The Iron Seal

by J. M. Briggs

  Dobiemir looked up into Chernobog’s face. This wasn’t working. His legs quivered. He could run, get back to Slavko. But then what? Why had they brought him here? Did Merlin and Morgana still hope that he could reach his magic? The spark jumped in his chest. He inhaled slowly, trying to imagine it like he was feeding a fire. The spark grew, and Dobiemir focused on the struggling Merlin. He was still on his knees. Sif had moved Odin away and was fighting Shadows with Baldr. Shadows were snarling at Morgana, and she was waving her hands wildly, throwing spears of ice at the advancing line encircling her and Merlin.

  Chernobog truly was the dark god now. It was a winter’s night in the middle of summer. This would spread. The Shadows would kill all the harvest that was left. People would starve, and his son… his son, who had been so weak, would surely suffer. The spark burned. Heat raced down his quivering limbs. Around him, the world slowed. He heard himself exhale. A purple glow appeared at the edge of his vision. Looking down, Dobiemir wasn’t even surprised when he found the seal in his hand glowing. His fingers were stretched around the round object, holding it tightly in place.

  The metal was hot in his hands. A strange thrum traveled from the iron into his body. His bones quivered, and his muscles twitched. It was comforting. There was power here, real power. Looking up at the dark form, Dobiemir’s stomach tightened. Chernobog loomed above them. His tall form was blocking out the sun that was still valiantly trying to light up the area. Day meant nothing here. Darkness was spreading as all the light seemed to sweep towards Chernobog and vanish into his dark form.

  Every moment the temperature dropped, but the metal in his hands kept Dobiemir warm. There were shouts from Merlin and Morgana as they threw everything they had at the Old One. Sif and Baldr were all throwing magical orbs at the Old One, but they had no effect. Nothing did. He watched long arms sweep over the landscape. Trees cracked at the impact, and the others were forced to scatter to avoid being crushed.

  Then those bright green eyes found him. Dobiemir didn’t flinch back. The fear was gone. Somehow, he felt no urge to run. It wouldn’t help. His fingers tightened around the metal, and he breathed in slowly. They couldn’t kill Chernobog. His power was too great. Maybe someday. He remembered what the Old Ones had said about sleeping. This being didn’t want to be helped, it didn’t want to be saved. But maybe he could be stopped.

  Raising the metal circle in front of him, Dobiemir began to march forward. A bright glow spilled forth from the metal. A rich purple color. His color. There were no sparks of magic. Everything remained tightly bound in the metal. The thrum beneath his fingers intensified. Chernobog growled, the sound rolling across the area. Dobiemir kept his eyes on the Old One, trusting his other senses to keep him safe.

  Chernobog roared. The seal in his hand was burning. Dobiemir screamed. The metal dug into his flesh, the heat charring his skin. More magic was spilling out now, circling Chernobog. The Old One reached for him, but streams of bright silver and green magic struck his chest. Merlin and Morgana. He didn’t look for them. He didn’t dare. Holding back his screams and tears, Dobiemir kept the seal aloft. The burning was worse now. His bones ached. Instinct screamed to let go, but the magic kept it tight in his hand.

  Beneath his feet, the ground thrummed in time with his heartbeat. Every moment that passed was agony, and even the rush of cool magic up through his body from the earth didn’t soothe it. His knees were locked. The edges of his vision were going dark, but those bright green eyes remained fixed on him.

  He heard the lake water churning. The wind howled. Dobiemir was aware of the others but didn’t look away from Chernobog. It was watching him. Waiting to see what he would do. Dobiemir didn’t know. His heart raced, and the spark in his chest was a raging fire that was releasing magic he didn’t know what to do with. The water around Chernobog was lashing against the Old One’s legs, and an idea came to Dobiemir.

