Ahead of her a dark shape slowly materialized. Bael seemed to lean over the rope bridge—dangerously precarious. Thick fog swirled around his face, twisting and turning like it was a living thing.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry, Elissa.”
“Bael!” Ursula yelled, but he didn’t answer. Clutching the rope bridge, she made her way toward him, her heart in her throat. “Bael! Stay with me.” Elissa. Was that his wife?
“You’re right,” he said softly into the fog. “You’re right.” He leaned forward, about to topple over the edge, when Ursula lunged, grabbing his shoulder.
He turned to look at her, the shadows in his eyes suddenly clearing.
“Bael,” she said. “The mist is lying. It’s not Elissa. It’s a trick. I’m here now, and I need you here with me.”
His eyes shone like starlight through the fog, and he reached for her face, but even as she did, a sharp gust of wind rocked the bridge. It only took a moment for Bael to slip. Ursula lunged, grabbing one of his hands before he completely fell. His legs dangled off the suspension bridge, and with her free hand, she clutched the rope for dear life, her arms burning with the exertion.
Ursula’s arms strained at the weight as Bael’s torso slid along the wet boards and toward the chasm. If his entire body fell off the bridge, she wouldn’t be able to hold him.
One of Bael’s massive hands seized the cord above his head. “I’ve got it. I’m okay.” Slowly, he hoisted himself back on the bridge.
Ursula fell to her knees, her body shaking. The ligaments in her arms felt like rubber.
“How did you know it wasn’t real?” asked Bael.
“I heard my mother’s voice. She tried to lure me off the bridge. Even though I can’t remember her, I’m certain that she loved me. She wouldn’t want me dead.”
“Thank you.” He leaned forward, kissing her on the forehead, then continued on into the mist. As the air began to clear, the other side of the chasm came into view—a sheer cliff face towering above them.
CHAPTER 19
T he cliff loomed over them, a hundred feet in the air. Unlike the sheer basalt cliff at the base of the summit, curves undulated across this cliff. A path wound around the curved wall—a narrow ledge that led downward into the ravine.
As they moved closer, stepping from the bridge onto the ledge, it became clear that the ledge was manmade, the rock below their feet chipped and uneven, not smooth like the cliff wall above them.
Mist and spray slicked the rock from the torrent below. Fortunately whoever carved the path had had the foresight to include a length of chain attached to pitons, hammered into the cliff face. Ursula could move carefully along the ledge with one hand holding tight to the chain at all times. The eerie sound of the torrent echoing off the walls sent a shiver up her neck.
They moved slowly, clinging to the thin chain as they walked. Spray saturated their clothes, but at least no one was trying to lure them to watery deaths at this point. The sound of the rushing river grew louder, almost deafening, a constant roar that made conversation impossible. Eventually the path made a tight curve away from the water, snaking around a rocky ravine. Deep in the center of a crater, a small pond glimmered in the sunlight.
Underfoot, the slick rock gave way to dark red sand and chocolate colored stones. Around them, massive cliffs curved like a crater on the moon. Dark basalt rose hundreds of feet into the air above the pond.
Ursula took a deep breath. “Where are we?”
“Inside the volcano’s caldera. It doesn’t look active. And I believe this is the lake we’ve been seeking.”
Ursula took a deep breath. I will not imagine this place erupting. Without her fire magic, she and Bael would be incinerated.
While the enormous walls of stone lent a claustrophobic feeling to the surroundings, they did at least block the wind. Here, at the bottom of the caldera, the pond water lay perfectly still, smooth as glass. A dark shape protruded from the water, and as they moved closer, she could see that it was large volcanic bolder. From its center, the pommel of a great sword glinted in the sunlight.
The path led further downward, to the very shore of the pond, the water a deep steel gray. Trees and shrubs lined one side of the lake, and between the trees lay two smaller pools of water. Above the pond, wisps of mist twisted and turned in the air. Its stark, otherworldly beauty made the hair raise on the back of Ursula’s arms.
