Page 22 of The Quest for Excalibur
Then I lay back, exhausted, as tears trickled down my cheeks, despair welling up from the bottom of my broken heart to fill my body. Could I have dreamed the last twelve years?
Oh Arthur, where are you?
Chapter Eleven
Alittle aftersix, an auxiliary brought me some kind of unrecognizable stew served with over-cooked vegetables and mashed potato that had hard, undercooked lumps in it. Sponge pudding and custard with a thick skin on it followed for dessert. When had I last been in hospital? To have my appendix out, aged twelve. I’d forgotten how bad hospital food could be. Then a cup of strong tea. Nectar. How many times in the last twelve years had I longed for a nice cup of tea?
I lay considering my position while the lady in the next bed watchedAntiques Roadshowwith earphones on. Television. I stole a sneaky glance, marveling at how much I hadn’t missed it.
Forget the TV. Much more important was working out how I’d got back here. I shoved aside my first horrified thought that I’d dreamed my time in the Dark Ages, as my bruises gave the lie to that. Hadn’t I been riding across the plain below Din Cadan with my family and fallen off my horse? Had that fall somehow returned me to my old world? It didn’t make sense.
The certainty that I hadn’t imagined the years I’d been away pressed in on me. Yet, here I was, on what appeared to be the very day I’d left, battered and bruised and confined to a hospital bed– a twenty-first-century hospital bed. I hadn’t acquired these bruises from rolling down a grassy hillside. And anyway, Nathan had found meinsidethe tower.
“Do not believe your dreams.”
A feeling of terrifying urgency enveloped me as I watched the clock’s hands tick around in infuriating slow motion, counting off the minutes I’d been back in my old world, turning them into hours. I had to get away before those hours became days. I had to get back to where I was meant to be. Somehow, the conviction that the longer I spent here, the harder it would be to return to my chosen life swept over me like a rising tide.
The nurses were bustling about with a new admission to the empty bed opposite mine. One of them shot a glance at me and I looked away, uneasy under her curious gaze, conscious they regarded me as a bit of a mystery. That they thought my boyfriend had beaten me up.
I gathered my wandering thoughts. If I’d got back here the same way I’d left this world, then magic must have played a part. And this time not benevolent magic. That triumphant laughter I’d heard echoed in my head again, like a tune you hear then can’t get rid of. A woman’s laughter. Hafren’s? I conjured up her face and the acquisitive looks she’d given Arthur, and balled my fists. No. Whatever she was, she didn’t have the power to do this to me. But someone else did.
Oh, Merlin, I need your help.
Nathan would be back in the morning with my clean clothes. He’d want to take me to the place I’d once considered home, miles from here. Miles from the only possible way back to the man I loved… and my children.
A lump rose to my throat as I thought of Arthur, Amhar and Archfedd, and my stomach churned at the almost insurmountable gulf of centuries stretching between us. A plan. I had to make a plan: find a way to get back, find out what power had banished me back here. And find outwhohad done it. That someone had done this on purpose, I had no doubt.
When no one was looking, I slipped out of bed and peeked into my bedside cabinet. Walking boots and coat. No clothes, though. They’d probably been filthy. Nathan must have taken them. Damn it. I needed clothes now.
What was that lump in my coat pocket? Aha. My cell phone. That might come in useful. I pressed my thumb to the bottom button. It burst into bright life showing 85% battery. Not bad. A message, time 9:34, from Nathan, waited to be answered.Where are you? I’m getting worried.
I bit my lip. I couldn’t let him turn up tomorrow morning and take me back to my old life– working in the library, living in that neat little house with all the modern conveniences I no longer missed. I didn’t need them. I didn’t needhim. What I needed, above all else, was Arthur and my children.
The ache in my heart was physical. I couldn’t sit here and let this happen. I couldn’t passively accept what someone else had decreed for me. I wasn’t that woman any longer. I was a warrior queen, not a librarian.
I glanced at the nurses, busy at their large desk under that ticking clock. Instinct told me a stopwatch was running, counting down the time I had to act. That the window on the Tor, now it had been opened once again, would shut forever if I wasn’t quick. That the person who’d sent me back here would make sure of that. Very soon.
I had to get away from here.
Did I have phone signal? Yes. Four bars. Great. With fingers unaccustomed to technology, I fumbled to the web browser. What had the nurse called this hospital? I did a search. West Mendip. Maps next. Satellite view. There it was. Now, where was the Tor and my doorway to the past?
I gripped the phone and stared down at my fingers, not seeing the screen at all.
The ring. I’d need the ring.
My fingers were bare.
My heart began to thump painfully hard against my ribs, and my hands on the phone shook so much, I dropped it onto the covers on the bed. No ring meant no magic. How had I got back here without it? Where was it? I never took it off. How would the doorway on the Tor open without it? Real, unreasoning terror crawled up my spine, desperation parching my mouth.
Arthur’s face hovered in front of my eyes, with Amhar’s and Archfedd’s, their mouths moving, but making no sound. Were they calling my name?
I had to think straight.
With an enormous effort, I stilled my shaking hands and, reaching over, pressed the button to call a nurse.
A different one this time. Older, grumpier, dyed red hair in a neat bun. “Yes, is there something wrong?” She sounded fed up and jaded.
I held out my hand. “My ring’s gone. D’you know if someone took it off while I was… unconscious?”
