Celtic Fire

by Alex Archer

  Annja was glad of the time on her own, a chance to freshen up and clear her head before settling down to sleep. She understood Roux’s desire to bring the woman in without hurting her, but when it came right down to it there was every chance that trying to neutralize her was only going to make things so much more dangerous than they needed to be.

  And it was Annja who was going to be on the pointy end of Awena’s sword, not him.

  Chapter 45

  Morning arrived with brilliant sunshine and a cloudless sky.

  Workmen were out fixing bunting along the streets leading to the market square and the castle, sweepers out sluicing down the roads and clearing every visible scrap of litter. The entire town was being given a scrub down before the red carpet was laid out over the cobbles. And it was a literal red carpet. Annja liked that. It felt very regal. She decided she needed to clear some of the cobwebs from her mind and went out for a dawn run, pounding the streets hard, pushing herself. She missed working out in the gym and would have killed for a good sparring session with one of the guys back in NYC. For now she had to content herself with the bite of the early-morning Welsh air, as she gulped it down until her legs burned and her mind raced with endorphins. It felt good after spending so much of the past few days cooped up behind the wheel of a car.

  Her jaw still ached from the double hit she’d taken, but the burns were surprisingly painless. A quick look in the mirror revealed that most of the worst of it had already faded. She had no idea how the steel could burn like that, but Roux insisted it wasn’t some sort of alchemy but rather a very natural phenomenon. She’d just have to trust him—and make certain to avoid the sword the next time it swung for her. Right now it was all about putting one foot in front of the other and maintaining a steady pace. Nothing else mattered. It might not have begun as an exercise in pushing her limits, but it became one.

  Barriers were being erected to keep the anticipated crowds back from the road when the cars finally arrived. It would only be a few hours before the streets were lined with people waving. The police force had already begun to gather in the square, ready to be put in position. Each of them was armed with nothing more than an expandable baton instead of the old-fashioned truncheon. It wouldn’t stop a woman with a sword.

  Annja was aware of a couple of the officers watching her as she ran.

  They weren’t suspicious. They were lecherous.

  She didn’t dwell on it.

  She ran straight through the middle of their ranks, focusing on the ground at her feet. Another day it might have been different, another day she might have done a lot of things differently. But not today. Today she kept her head down and ran, doing a full circuit of the town before turning back eventually toward the hotel.

  Roux waited for her in the lobby.

  He didn’t look pleased.

  “Where have you been?”

  She looked down at her sweats and then back up at Roux. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Garin’s been trying to reach you, too.” It was a rebuke and she knew it.

  “Sorry.”

  “He called me on the hotel number in the end.”

  “Good for him. If at first you don’t succeed and all that. So, what did he have to say?”

  She walked toward the elevator. Roux reached it first and hit the button. He waited until they were inside before he spoke.

  “He’s been monitoring the signal from my phone all night. The battery died a few hours ago, but not before Awena started to move.”

  “And?”

  “She took the bait. She’s relocated into the vicinity of the school.”

  “Score one for the good guys,” she said. “What about the kids?”

  “Reported a gas leak in the area, so the school is closed for the day. The prince has been diverted, too.”

  “Garin has been a busy boy, hasn’t he?”

  “Unlike some of us,” Roux said. It was a dig. She didn’t rise to it. He wasn’t the one about to go toe-to-toe with a maniac. She was. If she had to blow off some steam first, then that was what she had to do. Some people did yoga to unwind; Annja pounded the streets or went six rounds in the gym.

  “There are already police in the square and barriers are being put in place to keep back onlookers,” she said, reporting what she’d seen on her run. “There’s a red carpet leading to the castle gate, which makes me think that the car will be stopping outside and they’ll enter on foot. It does mean that there will still be a moment when the prince is in full view if Awena changes her mind and decides that the school isn’t the best place to make her attempt.”

  “Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes,” he said.

  Breakfast was obviously an optional extra she wasn’t going to enjoy.

  She returned to her room and took a quick shower and wasted a minute chewing down an energy bar. She downed plenty of water, too, replenishing her electrolytes.

  She checked her phone as she rubbed her hair dry with a towel. Four missed calls. All from Garin. Only one message. She played it back.

  “It’s Garin,” the voice said. “I’ve managed to get hold of Roux. Guess you’re out for a morning constitutional. Anyway, just wanted to make sure that I managed to take care of everything, but it’s going to be tight to get to you before the show goes on. I’ll head straight to the castle just in case things don’t go according to plan at the school. Good luck, Annja. Break a leg. Preferably hers.”

  So Roux hadn’t told her everything, after all.

  It didn’t make any difference, but she wasn’t a fan of being kept in the dark. It screwed up the whole trust thing. It left you wondering what else you weren’t being told. Like why wouldn’t Roux tell her she couldn’t rely on Garin’s guns for backup? It was the kind of thing it would have been good to know going into a fight, not finding out halfway through one.

