by LJ Rivers
The touch of Brendan’s fingers as they laced with mine sent tingles up my arms. “Am I your intended, Princess Ruby?”
“Are you—? Oh, no, you don’t get to use—”
Morgana stood. “Stop it, both of you!” she hissed. “Tell me what you can do, Brendan.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Morgana shook her head.
Brendan sighed. “I will not engage in any fights unless it is absolutely necessary. But you can benefit from another set of eyes and ears, and I can guard the griffins—I assume that’s how Ruby was going to join you through the air—while you break into the prison or wherever they are held.”
“This is madness,” I said.
Morgana nodded. “It is.”
Good!
“Which is why I have faith in us making it. The three of us.”
“Excellent.” Brendan smirked.
“Madness,” I repeated. But although I was worried about Brendan joining us, I was thrilled that we would rescue my grandparents.
Or die trying.
Chapter Twenty-One
Apart from Morgana’s book, I hadn’t seen any other piece of writing since we arrived on this side of the portal. There was a small desk in my room, but no stack of paper and no quill. The queen had mentioned scriveners among her erudites, so I assumed reading and writing were skills reserved for a chosen few. When Morgana produced a folded piece of paper from inside her bodice, she handled it with such care one would have thought it was the original manuscript for Hamlet or something.
When she unfolded it, I knew it would be far more valuable than anything old Will the Stratfordian could have scribbled.
“A map?” I whispered.
“Commander Taryn drew it for me this evening, from memory. He said he might have got a few details wrong, but knowing him and his eagle eyes, I sincerely doubt it.”
“I have spent some time among your blacksmiths,” Brendan said, “and from what I can gather, Taryn is highly regarded among Avalonians.”
Morgana nodded. “He showed great potential at a young age, and my sister’s husband chose him to begin his training at only five.”
Her sister’s husband. That was the least impressive moniker I had ever heard for the great, mythical Merlin, who was no myth at all.
Morgana pointed at the drawings and names on the map. “We will alight behind this grove of trees. Brendan will stay and guard the griffins. Castle Wadlow has a wide moat, and Taryn says at least three snakefish are roaming the water.”
“Snakefish?” I wasn’t sure I wanted her to expand on it.
“Two pances long and with teeth like a thrower’s knives.”
“Charlie says a pance is a little more than my height,” Brendan said. “So, we’re talking about some vicious beasts.”
“They also have the Blue Sparks of Unhekal,” Morgana said. “So we do not want to fall in.”
I held my hands out, mimicking being held by handcuffs. “The same sparks as the snakes?”
“They are kin, yes, in much the same way that Pixies and Sprygeons are kin to us Fae. Their power subdues our magic, as you have experienced firsthand.”
There’s an understatement.
“I have. On several occasions back on Earth, too.” Maybe not electric eels with fangs like knives, but still.
“I see. Well, let’s keep away from them tonight.”
“Any chance I could get a pair of wings?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” Morgana said. “We’ll get across the moat.” She tapped the map again. “We might need to destroy some doors, like this one. But quietly.”
“Where are my grandparents, you think?”
“According to my commander, some twenty pances below ground, in Wadlow’s dungeons.”
“Oh, right. And here I was, thinking this would be a difficult mission.”
Morgana leaned back, crossing her legs. “My erudites inform me that your friend Carolina does the same.”
“The same what?”
“Your words mean the opposite of what you are saying.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
A smile brightened her face. “No, I find it refreshing. My father did it often, and it’s more common among my people in the streets and villages. The nobles find it unworthy.”
“You are not of a noble background, then?” Brendan asked.
“I’m a farmer’s daughter, son of Callaghan. There is nothing nobler in all of Gwyn Fanon if you ask me. The lords and ladies would disagree, of course.”
I wanted to return to the mission, but Morgana’s musings had put Anwinar’s words back in my head. “I picked up rumours among the people.” My inner journalist instinctively hid the real source. “There seems to be unrest among some of the nobles?”
