Page 49 of The Road to Avalon
Morgana’s hands flew to her throat as though an invisible grip had her in its hold and was strangling her. As though Merlin’s hand, ten feet from her, might be doing just that. She gasped and choked, eyes wild, and her own hand came up to point at Merlin.
“No!” cried Nimuë, looking in desperation from Merlin to her mother and then back again. “Don’t do this. Tell him, Mother. Tell him what he wants to know.”
Merlin staggered back a step as though from a blow but held his ground.
Morgana went on choking.
“Stop it!” Nimuë cried, hovering between the two of them. “Don’t hurt my mother!”
“What should I do?” Llawfrodedd shouted, his hand on his sword hilt. “Do you want me to kill her?”
Morgawse sat down hard in her chair, mouth hanging open but not a sound coming out, her hands gripping the arms, wise enough not to interfere. Unable even if she’d wanted to.
I shook my head wildly at Llawfrodedd. “No. We need to find out who killed Llacheu before she dies.” Before she dies? Had I already made my mind up that she should? Did I agree with what Merlin was doing? With murder?
Merlin’s clawed hand tightened, his fingers squeezing the life out of his one-time lover, his face contorted with something more than the effort– with pain, with grief, with self-disgust perhaps for what he was doing, maybe even with unrequited love. “Who killed Llacheu?” he cried. “You’re behind this. I know. Youwilltell me, or you will die by my hand. Right now.”
Morgana’s face turned purple, and her eyes bulged. I’d never seen anyone strangled before and it wasn’t nice. Eyes do bulge and the tongue protrudes from the mouth, and the sound of someone fighting for their last breath is a sound you’ll never forget. How I hated that woman, how I’d longed for her demise, but this, this strangulation by magic, both terrified and disgusted me at the same time.
“Don’t kill her,” I cried. “Don’t make yourself as bad as her.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “She has to tell us, or Amhar will die. Do you want that? It’s her or him. I have to make her tell us.”
Nimuë’s hand shot up so fast I barely saw her move. Merlin flew back across the room and hit the door beside me with a resounding thump. Morgana fell to the floor, her breath rasping into her lungs like a person in the throes of a severe asthma attack, her body curled in a fetal position.
Merlin struggled to his feet, gasping for breath himself. “Tell me, you bitch,” he spat, his hand coming up to point at her again.
“No!” cried Nimuë, leaping in front of her mother. But Llawfrodedd grabbed her and pulled her out of the way, pinning her arms to her sides.
Morgana lifted her head from the mosaic, her lips curled back in a furious snarl. “Medraut,” she croaked. “Medraut did it.” A hoarse laugh escaped her throat as she pushed herself up straighter. “And yes, I blocked you. And I’ve won. You’re beaten. All of you. Arthur will kill his precious son. And Medraut will be his heir.” Her laugh became a mad cackle of triumph.
Merlin was even faster than Nimuë. His fingers clicked. Morgana’s head snapped back with an audible crack. Her body contorted, and she dropped to the mosaic floor once more, twitching, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling in mute accusation.
Chapter Twenty-One
Morgana’s body ceasedits twitching and lay still. For a long moment no one moved as the silence in the room stretched out like a piece of elastic about to break.
At last, Nimuë turned horror-stricken eyes on Merlin. “What have you done?” Her words hung in the air. She shook herself free of Llawfrodedd’s hold, her mouth working but no further words emerging.
I dragged my eyes away from Morgana’s body, and stared at Merlin as well.
He sagged against the carved doors, perhaps unable to believe he’d killed her. All color had drained from his face. His right hand hung by his side, the fingers slack, and his chin had fallen forward onto his chest, his hair flopping over his face.
Llawfrodedd regained his senses first. Two strides took him to Morgana’s side. He dropped to his knees, his fingers searching her throat for a pulse.
He wouldn’t find one. That crack had been her neck breaking.
After a minute’s frowning concentration, he looked up and shook his head.
“Oh my God.” Morgawse’s voice rose barely above a hoarse whisper. “Close her eyes. I can’t look at them.” She hung onto the arms of her chair as though to a lifeline in a stormy sea.
Llawfrodedd pressed his hand against Morgana’s frozen face, holding her eyes shut. I well remembered how difficult it was to close the eyes of the dead. It’s like they don’t want to oblige– that they’d rather keep on staring at the life they’ve left behind.
“Mother?” Nimuë fell to her knees beside Llawfrodedd and caught hold of one of her mother’s slack hands. “Mother?” A heartfelt plea that would never be answered. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks, making small stains of darkness where they fell on Morgana’s clothing. Her slender body shook with sobs.
Archfedd let go of my hand, squaring her shoulders. “We have our answer,” she said, her voice determined. “To save Amhar, we must leave. Now.” She looked at Merlin. “She’s dead. Your Sight is unbound. Use it and tell us where he is. Quickly.”
I stared at her, taken aback by her cold indifference to Morgana’s death when she didn’t even have the excuse of knowing her of old like I did. This wasn’t the daughter I knew.
