Chapter 23
His mother’s scream dragged Darin back from the abyss where he wrestled with the lost soul of his tormentor. As the world resolved itself before his eyes, he saw her finally wrench her wrists free of their bonds and fall to the ground next to the big black horse.
The phantom knight’s sword had now reached the highest point in its upward swing. Darin knew his end was upon him, but even so, the mysterious sense of pity for the tortured spirit he had just encountered persisted. He looked again at his mother, that she might be the last thing he would see.
She still lay on the ground, reaching out her hand to him. All at once, where there had been only empty air, Stella was there beside her. Time seemed to stop and Darin’s whole being was flooded with wonder and disbelief: the slender girl standing before him with arms outstretched and head erect exuded power the like of which he had never before witnessed. Twin beams of light blazed from her eyes, dazzling him.
When his sight returned, the figure standing in front of him with lifted sword had changed. Gone was the face that had mirrored his own so exactly. Instead, he saw a skull-like head, its thin, cracked lips drawn back from yellowing fangs; the eyes were nothing but dark hollows, a faint green phosphorescence in their depths. Something slithered through the matted, stringy hair that hung limply over the apparition’s withered cheeks.
The paralysis that held Darin’s limbs in check let go of him on the instant. With a swiftness born of violent revulsion, he drew his sword and swung it with all his might, aiming just above the place where the thin hair fell upon his enemy’s armoured shoulders. As he did so, he closed his eyes, to be greeted again by a vision of the terrified deer fleeing before him; he felt the impact once more as his blade bit into flesh.
He opened his eyes in time to see that hideous head spinning in the air, two feet above the phantom’s shoulders. Then there came a great roar, like nearby thunder in his ears, and total blackness fell over everything. He heard the big horse rear up, snorting wildly in the darkness.
Daylight returned abruptly. The black horse, white froth foaming from its mouth, plunged into the forest. A great wind blew up, forcing Darin to the ground, where he lay flat on his face. Within moments, it had risen to a shrieking crescendo, filling the air with swirling dust and pine needles and lashing the trees until they groaned and cracked.
When the gale died down, he lifted his head and looked about him. Broken branches strewed the ground; twisted roots showed white where the violence of the storm had torn them almost out of the earth. Stella was kneeling not far away, covering her eyes with her hands; Etaine too was now on her knees. Of the phantom knight there was no sign, only the dull sheen of his steel hauberk where it lay crumpled on the ground. He stood up unsteadily, staggered over to his mother and knelt before her. Looking sorrowfully at her bleeding wrists, he took her hands in his, kissed them gently and raised his eyes to hers. They fell sobbing into each other’s arms.
Something warm was nuzzling at Darin’s ear. He looked up; it was Dart. He smiled at his mother and she smiled back at him. Their tears were over.
“I think he wants us all to go home!” he said.
Etaine laughed and then looked quizzically at her son. “Did you know about this double of yours?”
“He paid me a visit the night before last. I don’t know what crimes he has committed, but people are blaming me for them. Stella thinks it’s all the work of Morgan the Enchantress, angry at losing my father.”
“Ah, yes. Stella!”
They stood up and looked around. There was no sign of the faerie damsel. They called out, but there was no answer.
“I knew who she was straight away,” Etaine said. “Guinevere described her to me in great detail. She told me how she charmed Arthur out of his foul temper. I’m not surprised—she certainly is very beautiful, isn’t she?”
Darin looked at his feet and mumbled.
“Oh, son! Broderic said he was worried you were making yourself unhappy over her. Come on, you can tell me.”
Darin sighed. “I’ve been a fool. Did you see her standing there, with the light blazing out of her eyes? I would always be half-afraid of a creature like that.”
The phantom knight’s silver shield was still leaning against a tree beside the path. Darin picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. “This will serve as evidence when we tell our story,” he said. “There is only one other like it and it’s still in the armoury. Now, let’s go home and face Agravain. Maybe father is back.”
He mounted Dart and helped his mother up to sit sidesaddle behind him. They rode back down the track together in silence until they had emerged from the pinewoods and started on the path south that would take them home.
“There is a damsel at Camelot in whose company I take a great deal of pleasure,” Darin said. “I think she cares for me. I must confess I look forward to seeing her again.”
“You mean Shayla”
Darin arched his brows in surprise, but only for a moment. “Of course—Broderic again!”
“He seems to think the two of you were made for each other.”
Darin laughed. “Maybe he’s right. But I’m young, Mother. I intend to take my time finding out!”
They rode on, silent again. Eventually, the last pines on their left were gone and the afternoon sun poured its glory down upon the familiar oaks of the Western Forest.
“While I was standing there helpless in face of that strange apparition, whoever or whatever it was, everything suddenly changed for me,” Darin said after a while. “Somehow I realized we all are a part of each other. I acted out of horror at what I saw when I struck the blow, but I couldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I was helping some lost spirit on its way to redemption.”
There was no reply. Darin turned and looked over his shoulder at his mother. Her brow was furrowed and her grey eyes seemed troubled as they met his. She dropped her gaze. “That lost spirit was Crevan’s,” she said.
Darin reeled in his saddle. He brought Dart to a standstill. “How can you be sure?”
“He used an old pet name he had for me. Butterfly.” Etaine shuddered. “I never could stand him calling me that, even when we were young.”
“That traitor again! How he must hate us! Morgan couldn’t have chosen a better ally.”
“He was taking me to her, he said. She was going to barter with your father. My freedom in exchange for his.”
Darin clenched his fists. “The villain! He held a knife to my throat and laughed at me.”
“He never forgave me for choosing your father instead of him. But son, I shouldn’t have told you all this. Promise you will say nothing to your father.”
“Why?”
“He will blame himself.” Etaine sighed. “When he came home to us, it took me some time to stop him feeling guilty for the way in which he slew Crevan. He was forced to strike at him from behind.”
“He executed a traitor! It was his duty. But no, I won’t tell him who the phantom really was.”
Darin felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. “Look,” she said. “There’s your father now!”
On the path up ahead, Karman was riding to meet them, sunlight gleaming on his armour and making bright his gaily-coloured trappings. As soon as he reached them, he leapt to the ground, rushed across and lifted Etaine from Dart’s back. He stood holding her tightly for some moments.
“You’re safe!” he murmured. He glanced at the shield slung over Darin’s shoulder. “So it’s true, there really was an impostor! Lachlyn the forester told me you had gone after him.”
Darin let his mother tell the story. When it was over, Karman looked at him. “I left your friend Broderic at Lachlyn’s cottage not long ago,” he said. “He’s been badly wounded, but Brogan’s herbs have helped him through his fever. Young Brynn is with him too.”
“Wounded? How?”
“He wouldn’t say. Tomorrow, though, he should be well enough for us to take some men fro
m the castle and bring him home on a litter. He will be better off with us than alone in his lodgings.”
“Yes, that would be best,” said Etaine. “And now, let’s go home.”
Karman helped Etaine up onto his horse and swung himself into the saddle behind her. Darin tried to think of Shayla as they rode on, but it was no good—he could not drive the pictures of Crevan out of his mind. He had imagined he was bringing release to some tormented soul when he swung his sword, but now he was not so sure. Perhaps Crevan would never free himself of his hatred—and if Morgan could raise his spirit from the dead once, there was nothing to stop her doing it again. And why had Stella disappeared without saying anything? He must find her.
They were not yet finished with Morgan.
Part 3: The Axe