The Witch of Camelot

Eighty...A Sacrifice...

Eighty…

‘Nimue!’ Tor burst into my room, ‘it is happening Lot of Orkney and his army have been seen on the border. Morgause is with them!’

            I sprung up from besides the fire where I had been concentrating hard on an ancient book on battle strategy and rushed after his already receding figure reaching the great hall within moments.

            ‘Sire!’ I exclaimed, ‘where is she? What is happening? Are we prepared?’

            It had been three days since our betrothal ceremony but we had received word the following morning from the north that Morgause had fled up beyond the border and to the Isle of Orkney. There she had beguiled king Lot, married him and begged him to send forces against Camelot. Thanks to Morgause’s extraordinary powers this had all been achieved in such a short amount of time that Camelot had been thrown into disarray.

            ‘Our knights are assembling as we speak, the town has been evacuated and the people have been brought within the inner city walls. There are soldiers on every post; the draw bridge is even now being raised.’

            I nodded my mind reeling with the information, before I could ask any more questions however, the whole room seemed to reflect my thoughts, the faces around me distorted in and out of focus, the colours blurred and I collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

‘Lady Nimue,’ a sweet but androgynous voice spoke to me, ‘you have come to me at last.’

            ‘Come to you?’ I whispered into the suffocating darkness. ‘Am I dead?’

            ‘No child, you are simply further within a vision than you ever have been before, you have crossed the line between man and god, and I can now speak to you through words of my own rather than images and segments of the future.’

            I shivered and as if the god knew I was cold the suffocating feeling disappeared as did the chill to be replaced with the slight warmth of a spring day, there was the smell of daisies too and I inhaled the scent deeply savouring the familiarity of it.

            ‘Why am I here?’ I asked after a moment’s contemplation.

            ‘You are about to face your greatest challenge yet,’ answered the god, ‘you would have known this long ago if you had not sought to run from your visions.’

            ‘My visions hurt,’ I answered defensively sounding like a small child.

            ‘Without pain you would not know you were alive,’ the voice replied equally. ‘In future nurture your visions, there are places ideal for this, caves of crystal, groves of rowan wood, lakes of salt and the like, you shall discover this in time.’

            ‘What is about to happen?’ I whispered quietly, ‘how can I prevent Morgause destroying the city?’

            ‘You must make a sacrifice,’ the god replied with certainty.

            ‘What sort of a sacrifice?’ I asked, ‘a pig? A sheep? Help me please; I would help the kingdom whatever the cost.’

            There was an elongated pause, ‘even if that price was your own life?’ the question hung in the air, I swallowed back my fear.

            ‘Yes, even that, to see Camelot, her people and Prince Arthur safe. It is his destiny to bring to country together, there will be peace in his reign, and I would gladly sacrifice myself for peace.’            

            There was a smile in the gods tone evident in the next sentence despite the fact that I could still see nothing but blackness, I could feel nothing around me either, only the warmth and smell, it was as if touch and sight had been forbidden me.

            ‘Very well Lady Nimue, you have chosen well. Heed my words from this day forward, do not hide from your visions; then we may speak again.’