I flatten myself in the bow of the boat as the waves become stronger. The old mariner wants to turn back, which would be the smart thing to do. But I can’t turn back now. “Keep going!” I shout to him. “She can’t sink us!”
I reach into my pocket, feeling the bit of hair from the charm Glenda gave to me. That’s what keeps Morgana from attacking the boat directly. She can still use a Choppy Seas spell to make waves. If she really gets desperate she could probably use a Typhoon spell to make things worse. I don’t intend to give her the chance.
Once I can clearly see the shore, I sit up again and turn to the old man. “Keep the boat here. I’ll be back soon.”
I vanish onto the beach, not concerned anymore if the old man sees me use my powers. I also don’t need to worry about alerting Morgana as she obviously knows I’m coming. I turn around to see that the waves have begun to die down. There’s no point in sinking the boat now; I could easily vanish myself home to France or thousands of other places.
Approaching the darker-colored rock I saw from the boat, I see that it’s one solid piece of stone shoved into an arch-shaped opening about eight feet tall. This is probably the entrance Morgana carved so she and her mortal slaves could access the interior of the island.
I put my right hand against the rock and say the words for a Pile Driver spell. Nothing happens at first, but then cracks radiate in the stone from where my hand is, all through the rock. The sandstone crumbles, revealing a tunnel. I take a deep breath and then go inside.
The tunnel isn’t lit, so I have to use a Glow in the Dark spell like Sophie uses in the library. It isn’t long before I hear the sound of pickaxes smashing against stone. Morgana is probably having her minions burrow even deeper into the island. You aren’t going to be able to hide that easily, I think.
As I do, something hits me in the back of the head and I pitch forward. The glow fades from my body and everything turns dark.
***
I’m sitting in front of a stone fireplace. The first thing I notice is my stomach. It’s easy to notice because it’s sticking out about six inches, to the point where my white gown is pulled snugly across it. I’ve never been fat before; I stopped being chubby when I was a baby.
I feel a sharp pain in my gut. Putting a hand on it, I begin to realize that I’m not fat—I’m pregnant! From the look of it, I’m about due too. But how did this happen? I can’t remember lying with any man before.
A door opens and a familiar voice says, “You shouldn’t be out of bed, cheri.”
I turn and see Henri standing in the doorway, but this is impossible. Henri is dead, isn’t he? He died when I was just a child, before I became a witch.
I try to heave myself out of the chair I’m in, but I can’t. Henri finally comes over to take my hand. His hand feels just the way I remember—coarse and yet gentle. He doesn’t so much as grunt as he helps me into a standing position. I’m still unable to think of any words as he wraps me in an embrace.
His kiss is the way I remember as well. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of his lips. The questions still swirl in my head: how is Henri here? where are we? why am I carrying his child? These questions begin to fade as he kisses me, the answers not important at the moment. All that matters is that we are here.
Henri pulls away much too soon for my liking. He puts a hand on my stomach. “How is the child today?”
“She’s kicking like a mule,” I say.
“Like her mother.”
Henri takes me over to the bed, which is across the tiny room. I recognize this as the cottage where Henri lived before he was conscripted into the army—before he died. His hand is just as gentle in helping me onto the bed, where I lie down, my stomach blotting out everything below my waist.
A moment later I groan as I try to sit up. “I should get your dinner,” I say. “You’ve probably been working all day.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “You lie here and rest.”
“But—”
“Rest.”
I do as Henri asks, lying on the rough straw mattress. I manage to turn my head enough to see him unwrapping a loaf of bread and cutting off hunks of it for the both of us. There’s some cheese as well—a peasant’s feast. That’s what I am now: a peasant girl, a farmer’s wife. Soon I’ll be a mother as well. I only wish I could remember how all of this came about. Maybe the pregnancy has addled my brain.
No, I can still remember it vividly: Henri lying in that farmhouse, a gash across his midsection. I took him home, but it was too late for Aggie to save him; he was dead. “Henri?”
