Awakening Camelot: A Wizard's Quest (Awakening Camelot Duology Book 1)

by Dan Wingreen

  Noah placed his gloved hands in front of him on the table. "My daddy always taught me to be true to my convictions."

  "Must be proud of you, then."

  Noah's mouth quirked into a wry half smile. "No. No, I don't believe he would be." He cocked his head as he studied Lee. Lee'd had a long time to get used to reading people, but even he couldn't see what was going on behind those deceptively dull, dark eyes. Noah's tongue darting out to wet his lips was the only outward sign of whatever was going on inside his head.

  "Oh?" Lee asked. "Why's that, then?"

  If Lee was the type to make wagers on things like his own capture and eventual torture, he would have laid a fair bit of money on Noah being the kind of interrogator who would deftly deflect any personal question back on the asker. A bet he would have lost, as it turned out, since instead of a witty comeback, the hunter pursed his lips and looked for all the world like he was actually considering the question. After a few moments, he seemed to come to a decision.

  "Momma died giving birth to me, so it was just me and my daddy when I was growing up. He raised me as best he could with the time he had and there wasn't a single thing that happened to or around us that he didn't turn into some kind of lesson, complete with a folksy saying, and damned if that didn't just make it easier to remember every single thing he taught me. One day the Department came calling at our door, pounding and demanding to be let in. I was halfway to opening it when he grabbed me and pulled me through the house and out the back."

  "See"—he leaned forward so that his arms were resting on the table, his eyes locked on Lee's—"he was a terrorist. All his lessons, everything he'd taught me, was to get me to think for myself, to 'break the conditioning', or some such nonsense. I learned all this later, of course. I saw the files on him. I knew what he'd done, who he'd killed in his crusade against the rightful order of things. Right then though, all I knew was that my daddy was running away from the very people I'd been told my whole life to obey without question."

  "What did you do?" Lee asked, drawn in despite knowing this wouldn’t have any kind of happy ending.

  "I shot him in the back," Noah said evenly. "With a force spell. Not a deathbolt or even a death spell, and I didn't stun him so that he could be interrogated, like I ought to have done. In thanks for all that he'd taught me, I blew his heart out of his chest as he dragged me away from my home. That was my mercy. A gift from son to father. Because it was thanks to him that I believed in my convictions. It was thanks to him that I've never hesitated in doing what was necessary and righteous. That I've never wavered in my moral certitude, or questioned what I knew to be true in my heart. He might have given me those strengths because he thought it would turn me against my government, but in the end, it only made my belief in it stronger. So no, I don't think my daddy would be very proud of me at all."

  Noah's lips curled into a small, placid smile. "But then, he was a terrorist. So I take that as a badge of honor."

  "Bloody hell," Lee breathed. "You killed your own father?"

  "Yes, I did," he said, not so much as the tiniest hint of regret in his voice. "And I tell you this so that you know there is nothing I wouldn't do in service to my convictions."

  "And you don't see anything wrong with a government that forces a child to kill his own father?" Lee asked, ignoring the implied threat.

  "My daddy made his choices," Noah said. "And that was his problem. He should have left those choices up to the people who were more qualified to make them."

  The embers of Lee's oldest guilt were stoked to life once more by the look in Noah's eyes; the calm assurance that everything he was saying was completely true and beyond question. People shouldn't be like that. In no sane world should a son think it was moral to murder his own father.

  "I'm sorry," Lee said quietly.

  Noah raised his eyebrows. "An apology from Mr Mystery? Wonders, apparently, will never cease. And what, may I ask, are you apologizing for?"

  "More than you'll ever know," he murmured. Then, louder, "I feel bad for you, ya know? You're as much a victim of this government as anyone else."

  "Because my father was a terrorist?" Noah asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

  "Because you're a monster," Lee said. "And it wasn't something you ain't ever had a choice in."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  Lee sighed. It wasn't that he expected to get through to him, but… It was sad. And it was another thing that was Lee’s fault added on to the end of a very long list.

