“Shut up!” Bedivere shouted. “You’re only alive to help me find the treasure. Once I have that, I can buy my way back into the real world. I’ll be twice the hero, they think I am.” He pulled out Galahad’s map, holding it up for Trystan to see. “This led us here, but this damn temple is a maze. We’ve been circling around for hours. Where do we go next?”
Trystan’s eyebrows shot up, distracted from arguing with the moron. Holy shit! Had they truly found the last gryphon temple?
He looked around the damp cellar and realized it was the lower level of an ancient structure. No. This was not the temple, but it was no doubt close. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the stone ceiling above his head was crumbling in spots. Through the holes, he could see the remnants of columns carved with gryphon words. Off to his right, there were stairs leading upward, grooves worn into the center of them by centuries of feet.
…And directly in front of him, there was the steep drop-off of a cliff face.
“What is that?” He asked quietly, even though he already knew. He could feel the power radiating from it.
“You tell me.” Bedivere grabbed Trystan’s arm, trying to drag him to his feet.
Since Trystan topped the man by a foot, he mostly just got in the way. Trystan shouldered the dickhead aside, walking to the cliff’s edge himself. Transfixed by the strange silver light glowing from far below. Every childhood story Elaine had ever told him flickered through his head. He was beholding something straight out of legend.
The Looking Glass Pool.
Trystan stared down at it, awed. A hundred feet below, the glittering surface of the Looking Glass Pool moved like liquid mercury. It was like seeing magic for the first time. His brain tried to make sense of it, even when he knew it was impossible to explain with logic.
“My gods…” He breathed in awe.
What was the pool? It was like nothing else he’d ever beheld. Rabbit holes had mirrored surfaces, so that was the most likely guess. But rabbit holes were usually small and the Looking Glass Pool was the size of a lake. The rippling funhouse mirror surface shielded whatever hid below and reflected a distorted image back.
Was it just a regular pool of water, disguised by some glamour to keep people away?
Trystan frowned. That was certainly a possibility. A dimensional vortex would transport anyone who passed through it to parts unknown, so only a crazy person would just jump into a rabbit hole. Esmeralda, the wicked witch, had fallen through one and she hadn’t been heard from since. It could be the ancient gryphons knew that people feared rabbit holes and had used some spell to make intruders think the Looking Glass Pool was too dangerous to enter.
On the other hand, it could also be worse than a rabbit hole.
It could lead to plain old death.
It was possible that his ancestors could have rigged a dozen deadly ploys to stop trespassers from stealing the graal. The mural on the wall of the cave flashed through Trystan’s mind. The final step on that emerald trail had led up. Not down. He’d seen it himself. So was it wrong …or was the Looking Glass Pool some kind of elaborate trick? Generally, gryphons did not swim, so this could be a trap targeting the wingless. To lure them into a quicksand of liquid mirror that would never let them escape.
Anyone who went into that “water” might never come back out.
Standing high above the pool, it was impossible to know for sure. Therefore, the smart play was to send a camera into the mysterious liquid and scan for hidden dangers before going any farther. The graal was supposed to be down there, and while every other part of the tale had proved to be true, Trystan still wasn’t eager to risk his life on a plan with so many blind corners.
And he especially wasn’t ready to risk Galahad’s.
As soon as he saw this place, the knight would be bubbling with excitement to press forward. Trystan had always been more methodical when it came to strategy, though. He wasn’t ready to dive right into the pool based on nothing but hope and enthusiasm.
He wanted facts.
Trystan stepped back, away from the edge. “That’s the Looking Glass Pool.” He reported unnecessarily.
“I know it’s the fucking Looking Glass Pool!” Bedivere snapped. He came up next to Trystan, staying safely out of range and keeping the odd gun pointed right at him. “Are the gold and gems beneath it? Is that it? Is that why Uther was really searching for it?”
“I am not the one to ask about Uther’s thoughts.” Trystan lifted a shoulder in a shrug, not really answering the question. “I have never understood their darkness.”
“Don’t try that shit with me, demon.” Bedivere glowered up at him. “Galahad said you knew where the treasure is. It’s the only reason that I didn’t kill you, when I killed him.”
