Chapter 36 #2
‘It seems your cousin has sent his envoys ahead of you.’ Agravaine’s smile deepened. Lamorna lifted her chin and moved to Mordred’s side, keeping her eyes on his uncle. His eyes were like Mordred’s, she realised, and the High Priestess’. Morgause had banished her own brother?
‘And who is this?’ Agravaine asked. Lamorna listened with half an ear as Mordred introduced her.
He gave nothing but her name, but she didn’t care.
She had shifted her attention to the other group, Arthur’s envoys, wondering about them and what Arthur could possibly want from a bunch of outcasts.
The blonde woman met Lamorna’s eyes. The man next to her had cropped hair, and his hand rested upon her knee.
The other man sat back with such casual grace that Lamorna thought he was either mad or stupid.
He didn’t seem bothered by the dagger held not far from his head.
Mordred started asking his uncle questions, but Agravaine shook his head.
‘If you want my men, Mordred, you are going to have to convince them, not me.’ He looked over at the blonde woman and her companions.
‘And now that you’re all here, I will allow you to speak.
’ He limped away, moving to seat himself on a stump.
‘You have the floor, nephew, then we shall hear what our other guests have to say.’
Lamorna could tell from Mordred’s face that this was not what he was expecting. She slipped her hand in his and squeezed, then let go to join Calla, Alden and Elaine. Mordred’s shoulders shook as he took a deep breath and stepped forward.
‘Some of you know who I am. But I am not here as the High Priestess’ son.
I am here to offer you a way out of this darkness.
’ He paused, and if he was nervous, Lamorna could not see it or hear it in his voice.
‘Teyath stands divided. You may have heard stories about a man from Kernou, the son of the Chif, a devotee of the One God. This man, this Arthur, seeks to bring you not into the light but into a world where magic and those who possess it continue to be forgotten.’
Lamorna frowned. It was a lie carefully wrapped in truth. She watched Mordred closely, watched his uncle and the faces of those gathered in the cavern. Arthur’s people were frowning.
‘If you join my cause,’ Mordred said. ‘I can promise you will not have to hide what you are.’
The blonde woman rose, lifting her chin, and when she spoke, her voice was firm and proud.
‘If any of you believe that is true, then my companions and I have wasted our time in coming here.’ Her eyes moved carefully over faces, stopping on someone sitting in the shadows.
‘I am Isolde, skinroamer, born of Caitlin, granddaughter of a slain king, Elias Anguish.’ A murmur went through some of the watching crowd.
Isolde continued, ‘All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say. I speak to you first, my kin, who have hidden from the world for too long. Arthur does not want to keep you in the shadows.’
Mordred laughed. ‘Are you going to listen to one who has not lived among you?’ he asked. ‘What can she and the man she speaks for offer you?’
‘An opportunity to be part of something that you have chosen for yourself! The world that Arthur offers is a world where everyone has a chance to be whatever they want to be.’
‘Is that what he’s told you? Why hasn’t he come himself? Does he see himself as more than you all?’ Mordred mused, shaking his head, before addressing those around them. ‘Most of you are magical beings. You belong in a world of magic. Anything less is an insult. Arthur not being here is an insult.’
‘Is the promise of freedom for all an insult? Aren’t you sick of living here, hiding in the shadows?’ Isolde argued. ‘Come with me and feel the light on your faces.’
‘And our crimes?’ one man called. ‘Will this boy absolve us of them?’
‘I can’t speak to that,’ Isolde replied. ‘But Arthur is fair and just. He will listen to you, as he listened to me.’
‘Whatever your crimes,’ Mordred said, lifting his voice. ‘They do not matter to me for as far as I can see, those crimes belong in the past, to the world that was, not the world that shall be.’
The debate went back and forth. To Lamorna, they were offering the same thing – freedom. The only difference was who would be granting it. To those listening, it was an impossible choice. They didn’t know Mordred or Arthur, and yet, they were being asked to choose.
Isolde cast her eyes over the audience. There was a wildness to her gaze Lamorna was intrigued by.
She was strong and had suffered. Isolde lifted her chin and pulled up her sleeves, baring her wrists.
Even from where she stood, Lamorna could see the angry red marks that circled her skin like terrible bracelets.
She sucked in a breath; Calla did the same, but Elaine’s lips curled into a devious smile.
