Sword of Darkness

by Kinley MacGregor

  Kerrigan couldn't even move. Without the magic of Caliburn to back him, his Merlin's magic was no match for Morgen's.

  "Mistress?"

  Morgen paused to look at a female Adoni who was in the doorway. "What?"

  "They are fighting in the hall over who is to be the next king."

  Morgen made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. "You," she snarled at Kerrigan before she kicked him again, "stay here."

  She stalked from the room.

  Kerrigan lay there for several heartbeats as he struggled to breathe. Knowing he had to get off the floor, he drew a deep breath and tried to push himself up. The best he could manage was to sit up as a wave of pain assailed him.

  "Here."

  He looked to find Brevalaer, naked as always, beside him, holding out a cup of water.

  "What are you doing?" he growled at Morgen's Adoni lover.

  There was no pity in Brevalaer's eyes, only sincere sympathy. "You need it."

  Those words only made him suspicious. "Why are you helping me?"

  Brevalaer set the cup down beside him. "Drink it or don't. You're not my concern."

  He watched as the Adoni courtesan backed away.

  His bruised hand shaking, Kerrigan took the cup and greedily drank from it. Nothing had ever tasted better than that fresh water. Nothing…

  Other than Seren's lips.

  He forced that thought away.

  Brevalaer took a seat on one of Morgen's red-cushioned chairs, then watched as Kerrigan drank. "You played right into Morgen's hands, you know?"

  "How so?" Kerrigan asked before he took another deep gulp of water.

  "All she wanted was for you to take that chit to your bed and impregnate her. She even had Magda trying to convince the girl to seduce you from the beginning. You should never have touched the peasant."

  Growling, Kerrigan threw the empty cup at him, which Brevalaer easily ducked. "That's no concern of yours."

  "You're right," he said in a low tone. "It's not. But I do have one question for you."

  Kerrigan rose to stand, but his legs were such that he half expected to fall again. He remained on his feet by nothing more than his sheer will not to fall. "And that is?"

  "Was it worth it?"

  He frowned at Brevalaer's odd tone. It was as if the man needed to hear the answer to a question he didn't understand. "Was what worth it?"

  "The woman. Would you do this again for her?"

  Kerrigan narrowed his eyes on Morgen's favorite toy. Born into the Adoni courtesan caste, Brevalaer had been trained from puberty to please others and to take nothing for himself.

  Until now Kerrigan had never held any respect for the Adoni courtesan. But now…now he understood. The concept of love was as foreign to Brevalaer as it had been to him, and the Adoni was trying to comprehend why Kerrigan had done what he had.

  "Aye. She's worth all this and more."

  Instead of seeing disdain, he saw respect in Brevalaer's eyes. "I still say you were a fool to trade what you had for this existence."

  Kerrigan gave a weak half laugh. "Believe me, I couldn't agree more."

  Days went by as Seren learned her new powers. With Merlin's help and with Kerrigan's shared blood, she was able to master them in little time.

  But because of Kerrigan's blood and because of the baby she carried, she had to be careful. The demon inside her had a nasty tendency to want out. It was a cruel beast who wanted to lash out and hurt anyone who came near her, even Merlin and Blaise. Living with that internal beast was hard, and as she grappled with that side of herself, it made her truly appreciate every kindness Kerrigan had shown her. Kindness was definitely not in his nature.

  Day by day, she was slowly coming to terms with her inner demon.

  What she couldn't come to terms with was the endless parade of the Lords of Avalon who kept offering for her hand so that her child would not be bastard born. They were handsome, to be sure. And as Kerrigan had predicted, they treated her with utmost kindness and deference.

  They treated her like a queen.

  But they weren't what she wanted. She no longer dreamed of a gentle-spoken man who sat quietly by her side. She dreamed of a dark, surly beast who groused and snapped.

  "Kerrigan?" she whispered as she sat alone in her room, working on a small tapestry that she'd begun the night before when sleep had eluded her.

  No answer came.

