Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  A questioning meow startles me. I find a cat sitting a few levels up from me, its golden eyes almost glowing against its raven-black fur. I extend my hand toward it and make small, friendly noises.

  To my utter annoyance, the cat royally ignores me. Fuming, I grab the first thing from the basket I can find and throw it at the feline. The cat easily dodges the projectile, a glove with iron meshing, spits at me once disdainfully, then, tail held high, trots away.

  “Yeah, just leave me behind,” I grumble. “Let me do all the work on my own, like everyone else!”

  Joints stiff, I slowly make my way up to retrieve the gauntlet, regretting my burst of anger—as if a cat could actually understand me.

  “What an odd thing to wear…” I say, turning the glove in my hands.

  I slip it on. It’s too big for me and jingles when I move. Lodged inside the metallic rings, I notice a small emerald-green jewel. As I angle it toward the remaining daylight, a strange symbol flashes just below its surface. I shake the gem around like it’s a Magic 8 Ball, but nothing more appears, and I wonder if my vision’s playing tricks on me.

  I put the gauntlet back in the basket and pick up a dagger instead. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for: set deep within the handle are three small round stones of a creamy white tint. I drop the knife back in and grab another weapon. Again, I find what looks like a ruby set into the blade itself.

  I squint in the near darkness. What are these things? A picture of Arthur propelling himself into the air during his practice fight with Percy comes back to me. Are these the sources of power I’ve been hearing about, those things called oghams?

  I grab the glove again and put it back on. “How, exactly, does this work?”

  Tongue stuck out, I point my hand out, as far away from me as possible. The last thing I need now is to lose an eye or an ear because I don’t know what I’m doing.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining the green flash coming out of my hand. Nothing. Tentatively, I open an eye, then the other. Maybe something happened, but I didn’t see it because my eyes were closed. I concentrate again, pretending laser beams are shooting out of the gauntlet. Still nothing.

  “Open sesame,” I say, shaking my arm.

  I tap on the stone, but no symbol appears, not even the tiniest bit of a glow.

  “Stupid thing’s broken.”

  I fling the glove back amongst the rest of the gear and lug the basket back into the armory. It takes me another half hour to put everything away, but, finally, the task is done, and I dust off my hands.

  All I need now is a hot bath, a warm meal, and heaps of sleep. I limp to the door and freeze at the sound of something rattling.

  “Is-Is someone here?” I call out.

  Stillness greets my words, and I slowly let out my breath.

  As I open the door, the sound comes back again, louder. I fling myself against the wall, wary of any attacker. I gasp as a large trunk in the opposite corner hops and shakes furiously, bouncing over the tiled floor. I feel the blood drain from my face. Is this another demon beast?

  I inch outside the room, then waver. Keva was clear that what happened to Owen had been an accident and that no Fey could enter the school uninvited.

  Unable to decide what to do, my thoughts grind to a painful stop, until, at last, I make up my mind. Slowly, I tiptoe up to the chest, unfasten the lock, then carefully ease the cover open.

  Something small and black bounces out of it. It lands on my head, sharp claws digging into my face, then latches on to my hair. I shriek.

  “Gerroff! Gerroff!”

  I reach back to find scruffy fur, then try to pull the thing off of me. Finally, after much effort and many tufts of hair lost, I hold before me the hobgoblin from my first morning here.

  “Puck!” I say, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

  The little creature flinches, and I soften my tone.

  “What were you doing in there?”

  I glance down and notice the bottom of the box is strewn with small shards of glass and spilled…

  “Milk,” I say. “Did someone play a prank on you?”

  The small creature’s shaking so badly that I’m afraid to let it down. Despite my initial disgust, I cradle Puck in my arms like I would a small child.

  “There, there, you’re fine now.” And if I ever get my hands on the one who did this to you, it’s going to be someone else’s turn to lose hair!

  A few moments later, the hobgoblin falls asleep in my arms, snoring peacefully. I look around, but quickly realize I cannot leave him in here, not after what’s been done to him, so I take him with me.

