The Prison Of Ice & Shadows (Prophecies Of Fate Book 2) Read online

  Merlin took a moment before he began. “I wanted to apologise, my Lord.”

  Cai frowned. “For what?”

  “For what happened at the lake,” he replied. “It appears I should have listened to Lancelot, after all.”

  Cai stared at him. “What are you…?”

  “It should never have happened, Cai,” Merlin interrupted. “I should never have allowed it to happen,” he added quickly.

  Cai scoffed. “So, you’re going to hold yourself responsible for Morgan le Fay now, are you?” he demanded.

  “But, my Lord…”

  Cai held up a hand. “No, Merlin; don’t. Don’t apologise for this; none of this is your fault.”

  But Merlin was adamant. “But I should have been better prepared…”

  “In that case, we all should have been!” Cai hissed, trying desperately to keep his voice low; the last thing he or Merlin wanted was to wake the camp. “In case you’ve forgotten, you warned me; you warned us all. We all knew what we were getting into,” he insisted, pausing for breath. He met Merlin’s gaze. “But none of us could have known what was going to happen.”

  “But I should have; I have battled her before,” Merlin pointed out. “I know what she is capable of.”

  “So has Bedivere,” Cai retorted. “And most of the men here. You can’t just blame yourself.”

  “It is just…” Merlin began before pausing for a moment, clearly searching for his next words. “I promised your father I would protect you, at all costs.”

  “And you have,” Cai insisted quickly. “I mean, you stopped Morgan from actually killing me, didn’t you?” He sighed, suppressing a shiver and wishing he had brought his cloak with him. “Look, if you want to blame yourself, there’s nothing I can do to stop you,” he conceded, too tired to argue anymore. “But aren’t you always telling me I shouldn’t worry about things that are beyond my control? Maybe you should listen to your own advice,” he added pointedly.

  Merlin stared at Cai for a moment before smiling. “Indeed, my Lord; perhaps you are correct.”

  “Of course I am,” Cai smiled, trying not to yawn. “Well, I should be getting back to bed…”

  Reaching out, Merlin stopped him. “And how are you, my Lord?” he asked searchingly.

  Cai shrugged, squirming under Merlin’s gaze; he was in no mood to talk about his own issues, just yet. “I’m OK, I guess; just tired.” He avoided looking directly at Merlin as he spoke, suspecting he already knew what was going on in his mind.

  “You are allowed to feel guilt, Cai.”

  Cai shook his head. “I don’t…” he began to protest but, not even he believed what he was saying. He ran his fingers through his hair and met Merlin’s gaze. “Look, Merlin, I’m fine, OK?”

  Merlin watched him for a moment, clearly not believing him but, thankfully, said no more. He bowed his head. “As you say, it is best you get some sleep now,” he advised. “Galahad believes we will reach our destination in a week or two.”

  Cai nodded; he had almost forgotten what the point of this journey was: to recruit men and women to their cause, to protect his people. He bade Merlin goodnight, grateful the older man wasn’t pushing this; right now, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about the man he had killed.

  Right now, all he wanted was to forget.

  2

  However, forgetting the last few days was not an option as Cai found himself in a constant state of alert. Slight changes in the weather, meeting strangers in the road, even the harsh, unexpected voices of his men, had him tensing up or reaching for Excalibur.

  Cai recalled the many times that Merlin had said his men were brave but he now understood just how true that was for, what he had witnessed in the wake of Morgan’s attack, had shown that: not once had any man suggested returning to Camelot. In fact, the attack had only hardened their resolve to fight on, to avenge the deaths of their friends and to finally defeat Morgan and her son.

  Cai tightened his grip on the reins in his hands, his stomach churning as he began to think of the future, the same old questions running through his mind: what would they do now that Morgan had made contact? Now that she knew of him, would she attack again and, if so, would they be as lucky next time?

  “My Lord, may I speak with you?”

