by Steve McHugh
Chapter 25
1414, France.
Ivy fell into a deep sleep after having visions of both Thomas and me in such a short space of time. Thomas lay down next to her, once he'd changed back from werewolf, and was asleep soon after.
I dozed off for an hour or two, but it was fitful. Visions of Mordred, and of all the pain and suffering he'd been responsible for, swirled around my head.
Eventually sunlight streamed through the treetops, bathing the lake next to us in a brilliant sheen, a sight that was far too tempting not to take full advantage of. By the time Thomas woke up, I was just getting back onto dry land.
"Ivy still asleep?" I asked.
Thomas nodded. "I think we need to talk, don't you?"
I shrugged and allowed the orange glyphs to burn brightly, raising my body temperature and drying me in the process before I put my clothes back on.
"You're not too worried about using your magic now?" Thomas asked.
I tapped the side of my skull. "I don't think I can solve the world's problems with a flick of my hands anymore, so I think it's safe."
Thomas sat on the lake's edge, his back up against a nearby tree. "I can't go home can I?"
I sat on the ground one tree over. "This is what you wanted to talk to me about?"
"I have a wife and son. His name is Edward. He'll be four now. It's been so long since I've seen him. And I'll never see him again, will I?"
"Before I answer that, let me ask you a question. Last night, when you changed, how did you manage to control the beast so easily?"
Thomas shrugged and threw a stone into the lake, watching the ripples it made across the otherwise still water. "I don't know. It wanted me to rip Ivy apart when she touched me. But I wouldn't let it. I forced myself to control it. "
"About one in fifty can control the beast like you did last night. Even fewer would have stayed as calm. The only werewolves I've ever met who could claim that were Alphas. The most powerful of your kind."
"What does that have to do with my family?"
"Even if you weren't an alpha, if you go back home eventually you'll change. You’ll have to. It's one of the laws of being a werewolf. Your wife will see you, and if not her then someone else. The alarm will be raised. People will try to kill you."
"What if I stop changing all together? Force myself to stay human?"
I threw a stone into the lake. "If you somehow manage to force yourself not to change for the first few weeks, maybe even for a month or two, eventually your body will break and with it your mind. It was the most common reason why people like me were called to kill a new werewolf. They go mad and start killing people. Usually beginning with those they love.
"And if someone like me doesn't get to you, the local werewolf pack might. And they have very different ways to punish those who turn themselves into a mindless beast. It usually involves torture and a slow death as a warning to others."
"So I can't see my family, that's what you're telling me?"
"Even if you could go home, and your family could accept you for what you are, others will challenge you for power. Eventually someone will use your family to get to you. Right now your wife and son think you're dead. If you go home, you'll destroy not only your life, but theirs too. Is that what you want?"
Thomas wiped his eyes, not wanting to show the tears falling from them. I turned away to give him a moment of privacy. "I want them to never need anything," he said. "I need them to be taken care of."
"If we get out of this in one piece, I'll talk to some people. They'll make sure that your family live a comfortable life. You have my word."
We sat in silence as a strong breeze lifted the fallen leaves from the ground and threw them into the air. "Merlin's Assassin," Thomas said after a short time. "Who are you, really?"
"I figured you'd heard," I said. I'd tried to decide how much to say if either Thomas or Ivy brought it up. I'd killed people in the past for knowing who I am, or rather, what I am. But something about Thomas told me that he could do great things, and more importantly, I liked and trusted him. And that was a rarity in both my business and personal life. "Whatever is said between us goes no further. If you repeat anything of what I am about to say, I will kill you. No questions, no excuses. Clear?"
Thomas kept eye contact for a moment before nodding once.
"I am a thousand years old, give or take. I was found outside Camelot as a child of about eight or nine. Merlin took me in and we discovered that I had an aptitude for magic and fighting, so he taught me magic whilst the many knights in the city taught me the other.
"Being trained to fight in Camelot was where I met Arthur, Gawain, Galahad and the other knights. Arthur and I soon became friends, more like brothers really. He was destined to be king, to be a great ruler, and the knights who pledged their allegiance to him and Camelot were always similarly great men. They believed in doing what was right, most of the time, and like Arthur saw things in shades of black and white. I see things in terms of grey.
"Merlin noticed this in me from a young age, during a training session. Arthur and some of the other boys were being schooled on chivalry. The man-at-arms in charge of one lesson told us that we were never to kill an unarmed opponent, that it was tantamount to murder. I suggested that an unarmed opponent was actually the best person to kill as it was safer than fighting someone armed to the teeth. It didn't go down well." I recalled the day with a smile, the mouth of the man-at-arms dropped open in shock. And Arthur laughed so hard he fell off the bench he sat on, causing everyone else to laugh. I didn't find out until much later that Merlin had been watching and listening to our lessons.
"So Merlin recruited you?" Thomas asked.
I nodded. "He suggested that some people needed to be removed from the world before they could endanger others. And that there would always be some who got away with their crimes simply because they were too powerful. I agreed with him, and he set about training me in other talents. It wasn't about how to fight, but how to kill, incapacitate my opponents and leave as if I were never there. He took me away, to what is now China. He'd visited the country a thousand years before I was even born and learned a lot.
