Chapter 12

Galahad made his way to the gates of Camelot, certain that Gwendolyn would not be long. As he arrived, however, he already had an unexpected guest. Furrowing his brow, he found himself staring at Mordred's iron steed.

"What are you doing here?"

It snorted and stomped its hoof, as disagreeable as ever.

No matter. Shaking his head, Galahad took his post by the door. He did not have to wait long. Only a few hours at most. He watched the speck in the sky grow larger. It was smaller than a dragon, but bigger than a bird. And as the sunlight caught the red of dragon's wings, he knew who it was. He sighed. He would keep his sword sheathed for now. Gwendolyn was a sweet young woman, and their friendship was strong. Though he knew it was about to be tested.

Gwendolyn circled the ruins, lower and lower, before she landed. It was clear she was still new to the act of flight. She staggered a bit as she touched the ground but this time did not fall.

He smiled faintly. "You are learning quickly. He would be proud to watch you fly."

"He'd laugh his ass off at me, are you kidding?" Gwen swept her hair back from her face, clasping her wings to her shoulders and letting the leathery skin fall behind her like a cape. She was wearing what Galahad could only assume was modern clothing. It suited her well.

"Oh, he would tease. But his heart would soar beside you, to see you come into your own so well."

"Thanks." Gwen caught sight of Mordred's steed, her expression twisting to one of frustration and anger. "Oh fuck you,you stupid horse! You knew where he was this entire fucking time? God, I hate you."

Galahad chuckled at her outburst before he stepped forward, reaching out to embrace the young woman.

She took a step back.

He frowned. "Are we not friends?"

"We are—you know I love you like family, but—" She winced. "I just had a run-in with your wife."

Galahad paused. "What?"

"She tried to kill me. Said she was after the throne, and just wanted Thorn out of the way first." Gwen shook her head. "I—I hurt her, I'm sorry, but she's alive. She's just injured."

Fear churned in his stomach. Fear and dismay. He shook his head, pacing away from Gwendolyn. "If you love me as you say, promise me these are words of truth."

"I'm not lying to you. I give you my word—on my life. Fuck, on Eod's life, that's more important." Gwen sounded exhausted. He was certain it was not simply because of her flight.

"Oddly, yes, swearing upon the dog's life has meaning to me." He chuckled sadly. "You would never break such a vow." Shutting his eyes, he let the sadness wash over him. "I am sorry you came to blows. I did not know of her designs—on you or the island."

"I believe you." Gwen paused. "Are we going to have to fight now? I—I really don't want to. And I think you'll win. I don't know if I have another explosion in me."

He blinked. He figured she meant that literally, but he did not bother to ask. "I do not wish to fight you either, Gwendolyn. But you must understand what will come of your actions."

"I do. I get it. Elementals will die. Mordred is…not okay. Going into that thing has changed him. I've been able to speak to him in my dreams and he's…" She hesitated again. "Pissed, to put it lightly."

Broken was more likely the word she had been searching for, he surmised. Perhaps insane. Bloodthirsty was a given. The matter was just how intractably so. "He is a brother to me. He is family. I have been at his side for over a thousand years. But I fear what he will do, should he be set free."

"I know. I am too. But…he's going to die in there. And soon if I don't let him out."

"How will you free him?" He arched an eyebrow. "Fire alone will not do it."

She shrugged, but from her expression, there was something she was not telling him. "I'll figure it out. Magic, or something. Right?" She wiggled her fingers in the air. "And if I can't, well, you win."

"This is not a victory." He turned his gaze toward the cavernous entryway of the ruins of Camelot. The wooden doors had long since rotted away, leaving only the metal hinges behind. The beams that had once held up the roof fared little better. "None of this is a victory."

"What would you do, in my place? Would you leave him there if you could save him?"

"I am the one who put him there." Galahad cringed, the guilt in his heart stabbing at him. "Though, now I wonder if exile had not been the better option."

"Probably. But the elementals would still be going nuts. Thorn would still be trying to steal the throne. Same with Zoe. I think we'd be in the same situation." Gwen walked up beside him and hugged his arm.

"Yes, but he would be sane." Galahad huffed a mirthless laugh. "Less insane, at any rate."

"Yeah." She went quiet for a moment. "He scares me, a little. But I just…I need him. I need his help. The villagers are being slaughtered."

