When the sun rises

Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

The deafening noise was heard all over the entire field, because it really was a great battle. A silver-haired old man heavily leaning on a wooden stick with a round white crystal on its top that radiated a pale glow, was coming through his enemies repeating for himself - over and over - the only incantation "I can't be late! I must be in time!"

He had been born to break a centuries-old prophecy. Arthur couldn't die on the battle field and Camelot couldn't lose the one who was about to become the greatest leader in the history...

PART 1

Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and

carry you down into sleep...

Guileless son, I'll shape your belief

And you'll always know that your father's a thief

And you won't understand the cause of your grief

But you'll always follow the voices beneath -

Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me

Guileless son, each day you grow older

Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold

For the child of my body, the flesh of my soul,

will die returning the birthright he stole

(Heather Dale - Mordred's lullaby)

CHAPTER 1

Feeling the cruel gust of the northern wind trying to get under his collar, he clenched his teeth, wrapped his thin cape tighter and quickened his pace. In such dank autumn evenings he for some reasons very often remembered his mother's hands, that used to rock his cradle and then held him tenderly so many times giving the sense of warmth and safety. He had grown up long ago and considered himself a very independent man, but still he missed it. Morgana wasn't able to become his family, no matter how hard she tried. Although, when he, being a child, had seen her for the very first time, he loved her sincerely. But after all this time too many things changed. He could hardly recognize a nice and affable girl he used to know in this malevolent Morgana, on whose beautiful, but such an arrogant face an expression of constant irritation and contempt froze. Now she was different, and Mordred rather hated her.

And still he was staying with her, though he couldn't explain it distinctly, was it because of their common goal or because of his childish attachment. His mother had always said that he would grow up, become tall and strong and take revenge on himself, her and on all their kin. Mordred swore it would happen so. He knew this hour was close and Morgana had to be near for everything to go well. He wanted someone to be next to him in the moment of his triumph who could understand and share his joy.

Nevertheless, nobody in Camelot knew about his closeness with the last High priestess of the ancient religion. At the court he was just a knight, though close to king Arthur, and he was going to keep to that legend for some more time. Modrder knew how to be affable and people in Camelot liked him. He meant no harm to these people and he really hoped that they wouldn't be hurt when he and Morgana made their revenge.

Having left the castle that evening, he habitually flirted with pretty maids and exchanged meaningless phrases with other knights. Mentally he was far away. He was used to pretend and adapt to different life circumstances. He had had long years for that.

His mother had raised him in hatred for king Uther Pendragon. Mordred remembered how she used to sing while rocking his cradle, that he was born for a great destiny and one day he would revenge the tyrant king. He had grown up with this hope and knew if he was patient enough he would achieve everything he wished for. His mother taught him to go through for his goal and Mordred was a good pupil.