Chapter 50
Lamorna smoothed away her frown before anyone noticed, dropping her eyes to her hands resting on the tabletop.
If anyone wondered why she was there, none of them had been brave enough to question it.
She didn’t usually sit in on the war council or whatever Mordred called it, but today, with Arthur’s forces not far away and the first part of this war about to start, she decided she must.
She refused to think of Arthur as the enemy, not while her sister was out there as well.
The table was covered in a map of Teyath.
There were lines drawn all over the open space that denoted Camlann Plain.
Mordred was in the middle of a speech of sorts, discussing where his troops would be.
Lamorna didn’t understand war talk and strategy, so she watched him closely instead, noting the tension in his shoulders, the unhealthy pallor to his skin, the glaze to his eyes.
If any of the men saw the same things she did, they kept silent.
Tomorrow. Their world would be turned on its head tomorrow. Part of her was glad they had finally arrived at this. She was tired of waiting, tired of the tension the unknown brought.
But another part of her was terrified.
She was going to lose him – her acceptance of the fact sat in her belly, tormented and twisted, growing stronger and feeding on her fear and the pre-emptive ache of loss.
In her dreams last night, Mordred had been wearing a skull for a face.
Every time Lamorna glanced at him now, she saw the shape of his bones.
What would happen to her when he died?
She was pulled out of her thoughts by the word ‘dragon’. Mordred’s eyes skated to her. He held her gaze a moment, then looked away and she was reminded of all the ways she’d failed him. In the back of her mind, Firestorm snorted, as if he disagreed with her.
‘We cannot rely on the beast,’ he said, turning back to his men.
Mark, with his shorn head and fading red robes, had replaced Bryn at Mordred’s side.
His arms were folded and he frowned at the table.
Once a powerful man of the Sacellum, he looked only tired and scared.
Next to him was a Cruithean woman, Saine, one of the Inborn, loyal to Mordred and the cause.
Lamorna suspected the woman would throw herself into the Pit if Mordred asked it.
Also gathered around the table was Mordred’s uncle, Agravaine.
He had arrived sometime the day before with a group of men.
Lamorna had not gone with Mordred to meet him.
She didn’t like him, and she didn’t trust him.
He had shifty eyes and looked at Mordred like he was some sort of prize.
Mordred didn’t see that. Lamorna wasn’t sure what he saw these days.
The final member of their council was a skinroamer with arms like tree trunks and a face covered in fur. He didn’t speak, and more than once, Lamorna had felt his strange animal eyes on her.
Medb, for all her talk of alliances, had sent no one.
The door to the Hall suddenly flung open. Elaine marched inside, wisps of red mist trailing her. Her face was hard, lips a thin line. She paused, then in a voice louder than Lamorna had ever heard her use, said, ‘Out.’
No one moved. Hands brushed weapons.
Elaine fixed Mordred in her blind glare. He sighed, dismissing his men with a wave of his hand. Agravaine mumbled something as he left, eyeing Elaine with hatred. Lamorna tensed, but the Red Sister smiled at him.
‘I’ve Seen you burn. The Pit awaits you, Agravaine,’ she said.
He scowled then left, and the sound of the door snapping closed was like a warning. She licked her lips as Elaine approached, magic trailing her like a cloak. The Red Sister was furious.
Mordred folded his arms, waiting until she had drawn close to him. ‘Interrupting meetings now, Elaine. That isn’t what you are—’
She slapped him, hard. The sound echoed around the Hall, sharp and stinging.
Lamorna gasped.
‘You are a fool. You do not do Her work, Mordred,’ the Red Sister snapped. ‘You have left the path She set you on.’
‘I know my path,’ he growled, touching his cheek.
‘Do you? Was your path to walk in shadow and death? You think that is what the Red One wants for you, for this world?’ Elaine demanded.
‘She is death and shadow, Elaine, or have you in the Ossuary forgotten that?’ Mordred spat.
Elaine’s glare could cut stone. Rage lived in every line of her body. Lamorna swallowed, suddenly very frightened, but she couldn’t say why.
‘She is the Two in One – she is death and she is life, as Inanna is. The fact that you cannot see that means you do not truly understand Her, understand either of them. You turned from Inanna to Ereshki, not understanding, as your mother did not understand, that you cannot have one without the other!’ Elaine said, shaking her head.
