Chapter 22
It was late in the evening when the pirate captain strode beneath Dinas Emrys’ battlements like he owned the place.
Lamorna watched him from her window. He was tall and mean-looking, a pistol at one hip and a cutlass at the other.
The captain spoke to one of the men at the gate, who raced off to deliver whatever message he’d been given.
Two men were with him, from his crew no doubt, and they were supporting a body between them – Bryn.
Lamorna turned from the window and hurried to the hall, where she knew Mordred would be waiting, meeting the guard from the gate on the way. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she announced, dismissing the man.
Alden was in the hall with Mordred. They were deep in whispered conversation, Mordred seated in the larger of the two thrones.
He often sat there, but rarely did she sit in the smaller throne beside him.
It felt strange to sit there, to not truly be a queen but be playing the role of one.
Now though, she joined him. Alden moved away to stand at Mordred’s other side.
Lamorna wanted to say something about it but didn’t.
Alden had been Mordred’s second in command in Cruithea, and he’d obviously retained his position.
‘Your pirate is here,’ Lamorna said instead. ‘With two men, and Bryn.’
Mordred smiled. ‘Let’s see who he has brought us then, my love.’
They waited, and when the doors were opened and the captain swept inside, one hand on his weapon, Lamorna tensed.
He was a lot bigger than he’d seemed from her window, with wild black hair swept back in a series of braids and a thick beard.
He wore a long-coat similar to ones she’d seen before, black boots and a red sash around his middle.
The other men entered, carrying Bryn with them.
Lamorna noted his hands and feet were bound, but before she could say anything, Mordred spoke.
‘Your name?’ he asked the pirate.
‘Marsh, Captain of The Black Rose,’ the man announced. ‘Before you ask me to hand over my weapons, the answer is fuck off.’
Mordred chuckled. ‘You may keep your weapons. But know that I could remove them from you without having to leave my seat.’ Flames curled in his palm and Lamorna knew it for what it was – posturing. She hated it, the way men had to do this. She’d seen far too much of it lately.
The captain shrugged his shoulders then gestured to his men, who brought forward an unconscious Bryn, dumping him on the ground between Mordred and their captain.
‘Your man was bit,’ Marsh said. ‘We had to knock him out to get him back here. I did think about leaving him, but then I reasoned that would not be the most efficient start to our relationship, would it?’
‘What bit him?’ Mordred rose from his seat to crouch close to Bryn.
Lamorna did not move, but from where she sat, she could see the unhealthy pallor of Bryn’s skin and the way his chest rose in ragged breaths.
A dark stain on Bryn’s shirt ran from his neck to his waist, and when Mordred pulled back the material, he swore and sucked in a breath.
Lamorna’s heart sped. Bryn’s flesh was torn and bloodied.
Marsh shrugged. ‘A wolf came running at us in the darkness, all teeth and claws. Ripped one of my men to pieces before it sank its teeth into yours. When it was dead, it wasn’t a wolf at all, but a woman. Never seen that before. Some sort of faery then?’
Mordred stood, stepping away from Bryn’s unconscious form. He glanced down on the other man for a moment, then sighed. ‘You met a fey wolf, a shapeshifter of sorts. Where was this?’
‘Between the river and here. We had to drop anchor far too close to Malist for my liking – those blasted Warriors of the Light were patrolling outside what is left of the city,’ the captain said.
‘You’d better make my journey worth it, boy.
’ He glanced around, taking in the room – the faded tapestries and the dirt-soaked carpet.
‘Right then,’ he said. ‘What does his lordship in his fancy castle want with a lowly pirate captain?’
‘I’ve a bounty, if you’re interested.’ Mordred returned to his seat beside Lamorna. Marsh swaggered towards the table, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol. His men had not removed their hands from their weapons either. Lamorna swallowed. Her eyes kept returning to Bryn.
‘And what might that be?’ Marsh demanded.
‘Bring me the captain of The Excalibur and all this’ – Mordred waved his hand; a large bag of coins appeared on the table between them – ‘is yours.’
‘Le Fey is captain now,’ Marsh declared.
‘Is she?’ Mordred mumbled. ‘The former captain of The Excalibur then.’
‘The father or the son?’ Marsh demanded.
‘The son, unless you want to die,’ Mordred said calmly, sitting back in his chair.
Marsh barked his laughter. ‘You think I’m scared of Tymis Merlyni?’
‘You should be,’ Mordred said, then, at Marsh’s chuckle, ‘You don’t know what he is, do you?’
‘He’s a madman. An egotist.’