  She was barely dressed when Roux came knocking on her door.

  “Come on, time to go.”

  She grabbed a second energy bar to eat on the move.

  “I’m trusting you, Annja. No mistakes. If you can’t neutralize her, get out of there. Understood?” he said as they went directly to the car.

  “Trust me, I’ve got no intention of getting hurt.”

  “Not just you. She’s ill, she’s not evil—there’s a huge difference. Our win scenario here is simple—retrieve the sword without hurting the woman.”

  “And if it’s not that easy?”

  “No risks. You can’t allow your own safety to be jeopardized. That sword is dangerous. She can’t walk away with it. No matter what. I don’t want anyone else to be killed because of my mistakes. Look after yourself out there. I’ll be seconds away. I promise. I’ve got your back. You can trust me. I swear.”

  She nodded, but that was all.

  She remembered the letter in the glove compartment. Was that why Roux was so fixated on her knowing she could trust him? He’d already earned her trust a thousand times over. Surely he believed that.

  Chapter 46

  Awena ached.

  Every inch of her body, every muscle, every tendon.

  She felt that ache in her soul.

  It was the second night she’d slept in the car, but the first one alone. Not that it made much difference to the comfort, but at least she hadn’t had to stay alert to make sure Roux didn’t slip away.

  She reached out to touch the sword.

  Still wrapped in sacking she felt its comfortable shape beneath its bindings and drew strength from it. Every touch reminded her that it was a quest she had ventured upon, like some knight of old, and that gave her renewed strength. She would not fail her father. She would make him proud of her. That was all she had ever wanted. She would make the world sit up and take notice of the Llewellyn
name once more. She would reclaim what was hers by birth.

  She cradled the sword in her hands. In the night she’d imagined she’d heard it calling to her, whether in some half dream or some half wakefulness it didn’t matter. It banished any doubts that still lingered.

  This was right.

  She was on the side of the righteous.

  The school gates had been locked as she’d approached them, but a side street off the main road had brought her around to the playing fields at the rear.

  She’d been woken by the sound of car doors slamming and engines starting as early risers set off for work. She sat hunkered down in the car, watching them come and go. None of them turned onto the track she’d pulled onto. She listened to the car radio, careful to only tune in for short bursts so she didn’t drain the battery. The news reports had filtered through that the prince would make his traditional visit to the secondary school, and it had been enough to convince Awena to change her plans. There was a wonderful symmetry to it. This was her school. This was where she had curtsyed to the Prince of Wales and presented him and Lady Diana with a bunch of sunflowers. That was the day her father had first told her the history of the treasures and her own role in the rule of their country. She’d cried thinking of how she’d been tricked into bending her knee to the false prince that morning.

  Well, no more bending and scraping now.

  This time when he came to the school he’d get a taste of Welsh steel.

  Awena drove past the school three times before deciding on her current position. It was unlikely he’d have the army here, a few bodyguards, maybe. She couldn’t remember what it had been like the last time. As long as she stayed at the back of the crowd to begin with, no one would think of her as a threat.

  According to the radio report the prince was due at the castle around ten-thirty, which meant the school visit would take place within an hour of that. She wanted to be in place well before nine-thirty. It was unlikely they’d arrive before that.

  She played the permutations over and over in her head.

  She didn’t want to arrive too early only to find herself standing there alone, but neither did she want to run the risk of missing him.

  She watched the seconds tick by on her watch until it reached nine o’clock.

  She’d timed the walk just before dawn. Even if she took it slowly it wouldn’t be more than ten minutes before she was by the main gates.

  In the daylight the playground looked more run-down than it did when she’d been a schoolgirl there. The chains on the swings showed signs of rust toward the top of the frame and the grass was in desperate need of cutting. It was a sad sight—a playground without any children in it, neglected and unloved.

  It should have been full with children playing, but there was nothing but silence, not even the sound of traffic moving along the main road.

  Awena clutched the hessian-wrapped sword a little tighter as she walked the final stretch to the gate.

  She knew that there was something wrong.

  The street was deserted.

  Not just that, there was no bunting. No flags. Nothing.

  Biting her bottom lip, Awena glanced up and down the road, then turned to scan the schoolyard. There wasn’t a single parent in sight, no teachers’ cars in the parking lot, either. None of it made any sense.

  The radio had said that the prince was going to be stopping at the school, but the school wasn’t even open. Why would he come here if it was closed?

  She hugged the sword even tighter, trying to work out what was going on.

  The world felt as though it were spinning around her, faster and faster.

  She had to lean against the fence for support, steadying herself.

  Where was the prince?

  Why wasn’t he here?

  Surely...he had to come here before driving into the town center. The radio had promised he was coming here....

  And it had been lying to her.

  Anger flared inside her.

  She felt like screaming.

  The world was conspiring against her.

  But it wouldn’t win.