‘You serve a goddess, but it is not the one you think!’
‘I serve Ereshki,’ Mordred declared from between his teeth.
‘You serve Niniane,’ Elaine corrected harshly.
‘She who would destroy this world – again – for her own vanity, for her self-importance. You are her puppet, Mordred, without her ever having to lift a finger in your direction. If there is one thing the Goddess of Magic has always known, it is that men are weak. They are easy to manipulate. All she has had to do this time is sit back and wait for you to follow the same path as the man who once sat in that chair.’
Mordred opened his mouth to rebuke her, but she waved her hand and he could not speak. His eyes widened in horror, clutching at his throat.
‘Such a simple trick, one that you should have been able to resist,’ Elaine murmured.
Then, louder, ‘Ereshki did not become the One God so you could start a war in Her name. It was not you She saw. It was not your face that She put in the Myrddin’s head.
It was not for you that she became a scapegoat for all that was wrong in this world. ’
Mordred’s face twisted but, bound by Elaine’s magic, he had no choice but to listen.
‘Stop it,’ Lamorna whispered, pushing back her chair and standing. ‘Elaine, stop it.’
The Red Sister ignored her. Her fury was for Mordred, and she had made sure he would hear her.
‘I did not agree with letting you learn the magic because I Saw this – your end, when it should have been your beginning. But I also Saw that without you, none of this would have happened. What we all failed to understand – what the Red One failed to understand – was that you are a man who has already wielded power. You had a taste of it from the cradle and grew to desire even more of it. That was our mistake,’ she added.
She waved her hand again and Mordred was free.
He clenched his fists, murder in his eyes.
‘Do not,’ Elaine warned him icily.
Lamorna, horrified, hurried around the table. She took hold of Mordred’s hand and tried to make him sit. He shook her off, his body trembling with rage.
‘And my cousin? Is he not a man who desires power?’ he snarled.
‘Of course he does – it is a fundamental flaw of the men of this world.’ Elaine’s eyes shifted to Lamorna, who froze. ‘She understands this.’
Lamorna swallowed burning ash and smoke. Her eyes drifted to her throne, which she suddenly wanted to burn to the ground.
‘But the difference between you and your cousin is this – you want control, you who have never truly been controlled, no matter what you might believe. You want power. You want it to benefit you more than those around you. Arthur, who has lived under the yoke of mistreatment, misused power and control, sees what you cannot, Mordred: choice and consequence.’
Mordred’s chest heaved as he took ragged breaths. Sweat littered his forehead and his eyes were harder than Lamorna had ever seen them. She was scared of him, of Elaine, of all of it. She glanced at the stained-glass window, where the man wearing Arthur’s face looked back at her.
‘You have surrounded yourself with sycophants to fill the emptiness that lives inside you,’ Elaine said. ‘You have made the wrong choice, and I think you know this.’
‘Get out.’ Mordred spoke from between his teeth, his voice like cold death. ‘Now, Elaine. I don’t want to see you again.’
Elaine inclined her head and left.
Mordred sank into a seat. Tremors wracked his body. Lamorna cleared her throat.
‘Mordred—’
‘You too,’ he whispered. ‘I need to be alone.’
Lamorna bit her lip, hesitating. She reached for him, then snatched her hand back and hurried after Elaine. At the doors to the Hall, she glanced at Mordred over her shoulder.
He was sitting in shadow, and she could not see his face.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lamorna was surprised to find Elaine waiting for her outside the Hall. The Red Sister was silent, her milky eyes on Lamorna’s face, then, bluntly: ‘Do you want to leave?’
Lamorna frowned. ‘Leave?’
‘Yes, Lamorna,’ Elaine said with the faintest hint of exasperation, with the anger she had displayed in the Hall. ‘I shared my vision with you – you know what is coming. I can get you away and somewhere safe, you and your friends. The Ossuary will not turn women away.’
‘I… no,’ Lamorna said weakly. ‘If Calla and Arwen want to leave, then they should, but I will remain here where Mordred needs—’
‘Stupid girl,’ Elaine hissed. ‘Stupid, dead girl. Are you willing to die a second time for him and the things he wants? What about what you want?’
Lamorna took a hasty step back. ‘I want to be here.’
‘If you tell yourself that enough, will you believe it?’ Elaine asked.