  The Old Ones had talked about it, about sleeping in the waters. He didn’t understand it, but perhaps it could work. The purple glow intensified. In the lake the sound of crashing waves increased. The waves rose up, twisting about the black form. It roared once again, fighting back. The seal grew hotter and hotter. It burned against his hand, the heat sinking into his flesh. But he did not let go.

  “Lock him away,” Dobiemir whispered. “Please, lock him away. Stop this. Put him to sleep.” The words were lost to the wind but echoed in his mind. His chest burned, the strange illusive flare suddenly bursting with power and life. “Seal him away from my son and me.”

  Chernobog roared. Water spun around him, rushing over the black skin. The Old One made a frantic lunge for the shore, but vines of water pulled him back. His legs vanished into the water. Dobiemir didn’t believe the lake was that deep. The surface of the lake began to glow purple. Dobiemir took another step forward, hope filling his chest.

  His knees gave out, but he held on. Magic kept spinning around him, from him and filled the world. Chernobog’s roars were distant. More water was twisting around his arms now. It was dragging him under. Dobiemir saw beams of light in different shades colliding with Chernobog’s chest. He blinked his eyes frantically, trying to clear the sweat and tears from them. The others were gathered in a line. Steams of magic of different colors hit Chernobog’s chest, knocking him back.

  The seal burned his hands. His throat was aching. He was screaming. The hot pulse of magic in his veins was painful. Rushing up through him to the seal, still raised above his head. One last wave of water glowing bright purple sloshed over Chernobog, pulling him under. The last glimpse of the skeletal black hand vanished in moments.

  Everything went quiet. Dobiemir looked around with wide eyes, his heart still pounding. The sky was brightening rapidly. There were no Shadows. Merlin was leaning on Morgana. The Old Ones were staring at him. Lowering his hand, Dobiemir studied the seal. It was dark. There was no more light coming out of the metal. Then, it began to crack in his hand, reddish lines of rust appearing on the surface of the metal. Crying out, he let go of the metal and frantically scooted back.

  It hit the ground with a soft clatter, shattering into small pieces that quickly crumbled into dust. Morgana made a sound of alarm, but a gust of wind blasted past him, carrying away the pieces. Dobiemir glanced over at the mages, who were staring at him. Then he started laughing, collapsing back on the grass, looking up into the clear blue sky and letting the sun warm his skin.

  31

  Retaliation

  It was easy to worry about Alex. Very easy. Alarmingly easy. Even when he should have been worried about all of them since Merlin and Morgana were on their way, and they were not happy. At least they hadn’t needed to call them for a pick up. Jenny and Lance had been happy to come out and shuttle them back to Ravenslake once they made it to the road and found a mile marker sign. But there was no getting around the very real possibility of Morgana lecturing them while Merlin gave them his best ‘disappointed’ face.

  Still, as they unloaded from Lance’s truck, Bran found himself watching Alex. Her posture was tense. No one had addressed the elephant in the back of the truck. They’d almost had Arthur, but the snake had slithered away again. ...that wasn’t fair to snakes. Arthur was lower. Bran slammed the door of Lance’s truck a little too hard and got a look from the other man.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I get it,” Lance said. He sighed and shook his head. “Arthur got this close to town. I hate even thinking about it.”

  Nodding, Bran inwardly grimaced. As bad as this was for them, it had to be worse for Lance and Jenny. The extent of Arthur’s manipulations of them was still unclear. Bran suspected that cockroach had used magic on them, but they couldn’t be sure. Instead, it remained a great big question mark.

  And he was poking at the Iron Gates. Alex’s vision had been dead on. The Queen’s defenses were down enough that they could peek in. That probably meant something important. It was probably a hint, but Bran’s head hurt too much to ponder it properly right now.
Dragging himself into the house, he collapsed onto the sofa and sighed. The others followed suit, filling up all the soft surfaces in the living room and toeing off their wet shoes.

