Lancelot and the Wolf Read online

  I wanted to scream at her that she’d never have me, but I knew perfectly well if she continued this game I’d be fucking her on the dungeon floor in front of everyone. Her hand massaged my cock and an image flashed into my head, Arthur begging me with his eyes to finish with him what we’d begun. Begging me to help him manifest the passion, we shared for all these long years. Other than the lovely women I paid, he was the only person to offer me honest physical completion. Unlike my paid companions, he also offered me his heart.

  His name did not leave my lips but I did hold him as a talisman against Nimue’s considerable charms. If I wanted my lover to be male, so what? So long as we were both happy.

  I needed to escape this place and I needed to save Arthur and the others. I relaxed into the spell coursing through me and smiled at Nimue, “Kiss me, my Queen,” I begged.

  Her lips brushed mine and I reacted. The spell tore through me making me gasp. It surged so much more strongly, more perfectly and completely than anything I’d felt with Else. The fey queen’s lips parted and I kissed her, deeply, she tasted of honey and joy. Liquid light spilled into my mouth even as her sharp teeth grazed my lip and more blood flowed. Her hands strayed around my back and great strength pulled me toward her gold encased body. My toes touched the edge of the fire pit. Somewhere far away I heard Else calling to me but I ignored her nagging. All I wanted to feel or see or hear was Nimue. My arms relaxed, the chains to the ceiling lengthened. Their descent enabled me to wrap my arms around my beautiful goddess and hold her close.

  She pulled back slightly and I ravaged her neck making her cry out and arch in my aching embrace. The pain fled from my mind. So far away I barely registered it. Nimue murmured, “Yes, my King, yes. Possess me.”

  Just one word and the intoxication of her touch vanished. King. I am no king. I loved a king and that love roared forth to devour the witch’s spell. My heart would not be tricked. I gave my body free rein, just as I did when I’d drunk too much to be fully aware. It knew this dance so well it performed its duties without my brain. That raced at full speed, seeking a path through this mess. I needed my hands free and I needed a weapon. I needed a plan. While I worked on her pleasure, I watched the room gradually fill with soldiers and my elation at seeing a way through this mess, vanished.

  Her fingers tangled my sweaty hair and she dragged my mouth from her delicate throat. “I have a duty for you, my King,” she said.

  “Anything,” I said, my hands roving over the golden armour.

  “Kill the Merlin first,” she said.

  I flinched, so he was here, I nodded to cover my movement, pulling against her hand. The pain made me push my hips harder into her body. My nod pleased her and she pulled back from me, the chain giving way under her magic. I found my hands free and aching for her delicate neck. I almost reached for her until she waved her hand and another corner of the room danced with light. Merlin sat in the bottom of a cage on the floor. His long silver hair filthy and tangled. His strong frame wasted from hunger. A gag sat in his mouth and his green eyes blazed with fury, mostly pointing at me.

  “I will need a weapon, my Queen,” I said holding her in one arm. My lust, my constant downfall, rode me hard. I wanted to rip her armour off her body and bury myself inside her soft wet cave. I tried to pull her back into my close embrace.

  “Use your bare hands, Lancelot,” she ordered, her hand stroking my naked chest and teasing my nipples.

  I blinked, “You want me to snap his neck?” Shit and I thought I’d have the weapon I needed to face her guard. If I didn’t kill her first, she’d see Geraint and Else burn while I remained occupied by the soldiers.

  “I don’t care how you do it. Strangle him like an unwanted puppy if you want. Just end his miserable life,” she turned away. I dare not do anything other than follow orders. I walked on shaking legs to Merlin, focusing only on his angry green eyes. His lips moved and he made noises but I couldn’t understand him.

  “I need you to unlock his cage,” I said forcing my mind to concentrate on her desires. The lock snapped open before my eyes. Merlin barged into the door. It swung open but I merely grabbed him by the neck and hauled him out. He felt terrifyingly light. His legs and arms were shackled, with scars covering his skin. He’d been here a long time. He struggled but I held him, his back to my chest, his ear very close to my mouth.

