“You know quite well who caused this,” Ava snapped. She wanted to slap her, beat her, throw the murdering bitch down the damn hill. But she couldn’t. They needed Morgaine. Ava took a deep calming breath and said, “We are commanded to heal this country with your aid. Will you give it?”
Morgaine studied Ron, then Harper. But she sucked in her breath when she saw Ava. “So, it is you, save for the lash mark on the cheek and the freakish height,” Morgaine said. “And no doubt you think you are strong enough to defeat me.”
“Treachery and deceit aren’t strength, Morgaine.” Ava couldn’t help herself. She wanted so badly to fight with her physically. The monster in front of her had killed so many people—some of whom she had loved.
Morgaine’s eyes narrowed. She nodded at Ava’s wings. “What manner of magic is this?”
“There have been a few changes in fifteen centuries.”
“You think you and your wings are so powerful, eh?” Morgaine’s dark eyes snapped with a sudden silver glare. Ava could feel her titanic will surrounding her.
Abruptly, it felt as if daggers were stabbing Ava’s eyes, digging deep into her brain. She held off Morgaine’s mental assault, all the while trying to leave herself open to Harper. She could feel his attempt to join her. At first, there was a confused moment when Ava was both fighting Morgaine and trying to get Harper to merge with her—but he slipped away.
Is all lost?
But then Harper was with Ava, mind-to-mind. They felt Morgaine’s awesome power and the fierce anger that drove it. They combined their Lifeforces and stood against it.
Morgaine seemed to grow. Her arms arched up at Ava, as if she would tear the younger priestess apart with her bare hands. “Submit!” Morgaine demanded in the voice of command.
The pain was indescribable—icyfirerippingrendingshredding. There was no place in Ava’s mind she wasn’t attacking. But Harper helped her not to give in to Morgaine.
On and on, the terrible assault continued. They realized Morgaine was drawing strength from the eight other priestesses. They were strong, but Morgaine had better resources. There was no way Harper and Ava could reach out to the adepts surrounding the Circle without exposing themselves or the Eight Lights people to attack. They couldn’t withstand the assault forever.
What should we do?
A bright flash burst in front of them. What’s this?
A voice thundered, “That is enough, Morgaine! Would you break your oath?”
The attack stopped. Harper and Ava saw Excalibur at Morgaine’s throat.
Ron to the rescue!
Morgaine looked astonished. “Arthur, would you be a kinslayer?” she whispered.
“Morgaine,” Ron said, “put aside your petty anger. Britain’s hour of need is here. Will you help, or be forsworn and cursed?”
Coolly, she glared at Ron. Then she swept Harper and Ava with her icy glare. “The reborn souls are stronger than I had imagined.” Her shoulders slumped. “I will do as I swore.”
Ron removed the sword from Morgaine’s throat.
Cautiously, making sure Ava felt strong enough to stand on her own, Harper disengaged his mind and went back to his own body.
“But I will tell you some things about yourselves, you who once were my kin and friends,” she said, looking old and tired. “You, girl, with the face of a woman who caused me more grief than you can imagine. You are strong with the Goddess-power, yes, and crafty, too, I see. You have both in your hand, just as Anya did. I wonder, do either of them understand you?”
I could attempt to silence her, but what would be the point? Let her have her last say.
Morgaine turned to Harper, glaring at him. No doubt she was probing his mind...or trying to. “Yes, you are as strong as Merlin, and even look a little like him when he was younger. Take care what you do next. It may be your doom.”
Morgaine stepped in front of Ron and stared into his face. “A blackamoor! So curious the Goddess should choose such a one to bear the Arthur soul. You do not have the king’s visage, but you have his bearing and eyes. My brother was a great king. See that you succeed half as much as he. And be not so certain about yourself.”
“He was your half-brother,” Ron said in a voice of ice and steel. “You were never of the royal blood. None of your scheming availed you anything but banishment.”
Ava almost laughed out loud. The last person she would’ve expected to deliberately provoke Morgaine was Ron. But she saw by the color of his eyes that the king had asserted his personality. He’d not forgotten Morgaine’s betrayals in that former life.