Trystan arched a brow at that news. “Galahad told you I alone could find this treasure?” He repeated in exasperation.
Yes. That sounded exactly like a Galahad plan. To ensure that Bedivere kept Trystan alive, the knight would spin any number of creative tales. Of course, Galahad could have claimed that Galahad was the key to understanding the map. That would have been the best way to ensure his own survival and it would have been what Trystan would’ve wanted him to say. But, instead he’d protected Trystan, at the risk of his own safety.
Trystan sighed, not even bothering to get upset. As maddening and unnecessary as it all was, he felt… touched by Galahad’s vigilant protection. No one since the zoo had put so much effort into Trystan’s care. It was very adorable.
“You’re damn right, he told me that!” Bedivere insisted. “Galahad told me you were the key to everything. He said that you…” The man hesitated, as if suddenly realizing how conveniently the claim aligned with Galahad’s wishes. His eyes widened, rage reflected in their beady depths as he saw he’d been played. “Shit!”
In a blind rage, Bedivere fired the strange gun at the Looking Glass Pool. A colossal amount of pressurized magic and vivid green fire slammed into the mirrored “water.” Rather than passing through, the fiery blast ricocheted off the surface, like it was a solid mass of ice or metal. The tremendous bolt of energy bounced back, sheering off part of the rock wall of the cliff, before finally dissipating into a shower of sparks.
Trystan blinked, surprised by the gun’s power. How did a jackass like Bedivere get such a weapon? Where did he find it?
“If I hadn’t already killed Galahad, I would kill Galahad!” Bedivere stomped around, enraged. “I have to get into that pool! There must be a way!”
Trystan considered the impossible physics of what he’d just seen. He was definitely not diving into that silver lake without more investigation. The magic guarding it was like nothing he’d ever felt. The Looking Glass Pool was powerful beyond known limits. They would need to do more testing before he or Galahad ventured down there.
“Whatever my knight said to you, I’m sure it was not a lie.” He told Bedivere absently, considering many options. “Galahad lives a life of truth.”
“I’m so sick of hearing that.”
“And yet it’s true.”
Galahad did not have to lie to achieve victory. He could convince you of any insane thing he wished, without ever uttering a false syllable. During the War, his ability to misdirect had been maddening. Now, Trystan found he enjoyed watching the man’s artistic mind at work.
…When he was directing his deceptive skills at some other poor bastard, anyway.
Bedivere ran a hand through his hair, his mouth nearly foaming with frustration. Trystan knew that feeling well. “Look, is the gold inside the Looking Glass Pool or not? If you can’t tell me what I want to know, then I have no use for you.”
Trystan felt many emotions, at the moment. “Intimidated” was not one of them. Even with that imposing gun, Bedivere was weak. The power was in the warrior, not the weapon. “And if I help you, you will let me go?” He challenged, just to see what the other man would say.
“Sure, I will. You have my word on it.”
<
br /> Bedivere did not live a life of truth.
Trystan grunted. No matter. He planned to kill all these men, either way. Still Bedivere might as well make himself useful, before his inevitable death. Maybe they did not need a camera to know more about the Looking Glass Pool.
“Something beyond price lies hidden within that pond.” Trystan allowed. “But I do not know if we can safely pass through the pool to find it. There could be booby-traps.”
“Booby-traps? Bullshit. You’re stalling.”
“You saw the blast from your gun fail to penetrate its surface and it seems very powerful.” Trystan retorted. “What makes you think a living being will fare better?”
“This gun is very powerful.” Bedivere boasted. “It’s a handheld Rath.”
This was a small version of the Rath? No wonder Legion had been laid to waste. Trystan’s jaw tightened, imagining his ha’yan facing down a scaled-up version of the weapon’s destructive energy. Somehow standing against the cannon to save the gryphon survivors. “Riding before it, with blood dripping from his hands,” according to the witnesses. Gods… Galahad seriously needed to tone down on his heroics.
Trystan had always wanted a hero, but he also wanted his mate alive.