  “Stop struggling you old fool or I’ll end up snapping your neck by accident,” the words whispered through my lips. I held him tight, one arm around his neck, the other arm pushing against the back of his head. My hand grasped the opposite bicep. If I applied this correctly he’d be out cold in half a dozen heartbeats. He relaxed slightly. “Listen to me. We are fucked if you don’t do this right. I need you to collapse, fake death if you can wizard. Then I need you to save Geraint and Else while I pick a fight. Arthur is unconscious at the moment. Geraint needs to save him while I hold them all off. I need Nimue dead.”

  He made some noises but I’d run out of time, the witch approached. “Kill him, or are you not the great knight they all talk about?” Her mouth twisted in anger and disdain.

  “My Queen,” I said and tightened my grasp. Merlin fought. I pushed on the sides of his neck and he gurgled before relaxing. I dropped him. “It is done,” I said coldly walking to the vision of female power before me. She stroked my chest, filling my loins with aching need. The voice in my head, the one which sounded like the wolf, barked at me reminding me of Arthur.

  “And now the usurper,” she purred.

  “Am I to strangle him as well?” I asked.

  Nimue smiled, “I don’t think so. I think you should have your revenge.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I ignored Merlin’s body. I ignored Geraint’s demands and Else’s cries. I meekly followed Nimue. We were in her world, under her power and I wanted us all out alive. She led me to Arthur and I watched her stroke his head. I moved, so did the soldiers nearest us. I forced the bile back down my throat as she brought my King out of his magical sleep. All the time Nimue played games Merlin might find a way to save us.

  “Hello, Arthur dear. Remember me?” she said pulling his head back from the post.

  When Arthur Pendragon became aware of his predicament, he fought. I watched mute. He struggled and pulled and cursed and screamed vengeance on Nimue. All his glorious majesty battled with the chains holding him to the post.

  When I found myself chained to a post, my back naked, I did not fight. I prayed for Arthur’s forgiveness and I closed my eyes against his pain. He had watched every one of the lashes kiss my back. When it ended and I opened my eyes, he stood, unmoved and blank. Our eyes met for a moment before he turned away from me and left. Stephen de Clare laughed. I remembered that, he laughed when they cut down my bleeding body.

  Nimue laughed now, “Arthur, I have someone here who wants to help you find your place in our new world.” Her hand lashed out so fast it blurred. I jumped. She grabbed me and pulled me into Arthur’s field of vision. “Look, the new King of Camelot,” she announced happily, ruffling his hair.

  We stared at each other wordlessly. Something profound happened, Arthur relaxed. He stopped fighting and smiled. We gazed at each other and just as the stag and wolf knew no words with which to communicate, Arthur and I needed no words. His life in my hands and he gave it to me without a fight.

  “Ah,” Nimue said, “it must be love.”

  “It is, my Queen,” I said to take her mind off Arthur. I stroked her hot skin. She kissed me in front of Arthur. I gave myself over to the passion, forcing my own physical strength into Nimue, dominating her soft feminine body. Delay, distract, confuse, if I couldn’t fight, I could fuck. The thought made me want to giggle. I hid my face in her considerable cleavage. Her gasps of delight helped me turn her away from any potential movement belonging to Merlin. I also hoped the fey soldiers were watching me, not him.

  “Bad boy,” she remonstrated gently, grabbing my right hand. It strayed down the golden armour see
king a way into her flesh. “Stop trying to distract me from my task.” Her hand, so much smaller than mine, flexed. I screamed. “I can taste your love for the usurper,” she whispered over the noise of every one of my bones breaking inside my hand. “Thought you’d fool me?” her voice echoed through the chamber, the soldiers cheered in a strangely uniform manner. I crouched at her feet, huddling over my broken right hand. My favoured sword hand.

  That devil in female form entwined hanks of my hair around her fingers and pulled me across the floor faster than I could scramble with a broken limb. I reached for the stone ground without thinking and almost blacked out from the flare of white heat crashing into my mind. My broken hand unable to help me keep up with her movement and stop her pulling hair from my scalp. My mind had learnt to cope with so many different forms of pain over the years, even that of my punishment, but this was new and so much worse. I lay, gasping as she cursed my name. The pain washed back. She dragged me upright and I regained my feet. Nimue reached behind her and pulled a single tailed lash toward me.

