Chapter 35
Dinas Emrys seemed to crawl from the barren landscape.
From above, it was like a beast of stone.
Ordes and Jenyfer landed outside the main gates.
There was nothing to hide behind, not out here on the vast emptiness of Camlann Plain.
The men at the gate didn’t have time to raise the alarm before they slumped over, out cold.
Jenyfer’s face was hard, her lips a thin line. She practically glowed with anger, the air around her moving like a wave. Ordes stared at her, at this woman whose magic flattened a village and tore apart a cottage, who was fierce and brave and his and how the fuck was he ever going to give her up?
The thought barrelled through him. They’d run to avoid his fate and now, after seeing what Marsh had done, Ordes realised he wasn’t running away from destiny – he was about to run towards it. Jenyfer knew it, too. The heartfire knew it. His chest was burning and he guessed hers would be the same.
Jenyfer pulled her dagger free as Ordes blew the gates of Dinas Emrys open.
By the time the dust cleared, they had stormed the outer bailey, Jenyfer singing Mordred’s men to sleep.
No one was left to challenge them as they marched up the stairs – a dragon carved in stone watched them enter the castle.
Any man who appeared found himself slumped over, snoring.
The few women they saw ran, all except one, who paused, feet skidding on the stone floor.
‘Jenyfer?’ she breathed.
Jenyfer narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired woman. ‘You’re from Kernou?’
‘I am.’
‘Where’s my sister?’ Jen demanded.
The woman’s eyes fell pointedly to the dagger in Jenyfer’s fist. ‘Put that away and I’ll take you to her.’
‘You’re not in a position to negotiate,’ Jenyfer said through clenched teeth.
Instead of answering, the woman nodded at the box tucked beneath Ordes’ arm. ‘What’s in the box?’
‘A head,’ Jenyfer snapped. Magic rippled over her skin, making her scales shimmer.
The woman stared at her a moment and burst out laughing. ‘Alright, come with me.’ She shifted her gaze to Ordes. ‘If you’re here for Mordred—’
‘Why are you helping us?’ Ordes cut in.
‘Because this,’ the woman said in a low, harsh voice, waving her hand at their surroundings, ‘isn’t what he promised us. He said nothing about a fucking war. We’re starving, people are sick, and he… won’t listen to anyone.’ She shook her head and turned back to Jenyfer. ‘Come on.’
‘Be careful,’ Ordes said.
‘You too,’ Jenyfer whispered. Ordes watched her follow the dark-haired woman down the nearest hall and around a corner. He waited, ears straining, and when he heard nothing, no footsteps approaching, no screams, he went looking for Mordred.
The halls of Dinas Emrys were empty. He trailed his hand along the wall, his magic soaking up the ghosts and haunted memories of a world that was.
This castle was once a place of light and life, of equity and justice.
Utopia, until something changed. A flurry of wings, a shadow, a strength of will Ordes thought he recognised…
He snatched his hand back, forcing himself to focus.
As he walked, he thought about what the dark-haired woman had said.
It appeared things were not unfolding the way Mordred intended.
Sending Marsh after them was an act of desperation more than anything, Ordes suddenly understood.
But other than his mother, he couldn’t think who would put Mordred up to this.
Niniane already had Merlin trapped, so it made no sense for her to be behind this.
Melodias? It was a possibility, but he couldn’t work out what the God of the Seas was trying to achieve.
When Ordes closed his eyes, he saw Carbrey’s body lying on the deck, the bullet hole in his brow a chasm.
Lightning danced over Ordes’ knuckles. It swam on the tip of his tongue and burnt through his blood.
Anger pulsed through every part of him and with it, flowing like the strongest tide, was his magic, raw and powerful and aching.
Ever since leaving Goerika’s cave, he knew instinctually that he still hadn’t come anywhere near the bottom of that well of power that lived inside him.
His father’s crew had fought for their lives before, in what were ultimately minor skirmishes between rivals.
Rarely had they lost anyone. There had been injuries, but never such brutal death.
It was that brutality that shook Ordes. He knew men were cruel – he knew Marsh was crueller than most – but to be confronted with the spoils of one man’s violent desires had been too much.
The sight of the dead, people he knew and had cared for, on the deck of the ship he called home had stirred something dark inside himself.