"I was thirteen at the time. It took a year to get there by foot and horse. Merlin stayed for the first year and I for ten more. By the time I got home I was nearly twenty-four and had killed more men than I had fingers and toes.
"Arthur was king when I returned, yet he greeted me as his equal. He asked me if my training was done and introduced me to his wife, Guinevere. I always regretted not telling him what I was, but he wouldn't have understood."
"So you started killing for Merlin?"
"Some things out there need special attention, sending Arthur and his knights to kill every evil bastard would have gotten more innocent people hurt. Removing that evil just became a way of life. And I didn't just kill people. I found information on some, infiltrated their homes and friends, searching for clues about their motives and guilt."
"Does Merlin still tell you where to go?"
"These days I tend to do my own thing. Merlin will give me information or a request every few months, but I'm left to do what I need to."
"How does he contact you?"
"Merlin's one of the top three or four sorcerers on the planet. He can project himself into someone's dreams. At first, it's a bit disorientating."
Thomas stood and stretched, glancing over at a still sleeping Ivy. "You skipped a lot of your life in that telling."
"Most of it in fact." Thomas didn't need to know my entire life story. I wasn't sure any one person did.
"Were you honestly at Soissons by accident?" Thomas asked. "It seems very coincidental."
"I think maybe Merlin knew what direction to send me in. He likes to do that, not tell me exactly where to be, just point me roughly in the direction he has in mind and leave me to sort it out."
"I have one more question," he said. "Why is Ivy a problem?"
"From what I know about the Tr
ojan War and its aftermath, Cassandra died at the hands of Agamemnon's wife. And she died childless."
"So how does Ivy exist?"
I glanced over at the girl, still sleeping soundly. "I don't know. But I'm planning on finding out at some point."
He smiled and walked off a few paces before turning round. "Thank you for being honest with me."
I couldn't help but smile as Thomas went to check on Ivy. I got the feeling that smiling would be something I wouldn't do much of before this was over.
*****
I sat around and waited for Ivy to get up and wash in the lake. She was unsteady on her feet to begin with, as if just shaking off the remnants of being drunk on the visions she'd had.
Thomas had found an apple tree not too far away, and picked a few of the ripe green fruits, throwing me one as he went to make sure Ivy was alright. I watched him behave like a parent around her, even though he was at most seven or eight years older. The idea of never seeing his family again must have torn him up inside.
I felt guilty for not asking about his family, for only thinking of finding Ivy and stopping those who attacked Soissons. Sometimes I got so used to not answering questions about my life, or forming lies about it, that I forget about asking others.
Ivy and Thomas sat beside one another and spoke for a while. I was too far away to hear normally, although I could have used a gust of wind to bring the words to me. Instead I dozed on the soft grass. I always tried to get sleep where possible, and being half asleep was better than none at all.
Ivy and Thomas' approaching footsteps woke me. I opened my eyes as the young girl sat beside me and took my hand in hers.
"There was so much pain in your past."
"Keep it there," I said coolly, unwilling to get into a conversation regarding whatever she'd gleamed from her vision.
"She betrayed you," she continued unabated. "The woman you loved betrayed you for her ideals. And Mordred was there."
I sat bolt upright, jerking my hand from Ivy's. "Drop it."
"But I know now why you hate him."
I shook my head. "You have no idea why I hate him. What did you see? Me semi-conscious on the floor, Mordred standing over me? Maybe Morgan was with him."
"You and the woman, Morgan, were in a room, your friend burst in. Arthur. He demanded an explanation. You fought—you were angry, resentful of how he spoke to the woman. It spilled outside, and he was ambushed. Mordred stabbed him with a sword of some type. When you went to stop him, the woman hit you from behind with powerful magic."
I rubbed my eyes. I really didn't want to relive this. "Why are you telling me this? I was there."
"I wanted you to know that I understand why you hate him. But I hate him too."
I stood with the intent of walking off. I managed a few paces when I turned back to Ivy. "He has that effect on people."
"I was born in a cage, inside what can only be described as a prison, just outside Orleans," she said.
I froze mid-step, my intention of leaving suddenly evaporated.
"It's where I lived until I was twelve. Then Mordred took me to see the King of France, and then onto England. Both times, my job was to do readings of people's future. Of not only the king but of anyone Mordred deemed worthy of trying to impress, or needed to blackmail and threaten. The things some of these men did made me sick, but I was to show no feeling. Or I was punished.
"Mordred's method of punishing me depended on how creative he felt. Sometimes he would urinate in my food in front of me and make me eat it. Sometimes he would beat me with a birch, or his sword cane. Once he made me walk across broken glass to get to my bed. As I said, he was creative." Ivy's hatred seeped out of her like the beginnings of a burst dam.
"Why the rune-inscribed, silver cage in Soissons?" I asked. "You're not a sorcerer, the runes would have little effect on you."
"He was paranoid that someone would try and take me, so that's where I slept. In an impenetrable prison that would nullify the abilities of anyone who managed to break in."