It hurt him to know that innocents were already being put to the torch, though he could not say that he was surprised. It came down to the same debate, no matter the predicament. "Here we find ourselves again, my king."

"Huh?" Gwen looked up at him.

"This is the predicament all rulers find themselves in, one way or another. Though, if they are lucky, they will only have to register the math but once." He felt tired suddenly. Old. Weary. He walked to a rock by the entrance and sat. He had no intention of fighting Gwendolyn.

Frowning, the young woman joined him, sitting at his side. "What predicament?"

He shut his eyes, leaning his head back against the stone wall. He could almost hear the shouting of the armies that had once waged war over the stone structure, though it had been on Earth at the time. And it was a very long time ago. "How many innocents must die before the death of the elementals is justified? How many souls must be weighed before war is righteous?"

Gwen shook her head. "I wish I knew."

"There is never an answer. It is the cost of wearing the crown." The sky overhead was beautiful, the clouds lazily floating by. It looked like rain was amassing on the horizon, but it was hours away. "It is the weight you will carry upon your soul until the day it is taken from you. Do you understand?"

"I do. Everyone who dies at Mordred's hand will die because of me. Because I set him free. But every innocent life that continues will be spared too. But that doesn't make the death less important. Less terrible." Letting out a ragged sigh, she put her head in her hands. "This fucking sucks."

Chuckling, Galahad rubbed her back. He could gather her meaning well enough. "Yes. In that, you are not wrong."

"Thank you for not treating me like a kid. Or a moron."

"You are neither. You are young in years but not in heart. And you are no fool."

Her smile was faint and faded quickly. "If I step in there, are you going to stop me?"

"No. I will not aid you, however. This, you must do alone." He stood, feeling his age once more. His body was not a day older since he had set foot on Avalon. But his soul felt every second. "I will go gather my injured wife."

"Tell her I'm sorry." Gwen headed for the entrance.

"Are you?" He arched an eyebrow.

She paused in her steps briefly. "I'm sorry it happened."

"Fair." He watched as she disappeared into the ruins. He would not tell her where to go, or how to access the lake beneath the tomb. That was her journey. And she achieved the impossible, everywhere she went. She would find her own way.

War would be coming.

And now it seemed he had to choose between the woman he loved and his brother-in-arms.

It would be a long flight home.

Gwen was glad to be spared a knock-out fight with Galahad. She'd have a real problem hurting him. Both emotionally and physically. The Knight in Gold had left with a troubled, weary expression on his face. Zoe's actions had shocked him, as had her motivations. He was going to have to go home and contend with all of that.

It would have been nice to have some company, and maybe some help, but she understood. Galahad was doing enough by letting her pass. The choice was hers to make, and so was the burden that would follow.

This was on her.

She was about to let out a rabid tiger. When it ate the countryside, it was her fault. Sure, Mordred was a grown man and could think for himself. But he'd made his intentions very clear.

Her jaw ticked as she walked into the ruins. A gust of wind rustled some of the dry leaves that had gathered in the corners of the rooms. She wished she could have seen it when it was in its prime—not just inside Mordred's dreams. It must have been a wonder. Now, it was mossy and overgrown, the stones stained with rain and worn smooth with time. She stepped over a fallen beam as she headed deeper into the structure. She didn't know where she was going. Not really.

Gwen turned the necklace over in her hand, running her thumb along the ridges of the iron shard. It reminded her of why she was there and that she wasn't truly alone. Mordred was here. Trapped and suffering.

She wound her way deeper into the old castle. All the tapestries that must have adorned the walls were gone, long since eaten away by critters and destroyed by the weather. But the wooden rods that had held them up were still there, at least some of them. They hung at odd angles, but a few held on against all odds, the ropes that perched them there somehow having survived.

It took her minutes of wandering to find a doorway that went down into the basement. Whatever had covered the door was long gone, leaving the gaping chasm of darkness that was more than a little foreboding. She was going to a tomb, after all.

And then after that, a lake.

"How the fuck did they get that giant spider to carry the Crystal down here?" She was asking nobody in particular and was glad no one responded. It was always a fifty–fifty shot in Avalon.

With only the sound of the wind and rustling leaves for company, the whole place felt vacant. Lonely. Dead. Holding her other hand over her head, she lit it on fire like a torch, before heading down the roughly hewn steps.