The power of the magic that surged through him had elated and terrified him.
For a horrible moment, he could understand his mother’s anger at the world.
When men like Marsh and Mordred existed, whose ultimate aim was dominance and power over others, why shouldn’t Ordes use what he had to stop it?
Only the look on Katarin’s face had stopped him. Kat, who he always thought was stronger than him, who had suffered such loss and pain and kept going, had asked him to stop.
So he had. He trusted her judgement more than his own.
When Ordes found the hall, it was empty. He shut the doors behind him. The room was large, the air chilled. Sunlight slunk inside through three giant stained-glass windows, each one containing an elaborate mosaic. Ordes took in the replica of the artwork from the original copy of the Word.
Ereshki had been here, he concluded, seating himself at one of the long tables, the box containing Marsh’s head before him.
He rested his hands on top of it, drummed his fingers impatiently.
He wasn’t afraid. There was nothing Mordred could do to keep him there, to keep either of them in this place.
Ordes wasn’t sure whether Jenyfer would achieve what she wanted with her sister, but he was not going to tell her not to bother.
Ever since their latest visit to Kernou and the time in Lyonesse, she had grown more powerful, and the magic of that Stone around her neck was so strong that sometimes he wasn’t sure what thoughts were Jenyfer’s and which belonged to her father’s Treasure.
Why hadn’t he been affected by his own Treasure?
His eyes drifted back to the stained-glass picture of himself.
The figure was winged and holding a bowl, which Ordes now understood was the Grail.
He wanted to put his fist through his glass-rendered face.
His fingers flexed around the edge of the box. The timber groaned in protest.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside the grand doors to the hall. Ordes sat back, and the doors flew open as a group of men rushed inside, Mordred at the lead. He was barking orders, but when he saw Ordes, his steps faltered and some of the colour drained from his face.
Before any of the men could react, Ordes lifted his hand and they were frozen. He left Mordred free to move.
For a long time, the Cruithean Inborn stared at Ordes. Then he chuckled softly. ‘I guess it was a long shot.’
‘Men are dead, Mordred. Do you even care?’ Ordes asked. He kept his voice calm, his expression smooth, and let his magic dance over his knuckles and shift through the air around him.
‘Arthur?’
‘In one piece, no thanks to you,’ Ordes replied. ‘You’re many things but I never took you for a fool.’
Mordred approached the table cautiously. ‘Do you expect me to fight you?’
‘You could try, but I wouldn’t advise it.
I’m not in the best of moods.’ With a flick of his wrist, Ordes floated the box across to Mordred, who reached for it and cautiously opened the lid.
Ordes watched the man’s face carefully, not sure what he was hoping to see. Remorse maybe? But there was nothing.
Mordred closed the box and set it on the table.
‘He killed someone I cared about,’ Ordes said.
‘I’m going to assume—’
‘No,’ Ordes said. ‘I didn’t. I wanted to and I would have, but his life wasn’t mine to take, Mordred.’
‘So who?’
‘Arthur.’
‘Bullshit.’
Ordes shrugged. ‘Believe what you want. If I were you, I wouldn’t continue to underestimate your cousin.’
Mordred’s eyes narrowed.
‘I won’t pretend to understand why you’re doing any of this,’ Ordes said. ‘But I’m curious. You’ve been in this room with me for long enough now – you’ve not tried to kill me. Why? You sent a man to his death in the hopes of capturing me and yet, now that I’m here, you’re strangely silent.’
‘You weren’t the target,’ Mordred confessed eventually.
‘Marsh got it wrong?’
Mordred shook his head. ‘You were the bait, Ordes.’
Ordes frowned. Jenyfer? No, that didn’t make any sense. Arthur? He’d been clear that Marsh had been there for Ordes so that left…
Ordes barked a laugh. ‘I see. I didn’t think my mother was that—’
‘It wasn’t her,’ Mordred cut in. He leant forward, elbows on the table. ‘Someone else has issues with your father that they wanted me to help resolve.’
‘I’m going to assume you won’t confirm who?’
‘No.’
Ordes stood, uncurling his wings at the same time.
‘What are you?’ Mordred whispered. For the first time since Ordes had known the arrogant leader of the Inborn, there was a trace of fear in Mordred’s voice.
