Part 18 (1/2)
She studied the gun that Lavel was aiming at her.
'I will shoot,' warned the terrified pilot.
The Queen smiled and placed her hand over the end of the muzzle.
Lavel saw that she could not escape. She began to weep as the trigger pulled at her finger.
The gun fired.
Morgaine opened her hand, letting metal dust trickle between her fingers.
Lavel tried to understand and failed. ' C'est impossible C'est impossible,'
she whispered and all her energy drained.
'Be silent,' said Morgaine quietly.
Lavel's mouth closed with a snap. Her gun clattered to the floor.
'Rest here and tell me,' crooned Morgaine.
The helpless woman sank to her knees and bowed her head in deference. Her temples were cradled in the hands of the Battle Queen, as a fretful child is soothed by its mother. Or a predator starts its feed.
Morgaine sighed as visions in her head clouded her sight. She closed her eyes.
Lavel started to scream.
'Hush, child. Gently, gently,' whispered Morgaine's voice, but it sounded an age away.
Lavel quietened and stopped trembling.
The stream of memories eased into a steady flow. A laughing child in the fields of a land called Brittany. Wide beaches of sand and distant fis.h.i.+ng boats on the blue-grey sea. Frangoise Eloise Lavel. ' Non, je m'appelle Coisique Non, je m'appelle Coisique!'
Seabirds wheeled in the sunlight. ' Oh pet.i.te mere, je veux Oh pet.i.te mere, je veux voter. Voler comme une grande fleche. voter. Voler comme une grande fleche. ' '
'Valkyrie 9 to Control. It's strange, but since I've been in UNIT I no longer think in French.'
'United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. It's worse than the Sorbonne with firearms! Top security de rigeur de rigeur...'
In moments. Morgaine understood the terms and resources of her enemies. The laughing child's thoughts were her thoughts. She inherited new memories of a past that was stolen. And with these were the joy and heartbreak of another's life.
Adieu, adieu, ma pauvre pet.i.te. Mairaenant to es avec moi.
She released the head, leaving Lavel kneeling in motionless catalepsy.
'Now we know, Mordred,' said the Queen, and she turned to leave.
Elizabeth Rowlinson tried to pull Pat back to safety as he rose warily from behind the bar. 'You can't just leave her like that,' he cried in a rage.
Morgaine stared at him. A peasant that dared raise its voice to her. 'You are right,' she said coldly.
She threw out her arm towards Lavel in a gesture of dismissal. There was a blaze of light in which the mindless body of Frangoise Eloise disintegrated and dispersed to nothing. A choking smell of burning hung in the air. Only a shadow where Lavel had knelt to the Queen remained, scorched on the floor.
Morgaine turned to the peasant and his wife. They were shaking with fear. 'Did my son drink well?' she asked in the most condescending of tones. She glared at Mordred and at the empty gla.s.ses. 'I see that it is so. I must...' She searched for a phrase. ' L'addition L'addition. I must pay the bill.'
The peasant's wife searched the air for him with her fingers. Morgaine frowned and advanced on the woman.
'Get away from her, you witch!' shouted Pat, but at a gesture from Morgaine, the words froze in his throat.
For an instant the Queen pressed the palm of her hand to Elizabeth's forehead. She smiled, glanced back at Pat and swept out of the lounge, followed by her son.
Elizabeth clamped her hand to her eyes and started to cry out. Pat clutched her tightly, rocking her in his arms.
She wept, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her eyes because she could not bear or dare to look at the light that exploded against her senses.
'I can see. Oh my G.o.d, Patrick. I can see!'
Chapter 4.
The Knight Commander spread his forces like a net to make a broad sweep across the woodland. But the main group he flanked along the length of the road.
Reports from his men muttered in his helmet as they advanced. The umberere screen in his visor threw up maps of their positions and pinpointed the placings of the enemy.
A scout group had reached the ground overlooking the lake. They relayed enhanced images of activity among the soldiers on the bank.
As was honourable before combat, the commander considered a challenge, but the Queen had herself presented such a credence to Merlin the previous night.
Swords had been crossed, gauntlets exchanged. War had been declared.
Amongst the distant figures illuminated across his visor-relay. he recognised the errant traitor Ancelyn ap Gwalchmai: a Knight General deserter already stripped of his office, skulking amongst the enemy.
The commander vowed that his sword would answer this treachery with Ancelyn's blood.
There was movement beside the lake. An ugly beetle-shaped carriage was scuttling away from the encampment.
The commander called his men-at-arms into readiness and set them to spring the trap.
'See you at the hotel,' shouted the Doctor.
Winifred Bambera watched Peter Warmsly's packed car setting off along the road. Warmsly was in the back seat with the two young women. Lethbridge-Stewart was driving with the Doctor firmly ensconced in the pa.s.senger seat.