Chapter 55
We burned Belle Garde on Accolon’s birthday, a blazing final tribute to the life we had all spent there.
Or the house was to burn, at least—the rest of the valley and its buildings had been made secure, protected by a shared enchantment between mine and Ninianne’s fairy magic that would ensure no one outside those who had lived there would remember what it once was, or that Morgan le Fay had been its mistress.
Mordred, or any other enemies of mine inclined to threaten my Vale of No Return, would find only a beautiful valley inhabited by wise and brave people, and know nothing else.
The household that remained settled into the lodges, with a voted council led by the huntsman holding the keys to the vault and Belle Garde’s future.
They would continue in their contentment, custodians of the valley’s prosperity and memories.
The land, the trees and rivers, the wilderness, would be renamed in honour of its native tongue and most steadfast residents and once again be called Ynys-y-Pia. Isle of the Magpies.
The flame enchantment I had designed would preserve everything except the house—not a leaf, branch or blade of grass would be touched.
The beech tree would remain, and its generations of magpies who had taught me so much, with their chatter, mischief and loyalty.
Their matriarch, still thriving, presided over all.
Robin’s carnedd would endure for all time, a future curiosity for enquiring minds.
Standing on the front green, arms raised, it was easier than I thought to engulf the building in my column of bright blue fire. We had lived well and happily in this place.
Beside me, Alys and Tressa stood hands entwined, watching our past burn so we could walk a cleansed path towards the future.
“Are you sure you don’t wish to stay?” I had asked them countless times, and again as the flames began to sing. “There truly is no coming back from this. It is forever.”
Tressa, forthright as ever, spoke first. “My loyalty is to you, and my heart. Wherever Alys goes, I go.”
With sudden speed, the fire overcame the turret, magic straining within me as it fought with the stones, turning the building into finest ash. Before long, only a patch of earth would remain beside the silver spring, to grow over with wildflowers and tell no tales.
I looked then to Alys, my first true friend. The wisest, most faithful woman I would ever know; the one I loved best.
“And you?” I asked her. “I cannot promise I will never again cause chaos.”
Alys smiled, the same mischievous glint in her golden-brown eyes I had seen on that very first day in St. Brigid’s Abbey.
“I swore you an oath,” she said. “I meant it to be no less than eternity.”
*
The meeting place Ninianne had set was a stone circle at equal distance between Belle Garde, Salisbury Plain and the wooded river shore where we would leave for Avalon.
Ninianne would come to us by noon, she had said, after several days following our careful plans. By now, she would have spoken to Arthur and heard his decision, and seen the battle play out. If Avalon was his choice, she would ensure the safe conveyance of his slain body to where we awaited her.
“Will he truly be dead?” Tressa asked, as the sun crept towards its peak.
“If Ninianne’s assumption proves true,” I replied.
“Of all the prophecies, she believes this one holds the most weight in Arthur’s life.
From any viewpoint, it’s hard to argue with.
Mordred’s army is large and unwearied. He has the support of many barons.
The Knights of the Round Table were decimated by the Grail Quest and are divided between Arthur’s and Lancelot’s factions.
Circumstance, at least, will be in Mordred’s favour. ”
Even the land had made its prediction: at Salisbury Plain there stood a stone marked with the declaration that the very place would be the site of King Arthur’s last battle.
Despite my scepticism, the signs were hard to deny.
My brother’s destiny within the Crown of All Britain had begun and would end with words carved into a stone.
The thought shivered through me, along with the fact that it was already over. If all had come to pass, the next time I saw Arthur he would be dead. To reverse this would be to pit my healing skills against a fate written into the stars since the beginning of time.
I felt a hand on my arm, drawing me back to the present: dense green grass beneath my feet; the ancient stones made to weather any storm; Alys’s face, assuring me I had a part to play in it all.
“You will heal him, cariad,” she said. “If anyone can change the future, it is you.”
It had long been her greatest gift—that when she spoke, I listened, and trusted her every word. She always made me believe the impossible was within my reach.
“Look,” Tressa called. “She comes.”
We spun around to see a figure cresting the hill on her pure-white horse, violet robes flowing, her hair aflame under the midday sun. Ninianne of the Lake, perfectly on time.