“What is it, cheri?”
“What happened in the war?”
“What war?”
“When the lord made you go off and fight against the pope.”
Henri kneels down beside the bed and smiles at me. “The lord has never asked me to fight anyone, let alone the pope.”
“But I saw it. I saw you dead.” I begin to cry at this memory.
Henri touches my cheek. “It was a dream. That’s all. I’m still here and we’re going to be together forever.”
I want to believe him. I desperately want to believe that everything I remember was an elaborate fantasy. I want to believe that Henri is here with me in this tiny house and that soon I will be giving birth to our first child. I want to believe that we will be together and happy forever.
But then I look into his eyes. They’re different. They’re the same color, but something is missing from them. Henri is missing from them. His love is missing.
I shake my head and then take Henri’s hand. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to him. “But I have to go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“I have to wake up now.” I lean forward enough to kiss his lips again—to kiss them a final time. “I love you.”
Then I close my eyes and wake up.
***
When I open my eyes, I’m in a cavern similar to the archives in Ireland, only this isn’t as perfect of a circle, nor is it as big. I hear the sound of pickaxes, louder now. The reason is that a gang of mortal men are chipping away at the rock about ten feet to my right. They work steadily and silently, without so much as a grunt. Their eyes are glassy as well, which confirms what Glenda told me: Morgana has them under her control.
Morgana is on my other side, staring straight at me. She’s younger than I remember, her hair auburn like the charm Glenda gave to me and her pale skin smooth. Her voice is bright as she says, “I should have known you wouldn’t be so easily fooled.”
I try to move my hands and legs, but Morgana has me chained to the wall. My jacket is gone, along with my weapons—and the charm. I’m completely vulnerable to her magic now; as a more senior witch her magic would probably trump mine. Of course she could have already killed me if that’s what she had wanted to do. That I’m still alive means she hasn’t reached that point of no return yet. “What is it you want from me?”
“I know we haven’t gotten a chance to talk much these last two hundred years, but I thought we could remedy that. Maybe we could find some common ground.”
“You want me to go against Glenda, is that it?”
“That’s part of it.” Morgana motions to her slaves chipping away at the rock. “We’re very close to making a major discovery.”
“What kind of discovery?”
“The birthplace of magic.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You should talk with Sophie more often.”
“What’s she got to do with this?”
“She’s the one who gave me the idea. She went through the archives and found it mentioned: the source of our magic. She asked me about it, hoping I would have an idea of what it meant—and where to find it.”
“And you think it’s here in this godforsaken place?”
“It’s here precisely because it’s godforsaken.”
“You’re mad. There’s nothing here but a bunch of rocks. Why don’t you let those mortals go and come with me
?”
“Go with you where? Back to Glenda and the coven? You know I can’t do that. She’ll have me destroyed.”
“I’m sure she’ll treat you fairly.”
Morgana smiles at this. “I know you don’t really believe that. You hate her as much as I do. You probably hate her more than I do. That’s why I let you live. I could use your help in finding the source. Once we find it, then we can destroy Glenda and start a new coven.”
“What if I don’t want to help you?”
“You’ll serve me—one way or another.” She gestures to the mindless slaves pounding away at the rock. The implication is obvious: if I don’t agree to her terms, she’ll make me into one of those mindless slaves.
“If you want my help then why did you kill Connor MacCullen? And why did you try and trap me in that dream?”
“I didn’t need MacCullen coming here later with a bunch of boats and nosy mortals. As for the dream, consider it a test.”
“And I passed.”
“Yes. I always thought Sophie was just being a good big sister when she said how powerful you are, but now I know she isn’t lying.”
“I’ll tell her that the next time I see her.”
“You’re disappointing me, Sylvia. I would much rather have you as my friend than my slave.”
