The Indigo King - James A. Owen [91]
In answer, Arthur began to raise the black sword, Caliburn, as he stepped forward.
“Arthur, please!” Mordred cried out as he stepped up onto the table to meet the younger man’s approach. “Please, don’t—”
The corner of the table, worn and pockmarked with age, gave way under Mordred’s foot, and he fell, twisting, against Arthur, who caught him against his chest.
There was a terrible cracking sound, and thunder shook the castle walls, raining stones down all around them.
The sword Caliburn fell to the ground. The blade broke off just above the hilt.
Mordred looked down at it, disbelieving, and stepped back from his nephew, letting go of the spear.
Arthur looked down at the shattered sword, then at his chest, where the spear, the Lance of Longinus, had pierced his heart. He pulled it free, then fell to his knees on the stone table. He whispered something to Mordred, then fell.
The companions raced over to the table just in time for John to catch the king. He looked up, stricken. “We’ve arrived too late,” he said mutely. “The one, the Arthur …
“… is dead.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Enchantresses
The girl walked along the island’s shoreline, idly dragging one foot through the surf. The old fisherman watched her, knowing, as she only suspected, that this was the last day they would spend together.
“You know,” he said jovially, “you’re going to scare all the fish.”
“Sorry, Grandfather,” she told him. “I was just thinking.”
“I could tell. But you’re not afraid?”
She considered her answer. “No,” she said finally. “Not afraid. But I know that my childhood is nearly over. And it makes me sad. Leaving you makes me sad.”
He nodded. “I understand. It was the same with your uncle Telemachus. But nothing is forever. We’ll meet again someday.”
“Will we? Does that mean I’ll live to see tomorrow?”
“None of us knows that for sure,” he replied, “but I’d say the odds are in your favor.”
She didn’t answer, but simply stared out across the water, toward the line of storms that never seemed to change, and wondered if she would ever see what lay beyond them. She hoped she would.
* * *
Mordred hadn’t moved. He just stood there, confused, looking from the bloodied spear that lay on the ground to Arthur and back again.
“What did he mean?” Mordred whispered to no one in particular.
The companions approached cautiously, uncertain of what was happening. John cradled the lifeless form of Arthur in his arms and looked up as Mordred repeated the words. “What did he mean?”
“What did he say to you, Mordred?” Jack said, stepping closer. Once, years before, in his own timeline, he’d shared a connection with Mordred that had been forged more because of his youth than poor judgment, and nearly lost his shadow—and soul—because of it. But he knew a personal struggle when he saw it.
Mordred looked at him, his face a mixture of emotions. “He said, ‘You are strong enough to bear this.’ What did he mean by that?”
John’s mind raced. The crucial moment had passed, and they’d missed their chance to undo whatever had been done. Whichever brother had been their true adversary no longer mattered. Arthur was dead. Now the only hope they had was to prevent the ascent of Mordred to the throne. To keep him from becoming king and turning the world and the Archipelago into the Winterland.
“Mordred,” John said cautiously, “what were you and Arthur arguing about?”
The question seemed to snap Mordred out of his trance. “Arguing?” he repeated. “We were arguing about what I am compelled to do. Arthur disagreed. But now,” he added ruefully, as he looked at his nephew’s body and the realization of what had happened hit him fully, “the path is clear. And there will be none who can oppose me.”
“This is what Arthur meant, Mordred!” Jack exclaimed. “You are strong enough to bear this! We saw what happened. We know you didn’t mean to kill him. Don’t let his death force you into a path—”
“Force me?” Mordred said with a barking laugh. “As with a Binding? Don’t you think I worked out