Lamorna stared at her, then hurried away.
Mordred stared at his plate. He hadn’t taken a bite of his food.
‘You need to eat,’ Lamorna admonished. They sat opposite one another, bowls of stew and hunks of crusty bread on the table.
Lamorna had not mentioned what Elaine had said to him in the Hall.
Mordred had not either, but he still simmered with anger when he came for dinner.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You’ve lost weight,’ Lamorna said. ‘If you don’t like your meal I can—’
Mordred slammed his fist on the table, making the cutlery, and Lamorna, jump. She stared at him in alarm.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said wretchedly, running his hand over his face. ‘I’m sorry, Lamorna.’
‘I want to help.’
‘I know but I don’t think you can help me with this,’ he mumbled, and she knew instinctively he was not talking about what would come tomorrow. ‘I should have listened. To Elaine. And the Red Sisters in the Ossuary.’
‘You can listen to them now,’ Lamorna said, reaching across the table for his hand. His fingers closed around hers as if he’d never let go, as if doing so would cause him pain.
‘I fear it’s too late for that,’ he said.
‘I’m exhausted but I cannot sleep. I’m starving but I cannot eat – food tastes like ash in my mouth, water is like blood and I can bear that, but no matter how much I drink I’m still thirsty.
’ He met her eyes. ‘The very core of who I am is lost, Lamorna, and I don’t know how to get it back. ’
Her eyes filled with tears at the plea in his voice.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Mordred whispered.
Lamorna swallowed. ‘Perhaps… perhaps it is time to let all this go.’
Mordred’s thumb stroked the back of hers. ‘I don’t know how,’ he said eventually. ‘Or if I should. It’s too late to change it now.’
‘Mordred,’ she began.
He shook his head. ‘If my legacy is to leave this world better than what it is now, then—’
‘It isn’t too late. Is what Arthur wants truly that dreadful? Is it worth losing your life for?’ She was angry and frightened and didn’t have the energy to hide it from him. ‘To me, it isn’t. I need you, Mordred, and if that isn’t enough to convince you—’
‘But it isn’t about us,’ he argued back.
‘Well, who decided you had to be the one to sacrifice yourself?’ Lamorna demanded hotly. ‘The Old Ones? Fuck them.’
Mordred stared at her then burst out laughing.
‘My worry amuses you?’ Lamorna asked crossly.
He kissed her hand. ‘No, my love.’
Lamorna sighed. ‘I just… wish this was all over.’
‘It will be soon,’ he said.
‘That’s what frightens me,’ she whispered. ‘Forget dinner. I’m not that hungry anyway. Come to bed.’
‘I’m not tired.’
‘Mordred,’ she said sharply, in the same tone she used to use on Jenyfer when her sister was about to do something stupid. ‘Do as you’re told. You can’t go out there and do whatever you’re going to do tomorrow without a proper sleep.’
She received a fleeting smile. ‘Fine.’
He let her take him to bed, lay him down and tuck herself beside him, her head resting on his chest so she could hear his heart.
‘I need to know,’ she whispered. ‘If you forgive me for what I did to Alden.’
His breath caught and he was silent for so long she thought her heart would burst. ‘I do. How can I not?’
There was no grand goodbye between them. She had to believe he would come back, for now at least. When she had last looked, there were people camped all through the castle grounds. She didn’t know how many, or even where some of them had come from.
Lamorna lay staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed and face the reality of this day.
She could hear people in the courtyard below.
Mordred’s voice rang out, clear and confident, but it was a mask that no one else seemed to see.
She heard the gates open, the whine and groan of the timber and the hinges as they swung wide, then hundreds of feet marching from the castle grounds and to their deaths.
Still, she didn’t move, not even when the door to her room was flung open and someone hurried in. ‘There you are! Lamorna, you need to get up and get on with it.’ Calla’s voice, sharp and pointed.
‘Get on with what?’ Lamorna mumbled, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. It smelt like Mordred.
Calla took hold of her shoulder and pulled her onto her back. ‘He isn’t going to die.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘No, I don’t, and neither do you. So get up and help me.
There will be wounded to care for,’ she added.
Lamorna blinked, looking up at her friend.
Calla’s dark hair was bound back from her face, her expression hard, but her eyes glittered at what was to come.
Lamorna sighed and let Calla haul her out of bed.