When they reached the pond’s shore, Bael stood at the edge, looking out at the boulder.
“I think we’ve found Excalibur,” said Ursula.
Bael was already pulling off his shoes.
She frowned. “What are you doing?”
“What I came here to do. I’m going to get the blade.”
“You think you should just pull it from the rock?”
He scratched the stubble on his chin. “The instructions are a little unclear.”
“Instructions?” Even as she said the word, she caught a glimpse of the Angelic text carved into a nearby bolder. “A knight has faith.”
Bael stepped into the water. Immediately, he grunted in pain.
“What is it?”
“Gods below. The water is hot.”
The lake looked still as glass, the air cool and misty. “It doesn’t look hot.”
As he stepped out, Bael lifted his foot so she could see the bright red skin.
“Yikes.”
He hopped over to one of the smaller pools of water. Carefully, he dipped a toe in, then the rest of his feet, exhaling deeply. He sat at the side of the pool, washing his feet. Gently he prodded his foot with a finger. Ursula grimaced. Bael shook his head. “I think there’s something in the larger pond. A poison, perhaps.” He nodded at the other tiny pool. “You can get yourself something to drink in the other one. It smells of fresh rainwater.”
Ursula’s throat was parched, and she crossed to the other tiny pool, kneeling beside it. She cupped her hands in the water, drinking from them thirstily. It tasted cool and clean.
When she turned back to Bael, he was crossing barefoot to the cluster of trees that rimmed the pond. “I’m getting you something to eat.”
She smiled, sitting down to lean against a tree trunk. First, she’d eat. Then she’d figure out what to do about the sword. She never could think straight on an empty stomach. As Bael plucked fruit and nuts from the trees, Ursula stared at the lake, now reflecting a darkening sky. Beyond the tall cliffs, the sun had begun to set. Ursula shivered. Her clothes were still damp from the gorge, and the temperature was rapidly dropping.
Bael returned to her, his large hands full of pistachios, and the crook of his elbow crammed with apples. Already, her mouth was watering.
He sat by her side, handing her the handfuls of food, and she tucked them into the hollow of her skirt, using it as a bowl. She unshelled the pistachios, popping them in her mouth. She swallowed hard. “The queen and Merlin think I’m some sort of evil Darkling meant to bring about the end of the world.”
Bael stopped eating, staring at her. “You met the great druidic mage?”
“I had a midnight visitor. An owl. His name was Taliesin, and he transformed me into a bird. He took me to see Merlin in an old oak. And there’s this prophecy about a lost one who will be found, something about an oak.”
“What else did he say?”
“He told me about Excalibur. That the Darkling would come for it. He told me the whole prophecy.”
Shadows slid through Bael’s eyes. “And what is it, exactly?”
Ursula took a deep breath, reciting the poem:
“The end starts when magic thickens the air,
The lost, as if unburied from the soil
Uncovered from the dankest roots of oaks.
Darkling, remember. Will you ring death knells
for Mount Acidale, kingdom of fire?"
Bael looked at her a long time before speaking. “Mount Acidale.”
“Do you have any idea what it means? What�
�s the deal with Mount Acidale?”
He dropped her gaze, and the air iced around them. “I don’t know exactly what the poem means. I only know that a battle was fought in Mount Acidale, and I was there. Terrible atrocities were committed and few lived.” He met her gaze again. “The city nearly burned to ash.”
“Maybe that’s how my mother died.”
Bael nodded solemnly. “But you’re not the Darkling. The darkling is evil incarnate. A creature so vile and so cruel he will destroy humanity as we know it if he gains too much power.”
“And how do you know that’s not me?”
“I’ve seen the face of evil. And you’re not it. Like I said, I already know what I need to know about you.”
She loosed a long breath. “So you’ve heard of this Darkling before?”
