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I SAT UP, GERAINT held a candle in his hand. It showed me a world of bleak isolation. Night shrouded the land, the stars a distant meaningless light. The fog had vanished and taken my heart with it. I sat on damp earth, which remained soft under my hands. There were scrubby trees surrounding us, we were not where we had been, on the road.
“What do you know?” I asked, reaching and checking our weapons.
“I can’t find Else or Arthur. I’ve been awake a while. I tried to wake you but you’ve been out cold.” I heard the stress in Geraint’s voice.
“Just as well, I’ve been dreaming again,” I said as I stood. “Where are the horses?”
“I don’t know,” Geraint replied.
“I wish them luck with that then,” I said, thinking of Ash and how difficult he’d be making someone’s life. “Do we know what happened?”
Geraint shook his head and the candle fluttered. “One minute we were lighting the fire, the next I felt so heavy I couldn’t move, then this.” He waved his hands around and the candle’s flame vanished. “Bollocks.”
“Don’t worry,” I said waiting for my eyes to adjust. I wished briefly the Wolf lived somewhere other than my head.
“How are we going to pick up their tracks without light?” Geraint asked.
“We aren’t, we are going to follow my instinct if you will just hold still and let me concentrate,” I said. I closed my eyes and thought about the feeling, which led me to Arthur’s dreams. The ache sprang back to life. I turned in a circle asking for guidance. The pain flared when I turned in one particular direction.
I opened my eyes. “We go that way.” I pointed, uncertain of the direction until we could see the stars.
“What about Else?”
I threw my hands in the air. “What about her? The last I remember, she was the one telling me Arthur needed to be replaced,” I said, trying very hard not to think too much about what she had done or why. “Let’s not worry about her until we have Arthur back.”
“She’s a vulnerable woman,” Geraint said.
“There is nothing vulnerable about, Eleanor de Clare.” I shivered. I realised she might have been tricked and might be working for Arthur’s enemies without realising it but equally she might not. And what of Guinevere in Arthur’s dream? Was she merely a representation of the evil in the court, or was she queen of our enemies? When would I ever meet a woman I could trust?
“Maybe she’s with Arthur,” Geraint said. I heard the worry, but didn’t care. I had to find Arthur. Merlin had said once I’d saved his soul, I had to save his body.
We had nothing to carry, except the clothes in which we’d fallen asleep. We had lost our swords and our horses. We both had some coin, but no food and the four knives we carried our only weapons. Two of which were eating knives.
We set off along a rough path at a good jogging pace, the mail I wore hardly noticeable. While we ran, I told Geraint about the dream. He cursed. “So you think the Queen is a traitor?”
“I have no idea if she is or if she is just a patsy. Either way she needs stopping,” I said. I felt sad for her and for Arthur. How had it all gone so wrong between us?
I felt Geraint’s hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend. You have suffered much for Arthur’s sake.”
I didn’t know what to say, so we fell silent and just ran through the night. I assumed we were still on the Levels because the ground under our feet remained the same. Travelling over such dangerous terrain made me nervous, drowning in the swamp was not something I wanted, but I had no choice. The ache in my chest was the only guide on this journey.
We must have travelled miles at a hard pace, until we noticed the ground rising. I pulled Geraint to a stop and looked around me. “We are not in Wessex,” I said.
Geraint peered into the brightening night. A moon appeared over the large oddly shaped hill. “This is Avalon. It’s just an Avalon we’ve never seen. It’s like it was before the Sisters came,” he said, breathless from more than the run.
I felt the same awe. We were not in the Avalon we knew. The small town built around an Abbey full of women who worshipped things I didn’t understand, never existed in this place. “I have a horrible feeling we aren’t even in our world,” I said.
Geraint stared at me. “We’ve crossed over into the land of the fey?”
I shrugged. “Can you think of another explanation?”
Geraint paused, clearly wishing he could, he slumped. “No, it is the only explanation. How are we going to find Arthur now?”
“Keep following my instinct, I suppose,” I said, moving off once more toward the large naked Tor.
The whole of Wessex grew up on the tales of Avalon. A place of mystery in the centre of Arthur’s lands. The Sisters of Avalon were a remnant of the old ways, the old religion, which Arthur protected when necessary and ignored most of the rest of the time. They were said to be prophets, healers, guides for the souls of the lost. I had the feeling Arthur knew a great deal more about them than he told us, but he wouldn’t be drawn into revealing all their secrets. Now, however, all Geraint and I faced was the barren hill. Devoid of all except a few bare trees and scrubby grass. We started to walk up the side.
“We could be here forever,” Geraint moaned as we slogged in the mud.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “The springs are nearby aren’t they?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know? I avoid all this nonsense at every opportunity,” Geraint said. “These places are all over my land and they give me the bloody willies. I just let the locals do their thing and avoid upsetting the priestesses.”
He talked and whinged, I studied the ground. I had the feeling we needed to be curling around the base of the Tor more to the east and a bit higher. Almost to the base of the main part of the hill. Just as Geraint began another rant about the ills of messing with fey, I found it. A severed artery of water gushed from the side of the hill. My instinct for Arthur pulled me around the water, I walked above the spring and I found a hole.
“Here,” I called Geraint to me. “I’ve found it. There’s a stone entrance.” I began tugging at clumps of grass and mud, scrambling to pull the earth away from three small lintels of stone, which formed a rough arch.
“Oh, yes, that Doesn’t look like a trap,” Geraint bitched. “A bit bloody easy.”
“If you call this easy,” I grunted as I yanked back another sod of earth, “then help.”
He cursed once, dropped to his knees beside me and we worked on the hole until we made it large enough for us to crawl through.
Geraint peered into the darkness. “We need a torch if you are certain Arthur’s in there.”
I rubbed my hands on the grass trying to clean them. “I’m certain. I can feel him.” My excitement grew. I ran off to find a branch, needing something to fashion into a torch.
We did the best we could out of what we had, mostly our clothing and managed to light the branch.
“It won’t last long,” Geraint said. We watched it splutter in the darkness.
I had nothing to say. Crawling into the side of the hill didn’t feel like a wise idea but I knew Arthur’s heart beat in there and I wanted him back. I crawled through first, the cold wet earth crumbling under my hands. The ground sloped away from the entrance. “Geraint, as you come in –” The ground gave way and I yelped.
Dirt and stones spilled from under my hands and knees. I cursed as I skidded forward into the darkness. It felt like miles but my hands found hard flat stone before my nose did and I stopped, scraping my palms in the process.
“Lancelot?” I heard from above me.
“Fine,” I said, cross with myself for being careless. Arthur’s survival depended on me. “As I was saying, be careful. The ground slopes away heavily.”
Geraint chose to climb in on his backside, wriggling through the gap. The torch high over his head. He slipped the few feet I’d skidded down and landed with a grin beside me. “Glad you’re the brave one, going first and all,” he said.
“Fuck you,” I muttered looking round. We were in a place that should not have existed.
“Oh, God, have mercy on our souls,” Geraint prayed as we took in what our feeble light displayed.