However, not all was as she had promised. She was alone.
Arthur had not come.
Before we had a chance to form any questions, she had galloped into the stone circle and dismounted, her gleam blinding with haste and fervour.
“King Arthur is alive,” she said. “The battle at Salisbury Plain was a stalemate. After unexpected blows dealt to both sides, Sir Mordred retreated to his command post at Camlann Field, and his men followed.”
I realized then that my brother’s survival was the last report I thought I would hear, and the relief of it knocked me sideways. I put my arm out and steadied myself against one of the stones. His absence was a miracle, not a failure.
“So Arthur has defeated the prophecy,” I said. “He is free.”
I expected to sense the same elation from Ninianne but she didn’t respond, gazing off into the distance, her presence stilled. A whisper of unease cut through my joy.
“And Avalon?” I asked. “What was his decision?”
“He has not made one,” Ninianne replied.
“Mordred’s troops ambushed the King’s men hours early, so when I arrived, they were already in the thick of battle.
Afterwards, King Arthur rode off before I had the chance to speak to him.
” She held up her hands and regarded them helplessly.
“I thought I would have enough power to help him in the fight, but the magic, the conflict and bloodshed…I could not do a thing.”
I reached out and took her hands in mine; her light still shone, but she was cold. This world, everything she had witnessed, had exhausted her.
“When I heard he still lived, I rode to the woodland where his men were garrisoned, but he wasn’t there either. The story was that he ordered them to their place of safety, then never arrived himself. I rode around for days, searching and waiting for news, but neither came.”
“Perhaps he’s at another castle, preparing his next move?” Alys suggested.
Ninianne shook her head. “Mordred had already taken control of every fortress and allied castle within fifty miles. That’s why Camelot’s knights are regrouping in the forest. King Arthur is alive but alone—that’s all anyone knows.”
As they continued to speculate, I closed my eyes and reached into my core, to the blue-and-white waves undulating beneath Tintagel’s cliffs.
The vision came at once, proving my brother alive, but his presence was elsewhere, his response only a whisper of a breeze.
He was distracted, sad, alone in the deepest shadows of his spirit.
“What about Guinevere?” I said. “Could he have gone to her?”
“It’s not possible,” Ninianne said. “The Queen rode to an abbey, where she immediately took the veil and went into deep seclusion where no men, whatever their rank, are permitted to enter. The King knows this, and could not see her if he tried.”
“Then Arthur has nothing,” I mused.
Ninianne nodded. “Nor does he have a compelling reason to go anywhere.”
It was somewhat true, but not what I meant.
I paced away from them, into the circle of stones, thinking of my brother and all that had befallen him in such a short few months.
Arthur was free of every prophecy—his decisions and future were in his hands for the first time in his life. It was a miracle, and yet…
From the moment he was born he had never known the pathway of his life to be uncharted, or been unsure of what was coming next.
To Arthur, with his preordained existence, this sudden liberation from certainty must have felt like a confusion so vast and deep he could not begin to see his way through.
Ninianne called across to me. “Time grows short. We must leave regardless.”
I looked back at her, standing beside Alys and Tressa, all three of them expectant, their bodies tilted towards the direction we must head, while I felt rooted, pulled back.
“Go to the departure place for Avalon,” I told them. “Await me there.”
“Not without you,” Alys said.
“You have to,” I insisted. “It is the only way.”
“We must travel before the moon wanes,” Ninianne said. “The magic will not hold another month. If we miss this opportunity… ”
“You won’t,” I insisted. “If I’m not there, you must sail without me.”
Alys and Tressa began to protest, so I strode across and took one each of their hands, forming our eternal circle. “I will come, I swear it. Arthur and I both.”
“This is a great risk to take, Morgan,” Ninianne said. “Even for the King. He has survived the prophecy and may fight on for years, but your future cannot be delayed.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. Arthur needs me now, more than ever. I won’t leave him, not again.”
Their faces showed only hesitation, but it was the simplest decision I had ever made. I was on my horse and setting forth when Ninianne put her hand on my reins.
“How will you even begin to find him?” she said. “He could be anywhere.”
“Trust me,” I replied. “If I know my brother, there is only one place he will be.”