‘Sick of this shit. I want to live my life, and that would be so much easier without you and my mother and whoever else has issues with my father getting in the way,’ Ordes declared.
Mordred shook his head. ‘I’m doing what’s right for this world – what’s right for every Magic Wielder in Teyath. Surely that makes sense to you?’
Ordes wanted to scream. His magic pulsed around him, lighting curling over his fingers.
It would be so easy. Kill Mordred and end this before it began, but he knew that would solve nothing.
There was a difference between murder and defeating the enemy in battle.
And how long would it be before someone took Mordred’s place?
‘You don’t seem to be able to grasp the concept, so I’ll say this very slowly – a world ruled by magic is not the answer.
You think you’d have more power in a world like that?
’ Ordes asked. ‘Niniane would have you create the world she wants, but it will be a world where she rules. You seem to believe you’re going to be rewarded.
I hate to be the one to break it to you, but my mother doesn’t share power. ’
Mordred’s eyes shifted from him to the stained-glass window at his back, and the look on his face sent a shard of pity spearing through Ordes.
‘You think you’ve been robbed because you haven’t had some great destiny tossed at your feet, but I can assure you, that isn’t what you think it is either.
I envy you, Mordred. You’re a man – just a man, who has the choice to continue his life as he wants to live it. ’
Mordred said nothing.
‘You have a choice,’ Ordes repeated. When Mordred wouldn’t raise his eyes, Ordes sighed, then shot through time and space, locking onto Jenyfer’s heartbeat. When he materialised in what he quickly determined was Lamorna’s room, she cried out in shock then scowled.
‘Stop doing that to me!’
‘Your boyfriend tried to have me killed,’ he told her. There was no sign of the dark-haired woman from earlier.
‘I know,’ Lamorna said. She and Jenyfer were sitting in a pair of faded armchairs, facing one another, their knees almost touching. Lamorna’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did you hurt Mordred?’
‘No. I left him a present,’ Ordes said. ‘And some words of advice.’
‘What present?’ Lamorna demanded suspiciously.
‘Marsh’s head,’ Jenyfer said bluntly.
Lamorna looked like she’d be sick, but she drew herself up, chin lifted proudly. ‘Good. I didn’t like him much and I didn’t like what Mordred asked him to do,’ she said, then, at Ordes’ disbelieving look, ‘I don’t care if you don’t believe me. It’s the truth.’
Ordes chuckled. ‘Do you understand exactly what is happening, Lamorna?
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m not a fool.’
‘We’re going to close off the realms,’ Ordes told her.
Lamorna frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means the Old Ones – one in particular – won’t be able to meddle in the affairs of mortals any longer.
’ Ordes looked out the window. The vast wasteland of Camlann Plain stretched before him, and for a moment, he saw it as it was – a glorious carpet of green grass rippling like water – and wondered whether it would be like that again and if he’d get to see it.
Lamorna’s voice was low, filled with suspicion. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘So you can tell Mordred,’ Ordes said, turning around. ‘Jen, we should go.’
Jenyfer nodded. ‘Come with us, Lamorna. Please. You can’t stay here.’
Lamorna shook her head. ‘I have to,’ she said.
‘No, you don’t,’ Jenyfer argued, taking her sister’s hands. Lamorna stared at their joined fingers for a long time before she slowly pulled hers free. Ordes watched the hurt ripple across Jenyfer’s face, felt it in his heart.
‘Jen,’ he said softly. ‘You’re not going to change her mind.’
Lamorna shot him a look but nodded. ‘He’s right. I’m staying with Mordred.’
‘Lamorna—’
‘You don’t understand,’ Lamorna said. ‘He needs me. I know you don’t agree with what he’s doing – I’m not sure I do either to be honest. But I think that maybe I can—’
‘Control him?’ Ordes supplied. When Lamorna nodded, he sighed. ‘You can’t.’
‘Influence him then,’ Lamorna argued. ‘He listens to me.’
Jenyfer stood. ‘I can’t change your mind?’
‘No,’ Lamorna said. Then, ‘I’ll be alright, Jen.’
Jenyfer hesitated, then kissed her sister on the forehead. Lamorna froze then closed her eyes, and by the time she opened them, Jenyfer and Ordes had gone.