‘He’s the Myrddin, you fool – the most powerful Magic Wielder in the world, and he’s got his magic back. So by all means, try and bring me Merlin, but you may as well slit your own throats,’ Mordred said.
Silence fell, thick and dark, before Marsh laughed.
‘I don’t believe in all that shit – prophecies, gods. The only thing I trust in is the sea.’
‘And who do you think rules that?’ Lamorna put in sharply. She didn’t like this pirate. She didn’t like the tone of his voice or the disrespect he’d shown them since he arrived.
Marsh glared at her. ‘The son then.’
Mordred nodded. ‘The son.’
The Captain of the Black Rose chuckled. ‘I look forward to it. I owe the little cunt.’ He paused, exchanging a glance with his men. ‘Magic Wielder or not, Ordes had his chance to run me through and he didn’t take it. Heard he took some stupid oath not to use his magic to kill.’
‘You’d be best not to discount him so easily, to discount any of them,’ Lamorna said.
Marsh’s eyebrows lifted. ‘What about Le Fey?’
‘I’m not interested in her,’ Mordred said.
‘And the syhren?’ Marsh asked. ‘I’m assuming you’re interested in her?’
Mordred nodded. ‘I’d like her in one piece.’
‘That bitch used her magic on me and cost me a night of pleasure.’ Marsh shrugged. ‘We’ve got a score to settle. Can’t guarantee her safety.’
‘You will,’ Lamorna snapped. ‘That’s my sister.’
The captain’s smirk froze.
‘She threatened to cut my throat,’ Marsh snarled.
‘Hurt her and I will cut your throat,’ Lamorna declared sharply. Her heart was beating dangerously loud.
‘Do we have a deal?’ Mordred asked.
The captain strode forward to close his hand around the bag of coins; his fingers passed straight through it. He snarled, dark eyes shooing to Mordred in distrust.
‘You didn’t think I was giving you payment up front, did you?
’ Mordred chuckled. ‘Ordes first. But here – a little something to show you I’m serious.
’ He reached into his pocket and removed a pouch of coins, tossing it to Marsh, who caught it.
He opened the pouch and removed a coin, holding it up, examining it.
When he was satisfied it was real, he turned his attention back to Mordred.
‘And the boy? This… Arthur?’
‘Is not to be touched,’ Mordred said, his voice like death.
Marsh folded his arms. ‘Let me get this straight – you’re asking me to attack The Excalibur, a magical ship, face off with the magical bitch Le Fey, Ordes and his syhren half-breed and you expect me to do it—’
‘If you’re asking for help, spit it out,’ Mordred cut in.
Colour rose in the captain’s cheeks. ‘None of my crew are Magic Wielders. We heard what Le Fey and her people did to the Sacellum’s armada a few months back. I’m not sailing to my doom, not for all the gold on this gods-forsaken continent.’
Mordred held Marsh’s eyes, then smiled. ‘Of course not. I’ll send a couple of Sheletari with you.’
‘You want me to let those red-robed bastards on my ship?’
‘No, I want you to do what I ask,’ Mordred said, his smile falling away. ‘It’s a new world I’m building here, Captain, and if you and your crew want to be part of it, you’ll play by my rules or you won’t play at all.’
‘Fine,’ Marsh snarled eventually.
Three Witchfinders were brought into the hall.
‘Their names—’ the man who had brought them began.
‘I don’t care what their names are,’ Marsh snapped. He ran his gaze over the Witchfinders, who gave him a look of distaste. ‘We leave at dawn. You got any rum in this shitty castle?’
‘Alden will find you what you need, and you will be given beds for the night. When you leave here, it will be with full bellies and enough supplies to last the trip back to your ship. I hope you remember my hospitality, Marsh.’
The captain and his men, including the three Witchfinders, were led away by Alden.
Lamorna frowned. ‘We don’t have enough supplies for ourselves, Mordred.’
He gave her a sharp look. ‘It’s under control.’
‘Alright. What will capturing Ordes achieve? Melodias wants you to kill Merlin, not his son.’
Mordred smiled. ‘There is nothing in this world powerful enough to capture Merlin, my love, except perhaps love itself.’ He sighed.
‘I am assuming there is love between the father and the son. I guess we shall find out. If our good captain can bring me Ordes, Merlin will come for him. And then, I will do as the God of the Seas wants and I will kill him.’
‘Why though?’ Lamorna pressed. She wasn’t sure what killing the Prophet of the Gods would achieve.
‘Because then he can’t meddle any longer.
He can’t be the one to offer Arthur advice.
’ Mordred shifted in his seat. ‘Don’t you see?
If I can break this little fellowship my cousin has built around himself, then I can break him.