“The legend of the Darkling has been around as long as I can remember. He has many names—Abaddon, Bast, Fenriz, Moloch, even Lucifer. If the Darkling is allowed to return, chaos will claim the world. The Darkling has an allegiance to no god, wants to overthrow them all. Demons, humans, all living creatures on earth would suffer. It would be the end of days.”
Granted, Ursula had a memory problem, but that really didn’t sound like her. “Is there a way to stop it?”
Bael shook his head. “I don’t know.” He tossed his apple core in the water of the lake. It landed with a splash, water popping and bubbling around it. They both looked at the spot.
“Seems like some sort of acid,” said Ursula.
Bael nodded. “It must be coming from the volcano.”
Ursula grimaced. “I think I read about something like this in Yellowstone. People fall in and dissolve. Their bodies are never found.”
Bael didn’t answer, instead picking up a baseball sized chunk of granite. He hurled it into the lake, and it splashed distantly.
Ursula stood next to him. Together they waited for a few minutes to see if something would happen, but the lake remained still. In its center, the pommel of the sword still jutted from the boulder, tantalizingly close.
Bael cupped his hands around his mouth. “I am Bael, Lord of Abelda, here to seek the Lady of the Lake.”
Ursula followed suit. “Ursula. Hound of Emerazel. Here for the same thing.”
Silence greeted them. Ursula hugged herself, trying to get warm, while Bael picked up one stone after another, throwing them into the pond.
Ursula began to pace back and forth. “We should do something productive.”
Bael hurled another stone. “I am.”
“You’re just throwing rocks.”
“I’m extending the path.”
“You are?”
He hurled another large stone. “You can help if you like.”
His plan would take ages. “I’m going to walk around the lake. Maybe there’s something we missed.”
“Do you want to borrow my sword?”
“I’ll be all right,” said Ursula. “This place is completely deserted.”
“As you wish,” said Bael.
Ursula began following the shoreline. She scanned the ground, finding nothing but coarse red sand and dark brown boulders. At least there wasn’t a shortage of material for path-building.
When she’d come round to the other side of the pond, she spotted an odd shape that broke the monotony of sand and boulders. Burnt in the center of a larger patch of sand was Emerazel’s sigil, stained deep amber in the setting sun. Ursula studied it, her mind churning as a shadow crept over the caldera.
“Bael,” she called out, projecting her voice as far as she could. “There’s a sigil here. I think this must be where Kester left Avalon.”
Instead of answering, Bael simply pointed at the sky behind her. Ursula turned slowly, momentarily terrified the dragon had found her. But when she looked up into the sky, she saw something else instead—gathering storm clouds, blotting out the setting sun.
“Get over here!” called Bael.
Thunder rumbled over the distance, then a spear of lightning flashed in the sky. The sky flashed again, and lightning struck the top of one of the crater walls. A deafening crack of thunder boomed over the caldera. Bloody hell, that was close. And she was standing totally exposed, an open beacon for a lightning bolt. She turned, running for Bael and the grove of trees. As she ran, the iron-gray clouds unleashed a punishing torrent of rain, soaking her dress.
Just as she reached the trees, lightning touched down again, striking the sword’s pommel. Thunder boomed off the rock.
Bael grabbed her hand pulling her down. “We should get away from the trees. We can shelter next to a large boulder.” Gripping her hand, he guided her to an enormous volcanic boulder that leaned over the earth, sheltering a small dry patch.
“Lean against the stone,” he said.
Ursula slid down the rough stone to the ground. From here, they had a perfect view of the lake.
In a surprisingly graceful move, Bael pulled off his jacket. “Put this over your head for now.”
She held it aloft like some sort of tarp while Bael dashed over to the trees. Rain hammered her legs and feet, but in another minute, Bael had returned with four sturdy sticks that he jammed into the ground around her. He pulled the jacket from her and secured it over the sticks like a sort of tent, then slid his sword under the makeshift tarp. He sat next to her, both of them with a view of the misty lake, its surface hammered by the rain.
