Sword of Darkness by Kinley MacGregor Page B

he passed a droll look to the mandrake. “For good reason.”
    “And the Lords of Avalon?” Blaise asked.
    “They won’t venture here. They fear this castle and the curse placed upon it.”
    Seren arched a brow at his confident words. Should she find comfort in that or just more terror? “Where is here?” Seren asked Kerrigan.
    It was Blaise who answered her. “We are at Joyous Gard.”
    Seren gaped at the name of the famous castle. “The home of Lancelot du Lac?”
    Kerrigan snorted.
    “It used to be, my lady,” Blaise said quietly. “But now Lancelot lies entombed in the chapel of this hall. Quite dead and harmless.”
    Kerrigan gave the mandrake a withering stare. “And now I own it.”
    She wouldn’t argue with that, mostly because she couldn’t ever seem to win an argument with Kerrigan no matter how hard she tried. “What curse is here?”
    Blaise crossed his arms over his chest as he stepped closer to her. “Before Lancelot died, hedenounced all the knights of the Round Table for their treachery. Should any of them dare to step foot into his home, misfortune and illness will plague them until they die…which generally isn’t too long after they leave here.”
    “That’s his curse,” Kerrigan added. “Death to any of Arthur’s people who venture here.”
    She was offended that Lancelot would do such a thing. “He’s the one who turned on them. How dare he.”
    “Nay,” Blaise said quietly. “Lancelot never betrayed Arthur, nor did Guinevere. They loved each other, true enough. But neither one would have ever dared to cuckold Arthur, for they loved him even more than they loved each other. It was a simple lie that brought down the great King Arthur, and his willingness to believe it.”
    Seren swallowed at his dire words. “What say you?”
    “It’s true,” Kerrigan said from behind her. “Morgen and Mordred concocted the lie based on a truth and let it fester inside Arthur until it infected him and he destroyed the fellowship of the Table. And now Lancelot lies yonder, a victim of jealousy and rumor. It’s amazing how much power a simple false phrase repeated can have.”
    Seren considered that. It was true. Harsh words were never softened by time, and hurtful rumors lingered long after the fact. But what a shame that something so innocuous could destroy such a glorious world.
    Such a glorious king.
    “Could I see Lancelot’s grave?”
    Kerrigan’s eyes sparked as if her question surprised him. “Could it be that my lady has a degree of morbidity?”
    “Nay, I would just like to see the resting place of a man so revered and slandered.”
    To her amazement, Kerrigan held his hand out to her. Seren took it, then instantly found herself in a darkened room with no sign of Blaise.
    “Where are we?” she asked.
    “As you requested, the chapel.”
    “Why is it so cold here?”
    “We are far below the castle’s foundation, which some say is embedded in a wall of ice. No one ever ventures here.”
    As Seren stepped into the small room, three torches and a fire in a wall hearth were lit. Shadows danced wickedly against the stone walls. Her own shadow mingled with Kerrigan’s, joining them into one large shape that reminded her of some evil beast.
    But as the light brightened to show her the sarcophagus of a handsome knight, she gasped.
    Seren approached it reverently so that she could better observe the sharp angles of the knight’s face. The carving was so intricate that she could see the individual strands of his hair, the veins in his neck and hands. See each link of his armor. See the leather of the gloves he had tucked into his girdle. His eyes were closed, but part of her half expected them to open the way the gargoyle had done in her room.
    Whoever had made the carving had been a master artisan. Her heart hammering, she ran her hand over the inscription at his feet:
     
    HIC JACET SEPULTUS INCLYTUS LAUNCELOT DU LAC
     
    “Here lies interred the renowned Lancelot du Lac,”