  “Incoming!” someone yells.

  I duck as a jet of water blasts into the wall next a foot from my face. An older boy laughs as he runs past me, his uniform soaked. He then turns around and punches the air. A blue glow surrounds his hand, then propels itself into another boy, farther down the corridor. Some girls squeal as water splashes onto them.

  “Enough!”

  The two boys disappear around a corner as a plump woman hurries behind, her hair undone from too much running.

  “Ewww!” says one of the splashed girls as I head their way. “What’s that thing?”

  I instinctively hold Puck closer to myself. Avoiding any eye contact, I try to hurry past them but they block my way.

  “It’s Puck,” the second girl says with a grimace. “How disgusting!”

  The first girl chuckles. “What are you doing with it? Breast-feeding?”

  All three girls laugh at that. I want to ignore them, prove that I’m above petty insults like these. But I’ve never been good at being the center of attention, mainly because it’s never been for a good reason, like now.

  “Just leave me alone,” I say.

  I try to push through them, but one of the girls grabs my arm and jerks me backward, hard. I wince and drop Puck. I try to catch him again, but the hobgoblin lands on the stone floor with a sickening crunch. For a moment, I feel like the whole world’s stopped spinning, and I hold my breath. But Puck seems merely stunned and shakes his head as he sits up on his furry hind.

  “Look at that filthy thing,” says the girl who grabbed my arm. She kicks Puck in the ribs, sending him flying a few feet away.

  “Stop!” I cry, horrified.

  “Or what?” the girl asks with a smirk. “What are you worried about a demon for?”

  She makes to go after Puck again, but I yank her by the hair. “I said stop!”

  The girl shrieks like I’ve just stabbed her, and, quite frankly, that’s exactly what I want to do. But I let her go. The girl starts crying, and her friends glare at me.

  “How dare you go against your superiors?” says one of them.

  I grit my teeth. “You? Superior to me? Please!”

  But the girl points at me. “You’re just a page, a gofer. You have no right to do this to those in higher stations than you. You ought to apologize, right now!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Puck get back up, then scramble away. I grin at her. Is she really hiding behind a stupid high school standard to tell me what I ought and ought not to do?

  “Make me,” I say.

  When none of them make a movement, I spin around and march away, back to the dorms. Different country or different world, it doesn’t matter. People can be as loathsome here as anywhere else.

  ◆◆◆

  The energetic ring of the church bells wakes me up. I roll out of bed feeling like I’ve been kicked all night long like a ball at a soccer game. Outside, the sky-lake is a gray pink, and I wonder idly if it ever rains in this world.

  Keva’s already awake, adding the final touches to her makeup. She admires her work in the mirror, then sighs. “I wish I had dimples. Then my cheeks wouldn’t look so fat.”

  I drown my laughter in my pillow as she puts her mirror down.

  “Well, toodles,” she says before strutting out.

  With a start, I hear the last peal of the
bells echo through the arched windows—I’m oh-so-very late. I let out a slew of curses, struggle to get dressed, and sprint out of the dorms. I skid around a corner, nearly run a servant down, then beeline through the outside gardens to the church.

  I try to make an inconspicuous entrance, but the door squeaks as I shut it, and the eyes of all the teachers standing at the back swivel around to stare me down. Hunching, I make my way to the freshmen pews—or the pages’ section, as everyone keeps reminding me.

  I find Jack in his usual spot, but no Bri here this time to greet me, and of course, Owen’s absent too.

  “I heard you got in trouble again,” Jack whispers to me as I sit between him and Keva.

  “That girl hates me,” I whisper back, “and for no reason.”

  “You talked smack to her face.”

  “She was bossing me around!”

  “She has every right to,” Jack says. “She’s a knight.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I’ve learned my lesson,” I mumble, tracing the school crest embroidered on my jacket’s front pocket. “Cross and shield for squire, add a sword, and you’ve got yourself a knight. I know now. Still, it doesn’t make it right.”