The queen held her hands out to the sides, palms up. “There will always be those who disagree with a ruler’s decisions. I’m not spared such scrutiny.” She seemed content to leave it at that.
“I suppose that’s true. We see it among our leaders, too.” It was only last year a foreign politician had been murdered by his opponent. He could have used a taster, I thought.
“They hate having to share their crops and houses.” As if someone might be hiding in the room with us, Morgana’s eyes shifted every which way, and she lowered her voice. “Just between us, I despise their greed and selfishness. They have forgotten how the common Avalonians suffered and died on the battlefields to preserve our way of life—even the nobles’ ways. After the Fall of Light, the crops withered, and the nobles became fiercely protective of their stocks.”
“The same old song, sung thousands of times through history,” Brendan said solemnly.
“I have lost three Crimsons and two food tasters in the span of only eight dark moons.” She grimaced. “In some ways, King Auberon’s return might put a hold on the attempts on my life. Remind me to issue a Royal Parchment of Gratitude to the returned king.”
Brendan chuckled. “Taunting like a true farmer’s daughter.”
The queen bowed to him. “To the bone.”
I cleared my throat. “Shall we see if we can relieve the king, my father, of a couple more Morganas?”
“At once, Princess Ruby.”
It took me about fifteen seconds to see why Jen had loved flying on the back of a griffin. Cree was seven years old and had been hand-picked by the queen’s griffin trainer, Neevia, to suit me. The giant animal looked able to rip me to shreds in an instant, but the trainer had promised she was the most gentle of her pride.
“I’ve had her ever since her mother died in labour,” said the petite trainer, whom I guessed had to be a Pixie. She reminded me somewhat of Zoe, the daughter of Professor Zhang back at uni, only her eyes were not quite as narrow, and her hair was much longer. The raven-black tendrils almost reached the back of her heels, some four feet below the top of her head. “My father let me take her to my room and feed her for the first three dark moons. Cree will make you proud, Princess,” she said when she handed me the reins.
And Neevia was right. From the moment I met the griffin’s eyes, I could tell she was special. Brendan had mounted Amalli, the same griffin that had taken Jen to Mynydd Dewin and back. Cree was smaller than Amalli, but not by much. Both griffins were dwarfed by Morgana’s magnificent animal, however. Hondo was a male griffin with a wingspan at least ten feet wider than Amalli’s and Cree’s. A rush of wind surged over me each time it flapped them.
Sat astride Cree’s muscular neck and holding her reins, I hadn’t dared to look down for the first five minutes or so of the flight. The sensation itself was riveting, however, as the magnificent animal glided silently through the crisp air. Her pulse reverberated up my arms, and she strained her muscles underneath me on the rare occasion that she flapped her wings. Her fur was warm and soft, which was something a griffin rider rarely experienced, according to Neevia. She had protested strongly when Morgana said our griffins were not to wear the usual armour.
“We cannot risk any soun
ds from the plates,” she had said. “Besides, they are for transport only tonight, and not meant to engage in a battle.”
The Pixie had finally accepted the queen’s order, but kept mumbling her thoughts about it as she put the leather reins around the griffins’ necks. I half expected Morgana to scold her for her insubordination, but she let Neevia work in peace.
I had also expected some sort of saddle, but as I mounted Cree, I could see why it was unnecessary. Her back was bigger than my bed in Craydon Court, and my knees found a comfortable spot behind her shoulder blades, securing me to her.
After we put the outskirts of Avalen behind us, there wasn’t much to see. The griffins soared some five hundred feet above the ground, which kept us well below the overcast clouds. Morgana had said she hoped the clouds would lay thick and heavy over Castle Wadlow, as they would provide excellent cover.
Brendan waved at me from Amalli’s back and pointed down. Amalli’s and Cree’s wingtips almost touched, and their beaks were only a few feet behind Hondo’s wings. How the petite Neevia had managed to train these giants to such a perfect formation was beyond me.
Slowly and carefully, I leaned out to look past Cree’s neck. A small village unfolded below, its lights a welcome beacon in the dark night.
