It took me no time at all to prepare to leave. I gathered up my true notes and secreted them in a pocket magically cut from inside the bodice of my travelling garb, then waited a few days for a spate of rain to stop. I would carry my work back to Arthur and tell him privately what Merlin had done, with proof that I was the only one ever capable of helping him.
On the first rainless morning, I dressed to depart, stood at the edge of the ferocious moat and realized I had not the first idea of how to get across. I tried some summoning spells at the bridge area to no avail, then walked every inch of the roaring torrent. I couldn’t swim, but even if I could, the water was too ferocious and the rocks too sharp; no single spot was passable without risking death.
Part of me hoped Ninianne would sense my confinement and return, but as time wore on it became clear she was not the answer. She had told me, after all, that I could not trust her. By the fourth morning with no epiphanies, I stood on the moat’s edge, feeling only the tightening rope of my limitations. Everything I had learned, and I could not raise one damned bridge to walk across a body of water.
I had half turned away in frustration when a streak of white caught in the corner of my eye, leaping forth on the opposite bank. There stood my white hart, majestic and perfect, the limbs and flesh I had regrown supple with strength. The resurrected deer stepped delicately towards the water, ears pricked, blue eyes calmly meeting my stare of wonder.
I did not need a bridge to set myself free, it seemed to say. And nor do you.
There was always something else within my control. No matter how fast and violent the moat, it was water, which I had mastered under Ninianne’s eye. The Lady of the Lake herself had taught me how to escape from her watery fortress.
The bone-pale stag watched as I held out my palms, seeking the water’s essence. After some cajoling, the torrent stilled, pressure tremendous against my hands, like pushing at the flanks of two stubborn horses. I persevered, doing the water’s dance, until the moat began to cleave, revealing a narrow pathway through the riverbed.
Tentatively, I edged down the steep bank and began to cross, my every muscle vibrating. In the middle, I looked through the high glassy wall to the frothing rapids beyond, duelling fiercely with the barricade of calm, but felt only my strength and control. The water would answer my call as long as I needed it.
Reaching the opposite bank, I scrambled up, dropping my connection. The great clear dam gave a creaking rumble, curving like a storm wave, and I watched with satisfaction as the seething river crashed back to its rightful place, foam flecking my boots.
The white hart had gone, not even a bright speck amidst the dense woodland, but it had nowhere to lead me now: Merlin’s stronghold, and my confinement, were behind me for good. What lay ahead was Camelot, and my deliverance.
I set off through the forest, using the sun’s climbing arc to find east. For the first hour, I expected the worst, remembering Ninianne’s warning and Merlin’s threats about guarding forces, but the trees maintained their pleasant demeanour, leaves green and abundant, gilded pollen scenting the air.
At almost noon, I saw it like the descent of an angel: a line of light through the tree trunks, woodland thinning towards what could only be a road. My feet ached and it was far off, but the sight of liberation pushed me forth.
So driven was I that I hardly noticed the forest darkening, a winterlike dusk falling upon the treetops despite snatches of summer daylight still visible far ahead. I stepped into a clearing and found myself encircled by close-knit trees, branches hanging low and thick with moss. The ground rose and fell in dense, spongy humps, undulating beneath my feet.
Halfway across, my foot sank, ankle catching in a deep loop of tangles. I tried to pull free, but it held me faster, so I reached down and met a river of writhing coldness. A small, arrow-shaped head rose up, bare light pricking beady black eyes and a yawning, fanged mouth. I yelped, snatching my hand away as another head arched up, then another, like a thin, endless Hydra.
The forest floor was a pit of snakes.
Fear shot through my limbs as more reptilian heads lifted, surging towards my feet in a slithering pulse. Trying not to stumble, I struck my fingers against my palm and the flame roared into life.
“Stay back!” I shouted, aiming a blast of fire at the heaving mass. A few serpents recoiled and hissed angrily, their smooth skin seemingly resistant to burning. Other snakes streamed in from all sides, drawn by the waking of their neighbours.
I tried to strike my other palm but nothing happened, conjuring hindered by my panic. I spread the remaining flame in an arc, fighting my way across the uneven floor, as the forest seemed to lower to meet me. Large, limbless bodies hung from branches, long-fanged and dripping venom.
One head lunged at me with terrible speed, and I screamed, swerving back into a tree trunk and careering to the ground. Cool bodies slithered across me, twining around my legs and arms, small heads butting at my cloak and boots, seeking skin to bite. I pushed myself up, searing the advancing snakes off my body, then burned the ground in a ring around me until they retreated in their entirety.
