Chapter 48
Before a storm broke over the world, there was always a moment of calm, of quiet, where all you could do was wait.
As a child, Katarin would hop from one foot to the other, anxiously anticipating what was to come.
She wasn’t patient then, and she wasn’t patient now.
They were in the calm before the storm, the barren nothingness of Camlann Plain stretched before them.
Arms folded, she stood in the entryway to her brother’s tent, glaring at the world.
Part of her wished Mordred would get on with it. The other part wished she was somewhere else. Behind her, Arthur and the others were sitting on the ground together, talking quietly. All the maps and battle plans had been put aside, and they were all stuck in this horrible waiting.
With a sigh, Katarin abandoned her scowling and plonked herself between Ordes and her brother.
Arthur gave her a fleeting smile and pressed a glass into her hands.
Kat drank, the rum scalding her throat. Her eyes watered but she took another drink, letting the alcohol burn its way into her stomach where it sat like a brooding thing.
It was the same feeling she’d have before she and her crew dropped anchor and strode into a village to rescue a woman from the stake, or whatever punishment had been decided for her.
Only, this was different. The confidence Katarin usually felt before such a big moment was gone.
The hardest thing was that no one could make any assurances.
None of them knew what to expect. None of them had ever done anything like this before, not even Halymere.
Kat had been through her share of sea battles, but even what had happened to The Night Queen seemed to pale in comparison to what they were facing.
People were going to die, and there wouldn’t be anything they could do to stop it. The only thing they could do was defend themselves with what they had.
And what they had wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.
Katarin turned to Ordes. His frown was deep, his expression so utterly conflicted she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.
Her usual snark and bite would not do well now.
She took a breath, exhaling sharply, thinking of what her mother would say in a moment like this.
‘I know you don’t want to do this, but we need you, Ordes.
None of us want to kill anyone – even me, if you believe it – but if there was ever a time to put aside what you value, it’s now. ’
‘If I do that, how does that make me any different to Mordred or my mother?’ Ordes asked. He traced the tattoos on his knuckles, his thumb circling over the one Kat knew said ‘magic’.
‘Because you’re not about to abuse your power for the sake of it,’ she said. ‘You’re going to use it to help your friends. You’re going to use it because it’s right and it might be the thing that decides everything.’
Ordes looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. Jenyfer’s hand came to rest on his leg and he gripped it tightly.
‘What about me?’ Jenyfer asked. ‘I can’t use my song when it risks hurting our own people.’
‘No,’ Halymere agreed. ‘Unless we can come up with a way to make us deaf to you.’
‘My magic doesn’t work on faeries anyway,’ Jenyfer reminded him, frowning. ‘What’s the point in having this power if I can’t use it when it’s needed?’
‘Maybe it isn’t,’ Arthur said. ‘You’ve already used your magic to save us, more than once. Maybe that’s enough.’
Jenyfer nodded. ‘So I don’t sing,’ she said. ‘But there is no way I’m staying here while the rest of you are out there fighting. There’s no water here either. It’ll be a sword or my bare hands, but I’m fighting.’
‘Jen—’ Ordes began.
‘You can’t protect me, Ordes. Not from this.
I need to do this, because isn’t this what everything has been leading to?
Every moment since I left Kernou – since you pulled me from that cage – has been building to this.
And it’s more than that. Mordred, Ulrian, the Konsel…
they’re symbols of everything that is wrong with this world, everything we want to change.
’ She took a deep breath. ‘I need to do this.’
‘Right,’ Kat said. ‘I guess we will try and get some sleep. The morning will bring what it brings I suppose.’
Everyone got to their feet and headed out. Kat realised her brother had not moved. He was sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest, his chin resting on them, his expression caught somewhere between sadness and determination.
‘Arthur, you need to sleep,’ she said.
‘Kat, if this goes wrong—’
‘It won’t.’
‘I’m not a warrior, Kat. I’ve tried to be, but it isn’t me.
I’m not made for battles and death. I understand that as much as I understand this was always going to happen, so if I die out there tomorrow, or the next day, I want you to promise me something,’ her brother said, looking up and meeting her eyes.
She swallowed, dropping to crouch before him. ‘Anything.’
‘Make sure no one gets their hands on this sword. It wasn’t made for mortal men. Bury it at the bottom of the sea, whatever, just don’t let anyone have it,’ Arthur said firmly.
‘I promise,’ Katarin whispered.
Olwen was waiting outside Arthur’s tent. She was frowning.