“Wenhaven,” Morgana shouted in front. “Last village of my queendom before we enter my sisterson’s realm.”
Sisterson. I hadn’t given much thought to her relationship with my father. She must have watched him grow up, perhaps even cared for and taught him. It had to be ripping her heart open, having to fight him for her throne. I bit the thought back. It wasn’t fair on Morgana. Auberon might fight for the throne, but Morgana fought for her people.
My people.
What would become of them if Morgana didn’t survive this night? The ramifications of the question hit me so hard I almost fell backwards. What would become of me? If, somehow, I survived and the queen died, would her people demand I take the throne? Would they even accept me? They had looked pleased during our parade, but that was only a brief introduction in the streets of Avalen. Aside from that, I had also received a fair share of dark, unpleasant looks from the nobles. Maybe they would use their positions to overthrow me.
And what would my father do if I was placed on the Avalonian throne?
This mission suddenly took on a whole new dimension. There was no way I would sit on Morgana’s throne, and the best way to ensure that would never happen was to keep the queen alive.
And save my grandparents.
To think that less than a year ago, I had been walking down Blacon Avenue in Cheshire with a camera around my neck and a pen and pad in my back pocket, looking to get a statement from the police commissioner, Canishia Blair, in the matter of a car theft.
Would I have said yes to the offer from White Willow University if I had known what would transpire?
I leaned forward and whispered in Cree’s ear, “I think I would.”
Morgana had turned and scooted back towards Hondo’s tail. Her wings were unfolded, which kept her balanced. She wouldn’t be afraid to fall, of course, but the move made my stomach churn all the same. The griffins flapped their wings only every ten seconds or so, sailing for hundreds of feet between each movement.
“We are only a few pancemiles south of Wadlow Castle.” The queen’s voice carried effortlessly on the blustery air. She glanced up. “For once, the Northerners can enjoy the stars while the Avalonians get the clouds. Usually, it’s the other way around. Commander Taryn said it shouldn’t make much difference, as Wadlow has no guards outside his castle walls.” She shook her head. “I guess they are more concerned about sending spies and thieves down south than any of us coming north to attack them in the night. And to be fair, until tonight, we have not made a single move on any castle or settlement. It is not our way.”
I retrieved the awrglass Halwyn had given me from the pouch in my belt. “The third awr has just started. We’re ahead of time.”
Morgana nodded approvingly. “We might need every last grain of sand. Hondo will bring us down in a little while. Wadlow has placed four groups of three guards on the battlements, one group in each watchtower. We have to assume at least one archer per tower. They have excellent aim, so let’s not give them any sounds to reveal ourselves. We will not speak until we have dismounted our griffins.”
Brendan gave her a thumbs up, which made the queen frown. Then she smiled and returned the gesture.
The lanterns painted the outline of a town below us, and I recognised it from Taryn’s drawing. Mynyddlen Hollow was much smaller than Avalen, but there would be more than enough of my father’s followers to take on the three of us. If our plan worked, we would never set foot in the streets, which were fast approaching.
I straightened, clasping Cree’s reins more firmly. She had followed Hondo’s downward path, and we were losing height at a sickening speed. The Castle was just half a pancemile north of the town’s outer gate. If I had understood Charlie correctly, a pancemile was the equivalent of two miles back home. Cree flattened her descent, her beak only inches from Hondo’s left wing.
Morgana turned on her griffin’s back and pointed. Brendan gave her another thumbs up, and when I noticed the square outline of a castle, so did I.
The animals floated like stealth planes a few hundred yards east of the dark, cube-like silhouette, and touched down as gently as hummingbird feathers in the soft grass. The castle could no longer be seen, as we had landed behind what Taryn correctly had drawn as a grove. His eyesight must have made the darkness seem like dusk was just beginning to fall.
Morgana led Hondo towards the trees. The griffin bowed to get under the branches and settled where the queen let go of his reins. Brendan and I followed her, in as much as our griffins never strayed far behind their leader.