Stillness fell upon the darkened glen. Flame still lit, I sought signs of life on the ground or in the branches. Nothing, only a glint of light in the corner of my eye, the edge of the clearing mere feet away. A few more steps and I would be out of Merlin’s hellish trap.
A thick rope-like force shot around my ankle, dragging me back to the ground. A muscular body the width of a small tree trunk wound its way around my legs and torso with cool, efficient strength, pulling me away from the light. I jabbed at its sinuous silver-grey scales with the flame, but it didn’t flinch, the fire in my hand guttering as the terrible creature encased my arms. At my every gasp for air, it squeezed harder.
With awful slowness, the pale-grey head of an enormous snake rose up before me, onyx eyes like the darkest abyss. It gazed at me, obviously enchanted, and in the midst of my suffocation I half imagined it might speak. Was it even there, I thought, or one of the sorcerer’s tricks of the mind?
Then the snake squeezed again, I felt several ribs crack, the pain more potent than anything I had ever felt, and I knew for certain it was real, a predatory animal thinking only of hunger and its own survival. The serpent drew its head back, massive jaw unlatching to reveal a mouth black as Hell’s gateway. It gave me one last look, then hurtled at my face; there was nothing left but to close my eyes.
A whistling thwack sliced through the air, juddering the snake’s coils. The creature gave out a wrathful hiss, unravelling so fast I thudded hard onto the forest floor, my torso screaming. Through blurred vision, I watched the beast striking at a new shadow across the glen. I gulped for air and tried to heal myself, but couldn’t muster any concentration beyond the agony of my splintered ribs.
Twenty feet away, the snake rose vertically, advancing at what I now saw was a person holding a sword. Weaving its powerful neck, the creature snapped its jaws, fast and deadly from every direction. The figure elbowed the gaping mouth aside but swung the sword into thin air, and the monster swooped, throwing itself around its opponent’s sword arm, rendering the blade immovable. Locked in a stalemate, the snake’s tail began to curl slowly around its foe’s feet, seeking a different kind of death.
The swordsman was tiring, unable to elude the advancing coils while holding off the snake’s head. I tried to stand upright but collapsed under the pain of my ribs. As I gripped my side, my fingers brushed the smooth bone of my father’s falcon-handled knife and I managed to draw it, the sight of the keen steel bringing a rush of defiance. Pooling all of my strength, I crawled to the creature’s muscled grey side and plunged my blade in up to the hilt.
The snake reared back, baring fangs, but the swordsman’s freed arm was faster. His sword swung like lightning, slicing through the creature’s lunging neck. The silver-grey head flew off, spurting blood, and landed at my feet, black mouth gaping in a dying shudder. I had just enough time to note the darkness lifting off the trees before I collapsed onto the forest floor.
In an instant, I was scooped against a hard-breathing chest. Bone-cold and my body screaming, I clung on, concentrating on my breaths to stave off the shivers of shock. A firm hand cradled my head as the swordsman leaned over me in concern. I pulled closer to his warmth and the hot scent of his neck sang right through my blood.
“Accolon,” I croaked. “Is it you?”
“Morgan, thank God,” he said. “Were you bitten?”
“No, but…” I stared at him, his stormy eyes and exquisite face, hair damp from exertion. Perhaps I had died after all. “How are you here?”
“I’ve been riding the roads to find you. I heard a scream and ran into the forest.” He put a hand to my cheek, regarding me with wonder. “That it was you—the unlikelihood…It’s a miracle.”
My body arched into his embrace, but my broken ribs made me cry out, bringing the sharp clarity of guilt. We couldn’t be here, in this wild stroke of providence, with Accolon looking at me with such deep, desperate love. He didn’t know what I’d done to him.
“Sacredieu, you are hurt.” He shifted his arms in preparation to pick me up. “Hold on to me.”
“No. I can stand.”
I dragged my feet underneath me, grasping at a tree root, pushing away from his support. But I was damaged beyond determination; everything felt bruised, lungs snatching for breath beneath my jagged ribs. I took one wobbly step and pitched into a half faint.
Accolon caught me before I hit the ground. “It’s not fair,” I protested. “You can’t…”
“I know,” he said soothingly. “You don’t need my rescue and never have. But please, Morgan, for now—just let me make you safe.”
I couldn’t bear the hope contained in his words, his belief there was a “now” and therefore an “after” for us, while my poisonous mistakes waited to lay waste to everything.
“I have to tell you…” I began, but I didn’t have the words or the breath, so I let him sweep me up and carry me through the cool, green wood as my consciousness drifted, with my cheek against the steady rhythm of his still-unbroken heart.