“My ancestors built this place with the express purpose of keeping others out.” Trystan told Bedivere tightly, resisting the urge to get sidetracked with visions of Galahad being blasted into microscopic particles. “We will have to test for hidden dangers, before we go any further.”
“Test?” Bedivere still seemed skeptical. “How?”
Trystan shot Bedivere a sideways glance and then pointedly turned to look over at the other five knights. They were still randomly digging and bickering over the pros and cons of low-carb diets. “Do you have any strong favorite among these men?”
Bedivere followed his line of thinking. “Nope.” He said easily. “Lamorak is always tugging on his eyebrows and it drives me nuts, though.”
Trystan lifted his shoulder in another shrug, happy to thin the heard and also further understand the Looking Glass Pool. Two birds. One stone. “If there is gold down there,” (which there wasn’t) “the fewer men you have to share it with the better, yes?”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Bedivere raised his voice. “Lamorak! Come here for a minute!”
A twitchy looking knight reluctantly slid closer to them, nervously plucking at his brows. Bedivere was right. It was an annoying habit. “Something wrong, boss?”
“We’re not sure, yet.” Bedivere slapped him on the back. “We need you to test it for us.”
He gave Lamorak a shove, sending the other knight careening off the edge of the cliff. Trystan and Bedivere craned their necks to watch him fall. Lamorak screamed all the way down and hit the mirrored surface of the pool like a bug on a windshield.
Trystan and Bedivere winced in perfect unison as the other knight smashed every bone in his body. His horribly twisted carcass lay there for a long moment, blood spreading out all around him. Then the shiny, deadly “water” finally parted beneath his corpse. It swallowed him up, dragging him into the mysterious depths of the pool.
Huh.
Trystan frowned in consideration. “You see? That is a booby-trap.”
“Did you just kill Lamorak?!” Another knight yelled at Bedivere. “Are you out of your mind?! He was one of us!”
“He slipped!” Bedivere roared back. “What did you want me to do, Wain? Jump in after him?”
“You pushed him!” The one called Wain insisted, his pox-marked face flushed. “I saw you do it!”
Bedivere leveled the Rath-gun at the man’s chest. “Did you?” He challenged.
Wain took a step backwards and stopped talking.
“That’s what I thought.” Bedivere sniffed. “Get back to work.”
The other knights began whispering fiercely amongst themselves, but none of them approached the edge of the cliff to confront Bedivere further. They truly were a weak bunch.
“No one understands what it takes to get ahead in this world. Sometimes you have to kill the goose to get the golden egg, right?” Bedivere’s shook his head in irritation, his attention flicking back to Trystan. “So, now what are we going to do? If that big-ass pool is blocking me, how can I get the treasure?”
“You can’t get the treasure. Obviously. This is not your path.” Trystan pointed down to where Lamorak had met his gory end. “Did you not see the test?”
“Maybe I should have you go down there and test again.” Bedivere swung the gun up to point at Trystan’s face. “You can fly down and land on it, looking for a way through. If it kills you… Well, one more dead gryphon won’t matter to anyone.”
“It would matter to Galahad.” Trystan smirked. “And he is already going to be pissed when he gets here, so I would not do anything else to make this situation even worse for yourself. The man has a temper.”
“Galahad’s not coming, you winged idiot. Galahad is dead.”
“I’ll bet you five gold pieces he’s not.” Trystan drawled, paraphrasing his very-much-alive mate.
Galahad was going to show up to rescue him. They had made a deal and it was Galahad’s turn to do the saving. Until then, Trystan was content to sit back and wait. He’d never been rescued before, so he was quite looking forward to the event.
Trystan would have to be the one who eventually killed these men, of course. Galahad would no doubt want to rehabilitate them with chocolate brownies. Then he’d argue that his plan was somehow not a failure when it inevitably failed. But Trystan didn’t mind. He just wanted to see Galahad riding to his rescue. The man’s creativity was unrivaled. It would be fascinating to behold what ludicrous plan he’d somehow weave into reality.