“You can drop the reins. Cree and Amalli know to stay with Hondo, and he will not leave without me.” In the quiet night, her voice seemed much louder than the whisper she applied.
The grove was about fifty yards across, but it might just as well have been the rainforest of the Amazon. The darkness was even more choking than I had imagined, and the beckoning whispers in my head were back. They hadn’t really left, as the dim lighting in all of Avalon brought so many shadows that the humming was constant. I had just got used to ignoring it, like a minor headache. Now, however, I had to focus not to listen to their song. I wondered if it had been the same for Merlin.
Or Auberon. Would he resist their calling, or did he willingly respond?
Brendan held my hand, and although he might not have known it, he helped me stay out of the shadows.
Morgana came to a sudden stop, which I only knew because Brendan did, too. She moved so silently I didn’t think Kit could have made less noise. In fact, her whole demeanour told me what I had already learned. This was not an ordinary queen, preoccupied with jewellery, posh parties, and whatever other luxuries her position provided. The farmer’s daughter had probably grown up hunting and maybe even fishing, just like me. The thought of her catching trout in a brook together with her father made me more than a little proud. And it also made me choke up a little.
She was my blood, and the connection grew stronger by the hour.
“Give Brendan your awrglass,” Morgana whispered, turning to him. “If we are not back before two full awrs have passed, you are to return without us. Tell Hondo ‘Morgana orders home’, and he will obey.”
“Just make sure you’re back before then,” Brendan said.
She tightened the lace on her bodice—as if it could be any more plastered to her body than it already was. “Stay here and keep your eyes and ears open. Here, use this.” She pulled out a small object from a pouch in her belt. “It aids your sight in the night.”
He took the tube. It looked like it was made of leather, rolled around two glass lenses, one on each end, about three inches apart. Although the lenses themselves were dark, they emanated a greenish glow.
It was
a telescope of sorts, which seemed entirely out of place in this medieval world.
Brendan held the telescope to his right eye. “It really does,” he whispered. “The castle looks green. And the glass pulls it closer to my eye.”
Morgana nodded. “It’s the first of its kind. My best herbalists have worked for many dark moons to find the right mix to enhance the light in the ancient magical eye. I’m glad you find it useful.” She winked at me. “It was brought to us from the Land of Eternal Sand, thousands of dark moons ago.”
I wanted to ask her something along the lines of ‘what the heck?’, but she was already exiting the treeline. As she became shrouded in darkness, Brendan mouthed “I’ll wait,” before giving me a quick kiss.
I crouched and followed the queen.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgana weaved left and right to avoid stirring the thick grass. Each straw ended in a spiky, thistle-like crown at least three feet above my head, blocking the already blurred outline of the castle from view. Despite the queen’s efforts, one of the giant straws slapped me hard in the face. I threw my hand up to cover the small cry of pain as the metallic taste of blood seeped into the corner of my mouth. I ran my finger over the warm, wet cut, one Morgana could have taken care of in less than two seconds. The misty air smelled of mud and soil, and rustling noises ensued from left and right. Nimue alone knew what creatures were out there, and which of them would find me to be the perfect size for a meal in the dark.
Finally, the grass thinned, and Morgana paused. She leaned close, cupping her hands to my ear. “Ten pances to the moat. I’ll find the spot Taryn marked with a cross. Wait here.”
There was an order I could happily follow. Morgana unfolded her wings slowly to minimise any sounds and flapped them gently. She took off, hovering just inches above the ground, and moved into the darkness. Ten yards in—five of the Avalonian pances—I could no longer tell her and the blackness that was the eastern wall of the castle apart. Inside the three-foot thick stone wall was a stairwell, leading both up to the top of the battlements and down to the dungeons where my grandparents were—hopefully, still alive. Commander Taryn had marked his drawing with a cross, indicating a small opening in the wall, which served as both an embrasure for an archer and a place for the lord’s cook to dump leftovers to the snakefish in the moat. The opening was, presumably, big enough for the queen and me to squeeze through.