Before Lamorna could ask what it meant, Isolde spoke.
‘I was forced to marry a man of the Sacellum,’ she said.
‘There was no love between us. He sought to control me, as others have sought to control you, my skinroaming cousins. You have been hunted and slain for what you are for centuries. While this man beat me and had me bound in silver,’—an angry murmur spread through the skinroamers—‘he did not break me.’ She paused, taking the time to look at each of her wild kin.
‘I cannot say what a world under Mordred of Cruithea would be like, but I can tell you, a world under Arthur Tregarthen, the prophesied king of the Old Ones, will be a world where you can be yourself without fear. I can attest to this because once he learnt of what I was, Arthur did not cast me out. He drew me into his circle. He showed compassion for me, for us and what we have been through. We need a leader who will stand up to men like him. You’re Cruithean most of you – surely this means something to you?
Inanna would not stand for this degree of mistreatment when she created a world where men and women were equal. ’
Lamorna could not take her eyes off Isolde’s face.
‘Inanna does not allow women to be beaten. She does not allow women to be subjugated. Mordred may be Cruithean, but it is my understanding that he turned from Inanna, and now he draws men like my husband close to him. I cannot say if he has allowed the poisonous words of the Sacellum to take root in his mind, and he would never admit that. So it is up to you to decide which one of us you will believe.’ Isolde did not say anymore, and when she looked across the clearing and met Lamorna’s eyes, Lamorna realised who Isolde’s husband was.
A tall man unfolded himself from the shadows.
He had wild hair and a beard that covered most of his face.
His shoulders were broad, and when he spoke, his voice was a rumbling purr.
‘I remember your grandfather,’ he told Isolde.
‘It has been a long time since I have heard his name. The moon has come and gone hundreds of times.’
Lamorna frowned. Hundreds of times? This man didn’t look much older than Mordred.
‘He’s a skinroamer,’ Alden whispered. ‘An ancient fey race, hunted almost to extinction.’
Isolde had called them kin, Lamorna realised, her eyes sliding back to the blonde woman.
The big skinroamer spoke once more. ‘Me and my clan will come with you to hear what this Arthur has to say, then I shall decide.’ There were nods, but a lot of people were shaking their heads.
The skinroamer eyed the humans with distaste.
‘You who hide from your own kind, who would skin me and mine for my pelts, do not follow us. After I leave here, I don’t want to see your faces again.
The only reason I have not torn out half of your throats is that Agravaine asked me not to. ’
At his words, people got to their feet. Arguments broke out. Lamorna slipped away from Mordred, hurrying towards Isolde, who eyed her with suspicion. Before she could open her mouth, the other man, the casual one, chuckled.
‘You’re her sister alright,’ he said.
Lamorna’s eyes widened. ‘What are you—’
‘No one except Jenyfer, perhaps our captain, would march across a cavern filled with potential allies and enemies to demand answers,’ he said smoothly. ‘Because that’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Let her speak, Iouen,’ Isolde said. She folded her arms, her sharp eyes piercing Lamorna’s face.
Lamorna was not sure what to say, how she should approach this woman.
She’d never heard of skinroamers before tonight and had no idea what Isolde could do or what magic she possessed.
It was a gamble. There was something haunted in Isolde’s eyes, something Lamorna understood – she had seen it in her sister’s eyes, in Calla’s, and in more women than she could count.
Perhaps it was that acknowledgement that drove her to speak.
She couldn’t change the past, where she hadn’t spoken up, but she could use her voice now.
She spoke low, so only Isolde and her companions could hear her. ‘Mark is at Dinas Emrys,’ she said.
The colour drained from Isolde’s face but instead of looking scared, her lips pulled back from her teeth and her canine’s elongated like a dogs. Lamorna took a hasty step backwards.
‘Why are you telling us this?’ It was the man with the cropped hair who spoke. He stood close to Isolde, close enough that Lamorna understood he was her lover.
‘He’s vile and I hate him. I thought you might like to know where he is,’ she added, before turning and walking away, heart pounding. Calla looked at her curiously, but Lamorna shook her head. Her hands were trembling. She could feel Isolde’s eyes boring into the back of her head.
‘What did you do?’ Calla demanded in a whisper, but Lamorna only shook her head.