Chapter 54
Several weeks later, after deep discussions with Alys and Tressa, much planning with the household, and many preparations had been made, Ninianne returned.
Our own arrangements were set—we had our meeting place to sail for Avalon, and an hourglass turned on our departure.
With war now on Britain’s shores and the magic draining ever more quickly, Ninianne said we must leave before the next full moon or there would not be enough fairy strength left in her to convey us from these shores.
She had not yet asked my brother if he would take the journey with us, so as not to distract him before the time was right.
Otherwise, she brought much news. As I had hoped, Arthur had rushed back to Guinevere in time to break Mordred’s siege of the Tower of London and ensure his wife’s escape.
Rumour had it Sir Mordred, now stripped of his advantage, his political marriage and the lie of Arthur’s death, had ridden to Camelot and destroyed it in a fit of temper.
“King Arthur is furious and battles Sir Mordred’s forces wherever he can,” Ninianne said.
“Though it will soon be over. Merlin prophesied his last stand would be at Salisbury Plain, and they meet there in a few days. It seems the prediction will prove true—the King’s numbers are depleted without Lancelot’s men, and he refuses to ask him for help. ”
“Because of Guinevere?” I said.
She shook her head. “The Queen too tried to reason with him, to no avail. King Arthur refuses to summon him because he says it will take too long for any army to arrive from Benoic. But in truth, after everything, I believe he thinks Lancelot will not come.”
“That sounds like my brother,” I said. “Stubborn to the last.”
She nodded, her presence enigmatic but soothing. Lancelot will be here, her mind said to mine. He will find a way.
“Then we are ready,” I said. “There is nothing left but to wait.”
“Yes, there is,” she said gently. “Your own request. Are you ready?”
“No, and I never will be,” I replied. “But I must do what is best.”
*
Ninianne said to meet upon the cusp of sunset, and I awaited her at the foot of the lake path. I was watching the light lengthen the shadows across the joust meadow when I felt her warmth, spreading like wings of comfort across my back.
We walked slowly, a lengthy procession I was grateful for, emerging beneath the flourishing apple trees just as the copper-gold sun touched the western horizon.
I did not have to call for him. Accolon appeared beneath the willow, regarding me with his usual contented admiration, as if happy just to look upon my face.
“I’ve made a decision,” I told him. “I am not free unless both of us are.”
He glanced at Ninianne lingering behind, then back at me. Over the past weeks we had spoken at length about Avalon, Belle Garde, my future and his. He knew what I meant.
“How is it done?” he asked.
“The water knows,” I replied. “Oui?”
He smiled then, in his eternal way, curved-bow lip rising, his eyes dark and tender, so sure of his love. Accolon, my Gaul, charming and beautiful. Mine in life and beyond death.
“Oui,” he said.
As quickly as that, we had chosen. Ourselves, and one another.
I turned to Ninianne, waiting patiently at the lakeshore. “It’s time,” I said.
She gestured to the water. “Sir Accolon of Gaul, you know what you wish to do.”
I frowned in confusion, but he seemed to understand exactly what she meant. In a few strides he too was at the water’s edge, the lake’s silver-blue sheen glittering through him. He looked back at me and held out his hand.
“Morgan,” he said, and I didn’t hesitate. I followed him into the lake as I so often had, until I was up to my waist, the water singing like angels in my veins. Accolon and I faced one another, in this haven we had found, for the final time.
Ninianne watched us from the bank until she was satisfied, then glided into the lake with incredible ease, small waves leaping at her body as if in celebration. When she was half immersed, she put her palms flat to the sapphire surface and closed her eyes.
“Llyn Glas,” she declared, in her low, irresistible voice.
“I am Ninianne of the Lake, and come in great respect. Your depths hold the soul of this man—Sir Accolon of Gaul. His heart was given to the water in an act of love and magic, bonded to the elements and made strong by the lake’s grace.