  Seren held her breath. Any time she called for him and he failed to answer, the worst scenarios would play through her mind. The thought that he was lying injured somewhere, unable to get help. Or worse, the fear that Morgen had found him and killed him.

  "Kerrigan?" she tried again.

  "Aye, Lady Mouse. I am here."

  Relieved, she smiled at the sound of his voice in her head. During the day, he was oft silent. But at night…at night he would speak softly to her and tell her of his travels through time as he eluded those who were after him.

  "Where are you today, my lord?"

  "I'm in Venice, during a carnival. It's beautiful here. There are minstrels and acrobats all around. Plenty of places to hide from Morgen and her spies."

  "You are safe?"

  "Aye, Lady Mouse. I am always safe. But I've no wish to talk about me. How are you doing?"

  "I miss you."

  She swore she could feel his pain as well as her own.

  "I miss you as well and I think of you constantly."

  Seren moved toward his sword, which she kept on the wall beside her bed. She didn't know why, but she had yet to tell him that Brea had given it to her. In truth, she liked to keep it close by. It made her feel somehow closer to him.

  She stroked the cool metal, wishing it were Kerrigan she touched.

  "How is your tapestry coming?"

  "Very well," she said, her voice breaking. "But I—"

  "Shh…I must go now. God keep you, my lady."

  A tear slid down her cheek as she felt him pulling away from her again. As always his absence tore through her. She hated to feel this emptiness. Hated to miss him so very much.

  Perhaps Kerrigan and Blaise were right. The kindest thing would be to marry one of the others, but she couldn't quite make herself do it. She didn't want another man.

  She wanted only one.

  Sighing, she moved away from the sword to leave her room so that she could wander through the hallways outside. The castle was enormous, filled with all sorts of marvels and delights.

  None of them pleased her.

  She was restless. Most of all, she was lonely even though she was seldom ever alone here.

  Sighing, she paused in the gallery room where paintings of kings, knights, Merlins, and battles lined the room from floor to ceiling. There was one in particular that always seemed to draw her attention. It was the painting of her ancestor Emrys.

  The painting itself was over ten feet tall and five feet wide. It hung in the center of the wall that was across from the conservatory where all manner of flowers bloomed amid the greenery.

  The figure of Emrys was as commanding as it was eerie. He was a lot younger than she would have thought given the stories she'd heard of him. He didn't appear any older than his early thirties, even though his long hair was as white as Blaise's.

  Standing near the edge of a dark cliff at night, he was dressed in a black robe and held a staff that had been fashioned to look like a snake, the eyes of which were encrusted with dark rubies that made them a sinister red. A deep glow radiated from them.

  His eyes, like hers, were green and seemed to stare out from the painting as if he could see her. She reached to touch the heavy brush strokes that stood out from the canvas like waves from the ocean. The paint was as cold as her heart, but even so she felt an inner connection to the scene.

  "He's lying to you, you know."

  She turned at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice behind her to find a tall, handsome man standing in the doorway that led to the hall. He appeared around the age of two s
core, and yet he was as lean and well muscled as a man half his age.

  His wavy, dark brown hair brushed his shoulders, framing a face that was sharp and refined even with several days' worth of whiskers covering his cheeks. He was dressed as an archer in a dark green leather jerkin and breeches. His longbow was draped around him and leaned in the opposite direction from his quiver of arrows.

  He had a sword strapped to his right hip as he leaned nonchalantly against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Even from her distance, she could see a small lady's ring he wore about his neck on a thin gold chain.

  Even though he was dressed as a peasant, there was something regal about him. Indeed, he was rife with an air of power and wisdom.

  She lowered her hand from the painting. "I beg your pardon, sir? Were you speaking to me?"

  He nodded. "My name is Faran, my lady."

  "Are you one of the Lords of Avalon?"

  "Nay," he said with a small twist to his mouth. "I'm not worthy to be included in their esteemed company. I'm merely a friend to the Merlin and to you."

  "To me, sir? But I don't know you."

  He gave her a gentle smile. "Sometimes the best friends to have are the ones you don't know about. They are the ones who help you without asking for anything in return."