  Cai turned to find Bedivere beside him, holding his right arm stiffly across his body; despite insisting otherwise, Cai knew his recent injuries were making riding difficult for him but the knight would not admit it and was determined to carry on. “What’s the matter?” he asked, concerned. “Do you need to rest?” He glanced around, seeing the pain etched, not only on Bedivere’s face, but on his men’s too.

  Bedivere shook his head. “No, my Lord; we must proceed. Galahad and I believe we will reach the village tomorrow.”

  Cai nodded in acceptance and continued to ride on in silence, in the hope that Bedivere would return to his men, forgetting what he had come to talk about. Earlier that morning, Cai had seen Merlin and Bedivere deep in conversation and, now, he found himself wondering if Merlin had sent him.

  The knight shifted in his saddle, clearly trying to make himself more comfortable. You have been rather quiet, my Lord,” he observed, glancing at Cai. “You seem worried.”

  “And do you blame me?” Cai retorted. “She attacked us because of me; men are dead because of me and she injured you, and others, because of me. When will she attack next, Bedivere? Today? Tomorrow?”

  Bedivere hung his head. “I cannot offer the answers you seek, my Lord; I wish I could.”

  Cai sighed, fully aware his anger and frustration were directed at the wrong person. “Yeah, I do too,” he acknowledged, smiling wryly.

  Bedivere hesitated before speaking again. “If I may be so bold… your concerns are not just about Morgan, are they?” He paused before adding quietly, “Killing a man is never an easy thing.”

  Cai looked at him, seeing the truth in his eyes. He frowned. “But shouldn’t it be?” he asked. “I mean… he would have killed me.”

  Bedivere nodded. “That is true; he would have,” he agreed. “But it does not follow that you should find killing him easy; it never should be.”

  Cai sighed in frustration. “But Logan…” he protested weakly, casting a quick glance towards his friend.

  Bedivere scoffed, following Cai’s gaze. “With all due respect, my Lord, Logan has not experienced battle; he cannot understand.”

  Cai considered Bedivere’s words and knew he was right; Logan hadn’t been in battle, he hadn’t experienced any fight outside the training arena and he certainly didn’t know what it was like to kill someone.

  “May I be honest with you, my Lord?” Bedivere asked, breaking once more into Cai’s thoughts. Cai nodded his consent. “Taking a man’s life will never be easy and you will carry your guilt with you forever,” he murmured. “The more lives you take, the heavier your burden will become. It is the same for myself and every man here.”

  Cai stared at him. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?” he demanded.

  Bedivere smiled wryly. “You just have to find a balance between accepting your deeds, however painful and distasteful they may be, and moving ahead.”

  Cai scratched his head, trying to make sense of Bedivere’s advice. “And how do I do that, exactly?”

  “There is no easy answer,” the knight admitted. “But I would advise you always take the time to remind yourself why it is we do this; why it is we fight.”

  “To defeat Morgan and Mordred,” Cai replied immediately. And then, after a moment, he added, “To protect people that can’t protect themselves; to help…”

  Bedivere nodded encouragingly. “Indeed, my Lord; never forget why it is we fight.” He paused, nodding towards Logan. “You cannot use what happened as an excuse to push people away,” he added. “Logan is your friend and, in his own way, he cares about you; in times such as these, isolation is never a good thing, my Lord.”

  Cai knew Bedivere was right but, befo
re he could say more, Rei snorted and shook her head; Cai leant forward, patting her neck reassuringly, grateful for the distraction. “It’s OK, girl,” he murmured. “We’ll stop soon…” He glanced at Bedivere. “Won’t we?” he asked hopefully.

  Bedivere considered his answer. “We will stop soon… for a short break, at least,” he added pointedly.

  “Bedivere…” Cai began as he sat up. “Tell me: did Merlin ask you to speak to me?”

  “Why do you ask that, my Lord?”

  “It’s just… we spoke last night…”

  “I see,” Bedivere murmured, nodding. “But no; Merlin did not ask me to speak to you.”

  Cai frowned. “Then why…?”

