The Immortals II: Michael
Page 21
Sophie screamed and thrashed and then felt a surge of power in her fingertips. Forcing herself to concentrate, she sent the purple light at Lucifer. He cursed and put his hands around her throat. “You damn little white witch,” he hissed. “You dare—“
He stopped suddenly, tossing Sophie aside, as a mighty roar filled the air. Sophie rolled, gasping for air and looked up.
Pendragon, in his full, lethal size flew straight at them, Michael riding astride, holding a flaming Excalibur high. He leapt to the ground as the dragon swooped low and then rose again.
A snarl sounded from behind the trees as the white dragon rose into the air, shooting a flare of fire at Pendragon. The red dragon roared back with a fiery volley. Leather wings flapping furiously, they flew at each other, claws extended, jaws open. Their thunderous clash shook the earth as they grappled with each other, talons ripping into metal scales.
Silver light shimmered around Michael as he stalked toward Balor, Excalibur in hand.
“Showtime,” Balor said and lifted his patch.
Heavy, black air surrounded them, so dense it made breathing difficult. Sophie squinted, able only to see the flickering light around Michael and the strange flame that clung to the sword. She tried to concentrate on where Balor was. Her magic may not be strong, but maybe it would help.
Lucifer morphed into demon form, horns steel-tipped and fangs exposed as he circled around the blackness behind Michael.
“Your back, Michael!” Sophie yelled and shot purple light toward Lucifer. He turned, hissing, caught the light in one clawed hand and prepared to hurl it back in the form of a cannon-ball when Tanio manifested.
“You will stop,” he said.
Lucifer sneered at him. “You no longer control me, god.”
“Perhaps not, but now that I’ve found you, I can destroy you.” He raised a hand beginning an incantation in a foreign tongue.
Lucifer hesitated, then threw the cannonball down as he sprouted wings and lifted into the air, moving at preternatural speed. Behind him the white dragon roared and disappeared into the night as well, with Pendragon in hot pursuit.
Sophie turned her attention back to the fight that was taking place between Michael and Balor. All she could make out was the flaming sword lunging forward, slashing to the right and left as Michael advanced. Each time, it was met with an invisible clash of something heavy and solid black. Pure evil emanated from that source, but Sophie could not see what it was.
From the distance came the sound of sirens wailing, no doubt summoned by the roars of the dragons and the smoke from their battle.
Tanio moved toward Sophie, his blue hair blazing as he pointed toward the lake. “Call the Kelpies, daughter of Epona.”
Sophie stared at him. “Kelpies?”
“Faerie water horses,” Tanio explained irritably as the fight grew more vicious and the sirens became louder. “They will save you and Michael. Hurry. You don’t have much time before the police will be here. They cannot find the sword.”
“I don’t have that kind of magic!”
“Yes, you do. The Kelpie will obey you since Epona is their goddess. Water is not my element. I cannot summon them. Send for them.”
Feeling like a fool, Sophie ran to the lake bank. Raising her hands, she concentrated on sending the light through her fingertips. The lake remained placid, the sirens only a block or two away.
“Nothing is—” She stopped as the water began to stir, swirling in ever-widening circles as something roiled beneath the surface. Rogue waves rose as the water began to churn. Sophie watched in amazement as two sleek, grey heads emerged, followed by powerful equine bodies. The horses rose gracefully about the water, landing on either side of Sophie, lowering their heads as they bent one leg.
“Hurry up and get on,” Tanio said as Michael raced toward her. “I’ll hold Balor back.”
“But we’ll drown!”
“No, we won’t,” Michael said as he reached her. “Look.”
She looked back at the lake. The water had risen into a spout, creating a hallow vertex in the water. Balor threw more of his black magic at them and one of the Kelpies nudged her as Tanio raised a fire wall.
“Go!” he said.
Michael lifted her onto the back of one Kelpie and mounted the other. They leapt through air and then dove beneath the surface. Sophie felt the wet shock of coldness and clung to the Kelpie’s mane, sure that she would drown as the water closed over their heads, but somehow a bubble of air remained around them. “How can this be happening?” she asked Michael as the Kelpies gently settled on the lake floor.
He grinned and pointed.
Sophie followed the direction of his hand. A beautiful woman stood just beyond their bubble, dressed in an iridescent gown of changing greens and blues that swirled gently with the water’s movement, her blonde hair floating behind her.
“Welcome to my home,” the Lady of the Lake said.
Epilogue
Sophie shook the dampness out of her hair as they emerged from a tunnel into a dry cave. How they had managed to walk in an air bubble on the floor of Lake Ponchartrain she didn’t understand and something about the tunnel had felt different, almost as though Michael and she had crossed time periods. Still, he had not hesitated when the Lady bade them follow her.
Glancing around the cave, she gasped in awe. What she had though were electric lights were actually hundreds of candles set into niches that reflected the sparkling facets of thousands and thousands of crystals. A fire was banked in a stone hearth along one wall and just past it was a darkened passageway.
Footsteps echoed from it along with some foreign mumbling as an elderly man with a flowing white beard emerged. His vivid blue eyes widened as he saw them. “Not another one,” he grumbled and turned to the Lady. “Couldn’t you have just brought the sword yourself?”
“Now Merlin, mind your manners,” the Lady said mildly as though speaking to a child who has been told to do so many times. “Our guest has special powers.”
