Crown of Dreams (20 page)

“With Elphin’s help,” Arianrhod admitted. “I had a dream of my mother when Elphin played his harp for me in the dungeon.”

“Arianrhod’s mother was a Grail maiden,”
Elphin explained. “She had a baby, but she wasn’t allowed to keep it in the Grail Castle because none of the maidens who look after the Grail of Stars are supposed to have children. So when her baby was born, she brought the child to King Arthur in secret. Your father promised Arianrhod’s mother he’d look after her baby, and arranged for his knights to find Arianrhod abandoned on the hillside so nobody would think her special. It’s all in the jewel… you’ll be able to see for yourself when the Crown’s mended.”

Rhianna stared at Arianrhod with fresh eyes.

“Have you seen the Grail of Stars?” she asked, excited. “What does it look like? Do you know the way to this Grail Castle?”

“She was just a baby, Rhia,” Elphin said gently.

The maid bit her lip. “I can’t remember anything before I came to Camelot, my lady, I’m sorry. But hiding your pendant was easy enough. You remember how we fooled Mordred with the lookalike Excalibur in the summer? When Gareth warned me Prince Mordred was on his way down to see me, I simply hung a dark stone from my jewellery box on the chain around my neck and pretended it was the real one.”

“But wasn’t Mordred suspicious after the trick we played on him last time?” Cai interrupted. “He was pretty angry about that fake sword I took him at the North Wall.”

“He ordered his bloodbeards to destroy all my other jewels, too,” Arianrhod admitted, touching the bruise on her cheek. “They smashed them with their axes.”

“So how did you hide the real one?” Rhianna insisted.

“I swallowed it,” Arianrhod whispered. “I’m sorry, my lady, but it was all I could think of to keep it safe for you.”

“We’ve been waiting for it to come out the other end,” Elphin added, wrinkling his nose. “Good job I had my harp to help.”

“Yeuch!” Rhianna held the jewel at arm’s length and grinned.

Later, they all stood around the funeral pyre as flames leaped into the starry sky. The night had turned frosty, but the Saxons had built the pyre so high that it warmed the whole courtyard.

It seemed everyone had come out to watch
Mordred’s body burn. The knights guarded the pyre with crossed lances. Wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, the queen stood with Sir Lancelot. She held the Crown of Dreams on a purple cushion.

Rhianna could feel the heat of the fire on her cheeks from where she stood near the back of the crowd. Even so, she shivered as the dark knight’s body began to smoke.

Elphin gave her a concerned look. “We can go back inside, if you’re cold,” he whispered. “No one will mind.”

“No,” Rhianna said, setting her jaw. “I want to make sure he’s really dead this time.”

She half expected her cousin to jump out of the fire and charge at her with his battleaxe in his hand, yelling curses. But the flames licked along his crippled leg and burned up his hair,
and all that happened was the fingers of his remaining hand curled.

He killed my father
, she reminded herself as the smell of roasting flesh reached them.
He betrayed his king and the Round Table. He deserved to die
. It wasn’t as if they were burning him alive. So why did she feel this upset?

“He won’t be coming back from that,” Cai said in a satisfied tone.

“The shadrake took his fist,” Rhianna reminded them, thinking uneasily of Lady Nimue’s warning to make sure they burned all of him. “When the Crown’s mended, I’ll have to make the dragon bring that back so we can burn it, too.”

“I think Damsel Rhianna’s missing the dark knight already,” Gareth said, giving Elphin a sly look. “I reckon she had a soft spot for Prince
Mordred – you lost a rival there, fairy boy.”

“I did
not
have a soft spot for Mordred!” Rhianna drew Excalibur, making people at the back of the crowd look round and frown at them.

The merlin, which had been dozing on Cai’s wrist, opened a sleepy eye. “Put Excalibur away, Rhianna Pendragon,” he grumbled. “I’m not feeling well enough to talk to you yet. Mordred has quite a punch.”

“Not any more, he doesn’t,” Rhianna said, pointing Excalibur at Gareth. “You take that back, Squire Gareth.”

The boy took a step backwards and raised his hands. “Steady… I didn’t mean it. I’m just glad Mordred’s dead at last. I’d have killed him myself if he hadn’t been wearing that magic crown. Who helped keep your precious jewel
safe, anyway? Would have saved us all a lot of trouble if you’d told us what we were really meant to be guarding from the dark knight.”

