Chapter 21 [Road Between Gedref and Whitgate—Half of an Hourglass Turn Earlier]
Camelot's contingent maintained a good pace along the dirt road. After the previous day's late start, they'd camped in the forest of Gedref for a meal and a brief rest. Just before first light, their horses put the dirt beneath their hooves once more. With only a brief stop for lunch, they crossed from Gedref into Nemeth just after mid-day.
Arthur surveyed the forest. Ill at Ease stabbed through his mind. Granted, it might've been the most recent expedition in that stretch of wood. He maintained the perfect poker face. Still, he knew Nemeth's royal tomb sat off of the road ahead. He knew Morgana probably still sat trapped beneath the chamber's fallen ceiling. Doubt elicited a headshake however. He glanced at the contingent.
Leon, Elyan, Mordred and Orfeo, a recently-dubbed knight, rode to the rear. George seemed to jump at every shadow and bird flying about. Gwen and Blancheflor talked amongst themselves.
Arthur reflected. He'd finished talking to Percival just before their departure. He knew he'd just lost another knight to Nemeth. It will be closer to his home village. Besides Blancheflor is a Nemethian noble. I just wish Percival insisted on staying in Camelot. He shook his head. That tomb is near here. Is Morgana still trapped? Foreboding prompted him to look around again.
"Arthur, now what's wrong?" Gwen had watched him ride without a single word. Worry over his inner thoughts and brooding ate at her. "We are going to Merlin and Mithian's handfasting. Why are you so anxious?"
"I just have a lot on my mind, Gwen." Arthur motioned to Orfeo. "Orfeo, ride ahead and see how the road looks, will you?"
"Aye, Sire." Orfeo bowed in the saddle. Then he galloped on ahead.
Arthur shook his head.
"Arthur, he's being respectful. There's nothing wrong with that," Gwen reminded him.
"I know!" Exasperation snapped the words from Arthur's mouth. "It's…like George…back there. So stiff." He squirmed.
"Give him time. He'll get to know you," Gwen urged. "It is about all of the changes."
"King Arthur, with respect, Custom and Tradition dictate such responses," Blancheflor interjected. "I have had to get used to Percival simply calling you 'Arthur'. I would never do so. Your crown merits more respect than that."
"I appreciate that, Lady Blancheflor. I learned not to be so hung up on tradition. All men are equal in my eyes. That is why we have the Round Table," Arthur insisted.
"Except for certain servants perhaps?" Blancheflor jabbed.
Gwen shook her head at Blancheflor.
"Perhaps King Rodor and Princess Mithian believe some half-baked legends about Balinor. When Merlin and I saw him, he was a hermit. No more, no less. Merlin is a peasant from Ealdor," Arthur declared.
"And yet in Nemeth, there is proof. You should see for yourself. If what I have heard is true, you should have granted Merlin a knighthood and made him your advisor when you knighted Percival and the others," Blancheflor insisted. "And if Merlin was not a knight by deeds then he is by birth. I have seen the tapestry and Sir Balinor's armor, King Arthur. You just do not like that you will have to live with the old religion."
"The old religion is dead!" Arthur fumed. "Merlin committed treason! And he has done so many times! He is fortunate I allowed Rodor and Mithian to take him with them." He shook his head. "And to be a Prince? Really? Father would be invading not attending a handfasting."
"Perhaps you might wish to ask the Lady Elaine about that? She remembers her mother's end quite well. Poor girl. Gwen, I believe Percival needs something. Might I be excused?" Blancheflor coughed. She bowed and dropped back toward the knights.
"Where does she get off talking like that? Like magic and creatures really matter?" Arthur scoffed.
Gwen shook her head. "I may not agree with Merlin's methods, Arthur. Still, how many times did he protect you in battle? How many times did he save Camelot?"
"That does not excuse Merlin's lies," Arthur fumed.
"Lies that your father and you force with the laws. Arthur, have a care. We are in Nemeth. Magic is tolerated and soon to be legalized here. We…" Gwen disagreed.
A loud scream shattered the forest's stillness.
"That's Orfeo! Percival, stay with the women! The rest of you, ON ME!" Arthur drew his blade. He spurred his horse onward down the path.
Mordred, Leon and Elyan pursued him toward the danger at hand. Crisis primed them for any sign. They found Arthur dismounted and staring up at Orfeo.
"Sire?" Mordred asked. "What is it?"
"Look up, Mordred." Leon pointed at the corpse hanging impaled in the tree.
Their eyes moved upward. There they spied Orfeo hanging from a large tree branch. That branch impaled his chest. His eyes bulged. His mouth open in mid-scream.
"Morgana?" Elyan supposed.
"I'd count on it. Somehow she got loose from that crypt. We…." Arthur started.
"You should what, Dear Brother?" Morgana strode into view. A few tears marred her dark dress. Anger burned in her eyes. "A-mach ás na h-eich agad!" Canary flashed through her eyes.
The spell ripped the three knights from their saddles. They flew through the air.
"Ceangail!" she ordered. Another flash and finger twitch.
The branches snaked from the nearby trees. Before the quartet could do anything, the bonds restrained their wrists and ankles.
"So much better!" She strutted toward her captives. Satisfaction twisted her lips into an evil smirk. "Now whatever shall I do with you?"
"D…do your worst, Morgana. I will never sanction your magic!" Arthur hissed.
"Oh, Arthur. You never change. Do you?" Morgana slapped him across the face. "As if you have anything to say about it!" She sniggered at Mordred. "Well now! Is this not something? Sir Mordred, is it?" She coughed.
Panic caused Mordred's heart to beat faster. He knew of Morgana's anger and hatred. "Morgana, you do not want to do this."
"Oh? And why not, Sir Mordred? Why not, TRAITOR?" She spat at him.
"Stand fast, Mordred. Do not give her the satisfaction! You are no traitor!" Arthur insisted.
"Oh but he is, Arthur. He betrays our kind by being with you!" She raised an eyebrow. "Ever wonder what happened to that druid boy who escaped Uther's clutches so long before?"
"Morgana, stop. Please." Mordred begged.
She coughed. "Why? So, you can play this game?" She shook her head. Her lip curled. "Have you told them that you have magic? THAT YOU ARE THAT DRUID?" She glowered at him. "I will let you watch the others die before you do, Mordred! I want them to know you for who you are!"
"Do not listen to her, Mordred! You're one of us!" Elyan insisted.
"Mordred!" Leon called to him. "It's pure horse manure is what it is! You are not…."
Mordred shook his head. "Nay. She's right." He glared at their captor. "I am that Druid boy. I have magic." He hung his head.
Arthur stared at Mordred. His eyes went wide. His mouth slackened. "Not you, Mordred! You cannot."
"And yet he does, Dear Brother." She sauntered over to him. "Oh what I will do with you." Her hand glowed white. "Now SCREAM!" She grabbed his bare arm.
Arthur screamed from the scalding touch.
The other knights struggled.
It seemed hopeless….