  “I was there with you, my Lord,” Bedivere reminded him. “I should have been the one to…” He paused, glancing over at Cai. “I saw, with my own eyes, what that day did to you; I have seen your suffering, your need to punish yourself. I may not be able to carry the burden for you but I hope to ease it, at least.”

  Cai smiled, grateful for his concern. And he began to realise that talking to the knight, someone who understood, had made things easier; he would never forget what he had done but, maybe, one day, he would find it easier to accept.

  3

  Bedivere’s words remained with Cai as he sat by the campfire later that night; it felt good to know he wasn’t alone in feeling as he did. It reassured him to know that even seasoned knights like Bedivere still felt guilt at taking lives and, although it wasn’t something he could easily forget, he was determined not to dwell on it, not to let it consume him.

  Logan’s approach drew Cai’s attention away from his thoughts and he looked up as his friend dropped to the ground beside him. “I saw you talking to Bedivere earlier,” he stated by way of greeting.

  Cai nodded, glancing at the knight in question. “Yeah…”

  There was a moment’s silence before Logan glanced at him warily and asked, “Are you OK now?”

  Cai smiled; Logan wasn’t known to be particularly sensitive, preferring, instead, to hide his feelings behind jokes and sarcasm. “I will be…” he murmured, attempting to sound reassuring.

  Logan nodded, picking up a twig and breaking it in half before tossing it mindlessly into the fire. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like…” he said quietly, in a rare moment of openness.

  Cai glanced at him, uncertainly; this was the first time Logan had attempted to speak seriously about what had happened at the lake. “I just have to find a way to…” he paused, trying to find the right words. “Move on, I guess.”

  Logan looked doubtful. “Can you? Move on, I mean,” he explained. “I mean… it must be pretty tough to know you…”

  “I have to,” Cai interrupted harshly, second-guessing what Logan was about to say; he didn’t need another reminder of what he had done. “After all, it’s not like it’s never going to happen again, is it?”

  Logan shrugged. “I guess not,” he agreed. The two boys sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Logan nudged Cai, nodding towards Excalibur. “So, are you ever going to get round to showing me that sword?” he demanded. “It’s been three days and you haven’t given me a proper look yet.”

  Cai glanced down at the sheathed sword resting across his lap; its beauty was still evident despite its dark history. A pang of sadness pierced him as he recalled that this had once been his father’s sword, the sword Arthur had been holding when he died. Tracing the patterns etched into Excalibur’s cross guard, Cai couldn’t help but think of his father and how he must have felt when he had owned it. Had he felt the same wonder, the same fear, the same guilt…?

  Passing it to Logan, he watched as the other boy stood, his eyes alight with wonder and awe. Pulling it free from the scabbard, he studied the sword in the firelight, seemingly ablaze with fire now as the flames reflected perfectly in the blade. He handed the scabbard to Cai and ran through a few basic moves with the blade. “Man, that’s so cool…” he murmured reverently, reluctantly handing the blade back to Cai as he sat down beside him, once more.

  “You know, jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Cai commented drily.

  Logan glared at him. “Well… what do you expect? I want a cool sword, too,” he muttered petulantly. “My sword looks pathetic next to that,” he grumbled, eyeing Excalibur enviously.

  Cai grinned; he didn’t usually revel in other people’s misery but, then again, it wasn’t often he found himself envied and, right now, there was just a small part of him that wanted to enjoy it a little longer.

  From his place opposite the boys, Galahad looked up from sharpening his sword. “You may covet Excalibur, Logan,” he said, focusing his attention on him. “But do you envy the responsibilities that comes with possessing such a weapon?”

  On hearing these words, Cai shared a sober look with Logan, both boys recognising the truth of Galahad’s words.

  Shifting uncomfortably, Galahad glanced at Cai and, inclining his head respectfully, said, “Forgive my impertinence, my Lord; I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  Cai shook his head. “It’s fine,” he assured him distractedly.

  Logan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good point, Galahad,” he stated, considerably more cheerful than he had been only moments before. “You’re right; I wouldn’t want to have to worry about traitors or have the responsibility of all the lives that depend on me and my decisions.” Getting to his feet, he patted Cai on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, by the way,” he quipped before wandering back to his tent.