  Avani came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with a pitcher of ice water and sandwiches on it. Nicki all but whimpered with relief and adoration. Aiden snorted slightly at the display but didn’t try to hide his fond smile. Avani smiled coyly and then winked at Nicki, who almost sputtered. At least the day had some redeeming moments.

  Bran grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the pitcher. He gulped down nearly the whole glass on the first go, only now noticing the burn in his muscles. Apparently, he’d given more magic to Alex than he realized. But at least everyone was here, safe and sound. He poured a glass for Alex, who was staring off into space next to him. She jumped a little, blinking at him in surprise, but then took the glass and drank half of it.

  No one said anything. Bran glanced towards Aiden, who was frowning and staying close to Nicki. Lance was holding Jenny’s hand, and Avani had poured everyone else some water before she returned to the kitchen for more. Exhaustion and frustration filled the air and Bran didn’t expect anyone to start a conversation. They’d been so close to Arthur and yet had failed to get him. Bran’s hand twitched. They’d tried to kill him. Alex was wrong: it wasn’t the same as killing the Fae. Maybe it was stupid to think this way, but it wasn’t. There was a distinction that now made him light-headed.

  Arthur was a problem. Bran controlled his breathing and tried to think it through rationally. Their enemy had proven himself highly capable of magic and had been using it much longer than any of them save Merlin and Morgana. He was manipulative, a good actor, and driven. Any one of those traits was dangerous, but combined they were frightening. Then there was everything they didn’t know. If everything had been a mask, then there were depths to Arthur that they had no idea about, and that could be dangerous.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get him,” Nicki said to Jenny. “I’m not sure which of us wants him out of the picture the most, you, me or Alex.”

  “My desire for revenge is selfish,” Jenny whispered. “And I know that I shouldn’t wish him dead, but I do.” Jenny shivered, and Bran’s heart tightened with sympathy. “So, if you can kill him soon, I’ll only be grateful.” With a wobbly smile, Jenny added, “I might even give you a kiss.”

  Lance snorted, lowering his eyes when Jenny gave him a sideways look. Even bringing his hand up to rub his chin didn’t hide his smile. Shaking her head fondly, Jenny leaned against his shoulder, releasing an exhausted sigh.

  “Not sure you’re my type anyway,” Nicki said. “Plus, I like Lance.”

  “Not your type? I’m gorgeous,” Jenny protested, even as she snuggled against her boyfriend.

  Avani chuckled, setting a new pitcher of ice water down on the table. “As fascinating as this is, I believe Merlin and Morgana are pulling up.”

  They all tensed again. Jenny and Nicki’s dialogue had made things a bit better, but now all that worry and frustration was right back in place. Bran wondered as he heard a car door slam if this was more a bad report card feeling or a dressing down by a superior officer feeling. Another car door slammed, and he looked at Alex. She was holding her glass of water against her knee and staring off into space again.

  Morgana swept into the living room, her green eyes all but blazing. Her gaze landed on Alex first and then went through the room, checking on each of them in turn. Shoulders relaxing, Morgana exhaled and crossed her arms over her chest. Merlin came in a moment later and repeated Morgana’s check of them all.

  “Well?” Morgana demanded. “What happened?”

  “I scryed for the Queen,” Alex replied. She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Her expression was neutral. “She and Arthur were at a nearby Iron Gate, trying to break it down. With them so close I decided to try and attack them. We managed to intercept them at a stream where they were preparing to leave. Arthur was injured in the fight, but managed to avoid most of our attacks.”

  Nicki growled. Aiden reached over and squeezed her shoulder. Jenny’s lips rolled tightly together and her fingers clenched into fists. Morgana frowned at all of them but was silent for a moment.

  “That was reckless.”

  “No,” Alex said. “It wasn’t. We had a shot, so we tried to take it. Arthur’s attacks and new magical items are a real problem. Sooner or later he’s going to kill someone else’s family.”