  "What's your full name?" Lee asked suddenly.

  Noah cocked his head. "And why do you want to know that?"

  "Just humor me."

  Noah looked slightly nonplussed at the turn the conversation had taken, but after a few moments he said, "Noah Alexander."

  "Of course it is.” Lee felt his heart break, just a little bit. “You wanna know what it means?"

  He could practically feel the contempt pouring off of Noah. "You can't possibly tell me you believe in that name garbage." He shook his head. "How disappointing. But please, do tell me, what does my name mean? I'm dying to know."

  Lee ignored his sarcasm. "Noah means peace. And Alexander means protector of mankind. You're the peaceful protector of mankind, mate, and since you said your ma died givin' birth to you I'm bettin’ it were your da who named you. A name given in love and hope." Lee smiled sadly. "You're right. I don't think he would have been proud of you at all. But I don't think he'd hate you either. More than anything, I think he'd cry for everything you should have been, and pitied the creature this government made you."

  It was a feeling that Lee wasn't exactly unfamiliar with himself.

  Noah stared at him for a long while after that. Again Lee found himself wondering what he saw. Keeping his eyes locked on the hunter, he opened himself up, just a little bit. So many emotions, so much guilt and regret; it all swirled inside him, never going away, just dulling slightly with time. He tried to let Noah see some of that. He wanted this monster to see what happened when someone finally saw him.

  Finally, the hunter broke the silence. "You aren't going to tell me what I want to know, are you?" he asked softly.

  Lee sighed. It was about what he was expecting, but a lot less than he'd hoped. Noah was a lost cause, another casualty of Lee's failure. Lee was also certain he wasn't going to leave this room alive. Aidan, on the other hand, still had a chance. One that only got bigger with every moment Lee kept Noah’s attention firmly fixed in his direction. That had to be his only focus now.

  "I dunno." Lee shrugged. "You ain’t even told me what you wanna know. Could be it ain't even a thing I'm knowin' at all."

  Noah smiled slightly. Lee thought he saw disappointment flash across his face too, but that might have just been his imagination. "I suppose I don't have to spell out where we go from here. Those scars on your body tell me you've been here many a time."

  "I guess maybe I have."

  "Thing is," Noah went on, "I've never done this on somebody wearing those spell cuffs before. Normally I'd start cutting pieces off, then heal you and start all over again. But I'm not sure that healing spells will even work on you, pressed against the stone and spelled up as you are."

  Lee's smile was completely at odds with the cold fear of anticipation in his gut. It didn't matter how many times he'd gone through it, he bloody hated being tortured.

  "So, normal cuttin' then? Kinda boring. I had that done dozens of times and I ain't never talked once. Should be a bit relaxin'; comfortin’ like, sorta like slipping back into an old pair of boots." Lee's smile turned into a full-on grin. "Unless you think you can be the one that finally breaks me."

  He'd die before he said anything. He knew it as sure as he knew the sky was blue. Right now, though, the only thing keeping Aidan safe was the fact Noah didn't know it. He needed Noah to want to hurt him. To want to keep hurting him so all he'd hear would be Lee's screams, and not the lack of words behind them.

  "Maybe if I screa
m loud enough, and if there's an afterlife, your da can hear me in the great beyond and finally know exactly what his son's 'mercy' really is." He smirked. "The pathetic excuses of a scared, weak little boy who put his own cowardice ahead of the needs of the conviction he claims to believe in."

  Noah's jaw tightened, and Lee knew he had him. He just hoped he was strong enough to give Aidan enough time.

  Noah stood up slowly, deliberately pushing the chair back under the table, his eyes never leaving Lee.

  “Very well Mr Mystery,” he said, his soft, syrupy voice at odds with the cold fire burning behind his eyes. "Challenge accepted."

  Chapter 5

  Aidan stood, looking down at the shirt in his hands, unable to move.

