Merlin's Kiss

by Stephanie Burke

  "Then you had better listen well, Warlord," Tybo called as he stalked forward to where Kerian halted the unicorn, head raised and eyes open, searching for danger.

  "Why is that, Tybo?" Kerian asked, pulling the reins to halt the unicorn still fighting the bit, pausing in his inspection of the immediate area.

  "Because your home is infested, Warlord. Infested by the vilest, most ruthless, and most dangerous disease you have ever known. And I ought to know. He raised me."

  Brieana paused in her attempt to mount Magic and stared at the two men.

  "Raised you?" she called out as she saw pain flash in the young man's eyes.

  "By whip and rod!" he answered, noting Kerian's wince.

  "Let us push forward and find a place to rest," Kerian decided. "And I will listen."

  "Shouldn't we check for survivors?" Brieana asked, as she motioned up ahead. The silence was now deafening.

  "What for?" Kerian responded as he motioned her to mount up. "There is nothing left to bury! The rabbits won't leave enough to bury in a basket."

  "Charming creatures!" Tybo murmured as he observed the look on Brieana's face. He thought the Woman of Legend would be more ruthless and cutthroat.

  "Reminds me of dear old Dagon, at his best."

  No one answered.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  "Shala is capable of many things, but I don't believe that for one moment!"

  Kerian's angry voice sounded firm and direct as he directed his ire at Tybo.

  "What reason do I have to lie?" Tybo asked, wondering why this man, this warrior, could not see the obvious. "She has knowledge of magic, and with Dagon's help she has the power."

  "She is capable of a great many things, Tybo, but to plot my murder?" he asked as he fought against the very possibility this strange warrior could be right.

  "But she loves him!" Brieana added. "She protected him as he grew. Why would she jeopardize her home and her stepson for something as fleeting as power? If I have learned anything during this quest, it's the illusion of power can be shattered quite easily!"

  She thought back to the Lady Nemoae and the control she had over the elements, and how she had been kept waiting by a mere sorcerer. Then she thought of the sword that she now had in her possession, the sword forged in the elements that stood for justice and truth alone. Arthur had held it and his kingdom had come crumbling down around his ears. Power was an illusion and control was fleeting.

  "One who is power-hungry does not operate with logic, Lady." Tybo stood and faced the two in the dim light of the waning day.

  After leaving the scene of destruction, they made their way south, deeper into the Forbidden Forest, yet closer to Mirage than they thought. They were only a day's journey from Kerian's kingdom, and Tybo had one short day to convince these two that Shala and Dagon were working together for the greater bad.

  "But to plot with our most feared enemies?" Kerian argued. "Even Shala would not dare that!"

  "That she has done!" Tybo insisted. "And more! How else do you think I was so easily able to find you?"

  That gave them both a pause.

  The snorting and pawing of the unicorns tethered nearby was the only sound heard as Kerian and Brieana began to accept what was before them.

  "But why?" Kerian finally asked, not expecting an answer. "She protected me from my father's wrath as a child! Many a time I can remember her breaking into a session and throwing herself at my sire's feet begging him to cease. She even…"

  He looked over at Brieana and refused to continue that statement.

  "She even, what?" Brieana demanded, guessing at what that woman had done.

  "She offered to… It doesn't matter, Lady. What was done was done in the past and in a moment of loneliness and weakness."

  "She tried to bed you," Brieana said on a growl, picturing that woman with her hands on her mate, running her fingers through his hair, touching his chest, stroking his… "That woman has no shame or sense of decency!"

  She narrowed her eyes at Kerian, whose face exploded in an embarrassed flush.

  "Nothing happened, Lady," he soothed as he took her hand and began to stroke her palm. "I sent her on her way and she never approached me like that again. Ever! I swear!"

  "Then she is scorned and out for revenge!" Brieana decided. "Remember the Lady of the Lake!"

