Page 50 of The Road to Avalon
She drew herself up taller and set her jaw. “She said Amhar would die. She said Father would kill him. Medraut did this, not Amhar. We have to get to my brother before Father does. We have to tell him it was Medraut.”
Morgawse’s eyes focused on my daughter, hard as pebbles. “You stupid girl. My sister was lying. She made that up to cause more trouble. Can’t you see? This is what she wanted you to do. My son is no more guilty than Amhar is. She wanted to be rid of any rival to her own daughter. Toher. That’s Medraut as well as Llacheu and Amhar, and you and Reaghan too. She wanted you all gone.”
Nimuë continued to sob over her mother’s body, as though oblivious to the accusation that involved her, as though she couldn’t be a part of it.
I turned to Merlin. “Look, then,” I demanded, harsh and angry. “Look and see who did it. Then we’ll know the truth.”
“Wait.” Llawfrodedd looked up. “What do you mean about Reaghan?”
Morgawse’s face contorted. “My sister told me Cei’s daughter has gone to join a religious house, pledging herself to God. That’s one way of getting rid of any rivals, isn’t it? And this is another. Setting the cousins at war against each other, and my brother against all of them.”
Oh God. Morganahadbeen behind it all. She’d planned to get rid of everyone standing in the way ofherchild.
“I don’t care about Reaghan,” Archfedd cried, grabbing hold of Merlin by the shoulders. “I only care about my brother. Look, will you? Find him and tell us the truth.”
Merlin lifted his head, and drew a deep, steadying breath. “I will search for Amhar first.” He kept his voice low and flat, devoid of emotion. He sounded exhausted, spent, the shadows under his eyes like dark smudges on his gray skin.
“Yes, look,” Archfedd said. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”
He pushed himself away from the door, leaning one hand on it as if he might fall without support. “Give me a moment. I can’t do this to order. Not like this.”
Still kneeling on the floor, Llawfrodedd straightened Morgana’s twisted limbs with gentle hands, lessening her look of a broken doll, making her more human. Beside her, Nimuë sat immobile, letting him do it, tears running down her cheeks in silent grief.
Morgawse pushed herself out of her chair onto legs that wobbled and dropped down beside her niece. Her arm went around the girl’s shoulders, but she didn’t speak. Her accusing eyes remained fixed on Merlin.
Still with one hand on the door, he closed his eyes.
I willed him to have the strength to do this. Our days of travel, the sleepless nights and his attempts to use the Sight had sapped his strength, and the perpetually youthful man I knew had gone, to be replaced by the old man standing before me.
Find my son.
Four pairs of eyes fixed on him, as Llawfrodedd slowly clambered to his feet. Only Nimuë seemed to pay him no attention, her shoulders shaking still.
My breath came fast, as though I’d been running. I tried to steady it, but the tension pressing in around us refused to let me. I’d hyperventilate if I wasn’t careful. No paper bags to breathe into here in the Dark Ages.
Time ticked past, the only sound our own harsh breathing. Nimuë shot a glance at me, drawing her sleeve across her face to wipe the tears away, and I caught a momentary flash of cold fury in her eyes before she dropped a barrier between us. She wasn’t as absorbed in her mother as we all thought.
Merlin’s eyes snapped open, staring past us into an invisible distance, pupils huge. “I see a deep valley with a wide river running through it, and a high rock that rises above it.” Almost, he sounded as though in a trance. “An old fortress stands where Ercing once was ruled from the Doward. They call it Caer Guorthegirn.” He put a hand to his eyes. “The boy is there… but Arthur draws close, and danger threatens.” He staggered, as though the effort had been too much for him, and I released my hold on Archfedd to catch him around the waist. He leaned heavily on me. “He is innocent… I… can see no more…”
“Merlin!” I found myself supporting most of his weight as he sagged against me, his eyes rolling up in his head. His body crumpled.
Morgawse let out an anguished cry. “Make him look for me.” She abandoned Nimuë and scrambled to her feet. “Wake him up. He has to look. He has to prove my sister was lying when she accused Medraut. He has to.”
Nimuë’s body stiffened, but she kept her eyes down.
Llawfrodedd moved fast, grabbing Merlin under the arms as his head lolled to one side. Together, we lowered him to the ground. His eyes had closed, and his shallow breathing barely stirred his chest.
“We have to go,” Archfedd cried, her hand on the door. “We have to get to Amhar before Father does.”
Morgawse threw herself at Merlin, grabbing the front of his tunic and almost yanking him up off the floor. “Wake up! You have to look. You have to.” His head flopped. She swung round to me. “It wasn’t Medraut. My sister was lying. You have to believe me. She hated us and wanted usallto suffer. My son wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t. A mother knows these things.”
Does she though? Hadn’t I doubted Amhar and thought he might be capable of such a crime? Was I a terrible mother for thinking the worst of her child? And how could Morgawse be any more certain than I was?
I dragged her off Merlin, and he fell back to the mosaic floor, limp and unresponsive. “You’re hurting him. Leave him alone. He’s exhausted. Look what using the Sight has done to him.”
But had it? I’d seen him use his powers before, and although they’d drained him, he’d never lost consciousness like this. Something else had happened here, something I didn’t understand.
Llawfrodedd put his fingers to Merlin’s jawline, feeling for a pulse. “He’s alive, but his pulse is faint.” He met Archfedd’s anguished gaze. “But the Princess is right. We have to find Amhar before the King does. If Merlin’s correct, we have little time.” He turned to Morgawse, who I was still hanging on to. “Where was he describing? Where is this Caer Guorthegirn? Do you know? Tell us.”