He is grateful, and always will be, for your sanctuary, but I ask you now to unbind him and return his essence to its liberty. ”
She held her hands against the quivering surface, listening. Whatever language she and the water spoke, it was beyond my younger skills. For this, I was not yet fairy enough. Nevertheless, I felt the water give, its acceptance of her request.
Ninianne scooped up the clear liquid and threw a scatter of droplets into the air, drawing a pair of waves up either side of her body.
As she lifted her hands higher, so followed the lake, roaring but controlled.
A smile of pleasure and triumph gleamed on her face, and I could feel her exhilaration rippling across the space between us, from the element she loved flowing through her core.
In all our years known to one another, I had never seen her like this, in full command of her magic.
I had known many magical feats, but to be with the Lady of the Lake in this moment, at her most powerful, was to be in the presence of an ancient goddess, an experience as humbling as it was transcendent.
In a sweep of Ninianne’s arms, a coliseum of water rose up around me and Accolon, a glassy wall shot through with sun and elemental power. Its shimmer surrounded us until we could see nothing but one another, alone again within the lake’s embrace.
Immediately, Accolon’s image began to change, turning translucent until he was made entirely of stars. Around us, the water shifted, ripples turning to gentle waves, and I felt the lake reach for him, pulling him away and into its depths.
“I don’t know if I can bear this,” I said. “How can I watch you leave me again?”
At the sound of my doubt, Accolon stopped, resisting the lake’s pull, and regarded me with a stormy, boundless look, fierce in its love. Above, the sky darkened, clouds gathering close and slate blue, the scent on the breeze metallic, vital. A thrilling tension gripped the air, waiting to burst.
“You can bear it,” my Gaul said. “We both can, knowing this is not forever.”
He reached for me, and his true hands landed on my waist. Suddenly, he was whole—his touch, his body as I had always known it, warm and strong and present, cleaving itself to mine.
Whatever the water had done, I understood it would not sustain, but I savoured every sensation as he took me into his arms and pulled me to him, no closeness ever enough for us; two halves creating one entity.
I put my arms around his neck as he kissed me, and I kissed him, for the last time in this place of ours that our love had made sacred.
I felt his hands at my back, in my hair, our colliding touch giving way to a cascade of memories, every moment of our life together rushing between us like a river towards the sea.
There would be no forgetting; the water would remember us.
Accolon gazed at me as if he could look at my face for all time and never tire, until the sensation of his hands left my body and his presence once again turned to stardust.
“It’s too soon,” I said. “Promise me this is not the end.”
He smiled again in his particular way, and my heart fluttered as it had the very first time. “There is no end for us, Morgan,” he replied. “Nothing in life or death can keep us apart for long.”
Above, the sky split with lightning, clouds meeting in a thunderous crash.
Warm rain began to fall, hitting the lake like diamonds, giving rise to a glorious elemental song all around us.
The torrent shimmered through Accolon’s body, skies alive in the depths of his tempest-coloured eyes. Now and forever, we were a storm.
“I love you, Sir Accolon of Gaul,” I said. “Too much—far too much.”
“I love you too, mon coeur,” he replied. “Look for me when it rains.”
There were no goodbyes, because it would never be over between us.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, followed immediately by a tremendous crash as the circle of water came down.
Through sheets of rain, I saw Ninianne settle the waves, her hands flickering over its peaks and troughs, in complete control of everything around us.
She looked at me and I bowed my head in assent.
“Release him,” she called, and the lake obeyed her at once.
Keeping his eyes on mine, Accolon’s presence receded as the water took him, his form dispersing across the surface as stars, the storm still raging above us. Ninianne dropped her hands, relinquishing her hold; the lake would do what it had promised.
I turned my eyes back to the man I loved and watched him set free.
The water stilled where he had vanished, his essence rippling outwards in bands of light, then rising, rising, rays of silver cast up into rain and across the dark-blue sky. In the lake, I sensed him no longer, and instead, my heart felt him everywhere.
And I remained in Llyn Glas, in the wake of Accolon’s liberated soul, with the rain on my face and his touch imprinted on my skin, until the storm had played its last note and was gone.