  She smiled, “You are going to have your revenge whether you like it or not.”

  “No,” I almost sobbed.

  She forced the handle of the lash into my left hand, “Yes, or they will die.” I heard Else scream and worst yet, so did Geraint. The heat must be cooking them slowly.

  Where the hell was Merlin? I dare not look but I could delay no longer. If I did not please this fey bitch, saving us all would cease to be an option. Nimue lifted her hand, signalling her intent to lower Geraint further toward the coals.

  “Alright,” I cried. “Alright, you win. I’ll do it.” I couldn’t say, 'I’ll flog Arthur to death'. I lacked the courage.

  “Wolf,” he said in tones he used only for ceremony. “I forgive you. Just do what you must, that is an order.”

  My hand shook, Arthur bent his head to the post. I raised my hand.

  “Now,” Nimue barked.

  My hand ripped forward, the whip whistled over my head and the point struck home. I tried to pull the sharp end back, but Nimue laughed, the whip controlled by her magic. It found its mark without my help. The whip sliced into Arthur’s back on the first pass. His back arched, his head pushed into the wood of the post, blood flowered, skin split.

  I did not have the courage of my King, I sobbed. Tears blinded me. My hand came back on Nimue’s order and forward, she laughed and crowed in delight. After five strokes, she danced to Arthur’s side and tormented him. I heard nothing but the beating of my heart inside my mind. My right hand grew numb. I felt numb. My left hand came back, no longer under my control and I watched more blood flow down Arthur’s back, he grunted heavily under the pain.

  “Nimue,” a new voice, an old voice, the voice I needed. “I think it’s time you let the Wolf stop this silliness.” Merlin limped forward, his hand full of something.

  Nimue’s eyes settled on me, “What is the point of you becoming king if you don’t obey me, Lancelot?” she sounded peeved. Her hand twitched, bones cracked and I stopped breathing. Ribs, she’d broken some of my ribs with just a thought. My knees hit the floor. I tasted blood.

  “Wolf, on your damned feet,” Merlin barked.

  “Lancelot, fight,” Arthur managed to give an order I understood. I forced myself upright and backed toward Merlin. I fought with the pain and won.

  The wizard spoke to Nimue, his right hand stretched out toward her, “You have inconvenienced me for long enough, you damned fey witch. If you don’t release us, I will crush this fetch and you will die.”

  The soldiers took a step forward and I finally realised they were all one beast. Each man identical, like the golem but less smelly.

  “You sent the monsters after us?” I choked out.

  She glared at me, “Traitor.”

  I needed to understand but Merlin held me back, “Don’t, boy. With me you are safe.” He waved a small bundle of rags at Nimue, “This fetch is made with my hate and your hair, fey enchantress and seducer. You know I can use this, let them go and send us home or you will die.”

  “You wouldn’t dare you old soak,” she snarled. “Your foolish intention to drag the world of men away from the old paths will never work.”

  “Yes, it will, it has to and Arthur is the answer to that, your time in our world is over. Your power must return to what it was before the worship of man, Nimue. You are drunk on that power and killing your people because of it. This is not the fey path,” he waved at the soldiers. “You are selling your souls, you and the rest of the Seelie nobility.”

  “You understand nothing, half bred scum,” Nimue lunged at Arthur. I yelled and ran toward her, a soldier moved to intercept me, I lashed out with my left hand and punched him in the face with the back of my fist. He toppled, the token resistance not enough to prevent me from taking his sword and plunging onward to Nimue. Her hands were around Arthur’s throat, choking the life out of him. I couldn’t breathe but I could kill. The sword found the sweetest path through Nimue’s guts, straight through the golden armour under my power. Gold, stupid stuff to make armour out of. She screamed and turned, releasing Arthur.

  Merlin held the fetch over the fire. Nimue’s hair smoked, blood splattering everywhere and I reached for Arthur, pulling the sword from her guts. The hole increased to spill her intestines. I raised the sword, cleaved the stake and chains over Arthur’s head. His hands came free and he rose in one movement catching hold of me. I toppled into his arms. My blood mingled with his as he tried to carry me back to Merlin. We shuffled together.