“You’ll want to pull your legs in from the rain,” he said.
Ursula tucked her knees to her chest, her gaze roaming over his chiseled arms. “Where did you get the sword from, anyway?”
“From the armory, of course.”
“And how did you find the armory?”
Bael leaned back by her side, his profile a dark silhouette. “Did the queen give you a tour of the palace?”
“No, she just showed me her falcon. Did she really give you a tour?”
Bael laughed softly, and she could feel his bare shoulder move next to hers, his heat radiating into her body. “I did my own exploring last night. It’s a beautiful place. I can see myself living on earth again, in a place like that.”
“You snuck out of the infirmary and stole a sword?”
“Well, yes. A warrior needs a sword.”
This close to Bael she could feel his every movement, and smell his now-familiar sandalwood scent wrapping around her like a caress.
Bael studied her closely. “How’s your neck?”
She reached up to touch the wound. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Let me see.”
She turned and felt his breath warming the nape of her neck. “It’s fine. Not deep at all. It’ll heal up in a few days,” said Bael. “I’m sorry about hurting you, but it was the only way.”
“I know. We had to do it to get here.”
Bael’s body warmed hers, but the temperature kept dropping. As the storm abated, mountain mist began to creep over the sides of the cliff and pour into the crater. Ursula shivered, and Bael slid an arm around her, pulling her in close.
Under their makeshift tent, they watched the mist drift down the cliff faces like slow motion waterfalls, beautiful and hypnotizing at the same time. She could feel each rise of his chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart.
SHE AWOKE with a start in the quiet night, finding that the mist had cleared. A vault of stars blazed above the caldera, brighter than she’d ever seen. She’d been sleeping on Bael’s chest, his powerful arms wrapped around her. He breathed deeply, softly.
Despite the warmth of Bael’s body, goosebumps prickled along her arms. The mist on the water swirled. Rhythmically—too rhythmically.
She nudged Bael. “Something is happening,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes slowly.
“Look, the mist on the water.”
He drew in a slow breath. “The Lady of the Lake,” he murmured.
The mist moved over the water as if alive, but there was no breeze. It seemed
to be gathering in the center of the water, pooling around the sword. It swirled faster and faster—until suddenly everything went still.
A figure stepped from the fog, draped in a long white gown that glided over the water’s surface, as if she were floating above it. Her skin was pale as milk, and somehow hard to focus on, as if she were made out the mist itself. Only her eyes were clear: two blazing, golden orbs.
She stared at them, slowly extending a pale arm to beckon them closer.
“What are we supposed to do?” Ursula whispered. “We can’t go in that acid bath.”
Bael pulled off the make-shift tent and stood, then began to walk toward the water. Ursula rose, hurried after him.
Mist rolled toward them, skimming over the surface of the lake. It stopped when it reached the shore, piling up like sea foam.
Bael stood at the edge of the water, staring at the Lady of the Lake, and Ursula stopped by his side. The way the mist spread out and pooled at the lake’s edge entranced Ursula. It had a strange texture, almost like it was a thickening into a path.
“The mist leads the way,” murmured Bael.
Ursula bent over and touched the gathering fog as it smoothed over. Instead of condensation she felt a spongy, but solid mass—just a few inches thick above the acid. She glanced at the boulder. A knight has faith.
“I think she wants us to walk along the path.”
Tentatively, Ursula stepped forward, her feet landing on the soft mist that hovered merely inches above the acid. She tried not to think of Bael’s burned foot or the hiss when the apple core had hit the water.
Careful to stay on the path, she placed one foot in front of another, her pulse racing as she moved closer to the Lady of the Lake.
Around her little puffs of vapor flitted over the water, keeping pace with her. When she reached the midway point she stopped, turning back to look at Bael. He was following on the path, his movements graceful and smooth. The Lady’s golden eyes burned intently into her.
Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3) Page 16