  "She is scorned, and out for power!" Tybo interrupted just then. "Do you know what kind of power she would have had as your mate, Warlord? And you would have joined with her," he insisted. "Your sense of honor would have seen to that.,"

  Why was it so hard for this man to accept the truth? It was clear and simple to him! Mate the man, kill the man, and retain the power! It was a simple yet brilliant plan, a plan worthy of him! It was a quick and concise means to an end and could be accomplished with little fuss; a solid plan.

  "You are correct on that score, warrior," Kerian sighed. "But Shala has power! She always had! What could she gain by ruling Mirage? She is no mage to protect it with magical spells, no warrior to take up arms in its defense. What is she truly after?"

  "Why don't you go and ask her?" Tybo countered. "See what she has to say on the matter. In fact, I'll present myself as witness to her deeds and association with Dagon. Then she can tell no lies. But know this, Warlord. She is planning something with Dagon, and he wants you dead. Probably as much as he wants me to expire."

  "Why would he want you dead?" Brieana scoffed as Kerian lapsed into silence. "You claim that he raised you to be his successor. Why would he want you dead?"

  "Because, my dear Lady," Tybo purred as he spread his wings out to their full span. "I am the only one fit to truly rival him. And I think for myself. I am too dangerous to have around!"

  He rubbed his hands across his chest proudly as his eyes turned a deep shade of gold, his wings following suit.

  "And so modest!" Brieana drawled as she observed his actions.

  "Merely truthful, Lady," he insisted as he furled his wings and again took a seat on a fallen log.

  "And informative," Kerian added, breaking his silence.

  "That too!" he insisted, eyeing the Warlord before him. "So what's the plan?"

  "We will do as you ask. We will visit Shala in her quarters and demand an explanation. Suddenly, all of her actions begin to add up. She knew about the sword, Brieana, which means she somehow knew what it was capable of, knew what you are capable of."

  "Sword?" Tybo asked, his curiosity piqued. He knew talk of the sword had made them concerned before, but now he knew there was more to it than just a trophy weapon.

  "You might as well show him, Brieana," Kerian decided. "If we trust he is telling no lies, we might as well trust him with the knowledge of this too. Even if he turned against us, he could not use the sword."

  "Your confidence in my character overwhelms me," Tybo drawled as he rolled his eyes at the Warlord. Then again, it would have been the route he would have taken. Never give anyone you are uncertain of any information that could leave you at a disadvantage.

  Now he watched with curious blue eyes as Brieana rose to her feet and went to the saddle her unicorn still wore.

  Once there, she unfastened a bundle from the back, a bundle wrapped in a blanket and tied with leather thongs.

  "What is it?" he asked, half rising as Brieana brought the package over for them to view.

  "Only the fiercest weapon known to mankind," Brieana stated. "And it can only be used by she who holds the key to unlock its power."

  That said she ripped the ties away and unveiled the sword, in all its splendor!

  "Is it supposed to be rusted?" Tybo asked as he eyed the dubious weapon.

  Of course, the sword may at one time have been impressive, but now it was a rusted piece of metal and cut glass.

  "What happened to my sword, Kerian?" Brieana growled as she turned her stricken gaze from the tarnished glory in her hands to her mate.

  "Why is everybody looking at me?" he demanded as he sat forward to see
what had happened to the mighty sword that had exploded from the waters of the Lake.

  Mighty, just now, wasn't the word he would use. It now looked tarnished and old; its jewels lackluster and dull. Even the sharp blade that reflected the light of the sun seemed nicked and blunted. What had happened to it?

  "You are the Warlord!" Brieana groused as she glared at him, as if he alone were responsible for the sword's deplorable condition. "You figure it out!"

  Kerian looked at his mate's determined features and at Tybo's amused ones and sighed.

  "Maybe when you discover the key to its power, it will return to its former glorious appearance," he guessed.

  "You don't know how to operate it?" Tybo suddenly asked as his eyes snapped to Brieana.

  "Well, I'll figure it out!" she said as she began to rewrap her sword.

  "Wait one minute here!" Tybo demanded his eyes turning an angry gray and narrowing in on the Woman of Legend. "You are reputed to have the power to unite the clans and bring lasting peace, is that right?"

