The Age of Knights & Dames

by Patrick Harris

  Jenn’s hand started to slip.

  Husband and wife locked eyes. They knew what was at stake. Their hands had been magically bonded by Clay’s promise to never let her go. If he broke that promise, their marriage would be cursed. But if he didn’t let go…

  “I’ve got you,” he gasped. “I won’t let you go. Never again.”

  With the seer holding Jenn, they shared the Sight. They could see the immediate future. This far and no further. Fractures ran across Clay’s body, the divergences of the paths he could take. But Jenn knew which road he would choose. She could see it in his eyes.

  This was the moment, Jenn realized. This was where Clay died.

  CHAPTER 52:

  Over the Edge

  The wave of toxic green magic flew at Clay, the instrument of his death, the annexation of the two paths he walked.

  If he let go of Jenn’s hand, he could save himself, but their love would be cursed for the rest of their lives—which might be pretty short, given Jenn wasn’t exactly sure she could reach the beam under the balcony. But if he didn’t let go, he would be killed, Jenn would still fall, their flames would die out, and Dembroch would surely follow them.

  It came down to a very simple choice: their marriage or their lives. Clay chose one path, Jenn chose another.

  “I’ll always love you,” Jenn said. “Even if we let go for just a minute.”

  She released his hand. He grasped tighter, pulling the wedding ring from her finger as she slipped away.

  A sharp sting pulsed through them as they separated. Gravity pulled Jenn, the seer, and Emily down. She reached for the beam underneath the balcony and missed it completely. They fell—

  Clay cried out, flinging himself over the railing after her. The green magic flew over him, blistering his hand still holding the railing, but not killing him. He screamed for his wife as she disappeared into the black flames.

  Overhead, the hanging mirrors were hit by the wave of magic and exploded. But Meghan wasn’t in danger. She’d already landed on the Aerary and, as the witch turned around, decked her right in the face.

  Meghan scooped up her torches and knew what she must do. She had to use magic one more time. But it had to matter.

  “Falling cease, no friends’ demise,” she cried. “Lift them up, let them arise.”

  It seemed every fiber of her being fueled her spell. The sparks from her flames shone brilliantly. For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Meghan stifled a cry.

  The witch got back to her feet, wiping blood from her cheek, crooning at the failed spell.

  But then, Clay let out a shout. Far below, out of the black flames, Jenn and the seer and Emily began to rise. They lifted higher and higher.

  Meghan fell to her knees, more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life. The queen crawled to her.

  Clay hoisted himself back up to the balcony and, as the women lifted to the height of the Aerary, he pulled them onto the balcony. Making contact with Jenn felt like unbridled electricity was flowing through him, but it didn’t matter right now.

  Back on the balcony, a bit burnt, Jenn blinked hard, the Sight fragmenting into a thousand different futures. The talisman spun in her hand, thirsty for these new visions. It didn’t want to look at Clay—it hurt too much.

  “You’ve saved yourself from a quicker death,” the witch crooned from across the balcony. “Tell me, seer. Has the future changed?”

  Clay looked to Jenn, who squinted. Whether the future had altered or not, it was too fragmented for her to make sense of it.

  Meanwhile, Queen Coralee and Meghan helped one another to their feet.

  “It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” the witch crooned. “Pity you won’t feel the real power course through you. Death has a way of cutting things short.” She surveyed them all. “Don’t you see? It’s all been for naught. All your quests, your struggles, your failures and successes…nothing has changed. I still get what I deserve.”

  The witch slammed her hands on the balcony floor.

  “Rise to the final prize!” she cried.

  The red lines below turned maroon and, with an almighty screech, began to rise. It picked up speed, racing up toward them.

  “Brace yourselves!” Clay shouted, wrapping around Jenn.

  The ground from far below slammed into the bottom of the balcony. With a jolt, they began to rise.

  “Watch out!” Emily shouted.