  Lee's shirt…

  He'd tried to do what Lee wanted, he really did. After he was done crying, he pushed himself up off the floor and forced himself to start packing. He tried to tell himself he had more important things to do. That he could throw himself to the ground and cry his eyes out after Arthur was awake. That it didn't matter if Lee was gone because he was capable of doing this on his own and he could keep his feelings in check. Who needed feelings anyway? What had they ever brought him but heartbreak? He didn't need to feel anything.

  He'd actually felt himself shutting down, cutting off every string that tied him to the world, one by one. It felt good. Numb. He could do anything as long as he was numb.

  And then he'd started packing up the last shirt, and realized it was Lee's.

  It was the one he'd thrown over the crystal ball. Aidan always packed that one last because Lee tended to forget it in their haste to get back on the road. It wasn’t something Aidan had thought about, or something they’d ever spoken of. They never set aside specific responsibilities, never divvied up all the mundane chores that came with living out of suitcases and hotel rooms. There were always more important things to worry about, things like practicing magic or securing the room or wondering what they were going to do once they finally made it to the city. And, too, there were other things; less important from an objective standpoint maybe, but just as important to them. Things like kissing, or cuddling, or tentative explorations with fingertips and hands and mouths; things like holding each other in the middle of the night when sleep was just out of reach, or whispering quietly all the hopes and fears they’d never give voice to in the daylight, or making each other laugh so hard the people in the next room over started pounding on the walls. Somewhere along the way, in between all the major moments that made up their short, frenzied life together, picking up Lee’s shirt became one of those things Aidan did without thinking about it. Like getting up in the morning or taking a drink when he was thirsty.

  Like breathing.

  Aidan was an idiot to think he could so easily shut himself off from everything Lee had become to him.

  Lee was a part of him. He wasn't a string that could just be cut off. He was like an arm or a leg, like his eyes or his lungs or his throat or his tongue.

  Like his heart.

  There was no way Aidan could get Lee out without tearing himself apart.

  The shirt began to get blurry, and Aidan violently wiped the tears from his eyes.

  He couldn't do this. He couldn't just leave and pretend everything was going to be okay. Lee was dead, but couldn’t let him go, couldn’t move on.

  Couldn’t even move.

  What in the ancient hells am I supposed to do now?

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging over the small dresser across from the bed. His cheeks were stained with dried tears and hair was still magically dyed blond. He was still wearing that horrible shirt Lee loved teasing him about…

  Stop it! I don't want to remember that. I don't want to think about him! I just want… I want…

  I want Lee…

  "You're such a fucking child." He wanted it to be sharp and scathing, to rightfully berate himself, but his words came out flat and weak. Just like Aidan. Just like Lee had always thought.

  No!

  He ground his teeth in frustration. No, Lee was never the one who thought that. That was all Aidan. It was his need to prove himself, his need to be needed and useful and important. He laughed without a trace of humor. Here, now, he could finally admit, if only to himself, the one great secret of Aidan Collins: He'd always felt that way. Even the old Aidan, the one who believed in the government and his place in the world, had wanted those things. It was why he tried so hard to help those kids, why he wanted so badly to be able to use magic. It was why he ran away with Lee in the first place. The need to matter, to be more than he thought he was, to feel like he was worth even the meager scraps of positive attention he’d gotten here and there before meeting Lee. It was everything to him.

  And then he fell in love with Lee.

  He could prove himself now. He was the only person in the world who could wake up Arthur. He was the only one who could make life better for every single person in the country, and maybe even beyond. At that moment, an argument could be made that Aidan was the most important person alive. It was everything he'd ever secretly wanted, everything he’d never allowed himself to hope for.

  And he'd give it up in a second if he could have Lee back.

  The bitter irony wasn't lost on him. He was right on the edge of his greatest dream and—

  Aidan stopped breathing.

  My dream…

  He never forgot his dreams, not the ones that mattered, the ones that had meaning. He'd always hated that. The perfect clarity of his sometimes-horrible dreams was enough to drive him crazy, but the dream that rose up out of the vast sea of so many others to hover at the front of his memory was doing anything but that.