  "Yes," she answered sharply.

  "And you are reputed to have the power to stop Dagon and his pursuit of power both here and in the Dark Isles?"

  "Correct!" she replied.

  "And this indestructible weapon of mass power you possess is that tarnished twisted hunk of metal you don't know how to use?"

  "Yes," she growled, eyeing Tybo coldly.

  "Well, this is going to be fun!" he decided as he began to chuckle.

  "Just what is your problem, Tybo?" Brieana demanded as she watched his confusing actions.

  "Dagon!" he replied calmly.

  "Then we will deal with him, with or without your help!" she sniffed. She didn't like anyone jesting about her sword.

  "Oh, I'll help, Lady!" he stated, mirth dancing in his eyes. "We have had him longer; therefore it will be a privilege to rid the world of him."

  "Well, if you had him for such a long time, why haven't your people done something about him?" she questioned as she returned the sword to its place on her saddle.

  "What do you know of the Dark Isles?" Tybo questioned them both.

  Kerian answered. "I know our ancestors lost contact with the Dark Isles before my ancestors’ ancestors were a thought. I know the people, at least some of them, have wings and therefore have sky supremacy in battle. I know that a few of your people have the ability to perform illusions and even fewer possess true magic. I know your people respect the drackoon and have the same prophecies and myths we do, a common past. And I know your people have invaded my home, desirous of power. And most of that I learned today."

  "Very good, Warlord," Tybo praised as he nodded in his direction. "Very good at observation, but I would have thought a man of your stature would pick up on those things. But let me tell you things about the Dark Isles you know nothing about, Warlord."

  His eyes turned a dark bleak gray and his shoulders seem to strain with the weight of his Isle's problems. He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and then turned a bitter gaze onto Kerian.

  "We are a people enslaved," he said. "Since the coming of Dagon and his plans for peace, we have known no freedom."

  Kerian nodded his head in understanding and motioned for him to continue. Brieana settled in closer to Kerian and waited with wide eyes for this dark and twisted tale.

  "Once, we all had our freedom. There were always the poor, and always those who possessed true magic, but most of us worked the land for our living, warred with our enemies, and survived by our own wits. Those of us who possessed true magic often became priests and aided others as we toiled throughout our days."

  "The Dark Isles are an arid hot place, Warlord. It is more sand and desert than forest or lake. It is a harsh land, but beautiful in its own way with its bright animals and colorful sunsets. We flew through the skies, unafraid for our children, for we knew we had the ability to protect them. Then came Dagon."

  He sighed and shuddered unknowingly as he said the name.

  "No one knows where Dagon came from, other than he was a bastard who was raised in the hottest, most arid region of the Isles. They say he came into Baltin, our major township and began to speak. At first, the people dismissed him as a rabble-rouser, a boy that was all talk of peace and unity, for we are a warlike culture, but slowly without anyone noticing, people began to listen."

  "Dagon told of how we should work towards one united goal, that we should all be equal, no man higher than the next, and his words had a grain of truth in them. What was wrong with everyone working towards one goal? Same work, same wealth, equality at its highest. Then he said to ensure this peace, we must beat all that opposed us. And that made sense. Wars are fought over opinions, are they not?"

  Brieana nodded. She, too, had come from a place of war that fought over rights and privileges almost on a daily basis. She could understand that reasoning.

  "So Dagon gathered a righteous army and went to battle with the next largest township. It was there that Dagon exposed his ability to do true magic, something that I understand didn't happen often. The last true mage existed several generations before Dagon made his appearance, so he was a formidable opponent to defeat. As you probably guessed, the next township fell, and all of the cities they controlled fell into Dagon's hands. And still he preached of a united Isle, a place where all did the equal amount of work, equality for all."

  Tybo began to chuckle after saying these words; his shoulders quaked with his mirth.

  "And the people followed him, this zealot who had the fiery power of truth behind his words. They betrayed their own cities to join his armies, to spread his truth, Dagon's truth. Soon the whole of the Dark Isles were under his thumb, students of Dagon's philosophy, willing to kill to spread his truths."