“You dare!” she shouted, her eyes flashed silver again.
Harper’s eyes were a dark gray, and he was muttering something. He started to raise his staff toward Morgaine
No!
The Goddess didn’t need to warn Ava. She stood in front of Harper. “This is not the place or time to settle millennia-old grudges. Put your anger away. We are here to save this land.”
With a smirk, Morgaine stepped back.
Arthur-Ron lowered Excalibur.
Merlin-Harper glared at Ava. Then his eyes went back to their normal color and he nodded.
Could I save Ron or Harper if Morgaine attacked? Maybe. I don’t know. But I promised Falke, and I think I’ve done what I swore.
Before Morgaine could attempt something else, Ava said, “It is time, Morgaine. You must fulfill your pledge to the Goddess.”
Morgaine glared at Ava, but finally turned to the other priestesses. They faded out for a moment. “Hold fast! We must do this or be cursed through time!” she called out in Brittonic. They solidified, but shifted about anxiously.
“What must we do?” Ava asked.
Morgaine peered at her slantwise, through her lashes. Ava didn’t know what had to happen next, and it was not something she could fake her way through. Morgaine had to lead, or the Healing couldn’t be accomplished. “We shall make a circle,” Morgaine said.
Ava stepped forward, intending to join the priestesses. Harper and Ron started to join her.
“No!” Morgaine said. “What comes must be done to us, not you who go forward. Step behind me. Send me your deepest magic.”
The priestesses formed a large circle around the Oathstone, standing in each of the parts of the Circle. Ava stood about ten paces directly behind Morgaine, Harper on her left, Ron on her right, with their backs against the southern-most pole. She settled her wings so they encircled Ron and Harper, protecting them from the strong psychic power she knew Morgaine and her priestesses must unleash. Ava put forth her hand, and Harper did, too. “Put out your hand, Ron.”
“What do I do?” Ron whispered, as Morgaine began to chant.
“Concentrate on giving her your power, your energy. Aim at her heart,” Ava said.
Morgaine’s chanting became louder. The priestesses echoed it. The words were nothing Ava had heard before—a language unknown. Louder and louder was their incantation. Ava could feel it echoing against the sky.
A mighty wind came up. It swirled around the circle three times. Ava and the others could hardly stand against the buffeting. Even though her wings were a psychic projection, the virtual feathers strained in the gale. The psi-force threatened to shred the wings off her body.
Tiny Morgaine could barely stand.
Then the wind was inside the Sacred Circle. It swirled tighter and tighter until it became a funnel cloud. The top of the cloud stretched higher and higher. The befouled air swept up from behind them to the top of the vortex. The roar was deafening—all manner of crackling, tearing, rending, thundering, booming surrounded them. The smell was horrific: Fetid, deathly dust shot up into the funnel. It seemed to go on and on, but Ava kept her concentration on Morgaine’s back, fixing her mind to giving Morgaine all the strength she had, combining it with Ron’s and Harper’s—and back through sixty-one generations.
How long they stood there, enduring the vortex, Ava did not know.
Abruptly, the wind stopped.
> The endless, gray rain finally ceased.
A breathless silence descended on the hilltop.
There was a terrible scream from Morgaine and she fell, face forward. The other priestesses silently collapsed.
Harper started to help Morgaine.
“Do not touch her, Merlin!”
Harper turned, and his eyes grew wide with shock.
Ava was in the air, in a shaft of golden light: the High Priestess in the presence of the Goddess.
Ron stared up at her and swallowed hard. They moved aside.
Ava flew over Morgaine. When the old priestess looked up, Ava almost retched. Flesh was hanging off Morgaine’s bones in strips. Her boiled-egg eyes were just barely in their sockets. Her voice had a hollow, wasted rattle as she gasped: “Sister,” Morgaine said to Ava, “Do you hold my oath fulfilled?”
Then there was a horrific wail in Ava’s mind as Morgaine used that moment to attack.