“You could have stopped Arianrhod swallowing it!” But she smiled, because Gareth could just as easily have betrayed her friend to Mordred. Realising she was being silly, she sheathed her sword and touched the pendant hanging around her neck. It glowed gold and orange in the firelight.
Her father’s secrets.

She could feel Arianrhod at her elbow, watching her. The maid had promised to take the Crown to the smith in the morning to get the jewel reset. Then Rhianna would be able to wear the third Light, and they could start looking for the Grail to bring her father back from Avalon. She hadn’t seen King Arthur’s ghost since Mordred had blooded Excalibur’s
blade at the Round Table. Did that mean it was no longer in the world of men?

“I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered. “We’re going to find the Grail soon, and then I’ll return to Avalon for you, I promise—”

“
Did you think I’d miss my nephew’s funeral?
” said an amused voice.

She caught her breath as her father’s spirit strode through the crowd towards them. People turned to frown and blink at the ghost as it slipped past them. He looked more solid than Rhianna had ever seen him look before, and her heart leaped in hope. Maybe three Lights were enough to restore his soul to his body, after all?

He walked up to her and touched the scab at her throat, making her shiver. Then he closed his hand about the pendant. “
Give it to me
, daughter,” he whispered.

She stared at the ghost in amazement. The jewel did not drop through his fingers as she’d expected, but glowed bright gold in his strong fist.

Shivering a little, she let him lift the pendant over her head. Arianrhod started and peered uncertainly at the ghost. She blinked and dropped a quick curtsey. “Sire!” she breathed.

“King Arthur!” Cai yelled, pointing.

The merlin almost fell off his wrist. The bird opened one eye, looked hard at the ghost, and stuck its head back under its wing with a sigh. “That’s all we need,” Merlin grumbled. “A ghost everyone can see.”

“King Arthur?” Gareth said, staring in disbelief at the ghost.

One by one, heads turned and people whispered in amazement. “King Arthur’s back!”
they shouted. “Make way for the king!”

A path opened up through the crowd. As everyone watched in amazement, her father walked up to where Sir Lancelot stood with the queen, gently took the Crown of Dreams from Guinevere’s cushion and pushed the missing jewel into place. It sparkled as he did so, lighting up his face. He held the crown aloft for all to see. Guinevere stared at the ghost and pressed a hand to her mouth. Sir Lancelot stiffened.

With great ceremony, King Arthur’s ghost carried the Crown of Dreams back through the crowd to Rhianna. He smiled at her and settled the third Light gently on to her bright hair.

“
It’s time you knew Camelot’s secrets, daughter,”
he said.
“Then you can complete your quest
.”

D
ARK
S
PIRIT

T
he smoke rising from the funeral pyre in Camelot’s courtyard made Mordred feel sick. Through the shadrake’s eyes, he caught a final glimpse of his blackened corpse in the flames. They were burning his body so he couldn’t go back!

His triumph at finally managing the spirit transfer turned to fury. It might have a crippled leg and only one hand, but it was
his
body. He tried to make the dragon dive at the figures in the courtyard. But the stupid creature flapped higher into the night, ignoring him.

He ground his teeth, and was alarmed when a cloud of ice appeared in front of him. Then he felt the dragon’s powerful wings carrying him away from his enemies. Mordred gave in. Let them burn his crippled human body! He didn’t need it any more.

As the shadrake carried his spirit over the Summer Lands, he sneered at the silly villagers herding their animals to higher ground. The floods had caused more chaos than he’d realised. Arthur’s knights would be kept busy cleaning up for weeks.

They flew across the Summer Sea, faster than any boat, and the hills of Dragonland flashed beneath him. It was like being on the back of a runaway horse. Mordred felt some of the same terror. Then he remembered he didn’t have his body any more – a spirit
couldn’t fall off and get hurt, could it? He relaxed a bit and began to enjoy the ride. He wondered where the creature was taking him.

They turned up a river, and he recognised the valley leading to the shadrake’s lair. Of course. The waterfall gushed out of the cliff just as he remembered, and the entrance was still blocked by boulders. Uther and his ghostly warriors waited outside, fully visible to the dragon’s eyes.

The shadrake showed no sign of slowing down. It carried him straight through the wall of roaring spray. He had another moment of fear when he thought it might crash into the cliff and kill them both. Then the gate of Annwn appeared, and the creature landed on a shadowy ledge outside.