Arthur is not strong on his own, Lamorna.
A man who has never been able to make his own decisions cannot possibly make the right ones, especially not alone. ’
‘And if Merlin doesn’t come for Ordes?’ Lamorna asked.
‘Then I have a Queen waiting out there in the darkness, her magic at my disposal.’
She shivered at the mention of Medb. Bryn was still on the floor at Mordred’s feet, bound like an animal. ‘What do we do with him? And what bit him?’
And that moment, Calla entered the hall. She marched straight past Bryn’s body. ‘The pirate and his men are currently in the kitchen. They have ale and food, and rooms are being prepared for them.’
Mordred nodded. ‘Thank you, Calla. Now, can you find someone to deal with that?’ he asked, pointing at Bryn. ‘Make sure he remains bound. Tightly, for everyone’s safety.’
Calla smiled and nodded.
Lamorna cleared her throat as she poured Mordred some tea.
Their rooms grew shadowy in the late evening – there was no moon out tonight, and outside the halo of candlelight, the world was dark and broody.
Mordred looked troubled. His spine was stiff and he kept stroking his forehead, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair.
Lamorna set the tea down on the small table before him. ‘Where is Bryn?’
Mordred raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you care?’
‘I’m wondering,’ she said dismissively. ‘If he’s been bitten by that… thing… isn’t he dangerous?’
Lamorna had spent the remainder of the day with Calla, going over supply lists and working out how much a bunch of pirates needed to eat.
She had never heard of the fey wolves, but Calla had shared the only thing she knew for sure – that if you were bitten by one, you would become like them.
She had said the wolf people were dangerous, and that they weren’t faeries exactly but something else.
Bryn would eventually go insane from the magic that now flowed through him.
Lamorna could not help but smile at the irony of it all.
‘He won’t turn for a while. The wolf people are not truly shapeshifters – they cannot change their form whenever they wish. They are beholden to the phases of the moon, and they are vicious when they change,’ Mordred explained. ‘But he is somewhere where he cannot harm anyone when he does.’
‘Where?’ Lamorna demanded. ‘I want to see.’
Mordred took hold of her hand, stroking his thumb over her palm. ‘Why?’
‘Because I told him I would watch him die, but perhaps this is the next best thing,’ she said.
Mordred laughed and kissed her, then told her to follow him.
It was dark in the castle late at night, and they saw no one except for the guards.
Lamorna followed Mordred down several flights of stairs, wondering where they were.
‘All good castles have a place to keep prisoners,’ Mordred told her as they made their way through a narrow hall.
There were no lanterns, so Mordred took down a torch and lit it with a wave of his hand.
The stone walls glinted in the torch light.
As her eyes adjusted, Lamorna realised where they were.
The cells. Each one was small, large enough for a man or two, with thick bars to keep people in.
The air was damp and musty, with a chill beneath it that tried to burrow into Lamorna’s bones and make her teeth chatter.
She thought she could smell decaying vegetation and rotten things.
She was relieved to see the cells were empty.
Mordred continued past them all, until he stopped in front of one at the far end of the room.
A horrible, bitter laugh echoed through the darkness, and Lamorna jolted.
Mordred brought the torch closer.
Bryn’s face was filthy, as was the wound on his shoulder. His shirt had been removed, and his skin glowed in the darkness.
They stared at one another for a long time before she finally asked, ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Yes.’ Bryn’s voice was a low snarl.
‘Good,’ she said simply. Mordred chuckled.
Bryn’s eyes moved to him. ‘Kill me. Kill me before I become this… thing. I can feel it under my skin, changing me, sinking inside me. I can’t fight it.’
‘No,’ Mordred agreed. ‘You can’t.’ He handed Lamorna the torch and moved closer to the bars, tapping his fingers along them.
Bryn launched himself at the cold steel.
Lamorna jumped back, but Mordred did not move.
A metallic sound snapped through the air.
Lamorna frowned, lifting the torch higher.
A metal cuff sat tightly around Bryn’s ankle, and a chain led off into the darkness.
He growled, an animal sound that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
He tried again to reach Mordred, but the chain held firm.
‘My very own beast on a leash,’ Mordred said.
Bryn bared his teeth.
‘Soon, everything that made you human will slide away from you like a skin you no longer want. There is nothing anyone can do to stop it. The bite of the fey wolf has no cure, Bryn.’
‘Then kill me!’ Bryn shouted.
‘No,’ Mordred said. He turned, met Lamorna’s gaze, then motioned she was to follow him. She took one last look at Bryn and left, his shouts and snarls echoing behind her.