“You’ll have to settle for neither one,” I say and then I vanish out of the chains to stand behind her. With one hand I yank her head back, pulling hard enough to yank out a chunk of her auburn hair. While her scream is still echoing through the cavern, I use my other hand to throw her against the wall.
My years of braiding Aggie’s hair pay off as I’m able to quickly fashion the chunk of hair into a new charm. Morgana is getting to her feet as I say the magic words to activate the charm’s power. Now I’m protected from her magic.
She realizes this as well and lunges at me. Morgana is a witch and she’s made herself about as young as me, but she never had Hisae Chiu as a teacher. I easily sidestep her attack, seize her wrist, and then flip her back to the ground. I plant one foot on her chest, glaring down at her and holding up my crude charm. “You can either come with me to see Glenda or we can finish things here.”
“Finish it here. I don’t want to go back to Glenda.” Morgana begins to cry. “I know what she’ll do to me. Just kill me now.”
“Release those mortals first.”
She nods at this and the mortals stop their mining. They stare at their pickaxes and then look around the cavern, trying to figure out where they are and how they got here. I wave a hand to put them to sleep for a few minutes. When they wake up later, they’ll think it was all a horrible dream—or so I hope.
I look down at Morgana again and see the fear in her eyes. It’s not a fear of death; it’s a fear that I won’t kill her. She’s more scared of Glenda’s justice than mine. I remember what Sophie said about Glenda not showing us her full powers to make us feel useful. Maybe that’s why Morgana is so afraid.
In which case, I see no better way to avenge Connor’s death than to give her over to Glenda. I pick Morgana up easily enough, slinging her over my shoulder. She screams, “No! Don’t! Please don’t give me to her! I’m sorry about your friend. I shouldn’t have killed him. I’m sorry. Just don’t give me to her.”
“You should have thought of that before you killed him.”
And with one final scream we’re gone.
***
The coven’s justice is swift and brutal. I vanish Morgana to the archives, where I have to wait only a few minutes until Glenda appears, as if she knew. Maybe she did. Thanks to my crude charm, there’s little Morgana can do except to throw herself at Glenda’s feet and beg for mercy. Watching this is enough to turn my stomach.
Despite Morgana’s apologies, pleading, and pitiful wailing, Glenda is unmoved. She takes a step back, glaring down at her “sister.” “Get up,” Glenda hisses. “Try to maintain some dignity in your final moments.”
“What are you going to do to her?” I ask once I have Morgana stashed in the archivist’s quarters. The archivist is not around at the moment, probably dismissed by Glenda so she won’t have to witness Morgana’s punishment.
“We’ll follow the ancient rituals once the others are here.”
“The others?”
“The entire coven must bear witness.”
I snort at this. “So you can show them who’s boss, right?”
“Of course. You think I want to have a dozen more like her? We have to stop this before it spreads any farther.” Glenda vanishes a note back to Sophie, who in turn begins alerting the rest of the coven.
While we wait, Glenda and I sit at the archivist’s desk. I tell her about what I saw in the cavern, the human slaves digging for what Morgana called the “birthplace of magic.” Glenda listens without saying anything or showing any reaction to let me know what she might be thinking. Finally I ask, “Is there such a place?”
“No. It’s just a silly legend.”
My next question is more difficult to put into words. “She said that Sophie told her about it. Do you think Sophie encouraged her to do it?”
Glenda’s neutrality drains away; she pats my arm. “Your sister is one of my most trusted advisors. There’s no chance that she would encourage something like this.”
I think back to the conversation in the library. Sophie might be Glenda’s trusted advisor, but that trust clearly was not mutual. I try to smile anyway, hoping Glenda can’t read my thoughts. “You’re right,” I say. “She’s just a bookworm anyway.”
I stay down in the archives with Morgana while the others trickle in upstairs. Glenda goes up to meet them, leaving Morgana and I alone. I expect her to try begging me to let her go, but she doesn’t. Perhaps taking Glenda’s admonishment to heart, she only stares down at the floor, saying nothing. I continue to watch her carefully anyway, just in case she tries to make a break for it; the charm remains in my pocket to negate her magic.