His mother’s spirit waited at the gate, glimmering green and very angry. The shadrake folded its wings and hissed ice at her. “Hello, mother,” Mordred said, knowing he couldn’t hide from the witch’s gaze.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Spirit-riding the shadrake, of course,” Mordred said, pride creeping into his voice. “If you’d taught me how to do this earlier, I might be sitting on the throne of Camelot by now.”

His mother sighed. “You won’t be sitting on anything ever again, if what Uther tells me is true. The girl has not only got hold of the Crown, but restored her father’s jewel and will soon know everything about us. Foolish boy! Whatever possessed you to leave
your body behind at Camelot? Didn’t you realise Arthur’s knights would burn it so you couldn’t go back?”

“It wasn’t much use to me, anyway,” he muttered. “It could barely walk, let alone fight. That’s why my cousin and her friends kept getting hold of the Lights. But things will be different now. Once I’ve learned how to ride this dragon properly, I’ll go back and deal with her.”

“And you think you can control that creature, do you?” the witch hissed.

Mordred remembered the terrifying flight across the sea and through the waterfall. “My cousin spirit-rode it, and she’s only a damsel. How hard can it be? I just need a bit more practice, that’s all.”

“Ha!” his mother spat. “Not even Merlin
could control the shadrake. If not for me, the dragon would have carried your spirit straight into Annwn by now. But all is not lost. Part of your body still survives, thanks to Arthur. Show me.”

At first he couldn’t think what she meant. Then he remembered his dark fist, which the shadrake had snatched from the courtyard when his spirit jumped aboard. He concentrated, and the creature’s claw reached into its pouch and dragged out the fist. It looked rather the worse for wear after his cousin had grappled with it for Excalibur, and it smelled terrible. Rotting flesh oozed out of the gauntlet.

His mother’s lip curled as she examined it. “Not pretty, but it’ll have to do. There should be enough of your body in that glove to keep
your spirit tethered in the world of men. You can use shadow magic for the rest.”

Mordred stared at her in alarm. “But I don’t want to be tethered—”

The witch muttered a spell under her breath that made Mordred remember the pain of dying. The shadrake beat its black wings, and he felt something give his spirit a kick. With a sickening lurch, he fell into what remained of his old body.

Rotting flesh closed around him, crushing him into a tiny dark space. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He could no longer even hear the noise of the waterfall outside.

He started to panic. Then something touched the gauntlet, and his mother whispered, “Use the shadow magic, my son. Make yourself beautiful again,” and he
realised he could wriggle his fingers. The fingers of his
right hand
, the one Arthur had chopped off in the battle.

He stretched carefully, growing a right arm and then a shoulder. He added some muscles and grew a left arm to match. He spent some time on his face, determined not to make it too boyish or give it any scars. Then he grew two straight, strong legs. He stood up slowly and opened his eyes.

He felt fantastic. Only his right hand in its battered black gauntlet reminded him of his old, crippled body. But at least he had a right hand again. He imagined the fingers around Rhianna’s throat and clenched them tightly. Green rot leaked out of the glove.

His mother looked him up and down with a critical eye, making him remember to add
some clothes – a black tunic with his double-headed eagle embroidered in silver thread, a cloak, decent boots and a silver torque around his neck.

“Not bad,” she said. “Seems you’ve learned something from that Crown, after all. Your cousin will hardly recognise you. Now, before you meet her again there are some things you need to know. No weapon except one of the Lights can harm your shadow body, so don’t worry about Arthur’s knights. Nor can fire, or anything else that harms flesh. But take good care of your right hand. That is still mortal. If it is destroyed, then your spirit will have nowhere else to go except to join me in Annwn for all eternity. This is your last chance in the world of men, my son. Don’t waste it.”

Mordred grinned. He looked down at the dizzying drop no sane man would attempt, spread his arms wide and sprang out through the waterfall. He landed on his feet, knee-deep in the river and shook his hair. The icy water barely bothered him. He laughed. He hadn’t felt this good since the day he’d killed King Arthur.

“What are you all staring at?” he yelled at Uther’s warriors, his voice echoing in the cliffs. “I am Mordred Pendragon back from the dead, and I have need of you.”

“I hope you don’t expect us to help you find the Grail of Stars?” Uther said, frowning. “Because that thing can kill spirits as well as bodies.” The other ghosts muttered uneasily.

“No.” Mordred smiled as he splashed to
the bank. “We’ll let my cousin do the hard work this time. There’s only one place she’ll go when she finds it. We ride to Avalon.”