"If there are zombies down here, I swear, I'm gonna quit." She didn't spot any of those, but there were, however, spiders of the non-giant-and-iron variety. She cringed and ducked under a few of the gnarlier webs. She had a distaste for spiders, but that wasn't terribly uncommon. It wasn't a phobia. She just really hated walking through cobwebs or when one of the leggy bastards snuck up on her.

The stairs wound deeper into the darkness, spiraling down before reaching a landing. Taking a breath, she stepped out into the chamber beyond.

A large sarcophagus set on a dais dominated the center of the room, a stone tomb with the figure of a sleeping king lying atop it. There was no question who it was. A crown, ancient and golden, sat atop his chest, covered in dust and a stray cobweb.

The carving looked fresh, though—untouched by the weather down beneath the castle. It was remarkably detailed, showing every line of the dead king's face. He looked peaceful. Restful. Letting out a wavering breath, Gwen took a moment to appreciate the fact that she was at the tomb of King Arthur. A place that a hundred thousand historians would murder to be able to see.

Arthur's wasn't the only tomb in the room. Seven more sat around the center in a ring. Each of them made from a different metal, unlike the stone of Arthur's. Silver, copper, gold, tin, cobalt, nickel…and iron. One for each of the knights.

She winced as she saw the silver tomb. Walking up to it, she frowned down at the figure of Lancelot that lay there in repose. Tears stung her eyes. "I'm sorry, Lancelot. I really am." Slipping Zoe's necklace into her pocket, she placed her hand atop the tomb. She didn't know what was inside—elementals seemed to disappear into dust when they died. But it didn't really matter. "I'm sorry for the part I had to play in all of this."

She knew the beef between Lancelot and Mordred had started long, long before she arrived. But if she hadn't shown up and mucked everything up, he'd still be alive. Miserable, but alive. With another heavy sigh, she turned away, looking around the room for any sign of an exit.

Mordred had said there was a lake deep beneath the castle, but he'd neglected to mention how she was supposed to get down there. The domed chamber was held up by enormous stone columns, each one carved with the figure of a knight or a soldier. Or, maybe they were gods. She had no idea.

But there, in the flickering shadows between two of the columns, she saw another doorway. Stairs led deeper into the darkness. She hoped this place wouldn't wind up being her tomb. She wasn't afraid of caves or dark places. Strangely, the whole place had a…peaceful vibe to it, down in the crypt and beneath.

She didn't feel in danger.

The air began to grow moist, and she could smell a damp mustiness the farther down she went. It wasn't too long before the stairs ended, dumping her on the shore of an underground lake. The firelight from her hand danced along the water's surface, which was as still and calm as glass. She couldn't see how far it stretched.

Shutting her eyes, she clutched the necklace in her palm again. If she focused, she could feel the power in it. The link to him—both iron and his magic. It was a little piece of Mordred, pulled from the rest. She tried to imagine using it like a key in an engine. That giant spider thing was down there below the surface—waiting. Waiting for her. Waiting for this.

She just had to call it.

Turning the proverbial key in her mind, she did just that. She willed it to come forward. For a moment, nothing happened, before a shudder at the surface of the water revealed something very large moving in the depths.

It looked like a nightmare.

A giant, seven-legged, twisted creature, its movements were bizarre and jerking as it lifted itself from the lake. The water must be immensely deep—even standing at its full height as it walked from the darkness, it was up to its first set of joints.

Gwen couldn't help but take a step back.

Its many eyes were glowing that same white and opal color as before, shining off the rough rock walls around her. And in its open chest cavity were chains like ribs, running to the suspended Iron Crystal within.

She shivered as a wave of cold traveled up her. This was the point of no return. If she did this, things would be set in motion that she could only hope to stop. The odds of her being successful were slim.

But she loved Mordred. And he loved her. And she had to hold onto that.

Tightening her grasp around the shard until she felt the edges digging into her skin, she shut her eyes. Holding her hand in front of her, brandishing the necklace, she reached out to the iron in the Crystal.

She felt it there, like she felt the fire still flickering from her hand.

Something to control. Something she could wield.

"Break," she commanded the Iron Crystal.

A loud snap echoed through the room, like the sound of a steel cable going past its limit. There was a groan of metal, and then a wrenching, shearing noise. Cracks in the Crystal began to form, growing larger, until it detonated.

The last thing Gwen saw was a chunk of it flying straight for her.