  “I know it’s not always easy to tell,” Jack adds after the Credo is sung and we resume our seats, “but there’s a trick.”

  “What is it? The size of their heads?”

  “The more rings and earrings they wear, the higher ranked they are,” Jack replies. “Usually.”

  “Well in that case, I’ll just get some of these practice rings Ysolt hands out. If that’s all it takes for Jennifer to be entitled to act like a bitch, there’s no reason I can’t do the same.”

  “Nice try,” Jack says, “but you’re only allowed to keep those oghams you capture, or family heirlooms.”

  I sigh. There goes my brilliant idea.

  “So where’s Bri?” I ask.

  “Home.”

  A few of the squires in front of us turn around to shush us, and I return my attention to the homily.

  “…sad event is to serve as a reminder that we’re never safe until all demons have been cast back into Hell!”

  The words send goose bumps down my arms. I know that Father Tristan’s referring to Owen’s attack yesterday.

  “This comes as a reminder to never let our guard down,” the priest continues, “even in times when peace seems to be presiding over our world. We were placed on this earth to serve as its keepers, and a good keeper does not fall asleep on his watch. These devils will stop at nothing to see our demise. They will find any way to tempt us, to lead us astray into the ever-damning flames of Hell.

  “Satan’s avidity will not be sated until every single one of us, every single one of our souls, is his to command. But we know the truth of his ways, we know how deviant and wily his emissaries on earth are, and we shall never give in! We shall never bend to these Fey, these great seducers of men, but we will send them back into Gehenna, where they belong, to expiate their sins for all eternity!”

  An assenting murmur rises from the nave as the first rays of the sun creep through the rose window behind the altar, showering the congregation with motley hues.

  “Now let us pray to God for Owen’s recovery, that He may protect that innocent boy’s soul from the devil’s torments.”

  Keva leans into me. “Isn’t Father Tristan inspiring?”

  I nod, though I can’t shake a certain unease the sermon brings me. His thoughts parallel what those three upper classmen said last night about Puck, and I just can’t make myself think they were right. Shouldn’t one always stand up for the weak and defenseless, no matter what their background is? Or, as Father Tristan seems to imply, are there creatures whose existence should automatically be abolished just for being who or what they are?

  I stifle a groan; thinking in this roundabout way is bound to give me a migraine for the rest of the day.

  ◆◆◆

  The moment Keva, Jack, and I walk into the dining hall, we’re assailed by the voices of hundreds of students debating what’s going to happen next.

  “I say we should march into that forest and flush all that vermin out,” says the boy ahead of me in the food line.

  “That’s too dangerous,” his friend says, slopping a plateful of gruel into his bowl. “We’d be attacking them in their own territory.” He shudders. “Just thinking about all those trees surrounding us makes me cringe.”

  The first boy laughs. “You’re such a sissy. You’re never going to be knighted if you keep thinking that way.”

  “I’d at least live long enough to reach knighthood age,” the other boy retorts as they head to find seats.

  I fill my plate with buttered toast and yogurt. “What were they talking about?” I ask my roommate.

  Keva tosses her long hair over her shoulder and shrugs. “The forest is where most of the Fey are now,” she says with a pout. “It’s the last place left that’s truly wild enough for them to live in. Which incidentally makes it the most dangerous place for us.” She leans in conspiratorially. “I hear that their headquarters is in a place called Avalon.”

  “But…aren’t we located just next to it?” I ask.

  As we make our way through the tables, people’s conversations stop.

  “It’s her, isn’t it?” I hear a boy ask in a loud whisper.

  “Course it is. She’s the only page that old.”

  “Over here,” Keva says, setting her tray down on a table by the back wall.

  Before I can follow suit, a boy jumps in front of me. “You’re Morgan, right?”

  “What do you want?” I ask, already imagining him taunting and mocking me. I take an involuntary step back, but the boy only smiles.