  Cai glared at his retreating form, wishing he had the luxury of being able to just walk away whenever he wanted to. With Logan gone, Cai sat in silence and it wasn’t long before Galahad returned to sharpening his sword; the hiss of the whetstone running along the blade was a chilling sound, a stark reminder of the battles yet to come.

  Glancing around the camp, Cai realised his thoughts were at odds with the behaviour of his men, many of whom sat in deep conversation, laughing and eating with their comrades as if their biggest worry right now was the weather. As he watched them, he realised he would never be able to just relax and talk with his men; he would always be apart from everyone, carrying responsibilities none of them would ever know.

  As he allowed his thoughts to wander, Cai couldn’t help thinking about what lay ahead of him now. He had left Camelot with the intention of being made known to his people, people who distrusted him and resented everything Camelot stood for but that, in itself, though daunting, had not scared him.

  Not like the situation he now found himself in.

  And, thanks to Logan’s comment, he was reminded, once again, of something he had almost forgotten: that someone close to him would betray him, someone he trusted. He still cringed at the thought that he had suspected Lancelot of being the traitor but now that he knew he wasn’t, Cai was back at square one.

  “May I make a suggestion, my Lord?” Galahad’s quiet voice interrupted Cai’s thoughts. He looked up to find the knight watching him intently, the whetstone and sword, now by his side, forgotten.

  Cai nodded, uncomfortable under the knight’s scrutiny; he had a strange sense that Galahad could read his mind. “Sure,” he replied hesitatingly.

  Galahad took a moment before continuing. “Tomorrow, you shall be introduced to people who will need your guidance, your assurances of a better life,” Galahad reminded him. “Don’t let them down because you’re worrying about things beyond your control.”

  Cai was silent, considering Galahad’s words. He knew the knight was right; he had a habit of doing just that, immersing himself in the negatives of a situation and forgetting about what was most important. He couldn’t let that happen any longer; he wouldn’t fail his people.

  Right now, he had one focus: to be the King his people desperately needed. The rest would be dealt with later.

  4

  They saw the village long before they reached it. With their objective in sight, Cai followed Me
rlin’s lead and spurred his horse into a gallop; behind him the men urged their steeds on and it wasn’t long before they reached their destination.

  Behind him, Cai heard Bedivere mutter a curse before he nudged his horse forward, overtaking Cai. “No, this cannot be!” he exclaimed, his confusion evident. His horse danced nervously as he fought to bring him to a stop.

  Cai frowned. “What is it?” he asked, worried; he had never seen Bedivere look so disconcerted before.

  Bedivere shook his head. “This… this place was flourishing when we were last here,” he stated. He glanced at Galahad. “When we left them…”

  Galahad seemed equally perturbed as he tried to come to terms with what now stood before them.

  Cai looked around.

  The buildings that had once housed families were now deserted and an eerie silence blanketed the entire village. They were gathered in the main thoroughfare, the place where people would have spoken to their neighbours, argued with their enemies and where children would have played with their friends. Throughout the village piles of blackened wood were testament to the wreckage wrought upon the villagers as they were forced to watch everything they knew and owned go up in flames.

  Cai broke away from his men, guiding his horse to the nearest building; studying it, he could see it hadn’t been a simple matter of its owners abandoning it. The door had been ripped from its hinges and was now half blocking the entrance. The thatched roof was destroyed and the walls around the windows blackened, as if a fire had raged inside. Dropping from his horse, he stepped closer making a face as an acrid stench filled his senses, his earlier suspicions confirmed, as he caught sight of the charred interior.

  “This is bloody creepy,” Logan commented warily.

  Galahad nodded. “Something very bad happened here, I fear.”

  Cai turned and caught sight of Merlin slumped forward in his saddle, his face ashen. Rushing towards him, he reached out, memories of the last time Merlin had looked like this spurring him into action. “Merlin, are you…?”