  “I will kill you, you fucking meddling wizard,” Nimue screeched at the top of her voice, her hands holding her guts.

  “How much damage can you heal, lover?” Merlin baited happily. Her skin started to bubble. Geraint and Else were both unconscious but on the floor, due to Merlin’s magic, I hoped. “Home, now,” he ordered. His voice swelled into a mighty torrent of sound, far more powerful than the screams Nimue forced from my companions. I found myself cradled within this sound. It protected me and held me like a mother’s arms.

  The world blurred, the heat grew. Arthur collapsed into me, driving us both to our knees. I groaned in pain but the sound vanished from my lips, I only heard it because I knew my throat vibrated. Merlin spoke words of power I didn’t know and soft dawn light with early winter grass under my hand and blue sky over my head turned into blackness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Arguing voices, one male, one female. I heard them from a long distance away. I thought it would be good to visit them. I’d been quiet for a long time. I could always come back to my quiet place if I decided I didn’t want to stay with the voices.

  I recognised the male voice. It made my heart hurt, it sounded upset. I rushed closer. Oh, now, I remembered. “Arthur,” my lips moved. My hand tried to reach for him but pain coalesced everywhere. My breath hitched.

  “He’s awake, thank God, he’s awake,” fingers encircled my left hand and soft lips brushed the surface.

  “I’ll find Merlin,” said the female voice. I caught sight of a white dress vanishing from a simple stone room. Arthur knelt by my low bedside. He gently lifted my head from a soft pillow and brought a cup of water to my lips. “Drink slowly. You’ve been unconscious for days. Merlin said he used you to bring us home. You have real power, Lancelot.” His eyes watered and he turned away, lowering my head carefully.

  “Arthur?” I made it a question. My fingers tightened on his and memories flooded me. “Oh, God, what did I do to you?” I whispered in horror.

  His head snapped back, “No, don’t think about it. Don’t ever think about it, I’m healing. I,” he paused. His hand touched my face and I winced from bruises, he withdrew his fingers. “I thought I’d lost you. Merlin said you might not come back.” He kissed my fingers, then my face, my eyes, my lips.

  “Arthur,” I murmured between his kisses. “I love you and I am so sorry.” Was that enough? Would it ever be enough?

  I think I washed away from him
because I opened my eyes to look into Merlin’s face. He peered at me, startling me to full wakefulness. “There you are, Wolf. Glad to have you home.”

  “Where’s Arthur?” I croaked.

  Merlin smiled, “We finally managed to convince him to sleep in his own room. He’ll wake soon enough.” His face appeared to have filled out, his skin healthier and his hair shone in the light from a fire and brazier.

  “How is he?” I tried to sit up, ribs ground together and I whimpered.

  “You should worry about yourself, boy,” Merlin said. His confident hands moved around me and helped me to sit upright. I found my ribs closely bound and my right hand swaddled, with pieces of wood holding my fingers and palm in place.

  I lay my head back, exhausted already. Merlin made me drink something bitter. I washed it down with a long draft of water. He also produced some simple food. “Tell me about Arthur,” I repeated eventually.

  Merlin sighed, “You did well. You need to know that. I know he was hurt but you saved his life, you saved us all.”

  I placed my left hand on his arm, “What’s wrong?” I asked. My heart trembled along with my voice.

  Merlin shook his head, “Arthur is hurt, Lancelot. I am trying to understand but it has nothing to do with his back, or maybe it has everything to do with it.”

  “I flogged him,” I said staring at the white stone wall at the end of my bed.

  “No, he flogged you but you did all you could not to hurt him.”

  “He also knows they want me to be king,” I said.

  “Nimue wants you king, Aeddan wants you dead. There is a difference,” Merlin spoke quietly. Lost in his own terrors. “Lancelot,” he took my hand, “you need to help him heal. He needs you well and strong at his side. I fear for him and,” he paused. “And I understand the love he has for you.”

  I swallowed, here we go, I thought, the first of Arthur’s people to condemn me.