  "And then suddenly, there was peace in the Isles. There was no more war, no fighting, everyone worked the same and for the same cause. For the glory of Dagon."

  Tybo lifted sad eyes to his travel companions and sighed.

  "He was right, in a way. The only way to have lasting peace was for everybody to be the same. And we were the same. We were suddenly all slaves. There was peace because no one dared oppose Dagon and his legion of followers. Dagon had shown his true purpose, and that purpose was supreme power! Those who objected to sending their hard-earned crops over to Dagon had their lands revoked. Those who didn't send in moneys for his armies had their livestock taken away. Those who thought to object to our leader's glorious ideals lost their lives. Suddenly, everything was for the greatness of Dagon. He told us what to say, how to say it, where to live, what to do with our lives. And if any objected, off with their wings, cut out their tongues, and their families were sent to toil in the desert climates, harvesting desert plants and digging wells. And for over a hundred years, the Dark Isles have existed to serve the glory of Dagon."

  "Why didn't your people mount an assault and end this lunacy?" Brieana demanded. "He is just one man, and many are always more powerful than a few!"

  In answer, Tybo lifted his right hand and absently gestured to a tree behind him. His eyes flashed white and then a bolt of energy exploded from his palm.

  With no effort on his part, the tree lifted high into the air before it began to split. And not in half, mind you, it began to splinter, each slice precise and even. When the tree was nothing more than a mass of toothpicks, it began to glow red. In an instant, it silently disappeared into a puff of smoke.

  "True magic, Lady," he said as he lowered his hand and continued with his story, oblivious to the looks Brieana and Kerian were giving him.

  "Well, if you are so powerful, why haven't you stopped him?" Kerian demanded, as he tore his eyes away from the spot where the tree used to exist, to the man who had causally destroyed it.

  "Because as powerful as I am," he stated as his eyes returned to their deep gray, "Dagon is one hundred times more powerful."

  Both Brieana and Kerian gasped at hearing this.

  "Dagon reared me, Warlord, and a tougher taskmaster has yet to b
e found. I am the only child born of true magic since his conception, and he decided to make me his successor. But you see there are two types of magic, the Dark and the Light. Dagon has sold his soul for the secrets of the Dark magic and it has cost him. He does not cut a, how should I word this, presentable public figure? He has given his heart to the Dark and it shows. That's what the Lady Shala is for. In exchange for some power, she has gone to bed with the devil. He will help her take over Mirage and the Light Isles Clans, and he will rule through her. No fuss, no questions. She will have her power and Dagon will own the land without starting another war. Since the Dark Isles never really recovered from the war he started years ago, he wants to keep this place nice and neat for his takeover. If not for that, he would have destroyed you ages ago."

  "Then how can we stop him?" Brieana demanded. "How can we hope to quell this mad demon with unlimited magical powers?"

  "Oh, that is what you are for, Lady." Tybo nodded to her.

  "I think I am going to be sick!"

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Shut up! Shut Up! Shut Up!"

  Shala rolled back and forth on the bolsters of her bed, arms wrapped protectively around her skull, sweat beading on her forehead, as the voices in her head whispered, cajoled, and demanded.

  Hungry! We are so hungry! they purred. Hot, we are hot! Air, we need air! Get us air, Mommy! We can't breathe!

  "You parasite, you can breathe just fine! Leave me be!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off of the stone walls. "Give me peace! Shut up!"

  Air, Mommy! It's so hot! Give us air! The voices became insistent, and suddenly Shala felt a heat that swept through her whole body, setting her limbs on fire.

  She was hot, so very hot! She needed air!

  Yes, Mommy! the voiced purred excitedly. We need air! We are so hot!

  Without any provocation from her, Shala's legs twitched and slid over the side of the bed. As if she were in a trance, her bare feet touched the cold floor and she rose unsteadily to her feet, her arms still wrapped around her head. As if in slow motion, her legs jerked forward, one step at a time, until she found herself standing at the huge stone window that dominated the wall of her bedroom.