  “That was really brave of you, what you did yesterday,” he says, looking down. “And, uh, you’re really cute.” He blushes furiously, then quickly retreats to his laughing friends.

  “Well, aren’t you Miss Popular all of a sudden,” Keva says.

  Dazed, I sink into my seat. Never in my wildest dreams have I imagined this to happen to me, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.

  “What, you expect to give out autographs now?” Keva asks.

  I clear my throat. “So, why do we live so close to the Fey then?” I ask to switch topics. “And in a magical place, when we want to…get rid of it all?”

  “How does the expression go again?” Keva says. “Keep your enemies close and all that.” She frowns at Jack stabbing his bacon with his fork like it might run away from him otherwise. “What’s up with you?” she asks him.

  “I don’t know how you can be so carefree,” he says. “Owen’s still in the mending wing. He hasn’t woken up, not even to go to the bathroom.”

  “How would you know?” Keva says. “I thought we weren’t allowed near him.”

  “I’ve got my ways,” Jack says, his ears turning pink.

  “But the surgery went well, right?” I ask.

  Jack exhales loudly. “We won’t know until he wakes up.”

  The food turns to ash in my mouth, and I have difficulty swallowing. With a twinge of guilt, I look at the place where Bri and Owen should be, and am amazed to find how quickly their friendship has grown on me and how I now miss them.

  “Does this kind of accident happen often?” I ask.

  “Not really,” Keva says. “Oh, it’s happened before, but the last incident was, like, twenty years ago, and it was nothing compared to this. I mean, the records state nobody got seriously hurt.”

  I set my fork back down, unable to take another bite. On my first week here, one of the worst accidents in Lake High’s history takes place. I force myself not to think about my last days in Switzerland, but it’s as effective as carrying water in a sieve. There’s no denying it; I’m bad juju.

  “So you say there are records of the school?” I ask, an idea springing to mind.

  “For the whole school’s history,” Keva says, pulling out her pocket mirror to check her teeth. “That’s about a
thousand years right there.”

  “And it lists all the students that have attended here?”

  Keva flicks her gaze toward me. “Amongst other things. Why do you ask?”

  I stuff my mouth with bread to avoid having to answer. How can I tell her I want to find out whether my father ever came to this school too, and if they state anything regarding his death?

  “But that’s not the important thing,” we hear a boy say at the table next to us. “I want to know if our practices are going to stop now.”

  “Why would they?” a girl asks.

  The boy pushes his plate away and leans forward. “That page didn’t follow the rules,” he says. “He didn’t check his gear before using it. He wasn’t even cleared for it. And now…” He splays his fingers out before him to describe the ensuing chaos.

  “Didn’t you hear Father Tristan?” the girl retorts. “We’re probably going to go to war. Knights are too valuable, and we need to continue the training. Anyway, the news board said KORT will tell us their decision before practice tonight. Guess we’ll find out then.”

  A chair falls to the floor with such force that we all jump in our seats.

  “You done that on purpose!” Gareth shouts on the side of the dining hall reserved for KORT members. His bulky shoulders are smeared in what appears to be a full portion—or perhaps two—of oatmeal.

  “Did you see me throw anything at you?” responds Gauvain’s silky-smooth voice.

  Gareth points a finger at his cousin, sitting a table away from him. “Give me your coat.”

  Gauvain’s laugh bounces along the room’s walls. “Why should I?”

  A predatory smile spreads on Gareth’s dark features. “It would only be fair.”

  I see the tall senior reach for a dish behind him, but Gauvain’s still laughing and doesn’t notice. Percy, however, moves his chair farther away from him, and that finally catches his attention.

  Gauvain’s halfway turned around in his seat when the dish hits him square in the face. Pieces of omelet and sauce drip down his head, onto his lap.

  “No exchange, no clean coat for you too,” says Gareth with a self-satisfied smirk.

  Keva sighs next to me. “We should probably get out of here before it gets real messy.”