I leaned against the nearest tree. "That explains why you hate Mordred. But not why he left you alone in that nice room back in the village."
"When we left England, King Henry required an escort for us. Mordred didn't want one, but Henry insisted. It was why the English archers died. It was the only way Mordred's could get out the city without a trace.
"Every morning while we travelled, Mordred had me read for him. He wanted to know what would happen each and every day. Two days after we arrived in that village I told him that if he stayed another night that he would be killed in the morning. So he ordered his men to stay in the village and guard me and then he left. He was meant to come back in a few days. He told me that he had other things to do."
I couldn't help but smile. "He was scared. He would never have left without a fight if he thought you were wrong."
"But he came back," Ivy pointed out.
"Could he have thought you were lying?" Thomas asked as he rejoined us.
"Psychics can't lie about a vision," I said as Ivy shook her head. "They can't fake one either. Whatever they see, they're compelled to tell the truth. They have no control over it. Mordred knows this."
The question bounced around my head for a short period of time until I came up with an answer that best suited Mordred. "He was worried about leaving you alone for any length of time. What were his plans for you? Do you know?"
"No," she lied.
I turned to Thomas. "Can you give us a moment?"
He stuck an apple in his mouth and took a large bite. "Be over there," he said between chews.
"I like him," Ivy said. "He's a noble man. I've met very few."
"You have five seconds to tell me the truth or I leave you here to sort yourself out."
"We both know that's not going to happen," she replied with a sly smile.
"Fine, you're right, but you're going to tell me anyway."
"Thomas can not be made aware of what I'm about to tell you. Promise me."
"Tell me what it is and we'll go from there."
"Promise me," she repeated, her eyes cold and hard. She was not going to be dissuaded from her course of action.
"Tell me why first."
"If Thomas finds out, he'll attack Mordred at first chance. We both know how that will end up."
Badly. Thomas would be dead in seconds.
"You've got a deal, what's going on?"
"You were right, Mordred needs me. He's using people, making them into weapons. Training them, selling them to those with the highest bids."
"And you're to be sold?"
"No, I'm his. Or at least I'm to be used only by him. He has two other women, the three of us together are going be something he's worked for a thousand years to put together."
That was nearly as long as I'd known Mordred, he would have been working on it soon after betraying Arthur... after nearly killing me. "What does he want you for?"
"I can't tell you. And no threats will make me. If you know these things..." She wiped away a tear as it ran down her cheek, before rolling up her sleeve to show a dark swirling mark on the top of her arm. She grabbed my hands in hers, they shook slightly, she was scared. But something told me that she wasn't just scared for herself. "He cursed me, I cannot speak of his plans unless he allows. Or until those plans are completed."
"I hate blood magic shit," I said with a hard fought smile.
"If it makes you feel better, I feel the same way."
I decided it best to change the subject. "I've seen the other mark on your thigh," I said without breaking eye contact.
"I thought you might have," she said. "I'd hoped to keep it secret. Just like you didn't want to mention the six you have on your chest."
"Who did that to you? Mordred?"
She nodded. "I have two, one on each thigh. Like the one on my shoulder, he wanted to put them somewhere that they wouldn't easily show to others who have been cursed with blood magic. They stop me from ageing."
>
I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "How did he do that?"
"He used a sacrifice. In fact about two-dozen people were killed. These marks will ensure that I don't age, although I am just as vulnerable to the elements and other human conditions. I can die."
"So he murdered two dozen people to make sure you don't age?"
"I was seventeen. He sat me in a gigantic bath, and poured the blood of twenty-four men and women over me. He forced me to drink some of it. And then he conducted his spell, using their souls, their essence, as a basis for it. Apparently it took him years to prepare it all. He was very proud."
"How old are you?"
Ivy glanced over at Thomas who was busy skimming rocks over the lake. "One hundred and thirty-one."
My mouth dropped open. "And you've been with Mordred all that time?"
Ivy nodded.
"Why did he do it? I mean why did he want a one hundred plus year-old psychic?"
Ivy didn't reply for a heartbeat. "Why do you not get your blood curse removed?" When she said it, her tone was soft, almost a whisper, as if afraid of the question. Or afraid of my answer.
I thought about lying, saying that I didn't care about the marks, but that would have been doing Ivy a disservice. "Because I know what it takes, the sacrifice that would need to be made. And so long as I have a say in it, I won’t have anyone do that for me. Not now, not ever."
Ivy nodded, satisfied with my answer. "It's part of his plan. I'm not the only one he marked in this way. The others, the ones he's going to sell as weapons, are at his castle near Orleans."
Ivy and I sat in silence for some time. My mind raced at the possibilities of why anyone would want to create an ageless psychic.
My thoughts were broken by Thomas, who had decided to rejoin us. "What’s the plan?" he asked.
I explained about Orleans, which Thomas absorbed with quiet thought. “Do you have a plan for getting into this fortress?”
"I’m thinking on it. We've got to assume that Mordred is already there,” I said. “He’ll be fortifying their defences. You both sure you want to come?"