  Lee, in that dream, had blamed Aidan for not saving him.

  At the time it had torn his heart into pieces even if he'd never had any idea what it meant. Until now. It was like the feeling he'd gotten back in the room where Excalibur had been hidden, the familiar newness, the sureness that could only come with knowing a place mixed with the awe of seeing it for the first time pulsing through his body. Except it wasn't about a place this time, it was about a moment. This was what he'd dreamed about. This exact moment, right now. He knew it as surely as he'd known exactly where the sword was. Hope, horrible, wonderful hope, sprang to life inside the spaces in his heart where he'd never expected to feel anything but loss.

  In the dream, Lee had been beaten and bloody, but just before he turned to stone, he'd spoken to Aidan. It didn't matter that he knew Lee wouldn't really blame him for his death. Dreams were symbolic and not always literal, after all. What did matter was this was the moment he'd dreamed of, the moment just before Lee turned to stone where he’d spoken to Aidan. He’d blamed Aidan for his death and then turned to stone. And if turning to stone was supposed to symbolize death, and if this moment was the moment he’d seen in his dream, then that meant Lee was still alive.

  A laugh that was more a sob than anything else tore its way out of his raw throat. Lee was still alive and according to Aidan's dream, it would be his fault that Lee died.

  Which meant Aidan also had a chance to stop it.

  It was a choice. A choice only he could make. Lee had been right. Choices changed the world, made it worth living in; not safety or comfort. The old Aidan couldn't have made this choice. He would have pushed it out of his head. He would have squeezed his eyes shut and begged to forget, to be able to ignore it all while wishing he was strong enough to do more.

  He dropped the shirt, barely even registering where it landed. The shirt didn't matter anymore. A link to the dead was meaningless when the dead weren't actually dead. And Lee wouldn't die. Not yet. Aidan knew that as sure as if he'd dreamed it, because he had dreamed it. The old Aidan would have run from that dream.

  The new Aidan had a sorcerer to save.

  He rushed over to his messenger bag and pulled out the old gray spell book, flipping to the middle where he'd written the same spell over and over again in increasingly rushe
d and sloppy handwriting. He'd been too scared to use it before, but now he tore it out eagerly and grinned at the word written there as he lay down on the bed.

  He might not have any idea exactly how to save Lee, but he was about to find out.

  "Divination."

  ◆◆◆

  Aidan hovered in the dark expanse of the void, exactly like last time. It took him a moment to remember he didn't actually remember any of this outside—

  The mists!

  He looked around frantically, the panic he'd felt just before he'd woken up the last time he was here racing through him like he'd never left.

  But the mists were gone.

  How the hells could I forget about the mists?

  Because they are not meant to be known outside the void. Same with the void itself. It was a safeguard built into reality; just seeing ultimate knowledge is enough to drive a waking mind insane, so the memory of it is taken before someone passed back into the real world. The only way a person could remember the void or the mists outside of the void was to submerge themselves in the mists before leaving, and even those memories would dull and blur with time. If the person inside somehow managed to survive being besieged by the entire sum of pan-universal knowledge, that is. The only reason Aidan even remembered to be afraid after he woke was because the mists touched him briefly before he could leave.

  Aidan shook his head. He'd forgotten how strange it was to have answers spring up in his mind like he'd always known them. That weird cheese memory made a lot more sense now. If last time was any indication, he probably didn't have much time before the mists found him again, but he had to remember to be very careful with his questions.

  Okay, first one's easy enough. Is Lee still alive?

  Yes.

  Even though he'd known it, tears of relief still welled up in his eyes. He barely remembered to slap his hands over his mouth before a giddy laugh could force its way out and start echoing.

  Where is he?

  In an interrogation room.

  He waited for a moment, then scowled when there wasn't any follow up. Apparently, Lee wasn't the only thing in the universe that needed to be prodded all the time. He needed a picture, or a map, or something, but he was scared to ask for one since he hadn't exactly had good experiences with pictures suddenly springing to life in his head in this place.