Susan Squires - [Da Vinci Time Travel] (36 page)

She was close enough now to run her left hand up around his neck. His breath reeked of wine and garlic. He grinned and showed a missing tooth, knocked out in a fight no doubt. He reached out to encircle her waist and draw her to him. “I can scratch your itch, mistress.”

Now was the time if there was one. She let her right hand go to his waist. He began to nuzzle her. She fumbled for the knife and grabbed the hilt, pulling. She meant to stab him, there and then, but she found herself backing away instead. He clutched at her, realizing his mistake,
but she crouched, knife held low and pointed up. She’d read about how to hold a knife.

He backed up, raising his hands, then broke into a grin. “What now, my feisty maid?”

What now, indeed? She’d blown the whole thing. She’d never be able to get inside his guard again. She was no fighter.

But she didn’t need to really fight. She needed the keys. Then she’d hold the knife on him while young Gawain unlocked his cell door. She’d force the guard into the cell and lock it. It could work. All she had to do was make sure he believed she
would
stab him. And of course, she had to keep him from overpowering her and getting the knife back. “Keys. Toss them here.”

“Or you’ll what?” He was still grinning.

“You’re right. I may not be able to kill you. So I’ll just go for the groin. Cut those pretty balls,” she hissed. “Or maybe mark your face. Then how will you fare with the ladies?”

That made his eyes widen. Just what she wanted. “Now give me the keys.”

She could see thoughts skimming through his eyes. It didn’t take being telepathic. He thought he’d give her the keys. Then while she was unlocking the door, he’d take the knife and she was his to do what he wanted with. “Very well.” He unhooked the keys and tossed them to her. She snatched them out of the air with her left hand.

Speculation passed through his eyes. “I don’t think you have the nerve to use that knife on me, little bird.” He swirled his cloak off and wrapped it around his arm to protect it.

Uh-oh.

“I will . . . ,” she began. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t kill a man just because he’d been unlucky enough to
draw guard duty tonight. Could she wound him? The last thing she wanted to do was stick a knife into human flesh. He looked like he knew how to prevent her from getting to any vital parts. Why wasn’t it as easy as books made it sound?

But there was another way. She backed around to her left, circling the approaching guard. And then, without warning, she tossed the keys into the cell next door to Gawain with the two hands on the bars and the shadowy figure within. Whoever it was, he’d want his freedom. And she needed an ally who would do what she wasn’t certain she could.

The guard glanced over, surprised. The hands at the bars caught the keys. The guard must have realized they would soon have company. Diana didn’t wait but launched herself at the guard, catching him off balance before he could draw his sword. They tumbled to the stone floor. Diana sent the knife sliding up to the bars of the unknown man’s cell where it would do the most good, before the guard could take it from her. He had her by the hair. She kicked and raked her nails across his face, wishing she had kept them longer. Her knee found his groin. She couldn’t really get a good swing at his balls, but she did what she could. He bellowed in rage. Diana heard the keys clicking in the lock behind her, clicking again. He couldn’t find the right key. The young guard struggled to his feet and jerked her around by her hair.

“Look out, my lady,” the boy cried from his cell.

The cell door snicked open. She threw herself as far to the right as she could. The man coming out of the dark cell was Lamorak. He swung the cell door so the outer bar caught the young guard directly in his face. Lamorak followed it with a kick to the guard’s belly and bent for the knife. The guard was trying to rise and pulling at his sword hilt at the same time, but he was clearly dazed.
Lamorak grabbed his hair, pulled his head up, and buried the knife in his throat. Blood spurted everywhere, including over Diana. She shrieked and shrieked. The guard’s hand relaxed around Diana’s hair. She watched his eyes glaze as she gasped for breath. Lamorak pushed him away. He fell backward, dead as a doornail.

Lamorak pulled her to her feet. “You did well, my lady.”

“You were great,” the boy said, from inside his cell.

“I couldn’t kill him,” she babbled. “I wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe I just didn’t have the will to do it. He would have taken the knife away from me. Then where would I be?”

“Look at me.” Lamorak turned her face away from the body and made her look into his lined warrior’s face. “So you freed me. I was your weapon, and you used me well. You did what you had to do. I wouldn’t mourn him. He was one of Mordred’s favorites.”