Ava fought back as hard as she could. Goddess! Help me!
Morgaine battled deep into her brain. It was so excruciating, Ava couldn’t even cry out. On and on, the assault continued.
Morgaine was too strong. It was the power they had poured into her to affect the Healing. Morgaine was much stronger than she was earlier.
So very strong.
And so implacably, thoroughly enraged.
Slowly, Ava gave way. She cowered in the little spider hole in her mind she had built to hide Falke’s secret.
Ava was out of reach, but also trapped in her own mind, with no way to contact the others.
Ava heard a long, low chuckle from the ancient priestess.
Morgaine! NO! Ava cried in her mind. This isn’t your time! This isn’t your Britain. Leave us!
She felt Morgaine seize control of her body. Ava heard her own priestess voice say, “Morgaine and priestesses of Avalon: You have done as you promised. You have healed the kingdom. Die now, in honor.”
But Ava had not said that.
The elder priestess’ ruined body—now empty of its soul—nodded. A gentle wind flooded the Circle, swirled once, and Morgaine’s shell and the other priestesses dissolved into ashes. They were whisked up into the sky, until they were but a dot high up in the blue heavens.
Ava felt her body turn to Ron and Harper. Without looking at each other, they both knelt before her.
The Goddess said: “Be healed, Britain. Use the light to lead the world. We have labored long to bring you to this day. What comes next will be much work. You must create a world better suited for humanity’s growth than it is now. Work together. Care for each other. Teach the people the Way.”
“It will be as you say, Goddess,” Harper said.
“I will lead them, I will teach them. It shall be done,” Ron said.
Ava felt herself float back to the ground; the wings faded away. Slowly, she collapsed to the ground. Ron caught her and lowered her into his lap, above the mud. Harper held her hand.
But Ava experienced these things only remotely, as if it was not her body they touched, but a dream of herself.
Morgaine has control of my body! Ava thought. What’s happening? Let me out!
There you are! Morgaine cackled. Ava felt Morgaine’s delight and hatred. A great piercing thought struck Ava. She struggled to escape....
At her feet, grass shoots were rising out of the mud. The trees nearby showed buds. Slowly, Ava’s sight began to dim.
The Healing had begun.
But at what cost?
Then there was a horrible squeezing sensation. The mote that was Ava became tinier and tinier. Ava became a mere pip of awareness.
And behind it all was the sick chuckling, as Morgaine gloated at her victory.
Help me! Ava tried to call out.
Calm yourself, Priestess. All has happened in the worst possible way. We have much to accomplish and very little human-time to do it in.
A light-filled doorway opened.
Wait!
Chapter Thirty-One
Harper emerged from the bathroom. Tired fingers fumbled with the knot before he finally got the bathrobe’s sash tied. Waves of fatigue mixed with the wooziness of the champagne. He dropped onto the big bed with an outrush of breath. It had been an overwhelming, long day. He felt old, down deep in his bones.
The crowd at the Circle had rushed in when the rain stopped and the Goddess Light disappeared. He was thumped and grabbed, spun and shouted at by joyous strangers. For a while, he lost sight of Ron and Ava, and worried he’d never find them again. But then a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. He’d turned, and there were Ron and Ava, grinning at him. They hugged as a threesome. He had never felt closer to any two people in his life; not his brothers, not his father, not even Falke. This was his soul’s family, and they had done as the Goddess had commanded nearly 1,500 years ago—
Britain was healed!
The blue-robed priests from Eight Lights had come then, and taken them down the hill to a waiting SUV. It had been so weirdly quiet in the car after all that excitement. Paul had stared in the mirror at them, hardly troubling to pay attention to the road, but he said nothing.
All there was to do was look out at the side of the ruined road, now greening visibly. None of them had said anything, too exhausted and spent to express any relevant sentiments.
Cardiff Castle had been a madhouse! Thousands of shrieking revelers ringed the old stone monument. The police created a cordon so the big SUV could make its way to the gate. But a line of people pounded the car in jubilation. It sounded as if they were inside a giant drum.