Bedivere waved a dismissive hand. “You think I’m scared of Galahad. Even if he was somehow still alive… So what? I’m poised to be a bigger hero than he’ll ever be! Once I get this treasure, I’ll be able to buy my share of all the glory he’s been hogging. I’ll have my own coloring books, and action figures, and video streaming service!”
Trystan hesitated. “Galahad owns a video streaming service?”
“Yeah. The damn thing only shows puppet shows and it still makes a fortune.”
Trystan’s mouth twitched. “Do you truly think you can best Galahad of Camelot?” He asked and almost felt… pity for the man’s hopeless quest. “In anything? My knight has never lost a battle.”
“He lost the War!” Bedivere screamed. “He lost Legion!”
Trystan rolled his eyes. “Camelot won Legion. Did you miss the ending, as you fled?”
“Because of Galahad, the gryphon race escaped extermination.” Bedivere raged, distracted from the treasure hunt by the festering of old wounds. “Uther would have wiped out the very last of your kind, but Galahad made sure that didn’t happen. He ended the War before it was really over. He stole Camelot’s ultimate victory! He made sure our side lost!”
“Queen Lyrssa was the one who killed Uther. If you must blame someone…”
“Lyrssa didn’t kill Uther!” Bedivere interrupted harshly. “Is that what Galahad told you? Because it’s a fucking lie.”
“My knight lives a life of truth. I explained this, yes? He does not lie.”
“Are you really that blind?” Bedivere stared at Trystan, an amazed expression on his face. “My God… He’s fooled you, too, hasn’t he? He’s convinced you it was all that bitch Lyrssa’s fault.”
What the hell was Bedivere talking about?
“People who were there saw Lyrssa flying off with Uther’s bleeding body.” Trystan had read reports of it himself. “Your kind makes movies of the event. Galahad did not invent this story.”
…But, now that Trystan thought about it, Galahad hadn’t exactly told him that Lyrssa killed Uther when he described the battle. He’d just let Trystan assume what everyone already assumed. Shit. The man’s ability to confuse and obfuscate was truly second to none.
What was he trying to hide?
&nbs
p; “I don’t need to watch movies about Legion.” Bedivere sneered. “I was there and I saw what he did. Maybe I’m the only one who saw it. I should have stopped it, but I was too frozen by Galahad’s legend to stand up to him. I just… watched it all happen.”
He sounded very, very sure if his recollections.
P’don.
“Watched what happen?” Trystan reluctantly asked, bracing himself for some new Galahad-created disaster. “My knight letting Lyrssa out of her cage? I know this occurred…”
Bedivere cut him off again. “Galahad set Lyrssa free, but only after Uther was dead.”
“That’s impossible. Uther valued his own skin too highly to engage in battle. He would have been safe from the gryphons, well away from the fighting.”
“The King was already dead when Lyrssa got to him.” Bedivere repeated, hissing out the words. “Or close to it. But he didn’t die in battle. Oh no… He wasn’t even armed that day.”
Everything inside of Trystan went still. “Uther was unarmed?”
“He was always unarmed! He was the king. But he still wound up with a broadsword slammed through his goddamn torso.” Bedivere smiled spitefully. “Guess who’s blade it was?”
Trystan’s lips parted, pieces suddenly fitting together in his brain. Galahad’s deep aversion to swords… His reluctance to talk about Legion… His worry that Trystan hated traitors… His claim to have killed an unarmed man…
“Come on. Guess.” Bedivere taunted, seeing he had Trystan’s undivided attention. “It shouldn’t be hard to figure out, even for one of your primitive kind. Who’s the only knight crazy enough to suddenly side with his enemies on the last fucking day of the War?”
A knight whose blinders had just been ripped off by the true brutality of Uther’s campaign. A knight who would always do what he deemed right, even if he had to walk the path alone. A knight who believed in his vow to protect the innocent so completely that he would condemn himself to years of nightmares and a possible execution to fulfil his oath.
The best knight ever.
Bedivere leaned closer to Trystan, his eyes glowing with hatred. “Now you see, don’t you? You see who really murdered King Uther and doomed his glorious cause forever.”
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 47
