Knight Spellbound

by Jason Hamilton

  Guyon’s eyes widened. That was Brit’s voice. And yes, as the Armorican knight bore down on the pair of them, he recognized her armor and helmet.

  “Don’t shoot,” he said to Belphoebe who had pulled back her bow string again. Then, limping forward he put out his hands. “Brit, it’s me, Guyon.”

  Brit reined in her horse and it slowed, then she hastily dismounted, pulling her sword free as she did so.

  Guyon swallowed and took a step back. “Britomart?”

  “How do I know you are not the spawn of Annwyn?” said Brit’s voice from beneath her helmet. She brandished the blade to point straight at Guyon’s face.

  “Britomart, it’s me. We met less than two weeks ago, with Una. She traveled with you.”

  Brit turned slightly so she was facing Belphoebe. “Put down your weapon or I will destroy you both where you stand.”

  Guyon took a step forward, feeling the absence of his own weapon, which he’d left by the fire. “Brit, I promise we’re not going to hurt you. The Faerie Queen said you would be coming. She said you and Una were separated.”

  At last, Brit slowly put down her sword and lifted the helmet off her head. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled, and she appeared far less composed than the last time he’d laid eyes on her. What had happened in the time since they left each other? For a moment, she simply stared at them, breathing heavily, but a slow realization spread over her face and her eyes, those wild eyes, grew steadily wider.

  “I am sorry,” Brit almost gasped out. “I don’t know what has happened to me lately. I cannot control myself, and even friends look like monsters in my eyes.”

  “We understand,” Guyon said with as much of a soothing tone as he could muster. Clearly something had gone terribly wrong with Britomart and Una’s quest. “Britomart, where’s Una?”

  “I…” Britomart turned those crazed eyes to lock with his. “I think she might be dead.”

  Guyon hid his shock as Britomart began to tell them everything that had happened since they left, about the strange castle where they had found George, about the encounter with Wrath and the enormous monster that had knocked Brit out, eaten her horse, and presumably killed Una. Then she ended by telling of her time alone, her travels to the inn in Saxon territory, and her pursuit of the “giant”, as Brit called him, who had to be Paridell.

  “We haven’t seen such a man yet,” said Guyon when she’d finished. “So it’s possible he may have doubled back or found refuge elsewhere. But I can tell you that he is a knight of the Faerie Queen. She appeared to me in a dream and told me as much.”

  “He did not appear to be such a noble knight,” replied Brit.

  “Yes,” Guyon stroked his beard. “His actions do seem off for one of the Order of Maidenglory.”

  Suddenly, Belphoebe broke in. “And in this castle, did you see anyone else held captive there? A girl, perhaps, with blonde hair?”

  Brit turned an eye on Belphoebe. “I saw no such person.”

  It was only then that Guyon realized the two women had not been introduced to each other. “I’m sorry, Britomart, this is Belphoebe. She’s the woman I was sent to help.”

  “To find this blonde girl?” asked Brit.

  “Yes, in part.” And Guyon then proceeded to relate everything that had happened to him in the last two weeks, how he had tracked the three bandits, rescued Belphoebe, and how she had helped to heal his leg.

  “And the castle that you stayed in sounds very much like where the bandits may have come from.” Belphoebe interjected.

  Now it was Brit who was deep in thought, running a hand through her mangled hair to smooth it out. “Yes, it is clear there are dark forces at work there.”

  “That’s where we are heading now,” said Guyon. “Could you direct us there?”

  Britomart looked at him, and there was conflict in her eyes. “I do not wish to return to that place. But...it is clear to me now that I cannot be trusted on my own. If you are traveling there, I will remain with you.” She turned to look at Belphoebe. “And I would be honored to help you find your sister, if she is indeed at this castle.”

  Belphoebe nodded, “I thank you.”

  “Do not thank me,” said Brit. “I do not deserve anyone’s gratitude.”

  Guyon let his eyes linger on Brit, though she was no longer looking at him. He now better understood the Faerie Queen’s urgency. Britomart was no longer the same woman she had been just days ago. Something in her had broken. Her life was out of balance. And despite the insults she had thrown at him when they had first met, he held nothing but pity for her. Perhaps spending some time together would help her heal.

  They broke camp and continued traveling for a time in silence, with Brit on her stolen horse, and Guyon and Belphoebe on Fairstep. They made their way across two large moors before Guyon chose to say something.

  “I will tell you this,” he spoke to Brit. “I do not think that Una is dead.”

  Brit turned to face him as they rode. “Why do you say that?”

  “Just something the Faerie Queen said to me,” said Guyon, though he chose not to elaborate. Brit would probably not take the news well that Guyon had been instructed to kill Una if the need arose. “And besides, I know Una. It will take a lot more than a single monster to take her off the board.”

  “Let us hope that she does not encounter more than that monster then,” said Brit, appearing unconvinced and maintaining her general depressive air.

  The mood soured after that, and they continued in silence, with Guyon trying desperately to think of what to do next. All they had to go on was reaching this castle and hoping they could find some answers there. But only Brit knew what to expect, and her experience had not been a pleasant one. They would just have to wait and see.

  Una stared Wrath down, their eyes meeting in a silent contest of wills. The Sin smiled and stepped back until he was once again sitting in the unremarkable chair at the edge of the cave, his eyes never leaving hers. A shadow flickered on the edge of Una’s vision, though she ignored it, continuing to stare Wrath down.

  “You know who my father is?” she asked, trying her best to keep the edge out of her voice, to keep him from knowing just how desperate she was for this one piece of information. Her skin seemed to tingle, anticipation causing her to shiver.

  “We strongly suspect his identity, though I admit I do not know how he became your father. Perhaps Duessa does, but that knowledge is beyond me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see, your father has been trapped in the Otherworld for thousands of years.”