“Eh?” Merlin looked at Sophie as if he were to about to dissect her to learn what they were. “She’s not a faerie, is she? Nimue is handful enough.”
“No,” Michael answered, “but she’s inherited the blood of Epona.”
Merlin looked startled. “So that’s why the Pendragon was let loose.”
Sophie looked from Merlin to Michael. “Have I had another concussion? Just exactly where am I and why do you refer to this man as Merlin?”
“Because I am Merlin!” His white, scraggily brows furrowed. “Is she as ignorant as the other one?”
Sophie drew herself up. “I don’t know who the “other one” is, but I am not stupid.”
“Didn’t say you were,” Merlin replied sagely. “Just ignorant.”
Before she could ask what he meant, more voices sounded in the passageway and soon a tall, tawny-haired man and a brunette woman stepped out, holding hands and wearing satisfied smiles that gave Sophie a hint of what they had been doing not long ago. They looked familiar.
“Hi, Sara,” Michael said. “Good to see you again.”
Sara. His friend that had searched for the spear. This was the couple who had been at the ranchero in Palo Pinto County the night Michael had taken her there to tend to a wolf.
Michael nodded reluctantly at the man built like an ancient warrior. “Ramsey.”
The man assessed Michael before replying. “McCain.”
The candle flames could have frozen from their icy tones. Sara had been a good friend of Michael’s and she was obviously in love with the hunk she was clinging to. Could Michael be jealous? Sophie’s stomach suddenly felt like she swallowed lead. His hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“I am not jealous,” he said with an amused smile.
Damn it. He’d read her mind again. She was really going to have to establish some rules about that, but then she heard Merlin cackle.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Sara’s man said with a frown.
Lancelot? Tristan?
“I can see you’re confused,” Sara said to Sophie and smiled. “I was, too, when I first got here.”
“Where is “here” exactly?” Sophie asked.
“We’re in Merlin’s cave in Cornwall—“
“England?” Sophie interrupted.
“Yes. I believe you met Lucas last spring, only he really is Lancelot.”
“As in King Arthur and Gwenhwyfar? That Lancelot?”
He looked pained. “Gwen and I were never anything but friends. Besides that was a long time ago.”
“It certainly was…” Sophie’s voice trailed off as comprehension began to sink in. “Are you telling me that you were alive then? In the—what was it—sixth century?”
Lancelot bowed slightly. “I am an immortal knight.”
Sophie looked into his golden eyes, trying to see if he was jesting, but he looked steadily back at her with no trace of a smile. An immortal knight. Well, why not? She already met a dragon and seen two demons and Michael was a warlock—She stopped her train of thought and turned to him.
“Did Merlin call you Tristan? As in Tristan of Lyonesse who stole his uncle’s wife from him?”
Michael scowled. “Iseult chased me and damn-near got me beheaded. The writers got it all wrong.”
“Good luck with that,” Lancelot said wryly.
“Well, they did!”
“Be that as it may,” the Lady of the Lake said as she moved between them, “both of you left enough trembling damsels in your wakes to last more than a few lifetimes. The priestesses in Avalon will be glad to know you’ve each found your mate.”
“More lovey-dovey talk and goo-goo eyes from another pair then,” Merlin said with a sigh. “Can’t an old man just be left in peace and quiet?”
“You certainly can,” Michael answered and handed the sword to the Lady. “We’ve got to get back. Pendragon is loose out there as well as Lucifer—not to mention Balor.”
“It’s not quite that simple,” the Lady explained. “It seems that the Celtic relics want to be reunited before we use them again. The return-time portal remains locked for now.”
Michael arched a brow. “For how long?”
“Until next Beltane if the Platter and Grail can be found by next Beltane when the cycle will be complete. Merlin will be your host until then.”
Merlin snorted. “What did I ever do—“
“Think of it this way,” Sara said with a mischievous look. “You’ll be getting rid of Nimue for awhile.”
As if on cue, the faerie fluttered in from the passageway. She eyed Michael appreciatively and Sophie put her hand on his arm possessively. She didn’t plan to compete with a faerie, even though this was one was exquisitely beautiful.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said with a quirky grin. “Nim and I go back a long way as friends.”
“It sounds like you have an awful lot of female friends,” Sophie said.
Lancelot started to laugh, but quickly stopped as Sara shot him a look that said he had no room to talk.
Nimue looked from one man to the other. “Things should get interesting around here soon. I suppose I have to leave though?”
“I am afraid so,” the Lady said and twisted the ruby pommel of the sword to reveal a hidden hollow space. She took out a small scrap of paper. “This holds the clue for the Platter,” she said as she gave it to Nimue.
Nimue tucked the paper inside the low neckline of her gossamer silvery-white gown and batted nearly transparent wings. She looked once more from Lancelot to Tristan. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone, will you?” she said with an impish smile and then disappeared.
Sophie eyed Michael. “I think you owe me a long explanation, Tristan.”
This time, Lancelot did laugh. “The bedrooms are down the passage. I find that’s the best place to do any explaining that Sara wants.”
She punched him playfully. “Speaking of which—“
“No need to say more,” Lancelot said and picked her up in his arms and strode away.
Merlin groaned. “Not again. That man has the stamina of a horse.” He looked suspiciously at Michael. “I suppose you do too?”
Michael grinned. “I’d have to, since my mate is descended from Epona.” And then, before Sophie could retort, he pulled her toward him and claimed her mouth with a thorough kiss.
The End.