  What an odd man.

  He pushed himself away from the wall to move closer to her. "I have to admit, Kerrigan has surprised me. I would never have thought him capable of such a sacrifice."

  "What sacrifice?"

  Faran paused before her. His hazel eyes were troubled as he stroked the whiskers on his chin. "To ensure your safety, he has enslaved himself to Morgen. He's so worried about you that he thinks Morgen won't kill him. Poor bastard. He's deluding himself as much as he's deluding you."

  Terror gripped her at his words. Was he serious? "Kerrigan told me that he's safe. Morgen hasn't found him."

  "And he's a self-professed liar, Seren. He would tell you anything to keep you happy here in Avalon."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Then that's a pity. Because I know Morgen, and knowing her, I can guarantee you that his time is very limited. She has no more use for him now that Caliburn is safe inside the walls of this castle. Once she grows bored with torturing Kerrigan, she will kill him."

  Seren's head whirled at his prediction. "Kerrigan."

  "He won't tell you the truth, Seren."

  "Kerrigan!"

  He didn't answer.

  "Why are you telling me this?" she asked Faran, her voice shaking from the weight of her fear that he was right and her anger at herself for allowing Kerrigan to deceive her.

  "Because I've seen too many good men fall to Morgen. Not that Kerrigan is particularly good, but I would hate to see him die after he'd sacrificed so much to keep you here. Surely a man who is capable of this kind of nobility has something worth redeeming inside him."

  "Aye," she breathed. But even as she said that, she still wasn't so sure that this wasn't a trap. For all she knew, Faran could be working for Morgen. He'd said that he knew her. It would stand to reason.

  Leaving him in the gallery, she headed for the refectory. There were several knights there, but no sight of Blaise.

  Seren closed her eyes and used her newfound magic to focus on the mandrake. He was outside in the garden, kissing one of the maids who worked in the hall. She knew she should leave him alone, but the demon in her refused.

  Instead, it manifested itself beside the embracing couple, who had no idea she'd just appeared next to them. Seren rudely cleared her throat.

  Frowning, Blaise pulled back. The woman he was holding blushed profusely.

  "Can I help you?" Blaise asked in an irritated tone.

  "Aye. Let go your maid and come with me."

  He arched a brow at her words. "You know, there for a moment, you sounded so much like Kerrigan that it actually gave me a chill."

  "And if you don't do as I say, I'm going to give you a lot more than that."

  He released the woman immediately. The maid scurried off toward the castle as quickly as she could. "What has gotten into you?"

  "Anger. Fear," Seren snapped. "Take your pick. I've been told that Kerrigan is at Camelot and that he is suffering because of me. I need to know if it's true. When you left him, what exactly did he say to you?"

  Blaise shrugged. "He told me that he intended to battle onward."

  "How so?"

  "He didn't say. I told him that he would be stuck in your time period and—"

  "What?" she asked, growing cold at those words. She could feel the blood draining from her face.

  "I told him he'd be stuck in your time period without the medallion to amplify his powers."

  Seren took his arm in her hand as her fear mounted. Inside, she was praying that Blaise was mistaken. "Are you sure about that? He's been telling me that he was traveling all through time and all over the world."

  Blaise scowled at her. "Telling you how?"

  "In my thoughts. I can hear him. At least some of the time."

  Blaise's frown increased. "He talks to you?"

  "Aye." Seren tightened her grip on his arm. "Are you sure he would be marooned?"

  "Without the medallion, aye. At least for the most part. He would have the ability to jump once or twice in a month or so, but not frequently."

  Seren actually cursed as she realized the Faran had been telling her the truth. Kerrigan was in danger.

  "Damn you, Kerrigan," she said under her breath. "I'm not a child to be told bedtime stories while you do something so imbecilic."

  The demon in her snapped and told her to leave him in the hole he'd dug for himself.

  But lucky for him, there was enough of the woman who loved him inside her that she couldn't do that.