“No one deserves that.” Her eyes slid back to the body and the growing pool of blood on the floor. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t deserve what had happened to him. Gawain certainly didn’t deserve what was happening to him. She swallowed and tried to get hold of herself, looking around for the keys. “I have to free the boy so Merlin can help us kill Mordred.” The keys were still in the door to Lamorak’s cell. He retrieved them and handed them to her.

“Kill Mordred? That would be unwise, my lady. He alone keeps back the Saxons.”

She fumbled with the lock. When the boy was free, she motioned to them both to get up the stairs. They stumbled up and into the excavated maze above. As they made their way to the second stairway, a sparkling light appeared. Merlin. He solidified into flesh and blood.

“Father,” the boy called. “I knew you’d come.”

Merlin surveyed his son, Diana in her shift, and
Lamorak, who had brought the guard’s sword. “I see I am not only too late but unnecessary. It couldn’t see your image in the water until you came up from underground.” Young Gawain threw himself into his father’s arms. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” the wizard said. “It was all my fault.”

“You couldn’t see me,” the boy said. “This cell is too much like a cave.”

Diana realized that Gawain had always been bright. And forgiving.

“You are a brave boy. You will make a brave and honorable man,” Merlin said, his voice husky as he held his son and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

The boy looked up with total adoration in his eyes, surprised and pleased at the praise.

“Let’s get a move on. Now
my
Gawain needs help.” She pushed them all forward.

“I must take the boy to Guinevere.”

“Well, for God’s sake, hurry!” Diana urged. The little party broke into a run.

Gawain had killed four men. A single the first time and three at once the last time. They were laid out by the fireplace. Mordred was furious.

Gawain wouldn’t survive, of course. A deep cut on his thigh bled freely. Blood leaked from his shoulder. At least it wasn’t his sword arm. He wasn’t done yet. But he had to get to Mordred while he still had the strength. After he’d killed Mordred, those who were left would fall upon him. That would be the end of his ordeal. He picked up his sword, panting, and propped his fists on his knees.

“Who’s next?” Mordred called, his brow dark with anger. Maybe Gawain could turn Mordred’s fury to advantage.

“Perhaps you’d better take a turn yourself,”
Gawain growled. “Just weaken me with more wounds, so you can get straight to the finale.”

“You’re not worth a king’s sword,” Mordred sneered. “My men can finish you and then we’ll see you bleed from your back passage as they take you.”

“You’re afraid I’d best you.” He waited a beat. “Like I did before.”

Mordred’s eyes narrowed in rage before he arranged his face into boredom. He glanced around to his men. Several were shifting uneasily, even the ones in Gareth’s camp. Courage was essential in a king after all. Justice was apparently optional. Honor? Not valued by at least half the room. But courage? “It would hardly be a fair fight. Merlin has given me the true strength of ten. What would it prove for me to kill you?”

“That you are a leader of men.”

“I’m the only thing holding the Saxons at bay.”

“Only with Merlin’s help. He could help someone else.” Gawain caught a shift in Mordred’s expression that might have been fear. Then the king’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t think you can take six men. Gareth,” he barked, “you and your best.”

Gareth pointed to Agravain and several others.

Six. And Gawain was already weakened. This was most probably it. He’d never get to Mordred now. He’d failed the final time.

Diana hurried behind Merlin through the storeroom. They’d sent Lamorak with young Gawain up to Guinevere. It was Lamorak’s job to take out the guard on the landing, who probably wouldn’t be so eager to let Lamorak and the boy who was supposed to be incarcerated in to see the queen. The sound of clanging swords and grunting men from beyond the storeroom door was frightening. Diana could only take comfort in the fact that it meant Gawain was alive.

“Stay here, Diana,” Merlin whispered as they came to the door.

“No way,” she hissed back. “I’ve come across time with him; I’m not chickening out now. I don’t care what happens to me.”

Merlin frowned. His only choice was to put some kind of spell on her. He apparently decided against that. “Tell me one thing before we go in.”

Was the man mad? His son was in there and might be killed at any moment.