Waiting to greet them was everyone who could wangle an excuse to get in the door. Celebrities, peers of the realm, and functionaries of all sorts had gathered. The champagne flowed like a river.
All Harper had wanted was to be with Falke. Eventually, they brought him in. The boy’s embrace was the best possible reward. He could feel Falke’s pride and love. He’d struggled not to cry.
Finally—finally!—they had managed to get people to leave. Falke led the way, as Harper, Ron, and Ava stumbled up the stairs practically sleepwalking. Harper walked straight into his room, threw off his still-damp and muddy Merlin-robe, and laid down on the bed.
But sleep wouldn’t come. No matter how determinedly he did his relaxation mediation, Morpheus would not appear. Every time he closed his eyes, scenes from the Circle played out in minute detail. And then there were dozens of other moments—fragments really—of the last week that flashed through his mind so quickly he could scarce identify them.
He decided to have a nice hot bath to calm his nerves.
Lying on the bed now, comfortably warm in the thick terry cloth bathrobe, he could just feel the ebb of slumber.
A hand slid up his chest.
“What?” He tried to sit up, but the hand kept him down.
“Shh. It’s only me, Harper.”
“Ava! Good Goddess, what are you doing?”
She positively glowed with seductive charm, curled up next to him, deliciously naked. “Surely you can figure that out, my dear.” She kissed him deeply, hot mouth seeming to melt into his.
He pulled away. “You’re Ron’s wife—or will be tomorrow. I’m happy for both of you. And I certainly would never betray my best friend!”
She caressed his face, looking deeply into his eyes. “Dear Harper. You are so very loyal, and such a good friend. But you know you want me. Just as I want you.”
He was drawn into her pupils as if into a tunnel. There was a sound far off that he couldn’t resolve, like a murmur, or a chant. He felt his will power crumbling. But then a thought occurred to him and he said resolutely, “It would break Ron’s heart.”
Her eyes narrowed. “He will never know. We will never tell him.”
Harper sat up and tied the sash of his bathrobe firmer. “Ava, please go back to your room immediately!”
Instead, she laid back on his pillow. She ran her fingers lightly down her body, from throat to crotch. He’d never noticed how long
her red-lacquered fingernails were. They looked dangerously sexy. “We must celebrate properly for the Goddess.” Her eyes drew him in.
The murmur was louder now, but not enough to make out the words. He couldn’t think clearly. “The Goddess?” Harper found himself lying back down.
“You are the power-user, the Goddess’ instrument for the male spirit. We must unite to complete the ritual. Proper rites must be kept, even in this modern age.” Her hand slipped under his robe, stroked his stiffening rod. “Come, be the god of the Sacrament,” she whispered.
He felt his body giving in to her, but mentally still struggled. Something seemed wrong about this whole thing. “Ava…”
But then her mouth was all over him, doing things Serena never had. Where had his robe gone? He didn’t recall taking it off. The murmur was a wave of sound in his head. He couldn’t think. Only feel the way she slid herself onto him and started riding him, faster and faster. What was she saying? It was like the chant… but fiercer. And oh, how he wanted her. Yes, he’d always wanted her.
Had to have her.
Had to give her everything that was his body.
Let her take him into the heights of desire.
And then they were dancing together inside a fire whirlwind.
No, now he was by himself, and the flames were black and red. His arms and legs were trapped—he couldn’t move! The smoke was hot, choking. Suffocating.
She was all around him, laughing.
Something slipped away from him. It felt like his core being. Its loss left only a husk that was Harper.
Alone.
After a long while, he felt her get out of the bed. She tapped his forehead three times. “We shall never speak of this.”
“As you command, My Queen,” he croaked, then fell into a deep sleep.
Acknowledgements
No book bursts fully formed out of an author’s head, although we like to imagine it can be done. It is the product of a lot of writing, rewriting, and wondering why the heck we do this.
The Midsummer Wife (The Heirs to Camelot Book 1) Page 27
