think he wouldn’t notice? Of course, if he hadn’t needed to rely on his men to snatch it in the ambush, he might have noticed the swap sooner. He almost wished he had let the knights bring the sword all the way to him now. Then he’d have had an excuse to kill the lot of them.
“Mordred!” snapped his mother. “Are you listening to me? I said we have a problem.”
“Yes, it’s called my cousin,” Mordred agreed. “She’s still got Excalibur, so what? At least she’s not here. When I’ve killed Lancelot and the Lance of Truth is mine, I’ll ride to Camelot and make the stupid knights surrender. Then I’ll deal with her and get the sword as well. She’s only a damsel, after all.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” the witch hissed. “Are you a complete fool?”
Mordred stiffened. “At least I’m still
alive
.”
“And don’t forget you wouldn’t be, if not for my magic!” she snapped. “So you’d better not disappoint me, my boy.”
She no longer looked so beautiful. Shadows writhed in her hair, and her eyes flashed black in the glass. He bit his tongue, afraid of her power.
But she sighed and said, “Listen, and listen well. The knights have mended the lance somehow. I don’t think it’s as strong as when it was made, and I doubt Lancelot can use its magic unless he’s had a change of heart since the last time he tried, but you must be very careful. Strike first and make sure you unhorse him. Once he’s on foot, he’ll haveto drop the lance and fight you with his sword. He might be fooled by your lookalike Excalibur long enough to give you the element of surprise.”
A chill went down Mordred’s spine. “But nobody’s ever unhorsed Lancelot in a tilt, except King Arthur that time when the lance broke…”
“Pull yourself together, boy,” the witch snapped. “I’ll help you, of course. Now show me that sword they gave you.”
Mordred reached automatically for the hilt with his missing right hand. He scowled as his empty gauntlet flapped against the fake jewel. Gripping the mirror against his saddle with his knee, he drew the blade left-handed to show her.
She was silent a moment. Then she said,“I sense Avalonian magic in this, but there’s no enchantment on it now. It’ll do once you’ve sharpened it. When I’ve gone, you’ll see a snake. Get your men to milk it, and use its venom to poison the blade. There’s more than one way to kill a knight.”
Mordred swung the lookalike sword, feeling a bit more confident. It was a good enough weapon, well-balanced even if not magic, and he had to admit that it looked the part. Hopefully Lancelot would not be able to tell the difference, either. He looked forward to seeing the champion knight’s face when he thought he was fighting against the Sword of Light.
“Where’s the queen?” asked his mother, interrupting his thoughts. “I trust you haven’t been stupid enough to bring her down here?”
Mordred smiled. “No, she’s still tucked up safe in her tower. I left the spirit channel to your mirror open so she can watch the duel.”
“You’re a soft-hearted boy,” his mother said, more fondly now. “Good. Between us, we ought to be able to deal with Lancelot. His two weaknesses are his knightly code and his love for Guinevere. He won’t do anything to endanger the queen’s life. Now then, put that mirror where I told you, and leave the rest to me.”
Mordred obediently reached up and wedged the glass in a crack above the archway that separated his lands from his Uncle Arthur’s. A chill green mist breathed along the Wall, making his bloodbeards shiver. The mist curled around the ruins, and a shimmering green curtain filled the archwaybehind them. Beyond it, thunder rumbled, and a black snake slithered out of the shadows. The horse leaped forward with a surprised snort.
Despite his injuries, Mordred hardly moved in the saddle. The animal would jump like that at the start of the tilt, and he’d been practising.
“Mordred!” snapped his mother. “Are you listening to me? I said we have a problem.”
“Yes, it’s called my cousin,” Mordred agreed. “She’s still got Excalibur, so what? At least she’s not here. When I’ve killed Lancelot and the Lance of Truth is mine, I’ll ride to Camelot and make the stupid knights surrender. Then I’ll deal with her and get the sword as well. She’s only a damsel, after all.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” the witch hissed. “Are you a complete fool?”
Mordred stiffened. “At least I’m still
alive
.”
“And don’t forget you wouldn’t be, if not for my magic!” she snapped. “So you’d better not disappoint me, my boy.”
She no longer looked so beautiful. Shadows writhed in her hair, and her eyes flashed black in the glass. He bit his tongue, afraid of her power.
But she sighed and said, “Listen, and listen well. The knights have mended the lance somehow. I don’t think it’s as strong as when it was made, and I doubt Lancelot can use its magic unless he’s had a change of heart since the last time he tried, but you must be very careful. Strike first and make sure you unhorse him. Once he’s on foot, he’ll haveto drop the lance and fight you with his sword. He might be fooled by your lookalike Excalibur long enough to give you the element of surprise.”
A chill went down Mordred’s spine. “But nobody’s ever unhorsed Lancelot in a tilt, except King Arthur that time when the lance broke…”
“Pull yourself together, boy,” the witch snapped. “I’ll help you, of course. Now show me that sword they gave you.”
Mordred reached automatically for the hilt with his missing right hand. He scowled as his empty gauntlet flapped against the fake jewel. Gripping the mirror against his saddle with his knee, he drew the blade left-handed to show her.
She was silent a moment. Then she said,“I sense Avalonian magic in this, but there’s no enchantment on it now. It’ll do once you’ve sharpened it. When I’ve gone, you’ll see a snake. Get your men to milk it, and use its venom to poison the blade. There’s more than one way to kill a knight.”
Mordred swung the lookalike sword, feeling a bit more confident. It was a good enough weapon, well-balanced even if not magic, and he had to admit that it looked the part. Hopefully Lancelot would not be able to tell the difference, either. He looked forward to seeing the champion knight’s face when he thought he was fighting against the Sword of Light.
“Where’s the queen?” asked his mother, interrupting his thoughts. “I trust you haven’t been stupid enough to bring her down here?”
Mordred smiled. “No, she’s still tucked up safe in her tower. I left the spirit channel to your mirror open so she can watch the duel.”
“You’re a soft-hearted boy,” his mother said, more fondly now. “Good. Between us, we ought to be able to deal with Lancelot. His two weaknesses are his knightly code and his love for Guinevere. He won’t do anything to endanger the queen’s life. Now then, put that mirror where I told you, and leave the rest to me.”
Mordred obediently reached up and wedged the glass in a crack above the archway that separated his lands from his Uncle Arthur’s. A chill green mist breathed along the Wall, making his bloodbeards shiver. The mist curled around the ruins, and a shimmering green curtain filled the archwaybehind them. Beyond it, thunder rumbled, and a black snake slithered out of the shadows. The horse leaped forward with a surprised snort.
Despite his injuries, Mordred hardly moved in the saddle. The animal would jump like that at the start of the tilt, and he’d been practising.
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