“No, he won’t,” Merlin said, and whether he could read minds or just knew by her expression what she was thinking she couldn’t say. “Not yet. I saw it in the scrying pool. Things are sorting themselves out now that the baby
is saved and young Gawain is freed. I see that you have been given a book. It is the tool that makes everything else happen. I see that you must come back with the machine or I will never know to send you forward. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?” She couldn’t keep the impatience from her voice.

“Why didn’t he tell me about his powers? You love him. You know him. Why?”

She didn’t have time to protest that she didn’t love him. That was a lie anyway. There was no time to ask how Merlin knew. So she tried to answer the question. Anything so Merlin would help Gawain. “Because he’s always felt he wasn’t good enough. You’re famous through the ages for your powers. He thought you would despise him because he could never be what you are. That’s why he tried so hard to be a perfect knight. It was the best he could do with what he had. He’s devastated when he fails at anything. But who can be perfect? Who can be you?”

“I’m far from perfect.” Merlin frowned. “I saw the look in his eyes today when I said he was my most precious possession. That was a surprise to him.”

“So go help him now, or you’ll have failed him twice,” Diana said, pressing the older man’s hands as if she could press her urgency into him.

Merlin nodded once and pushed through the door into the smoky hall, Diana in his wake.

What met her eyes was a fearful scene. At the far end of the room, beyond the feasting table, Gawain, naked and bleeding, was whirling like those scenes in Bruce Lee movies where he takes on all the members of the rival kung fu school at once. Gawain’s sword flashed, parrying madly. Even as she watched, a sword found his hip and sliced the flesh before he could sweep it away. She gasped in horror. Mordred watched from his throne chair,
his back to the newcomers. Some knights cheered wildly. She heard shouts of, “Well done, Sir Knight!” They cheered Gawain’s prowess and his courage? But they made no move to help him!

“Enough,” Merlin’s voice thundered through the hall like an echoing voice of God.

All turned to Merlin, stunned. Gawain crouched ready, chest heaving.

“Merlin, I thought you retired.” Mordred was wary. He could sense the change in Merlin.

“Only to fight on another front. Now I return to see to my son.”

“Then you know what will happen.” Mordred went hard.

Merlin looked deeply satisfied. “You no longer possess that which is dearest to me.” He smiled, and Diana had never seen anything so terrible. He glanced to where Gareth and Agravain had begun to attack Gawain again. “I said, enough,” Merlin said quietly. He held out a palm.

Diana was expecting incantations or something, maybe a lightning bolt. Instead the men around Gawain just.  . . froze. Gawain was standing in a circle of statues, frozen in some position of aggression. The thirty or so knights still cheering from the sidelines were frozen, too. Several serving maids stood poised with flagon or platter. Only Gawain, Merlin, Diana, and Mordred seemed to be mobile. Gawain turned, dazed, to survey those around him. He blinked and shook his head. Diana wanted to run to him, but Merlin held out a hand to stop her. “It isn’t over yet.” That sounded ominous. “Now this is more fair,” Merlin continued reasonably. “Gawain, you want to dispatch Mordred, I believe.”

Gawain nodded, gasping for breath, his eyes big and blue even from here.

“Mordred, your only chance to kill this troublesome intruder is to do it yourself.”

Mordred smirked. “Not a problem.”

Merlin held up both hands and parted them. The men surrounding Gawain stalked like puppets backward to the walls, clearing the space in front of the great fireplace. Mordred stood and unsheathed his sword. He came around the long feasting table, his smile broadening.

“Lest you miscalculate!” Merlin called. “Know that I withdraw the special powers you insisted on having.” He made a small circular motion with his hand, just at the level of his waist. Mordred looked shocked for a moment. He must be feeling his power ebb away. “You are just a man now, with whatever strength you had before my gift.”

Mordred chuckled. He glanced to Gawain, whose hair was plastered to his head with sweat, blood seeping over his body. “I’m fresh and he’s not. The outcome is foregone.” Mordred turned back to Merlin, frowning. “Unless you intervene.”

“I will not intervene,” Merlin said. Diana couldn’t believe her ears.

But Gawain nodded once to his father. “Let’s do it,” Gawain said, straightening.

Mordred stalked forward.

“You’ve
got
to intervene.” Diana tugged Merlin’s arm. “Gawain doesn’t have a chance.”