  The Aerary balcony crashed into the stone ceiling and broke through into the Rotunda. At the same instant, the seer cried out—she and her daughter fell over the side. Clay and Jenn shouted after them, but they were buried in rocks and couldn’t get to her. Thankfully, the seer and Emily didn’t have far to fall. They landed on rubble a couple feet below as the Aerary balcony continued to rise.

  Clay pushed stone off himself and Jenn. Meghan was close by with the queen, both of whom seemed to be rattled but unhurt. He felt dizzy looking over the edge as they rose higher and higher. Far below, he saw Page Trey, his master, and the Watchmaker running to the seer’s aide.

  They rose ever higher. Black flames licked their feet. Clay considered jumping over, but it seemed like suicide now. They were too high and headed straight for the ceiling.

  The witch was still in the center of the rock ring and black flames. A shield of green protected her from the oncoming impact.

  “We have to stop her,” Meghan said to the queen. “She’ll destroy this castle. She’ll kill you.”

  The queen pointed to the black flames.

  “Replace her flames with yours!”

  Meghan did her best. She angled one of her torches at the black flame, but the two fought against one another, neither yielding.

  “We have to extinguish them first!” Meghan cried.

  “Light the empty one!” the queen said, pointing.

  But Meghan didn’t have time. The balcony slammed into the upper rooftop. They were knocked down again by heaps of rubble as they erupted onto the upper balcony.

  ◆◆◆

  I was still on that upper balcony, running around the railing, trying to figure out what to do. How was I going to climb down with a torch and a recently relocated shoulder? How would I do it without falling?

  But just then, the stones beneath me trembled mightily. The clouds above came to life with a million red lightning bolts. Thunder boomed, making my ears ring. The next instant, the stone ground exploded all around me. I was thrown back over the railing. I flew through the air, not a clue where I was headed, where I would land, or how long I would have to scream.

  ◆◆◆

  The Aerary balcony came to a rest upon the tallest tower. The upper tower tip shuddered above them, several of its support columns obliterated. Cool wind rushed past. Maroon light shone brightly from the stone foundation. Black fire burnt out of it, its tongues flickering through the metal platform. Black and orange sparks danced around them from the torches and plinths.

  Outside the ring of stones, Meghan, Clay, Jenn, and the queen got to their feet again. The island lay beneath them. Red lightning flashed all around, striking across the island, blowing chunks out of the castle walls.

  “Do it now,” the queen murmured to Meghan.

  Meghan made a run for the unlit sixth plinth, but the witch was faster. She scooped up a chunk of stone from the destroyed upper balcony, one with a raging black flame, and threw it at the sixth, unlit plinth. It lit and all six flames roared into a ring of fire. The witch was encompassed in them. Meghan was knocked back with a blast of heat.

  Beyond, the isles groaned. The land began to tear apart. Hot magma began to seep through the tears, creating angry orange veins across the island. Black fire consumed the forest, burning everything to a crisp. The waves turned away from the island. Shores crumbled into dust. The cliffs cracked and fell in chunks.

  “What do we do?” Meghan cried.

  “We must exting—” the queen began, but her words turned into a shriek. Her body lurched forward, flying into the
ring of black flames.

  “No!” Clay shouted. He ran after the queen, but the flames flared. Unbearable heat pushed him back. He stumbled, blisters forming on his face.

  “How do we get through?” Jenn cried.

  “Can’t you see the future?” Meghan shouted. “What do we do?”

  “We—!” Jenn began, but her eyes grew hazy. “It’s too much! I can’t see the right way! Where’s Nick?”

  “We have to get rid of these flames,” Clay interjected. “But if they’re like ours, only the witch can extinguish them. She started the black flames. She has to end them.”

  “So we have to kill her?” Meghan asked.

  “We can’t even get through to her,” Clay said.

  “We need Nick!” Jenn cried.

  There was a clang of metal behind them. They jumped, lifting their swords and torches to fight.

  “Nick!” Jenn shouted with relief.

  I pulled myself onto the balcony, bloody and browbeaten. My sling hung from my neck, torn and burnt to shreds. I held the sixth and final torch burning with bright orange flame.