Sophie comes down to get us a couple of hours later. Upon seeing her, Morgana begins to cry again. “This is your fault! You said no one would find out!” I grab Morgana around the shoulders and throw her back onto the archivist’s bed before Morgana can claw Sophie’s eyes out. “You told her!”
“You’re responsible for your own actions,” Sophie says as flatly as ever. She turns to me and nods slightly. “You can bring her upstairs now. We’re ready.”
I take hold of Morgana again, vanishing us into the center of the upper cavern. As promised, all the others are there: Mama, Aggie, Regina, Hisae, and the rest of the coven. Of them all, Aggie seems the most bothered by what’s going to happen; her body trembles and she has tears in her eyes. I want to go over and talk to her, but I have to stay with Morgana through the “trial.”
It isn’t a trial in the mortal sense. Glenda pushes through the circle to stand on the opposite side of Morgana from me. “Sisters, one of us has committed a heinous crime. Morgana le Fay, has conspired to overthrow the coven. She has committed numerous atrocities, including the enslavement of numerous mortals and the murder of one Connor MacCullen. Of these facts there can be no discussion. How say you, sisters?”
“Guilty.” I say nothing, neither does Aggie or Sophie. Morgana only continues to look down at her feet and cry silently.
“So say you.” Glenda turns to Morgana. “A guilty verdict has been rendered. Is there anything you wish to say before sentence is pronounced?”
Without looking up, Morgana mumbles, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to overthrow the coven. I only wanted to discover the truth about where we came from.” I brace myself in case Morgana tries to attack Sophie again, but she doesn’t. She goes silent once more, still looking shyly at her feet.
Glenda turns and nods to Aggie. Now I understand why Aggie is so upset: she’s the executioner for this mockery of justice. My fellow witches step aside so Aggie can enter the circle. From her pocket she takes out a pink vial, which she passes to Glenda. Then Aggie turns away, not looking at me o
r Sophie.
“Because you have shown remorse for your actions, your sisters will not invoke the harshest penalty. Instead, you will be allowed to live and to someday rejoin your sisters in this coven.” Glenda takes the cap off the vial and then nods to me. I have to wrap an arm around Morgana’s neck and pinch her nose until she opens her mouth. She tries to resist, but without her magic I’m too strong for her. There’s nothing she can do as Glenda pours the pink potion down her throat.
It takes only a few seconds then for Morgana to slip out of my grasp. Not because she broke free of my hold; because she begins to shrink. I take a step back, watching in horror as Morgana’s body compacts into that of a pimple-faced teenager. She continues shrinking into a little girl swimming in her clothes. A few seconds later she’s a toddler, her head the only part of her still visible. And then she disappears entirely into her dress.
From inside the dress comes the wailing of a baby. Glenda reaches into the dress, pulling out a baby girl, her head covered in golden down. Her face turns red as she continues to sob uncontrollably. I can see why: her eyes are still that of the adult Morgana while her body is that of a helpless infant. I turn away, feeling queasy again.
Sophie tears off a portion of Morgana’s dress, using this to swaddle the child. Glenda smiles at the baby Morgana like a new grandmother. “It’s all right, dear. In fifteen years we’ll see you again. This time I hope you stay on the straight and narrow.”
There’s very little discussion afterwards. Most of my sisters in the coven go back to whatever they were doing. Aggie is still distraught, burying her head against Mama’s shoulder as if she too had regressed into a child.
I stagger away to the edge of the cavern, sitting down on a rock and looking down at the ground. Sophie comes over to sit next to me. “What’s going to happen now?” I ask her.
“Glenda will find a new home for her and keep an eye on her. She’ll grow up again, recover her powers, and become a witch again.”
“Is she going to remember any of this?”
“Perhaps for a few days. Eventually her mind will regress with the rest of her and she’ll forget everything.”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 96