‘I guess you overheard that last part,’ Kat asked as they walked back to their tent. ‘And I’m going to guess by your face you don’t agree.’
They passed by the skinroamers’ camp. The fey were sitting around a smouldering fire, Isolde and Tristan lounging together.
The blonde woman glanced up at them, nodded, then returned her attention to her kin.
Katarin didn’t say it out loud but the skinroamers fascinated her.
The ability to change your shape into whatever you liked – what must that be like?
Merlin could do it, and now, so could Ordes.
It was magic Katarin couldn’t imagine possessing.
She glanced at Olwen. She could turn into red mist. Then there was Jenyfer, who changed her shape in the water.
Katarin had thought she understood magic because she could wield it, but being here, with all this power around her, she understood that she knew nothing.
Olwen didn’t say anything until they were in their tent. ‘He can’t get rid of it, and neither can you. Promise me you won’t.’
‘I promised my brother I would,’ Katarin said. ‘He’s our king, Olwen, or he will be soon, and—’
‘It was meant for him,’ Olwen argued. ‘Ereshki meant it for him.’
‘Maybe she meant for him to have it only for a time,’ Katarin said.
She sighed at the look on Olwen’s face. ‘Alright, I get it. I don’t know what your goddess wants, but neither do you, Olwen.
Unless she’s spoken to you directly, all you and your Sisters have are her words, which might not mean what you think. The Old Ones lie, all of them.’
Olwen put her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, before she sighed and plopped onto the bedroll. ‘You’re right.’
‘Well,’ Kat breathed. ‘I’m stunned. You’re not going to argue with me?’
Olwen’s lips quirked. ‘Do you want me to argue with you?’
Kat smiled. ‘It would be nice, yes.’
Olwen laughed. ‘Then come here and fight me, captain.’
Olwen stroked the side of Kat’s face, fingers finding the curve of her cheek and the line of her jaw. They hadn’t had enough of these moments, and Kat was filled with a fierce desire to make sure that, once this was all over, there would be more moments like these.
She rolled onto her side, tucking her head beneath Olwen’s chin, lips playing along the length of her collarbone. Olwen’s chuckle vibrated through her skin, making Kat’s lips tingle.
‘The Red Sisters you’ve brought with you – they’re here to fight?’
‘Of course. We’re soldiers, Kat,’ Olwen mumbled. ‘All of us who pledged our lives to Her.’ She sighed and linked her arms behind her head. ‘The Red Sisters are not all Magic Wielders.’
‘They’re not?’ Katarin was surprised. ‘I didn’t know that.’
Olwen’s lips curled. ‘We’re a secretive bunch.
Women are never turned away from the Ossuary, magic or not.
If they arrive on our doorstep needing help, it is given.
Much in the same way you and your former crew sailed around this continent pulling damned women from bonfires.
’ Her eyes flickered to Kat. ‘You were doing the Red One’s work even then, but you didn’t know it. ’
Kat frowned. ‘I’d like to think I was doing it because it was the right thing to do.’
‘It was – I’m not disputing that at all,’ Olwen said, sitting up.
She pushed an errant strand of hair from Kat’s cheek, traced the shape of Katarin’s lips with the tip of her finger.
‘The Red Sisters are organised into three groups – cabals, if you like. Seers, who speak with Ereshki’s voice; healers and midwives; and warriors, those like me, who train to use our magic like a weapon. ’
‘You don’t use the elements at all, do you?’ Katarin asked.
‘I can, but I don’t, no,’ Olwen said. ‘There is more power in blood – in the blood of a Magic Wielder – than there is in any of the elements alone. It’s only when they can be combined and used together that elemental magic is more than what you might be used to.’
‘Like Ordes?’ Kat guessed. ‘That’s where his power comes from now, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, and no.’
‘What will you do once this is over? Will you go back to the—’
Olwen surprised her by shaking her head. ‘I’ll be going with you.’
‘Where?’ Kat’s heart was hammering.
‘Cruithea.’
‘I already said I’m not sure if I’m not going back there,’ Kat declared but her voice shook. She sat up, the blanket curled around her chest. Olwen’s face was painted with golden and red flames from the lantern. ‘I’m not ready,’ Kat admitted finally.
‘You will be,’ Olwen said, pressing a kiss to Katarin’s bare shoulder. ‘Because I’ll be there to help you. Together, you and your brother will unite parts of this world that have been separated from one another for too long.’