  She would claim her inheritance. She would avenge her forefathers. The blood of the prince would flow. She gripped the sword tighter still.

  Awena heard footsteps walking toward her.

  A voice called her name.

  Chapter 47

  “Hello, Awena,” Annja said as the young redheaded woman emerged from the lane alongside the school. There had been a long moment where she worried Awena wouldn’t arrive. It had been a gamble, because once she got here it was impossible not to see the radio broadcast had been a hoax.

  Awena stared at her, clearly confused.

  She fumbled with the sacking, until the hilt of Gerald of Wales’s sword was exposed. She grasped it. Smoke filled the air as the sacking began to smolder and shrivel away from the blade as it responded to her touch.

  Awena screamed and scythed the air with the blade, showering Annja with the last few scraps of burning rag.

  Annja rocked back on her heels, the tip of the blade slicing though the air a whisker away from her cheek. She didn’t so much as flinch. She reached out with her right hand and smiled. “I’m really glad you did that, Awena,” she said as Joan’s sword crystalized in her grasp. “Now, that should even things out.”

  She took the next swing on the sword, the impact shivering down the length of the blade. Flames and sparks cascaded as the two swords made contact; Annja felt the full force of the blow through her shoulder. She grunted and winced as her injured arm took the brunt of the attack.

  Awena was stronger than before, faster, and obviously more in tune with the sword’s power. That was how it had been for her, too, back when she’d first drawn Joan’s blade. She’d felt the sudden rush of strength flow through her veins and not been able to control it. It had taken time to contain it, to master the weapon and learn how to turn it on her enemies. Awena was obviously a fast learner.

  That wasn’t good.

  She came at her again, driven by a rage that burned so furiously bright inside her the sword seemed to blaze twice as blue in her grasp. Annja barely held her off, blocking high, twisting her wrist and trying to yank the blade out of Awena’s hands, only for the woman to sweep her feet out from under her. Annja hit the ground hard and rolled, coming up to her feet again before the woman could press the advantage. She was breathing hard, the flame dancing spectrally across her face as she moved. The entire street was silent but for the clash of steel.

  Annja backed up under a fresh assault, hoping the woman was too far gone to realize she wasn’t fighting back, just holding her off. The longer she kept her here in the street, the less chance she had of getting into the town before the prince arrived. It was as simple as that. Someone in the row of houses overlooking the schoolyard would see and call 999.

  All Annja had to do in the meantime was stay alive, which for one treacherous second looked in doubt. Awena leaped, launching a spinning roundhouse kick that slammed into Annja’s jaw and sent her sprawling, the sword skittering away across the yard as she lost her grip on it.

  Awena came in, running, sword raised.

  Annja rolled over and rammed her hand upward, fist closing around the sword as it reappeared in her hand.

  Awena Llewellyn barely avoided being impaled on it.

  She stood there, gasping for breath and staring at the sword that had impossibly reappeared in Annja’s hand.

  “Don’t make me kill you,” Annja said.

  “You killed my father.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Sword clashed against sword again, metal against burning metal. The blaze threatened to blind Annja with each sweep and cut as the swords came together close to her face.

  Awena
was relentless.

  There was a difference this time, though. The rage that Awena had harnessed when they’d faced each other in her father’s study was missing. She was more controlled. Less erratic. But that meant she was more containable, too. Maybe that would change if Annja backed her into a corner and gave her no choice but to fight for her life. As it was, she still had the illusion of control, the choice of flight. But that couldn’t last.

  Roux’s request that she shouldn’t be hurt if possible rang inside Annja’s head.

  It was easier said than done.

  She needed to get the sword out of the woman’s hands.

  Awena backed up a step, then another as Annja moved onto the front foot. She dropped her shoulder and whipped in a quick low swing toward her ankles, which had Awena darting another few feet. Annja pressed the attack, bringing her sword up fast in a vicious arc that would have gutted Awena if she hadn’t managed to bring the burning blade to bear in time. As it was the sword shrieked in protest and, for one heart-stopping second, felt as though it was going to shatter beneath the sheer ferocity of Annja’s strike. But that scream only intensified, and Annja realized the blades had long since ceased to resonate and the scream came out of Awena Llewellyn’s mouth.

  It was a bansheelike howl that sent shivers to her very core.

  The swords broke apart and Annja staggered away.

  She’d backed Awena into the mouth of the narrow lane running parallel to the yard. She followed her.

  “Come on, Awena. It’s over. Give me the sword and go back home to your brother. It doesn’t have to end badly.”

  “Are you scared? You should be. I owe you for my father’s death. Blood for blood. I’m going nowhere,” she said. Backing down the path, she waved the sword in front of her to keep Annja at bay.

  Just keep her talking, Annja thought. That made her less of a threat. Maybe she could talk her down...

  The burning sword brushed against the dry leaves of a bush that encroached on the alley and sent a shower of burning leaves into Annja’s face.