  She grabbed Blaise's hand and hauled him back toward the castle.

  "What are you doing, Seren?"

  "We're going to see Merlin about a rescue."

  Chapter 16

  Kerrigan lay on his pallet made of sharp rocks, staring up at the black ceiling. His entire body ached and burned as if it were on fire. Morgen had been beating him for days now. He could no longer even recall a time when his body hadn't hurt. And he would give anything to have one day without Morgen's relentless humiliation and torture.

  But through the misery came an image of a tender face. Closing his eyes, he conjured the memory of Seren in his arms. The softness of her hand against his flesh. The smell of her hair…

  Even now it was soothing.

  "Kerrigan."

  Even though it hurt, he smiled at the sound of her voice. "Aye, Lady Mouse?"

  Suddenly, he felt the presence of someone beside him. He opened his eyes, expecting it to be Morgen. Instead he saw the plain, yet beautiful face of his little mouse. Happiness burned through him with such force that it brought tears to his eyes.

  His bloodied and bruised hand trembling, he reached to touch the velvet softness of her cheek.

  But there was no warmth there. It was cold, and in that moment he knew.

  "Morgen," he snarled, dropping his hand away.

  She laughed evilly at him. "You didn't really think that your whore would come for you, did you?"

  "She's not a whore." But even as he moved against Morgen, she threw him back to the floor. She put her foot to his throat and pressed the whole of her weight against it.

  Kerrigan gasped as his throat closed, choking off all the air from his lungs. He tried to push her foot away, but she kept it there, biting into his throat even more.

  "You pathetic oaf. I can't believe I ever took something as worthless as you into my bed. I thought you had more strength than this. But no matter." She stepped back. "Maddor," she called, summoning the mandrake leader to her.

  Kerrigan coughed as he drew ragged, wheezing breaths through his bruised esophagus.

  Maddor appeared instantly. With long dark hair and equally dark eyes, he was dressed in a black tunic and breeches. "Aye, my queen?"


  "Drag this wretch to the hall. I have something fun planned for him."

  Maddor inclined his head to Morgen before he reached for Kerrigan and pulled him up from the floor by his hair.

  Kerrigan shoved the mandrake back, only to have him backhand him so hard that the blow loosened several teeth. Spitting his blood out on the floor, he glared at the beast.

  Maddor seized him again and this time managed to subdue him. Kerrigan snarled as he was unceremoniously dragged from Morgen's chambers into the crowded hall where Morgen's court was busy with yet another orgy.

  As he was kicked to the floor, Morgen appeared in the center of the hall, where a light shone on her, highlighting her red gown and fair skin. She stood with her hands on her hips and a nasty smirk on her deceptively angelic face.

  "Good Adoni, mandrakes, and knights of my table," she called, gaining the notice of the revelers who stopped their hedonism to give their queen their undivided attention. "'Tis time to crown the next king of Camelot. Tell me, who among you has the courage to battle Kerrigan now?"

  Kerrigan sucked his breath in sharply as virtually every male there stepped forward. The taste of defeat choked him. There was no way in his current condition that he could win a sword fight with even a maid, never mind a man full-grown.

  Morgen laughed at her soldiers. "Good. For once there are many takers." She looked at Kerrigan and smiled. "The king will soon be dead. Long live the new one."

  Merlin's heart ached in sympathy as she faced Seren in her hall. She looked past the young woman to see Blaise, whose face showed his own sadness that there was nothing to be done for Kerrigan. "I can't go after him, Seren."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I am the Penmerlin. If I voluntarily enter Camelot, Morgen will have the power to destroy the entire world. It's the same reason why your child cannot be born there, and why once your child is born, we must make certain that she never ventures to Camelot."

  Instead of deterring her, that only seemed to strengthen Seren's resolve. "Then give me some of your knights. We can—"

  "Can do what?" Merlin asked in an exasperated tone. "Storm the castle? Fight a thousand knights, demons, dragons, minions, and gargoyles? Morgen would kill all of them and take you prisoner until the baby is born, and then she'll kill you, too."