“You know?”
“I figured it out. Emrys confirmed it just before I left to find you.”
Marc sheathed his sword and grabbed his boots. After wiping his feet in the grass, he pulled his boots on and started to prepare his horse.
Trystan caught movement from the corner of his eye. He turned and watched as the old, twisted tree—the willow from his dream—began to shake. A hideous creature with the features of a man jumped down from the branches above.
“Marc…” Trystan said in an uneasy tone. He dropped Excalibur, grabbed an arrow, and trained his bow on the strange, unsightly man.
Standing next to him, Marc turned, and immediately palmed the pommel of his sword.
The leaves of the tree liquefied, melting into the bark as the limbs contracted and merged into each other. The old, gnarled willow twisted and turned, almost violently, as it shrank down and changed… into a woman.
The transformed woman appeared around forty years of age and thin, almost emaciated. Her mess of tangled, fiery red hair fell to her waist. A wickedness lit her dark gray eyes. At her side, the creature crouched in silence.
“She is not here to help us,” Marc whispered. With Grønn Riddari hovering submissively at her side, he knew she intended to harm Trystan and likely had been the one to enchant the lake. Marc positioned himself between Trystan and the evil woman.
Trystan almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Almost.Could this day get any worse?
“Morgaine?” Marc whispered, recalling the stories Emrys had told him about Grønn Riddari after his first encounter with the beast-like man.
“You know her?” Trystan asked, narrowing his eyes at Marc.
“Emrys mentioned her. Thatthingbeside her is the one who poisoned and abducted you.”
“So it’s true,” said the strange woman. “Arthur really did have a child. After all these years…”
“Who are you? And what do you want?” Trystan demanded.
“Has Myrddin told you anything?” the woman asked, as though taunting him.
Trystan did not answer.How did she know of Myrddin?
“Oh, Myrddin, you’ve made this too easy for me,” the woman said, her vicious laugh sending shivers through Trystan. “You don’t even know who you are, do you?”
Trystan hardened his gaze. “I am the heir to Camelot.”
When the woman took a step toward them, Trystan tried to hide the fear growing inside him. He steeled himself. “You haven’t answered my questions yet. Who are you?”
“I am Morgaine, and it is my destiny to rule Camelot, not yours! I have been waiting for the day to come when Arthur’s heir would appear to claim Excalibur.” Morgaine took another step toward them. “Now, that you have, I shall kill you and be on my way to claim my kingdom.”
“You’ll have to get past me first,” Marc warned. His sword drawn, he maintained his position between Trystan and Morgaine.
“Foolish man! I shall destroy you as well then!” Morgaine cackled, extending her arms out in front of her.
Between her hands, a fireball formed, suspended in the air. It radiated a bright, reddish orange, and continued growing as Morgaine focused on it.
They had nowhere to retreat. No protective cover. Escaping on horseback didn’t seem the right choice.
Marc reached down and picked up Excalibur from where Trystan had dropped it and sheathed his other sword. Holding Excalibur in one hand, he reached around with his other and pushed Trystan back behind him. They backed away slowly and eyed her intently, not knowing what would happen, and attempted to prepare themselves for whatever might come next.
Before Morgaine could finish the cast, Emrys materialized nearby.
“Leave him alone, Morgaine!” he yelled. A ball of lightning flew from his hand directly toward her. Her fireball disintegrated.
“Ah, Myrddin. I was wondering when you would show up,” Morgaine snarled.
“And now you can leave,” Emrys growled, casting a blue fireball and hurling it toward her.
As it struck her, Grønn Riddari grabbed a hold of Morgaine’s leg and the two of them vanished in a cloud of red smoke.
Trystan looked at Emrys, mixed emotions of anger and bewilderment swirling within.
Marc checked their surroundings, ensuring the danger was gone, before turning his eyes to Emrys. “I think it’s time we heard the whole truth, Emrys,” Marc said, a steady calmness in his voice. He wrapped his arm around Trystan’s shoulder, pulling him close.
“It is. That was a sorceress named Morgaine, and for the time being, she has been banished to a place far from here. Come, both of you. Now that she knows you have the sword, we’ve not much time, and we cannot talk here.”
Emrys walked up to both of them and placed one hand on Marc’s shoulder. “Hold on to each other,” Emrys said. “Kastal á kliwyn.”
The three of them vanished into a swirl of air and dust.