  “Where is she?” I demanded. “Where is the queen?”

  Meghan pointed at the ring of black flames.

  “The witch,” she gasped.

  Anger filled my veins. I made a run at the flames but backed away as quickly, gasping in pain. Even a foot away, my skin felt scalded. My heart ached in my chest.

  “Nick, stop!” Meghan shouted. “The flames will burn you.”

  “I’d rather burn than let her die,” I said, taking my second torch from her.

  I charged forward, an unstoppable force. The black flames assaulted me with heat and blistered my skin, but I would not be denied. I kept running, right through the pain, the heat, the dark magic—right through the flames.

  ◆◆◆

  “Run, Lady Sinclair! Tell others of this day.”

  Chunks of stone rained from the sky in the Rotunda. Holding her daughter close, the seer ran over the rubble and disappeared through the columns to the courtyard. The Watchmaker was hot on her tail—

  But as nimble as he may have been for a man his size, the Watchmaker was still a large target. Several stones hit him hard on the back. The Watchmaker was smacked to the ground. More stones fell, heaping upon him, crushing him, burying him.

  A few seconds later, all was still. The Watchmaker lay crushed under mounds of rock, all of it pushing down on him. He felt lightheaded, and something warm was pooling on his back.

  The Watchmaker pushed against the ground, straining to lift the rocks. A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through him. Blood pooled faster and spilled over his sides. He went cross-eyed from the dizziness.

  And then he heard it. The sound he never wanted to hear.

  A watch on his belt—his own—let out a soft chime. It was not a warning of impending death, still a week or a few days away, not even a pressing warning of death in a few hours. This one was soft and melancholy, a chime signifying that he, the Watchmaker, had mere minutes, perhaps seconds, to live.

  A calm came over him. He knew there was no way he could save himself. Perhaps Page Trey and Master Malleator were out there, still able to help, but the chances were slim. If this was the way it must go, the Watchmaker decided, at least it would be peaceful. At least, when he closed his eyes one last time, he would see the two women he loved most once more. He only hoped he had done enough for Dembroch and his queen.

  CHAPTER 53:

  Stealing Youth

  I burst through the flames. My skin was flayed and burnt.

  The witch stood in the center of the ring, hands tight on her sister, who knelt at the witch’s feet. Under the harsh light of the maroon pentagram and the black fire, the witch was a terror to behold. Her eyes gleamed madly. All her age had melted away, revealing the true effects of time. Her skin was gnarled and dead, her cheeks sunken. There were only spikes of broken teeth left in her black gums. Her body was wasted away, nothing but stretched flesh over bone and shrunken organs. All of her magic, all of her power, was being channeled elsewhere.

  “You stole my youth, sister,” she rasped at Queen Coralee, not noticing my arrival into the nexus. “Now, I steal yours!” She closed her eyes and, in a throaty tone, said, “Betrayal, hatred, treachery divine—”

  “Stop!” I cried.

  The witch broke her incantation. Her cold eyes found mine.

  “Stop now, or meet your end,” I exclaimed.

  Shouts echoed behind me. My friends emerged from the flames, black and red burns lacing their faces. Their clothes were on fire. Jenn was pale as a ghost and Meg shook from the effort to keep herself standing.

  The witch began to whisper again, restarting her incantation. I shouted for her to stop, that I didn’t want to hurt her, but the witch persisted.

  “Betrayal, hatred, treachery divine,” she moaned, “let my sister’s youth be mine.”

  The pentagram shone bright, blinding my friends and I. The black flames roared. Sparks swirled around us.

  Queen Coralee screamed, and my heart seemed to shriek in tandem. The queen’s skin withered and cracked. Her limbs and torso thinned. She shrunk on the spot, her body aging hundreds of years with each passing second.

  At the same time, the witch grew younger. The ailments of time reversed and healed over. Her teeth regrew, her eyes cleared, her skin became plump and rosy.

  “Stop!” I begged, my heart thundering in my chest hard enough to tear itself apart. “Please! I don’t want to hurt you!”