  Bile rushed up Bran’s throat and he stilled, not trusting himself to speak or even move. Everyone in the room seemed to be in a similar position. Slowly, Bran looked sideways at Alex. Her eyes were open again, but they were vacant, as if she wasn’t really seeing any of them. He hoped she wasn’t seeing the death of her parents again. He didn’t ask.

  “Alex,” Merlin sighed. “We would have gone with you.”

  “You would have been too late,” Nicki said softly. “We barely made it before they left. I’m sorry that we didn’t manage to kill either of them. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but they are a fairly well-oiled machine.”

  “Not as much as you think,” Alex said. She sat up, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Actually… things seem off between Arthur and Scáthbás. In my first vision they were fighting about Arthur sending the Fae after us.” Setting her glass back on the table with a soft clink, Alex leaned forward and folded her hands. “I’m not sure how much longer Arthur is going to be working with the Queen,” Alex said. Everyone turned to look at her. She had a pensive expression on her face; almost worried. “Their… dynamic, has changed,” she said. “The Queen used to be the dominant personality, but now it seems to be shifting to Arthur. I saw him expressing a lot more displeasure with her. Outright impatience and frustration.”

  “That could be good for us,” Aiden said. “If the Fae splinter.”

  “Yeah, but we know what the Queen wants,” Alex said. “And while it’s bad, Arthur is more of a wildcard. He’s always done what Scáthbás wanted.”

  “Indeed,” Morgana agreed. Her voice was cautious, and she crossed her arms over her chest, pacing a little. “Scáthbás is… controlling, and can make someone believe that a course of action is the best, but it is all mental. A person can shake that off.” The ‘I did’ went unspoken. “And we just don’t know what Arthur’s motivation is outside of what Scáthbás wanted.”

  “To be a king,” Alex huffed. She sank back into the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s what he’s always wanted.”

  “That’s true,” Morgana agreed softly. “But in the modern world… surely he knows that isn’t possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Aiden said. He was tapping his fingers nervously against the arm of the sofa. “The Fae have been living in hiding for years. They live on the edges of human society. There’s a lot of resentment there he can tap into.”

  “But there aren’t that many Fae,” Morgana countered. “Their population has always remained low. They have difficulty reproducing in our world.”

  “Still, Aiden has a point,” Merlin said. “You and I both know how easy it can be to stir up a mob. The Fae aren’t human, but they are very much capable of anger and violence.”

  “I’m going to try again tomorrow,” Alex said. Standing up, she stretched her arms and outright ignored Morgana’s glare.

  “You will not,” Morgana said. She stood up and reached toward Alex, but the blonde shifted away.

  “Yes, I will, because we can’t keep playing defense, Morgana. You and Merlin used to seek out the threats! I don’t remember everything, but I remember enough.”

  “Alex, looking for a fight isn’t always the best way. And in the modern age of technology that could simply be playing into Arthur’s hands.”

  “Something is wrong,” Alex said. “Trust me. Arthur and the Queen; something is changing there, and we can’t just be on the defensive when it happens.”

  Whatever Morgana was going to say was interrupted when the alarm bell bega
n to chime softly. Looking up at the metal triskelion on the wall, Bran found it glowing and pulsing in time with the chime. Someday he was going to have to figure out just how that sound was produced, but not right now. Magic was enough of an explanation for now. Everyone jumped out of their seats. Lance and Jenny moved away from the windows with Avani, pulling their iron daggers out.

  “Seriously?” Alex growled. Pulling Cathanáil out of the scabbard with one smooth movement, Alex headed for the stairs. “I’m getting Mjǫllnir too.”

  There was no arguing with her. Bran moved to the front window and pulled back the curtains. The sun was still out and would be for at least another hour. His eyes scanned the road and nearby trees. He didn’t see any Fae, Sídhe or other threats, but the triskelion on the wall kept flashing.

  “Outside or inside?” Nicki asked.

  “Split up,” Merlin said. “Aiden, Nicki, and I will guard the front. Morgana, you take Bran and Alex to the back.”