LANCE OF TRUTH

P
RAISE FOR THE
P
ENDRAGON
L
EGACY
SERIES:

‘
Sword of Light
weaves Arthurian legend, Celtic myth and imagination into a romping tale. Rhianna has you on her side long before she rides into battle brandishing Excalibur.’
The Times

 ‘There is magic at work here as strong as Merlin’s.’ Mary Hoffman, author of
David

‘… a treat for all lovers of adventure and fantasy.’
Carousel

‘It’s fantastic, so accessible… I loved it!’
The Bookette

‘This is a cracking adventure story for young readers who enjoyed
The Hobbit
but aren’t quite ready for
The Lord of the Rings
.’
The School Librarian

‘This is a wonderful, magical, mythical, historical adventure. I loved Rhianna as a feisty tomboyish heroine (think Katniss on a magic horse).’
Books, Bonnets and Full-Frontal Blogging

‘This series should bring the Arthurian legends alive for a new audience.’
The Bookseller

T
HE
D
ARK
K
NIGHT
S
ETS A
T
RAP

M
ordred cast a final look around the cave where he’d spent the winter. Damp oozed from the rocky walls. His bed, where he had spent so much time suffering in the dark, would bear his bloodstains for ever.

He spat on it. “They will pay for my pain,” he promised the shadows. “They will all pay.”

He’d almost died of the wounds he had received last summer in the battle against his uncle, Arthur Pendragon. But now he felt stronger than before, in spite of his crippled
leg and missing sword hand. King Arthur was dead, and Queen Guinevere his prisoner. His horse waited outside with his men. It would only be a matter of time until he dealt with Arthur’s daughter, the girl who stood between him and the throne.

Before he left this place, he had one more thing to do. He pulled on a black gauntlet with his teeth. Then he picked up the mirror his mother had given him so he could spy on the world of men. The cracked glass glittered as Mordred breathed on it.

He saw the tower that served as his Aunt Guinevere’s prison. It was more comfortable than his own sanctuary, but the queen seemed not to appreciate it. She had tried to escape, and he’d been forced to send his bloodbeards to chain her to the bed. But she didn’t know
why she was a captive yet. He’d been looking forward to this moment all winter.

He lit candles so she would be able to see him properly and put on his silver torque. He waited until she was combing her filthy hair and whispered, “Aunt Guinevere.”

She jumped. The chain on her wrist clanked as her comb stilled. “Mordred,” she whispered. “You can’t keep me here for ever! Lancelot will find me. Then he’ll hunt you down and send your dark soul to join your mother’s in Annwn for all eternity.”

Mordred smiled, bored with her empty threats. He’d already made plans to take care of her champion. “Your precious Lancelot won’t need to hunt me down. Unlike him, I’m not a coward to run away from my fights. I’ve issued him a challenge. A joust to the
death with you as the prize. You’ll enjoy watching, I think.”

She gripped the comb tightly, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Lancelot carries the Lance of Truth! No knight has ever bested him in a duel. He’ll kill you.”

Mordred chuckled. “Oh, I doubt it. The lance is broken, as you well know. Without it, Lancelot’s no greater than an ordinary knight. Whereas
I
will be fighting with the Sword of Light.”

The queen went still. “Excalibur was returned to Nimue’s lake,” she said uncertainly. “The Lady of the Lake would never let a witch’s brat like you have it!”

“No need to be rude,” Mordred told her. “You really are behind with the news, aren’t you? I suppose you’ve been a bit out of touch
this winter, so I’ll update you. My cousin Rhianna has got the sword back from Nimue, and will shortly be bringing it to me. You look puzzled, Aunt. Surely you remember your sweet baby daughter, with the cute freckled nose, the one you abandoned to the fairies? She’s grown quite a bit since you last saw her. She’s been in the world of men for some time now, looking for you. Maybe I’ll let her keep you company in your tower. I wonder if you’ll dare call me a witch’s brat then?”

The comb clattered to the floor. The queen backed against the wall as far as the chain would allow and wrapped her arms around her body. “Oh God…” she whispered. “Rhianna… where is she? If you dare lay a hand on her—”

“Oh, I’ve already laid a hand on her,”
Mordred said, lifting his severed wrist and grimacing at the memory of using the shadow magic. “She knows my power. Just not my plans for her – yet. We had a little, um,
misunderstanding
the last time we spoke, so I can’t use the Round Table to send my message. But she should be receiving it any day now. Sometimes the old ways can be more persuasive, don’t you think?”

The queen blinked and shook her head. “She won’t bring you Excalibur! My daughter wouldn’t be that stupid.”

Mordred smiled again. “Ah, but you don’t know her as well as I do. Believe me, she can be remarkably stupid once she gets a sword in her hand.”