  “I won’t!” the witch seethed. “I can’t!”

  “You can! Just stop!”

  There was nothing for it. I knew what I must do.

  I leveled my torches at the witch and pushed the orange flames toward her side. She shrieked in pain, but I didn’t back away.

  “The queen hurt me once too,” I said. “She abandoned me. But I found it in my heart to forgive and to love. That is your only option now, Sorgana. Forgive her or perish.”

  The witch, now a vision of beauty and youth, screamed for me to stop. She threatened to flay me, grind me to bits, make me her slave, torture me unendingly.

  I pushed another torch toward her cheek. The flames of love licked her flesh. She writhed and screamed but would still not break her hold on the queen.

  “This flame will not hurt you if you have love in your heart,” I shouted.

  My friends circled around the witch now. They held out their torches, nearing them to her skin.

  “I was like you,” Meghan shouted at the witch. “I thought my sibling abandoned me too. I was hurt and lost and decided to go my own way. But fate brought us back together. You can have the life you wanted, you just need the patience to seek it.”

  “Your brother is the queen’s mindless pawn,” the witch spat back. “He will abandon you like he did all those years ago.”

  “Have faith in the world,” Jenn interjected. “Believe that good will come, and it will! You can change your path for a brighter tomorrow.”

  “Look at what the world has made of me,” the witch screeched. “It has taken everything from me. There is no other way.”

  “There is,” Clay insisted. “Be brave. Face the future and whatever it brings.”

  “Together,” I tried to say, but a shock of pain in my chest cut my voice short. My left arm tingled strangely.

  “Together,” Meghan said.

  “With the sister you love,” I insisted, regaining my voice. “Let her go. Free her.”

  Something clicked in my head, like a light bulb turning on in my brain.

  “…free the sister,” the mage had said. He hadn’t meant the queen. Or my sister. He’d meant the witch. She was trapped and I knew her prison.

  “Look at where you are, Edith!” I shouted. “Destroying a kingdom of peace. Killing your sister. And for what? A curse? For the wrong done to you? It was not just your sister. Not just your choices. It was your curse.”

  The witch paused. She turned her youthful face
upon me. Her beauty was betrayed by the cruelty in her eyes. The queen hung limply from her hands, barely breathing, ancient and worn, but still alive. The spell seemed to have paused.

  “What?” the witch spat, her beautiful cheek burnt and bloody. “What curse do you speak of?”

  “The curse of your father,” I said. “The curse he fell to. The curse that afflicts your sister. If is upon you, too.”

  “Lies! The curse was upon the Arthurian lineage.”

  “To which you belong! King Arthur may not have been your blood, but he took you in. He was your father. You were his daughter. And like him, you lost much. Your family. Your kingdom. But you haven’t lost it all. Not yet.”

  The witch seemed to be considering this. My friends pulled back their torches.

  “You’re with your sister now,” I said. “You haven’t lost her yet. She has it in her heart to forgive you. All you have to do is break the curse.”

  “It can’t be broken, only completed,” the witch spat.

  “Your father found the answer,” I revealed. “And if his knights had known you were afflicted, they would have brought you here. But you’re here now. The fairest magic can break the darkest curse. I have the fairest magic in my hand. But you have to accept it.”

  I’d figured it out, I knew I had. This was the way to break the queen’s curse and the witch’s.

  Impossibly, the witch stalled. She wanted to know more. I was convincing her.

  And I would have told her. But in that instant, as we begged the witch to stop, as the queen clung desperately to life, as the whole kingdom seemed to hang in the balance, as my worn heart pounded its last painful beats, the sky suddenly lit up with a flash of red. The castle shook mightily. There was a smattering of soft chimes from my pocket watch and my friends’.

  Far below us, the Watchmaker was roused as the leftmost watch on his belt chimed softly. Though he could not reach it, he knew what it meant. The queen’s watch read a minute to midnight. The sun was highest in the dark. The queen had turned thirty. Her curse was here.