elaine answered. ‘Your blood, combined with the spell Mordred used.’
Lamorna sat back, forgetting about her wounded foot. ‘So without the spell, those words, the blood would have done nothing? Like when Mordred uses the bowl of water to… scry? Without the words, it would be a bowl of water with blood in it.’
Elaine nodded.
‘Can I learn the words?’ Lamorna asked. She expected the Red Sister to laugh at her, to tell her she was foolish, but Elaine gave her a thoughtful look.
‘You could, but without magic in your blood, they would just be words, Lamorna.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Elaine tapped her fingers on her thigh, turning her face to the window, then back to Lamorna. ‘You intrigue me, Lamorna Astolat. There is rage and fire and spite in you – perhaps that is what the dragon sees also.’
Lamorna wanted to object, but Elaine continued speaking.
‘The Word you were taught is not the true Word. Ulrian Tregarthen and his Konsel saw an opportunity for power over the divine feminine – over the power of a goddess – and took it, even though they did not understand who they were trying to silence.’
‘I know,’ Lamorna said. ‘Mordred has explained it to me.’
Elaine’s face did not shift. ‘And here you are, right in the middle of a world steeped in magic, at the side of a man who wields it, keeping company with someone like me, after spending your life in service to the One God. And you accepted the truth of everything, so easily?’
‘What else was I to do?’ Lamorna asked hotly – she could not help but feel criticised. ‘I had already decided I was not going to live in ignorance anymore. I could either fight it – fight what I knew deep down was the truth – or I could embrace it. Embrace Her, as I always had.’
Elaine’s milky eyes stared at her, and then the Red Sister nodded. ‘Very well.’
Lamorna did not see Mordred for the rest of the day.
She hadn’t gone searching for him though, wanting to give him space to…
she wasn’t sure what. Deal with his disappointment?
His anger? She went to see her aunt instead.
Tamora had been given a small room off the kitchen, where she could prepare medicines for the people of Dinas Emrys.
‘You’re unhappy,’ Lamorna commented. There were deep shadows beneath her aunt’s eyes, and her mouth was turned down at the corners. Tamora was not an overly cheerful woman, but she generally did not look so glum, even in Kernou.
‘It’s nothing. I’m tired.’
Lamorna shook her head. ‘Keraine will come.’
Tamora gave her a sharp glance. ‘And if she doesn’t?’
‘Do you miss her?’
‘Do you care?’
‘I do,’ Lamorna said. ‘And I’m sorry I was so…
unaccepting.’ She licked her lips, wondering what else she could say.
She needed her aunt. She missed her. They had never been close, not like Tamora and Jenyfer were close, but she was Lamorna’s family and she needed her.
‘I hope she arrives soon. I don’t like to see you unhappy. ’
‘My girl, I have spent half my life unhappy,’ Tamora said.
‘Then we shall change that,’ Lamorna declared.
She said nothing more about it, turning her attention to the herbs hanging in bundles from the rack above the window and the dozens of glass jars on the bench.
She recognised her aunt’s mortar and pestle as the one that had always sat on the bench in their cottage kitchen.
She picked up a bottle, aware Tamora was watching her closely. ‘This is liverwort, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ her aunt said, surprised. ‘For treating the liver, among other things.’