  A stillness settled over Una’s body, and the words of her adopted father came to her unbidden. “First summoning,” he had ranted. “Your mother. Deal with the other...the other…you are the child of the other.” He had spoken of three summonings. The first had somehow resulted in her conception, the second had resulted in the release of the dragon into her home, and the destruction of all she held dear. The third summoning Una had prevented, using her own magic to thwart her adopted father’s spell before it could come to fruition. She did not know what kind of evil would have come through the breach had she not done what she did.

  She had learned upon that day that her father was likely not a being of this world, she had suspected...but now she knew.

  Her father was from Annwyn, the Otherworld.

  She curled her fists together, the tips of her nails biting into her palms. “What do you know about him?”

  She surprised herself with the pained overtone of her voice, and Wrath clearly heard it too. He smiled, a predatory smile, like he was moving in for the kill. “He is our leader, the Lord of the Otherworld ever since the death of Arawn. He is known by many names: the Lord of the Wild Hunt, the Angel of Death, Gwyn, son of Nudd. The Christians call him Lucifer, but to us he is known as Cernunnos, the Horned One. It is he who leads us, and it is he we will bring to rule over this land. And who better to reign by his side, than his daughter, born of a mortal wom
an yet possessing all of his power, together with me, the new God of War. All nations will bow to us.”

  While he spoke, the cavern darkened, and more shadows flickered at the edges of Una’s vision. But she heeded none of it.

  “What are you saying?” she intoned softly. “You’re telling me that I am the daughter…”

  “Yes, Una,” said Wrath. “You are the daughter of the greatest being to ever walk this world or the Other.”

  Una fought to keep her composure, and yet a tingle had started in her fingers, a warmth spread across her chest and suddenly it seemed as though the walls of the cave were closing in around her.

  Her father was one of them. She had suspected this for a long time, but the news still shook her to her core. What scared her more was the fact that, for the first time in her life, she was conflicted about herself and her place in all of this. If her power came from someone so evil, could she really be trusted? Could she be the force for good that she wanted to be, or was she destined to join the Sins in their endeavors. She had to believe that she still had a choice. But she couldn’t let those thoughts rattle her now.

  More Shadows flickered around the edges of the cave and for the first time she turned to look. It was only then that she realized that the two of them were not alone, but instead were surrounded by ethereal shapes that she almost couldn't make out. Dark monsters of varying sizes danced around them, all while Wrath remained sitting calmly in his chair watching her react.

  “You don't have to fight it, Una,” he said. “Now you understand why you are so important, why Duessa has taken an interest in you, as I have.”

  “No,” said Una. “I don't want any part of this.”

  The shadows seemed to slow around her, quitting their dance and closing in when she wasn’t looking, or was that the walls? Panic rose in her throat, and she suddenly had the urge to be somewhere, anywhere but here. She had to get out. She had to find somewhere where she could deal with this new information.

  Wrath stood from his chair and slowly walked toward her with his arms outstretched, a look of calm reverence on his face, not a hostile gesture in the slightest. And yet Una could not help but think that he was bearing down on her. Like a predator.

  “Everything will be alright,” he cooed. “As I said before, all you need do is stay out of the way, and you will be safe. I cannot guarantee you will not be hurt if you continue to fight against us, to fight against your father.”

  The conflict that stirred Una’s belly in uncomfortable ways rose to the forefront again. No, she could not deal with this right now.

  “I have to get out of here,” she choked, barely recognizing that she said it aloud.

  “Of course, you need time to think it over,” said Wrath. “But I can provide you with all the time you need, right here. Here you will be safe, where my minions and I can watch over you.”

  “Get away from me!” Una scrambled back, her panic rising from a slow bubble to an intense heat. “I will not let you touch me!” Purposefully, she reached for her magic, summoning as much as she had ever held before. In that moment, she could feel the energy around her, and suddenly she was aware of much more than her mind had comprehended before.

  Only some of the creatures surrounding her had physical form, the rest were from somewhere else, somewhere beyond the fabric of her own reality. This was a place where the veil between this and the Otherworld remained thin. She and Brit had suspected it before, but now she knew that this cave must have been the site of a breach.

  And there was something else too: an energy here that felt almost like her own magic, and she had felt it before on the small island north of Anglesey, where another breach had opened, and where she had spoken to Sir Guyon as he fought for his life in the Shadow Realm.

  At that time, she had used her magic to communicate with him, and the voices in her head had taught her how to do it. Could she do more? Could she perhaps break through to the other side as a way to escape?

  She glanced back at the entrance to the cave, where she and Wrath had first arrived. The watery inlet was completely surrounded by the dark shapes of creatures corporeal and otherwise, all of them closing in. Her head snapped back to look at Wrath, who continued his advancements slowly, arms hanging loosely at his sides.

  “You have nowhere to go,” said Wrath. “I am your only hope. Stay with me, and the two of us will become great.” He drew even closer, reaching out one hand to stroke a strand of her wet hair behind one ear. “I will take care of you.”

  That was enough. She had to get out of this prison, one way or another. Gathering her magic, she threw it at a concentration of residual energy that was the original breach into this cave. She used it much as she had before to communicate with Guyon, but instead she sharpened her ability like a blade, almost instinctively, in order to slice open the space between two realities.

  A thin red line opened from the top of the cave ceiling to the floor, then rotated, leaving a shimmering pool of magic in front of her. For a moment all of the monsters and demons that surrounded her froze, their shadows dancing in the twinkling light of the portal. Even Wrath seemed surprised into immobility in the split second before she dove head first into the portal.

  Her last glimpse was of Wrath, his angry face contorting, and his arms reaching forward to stop her, but it was too late. She had escaped his grasp, and now she faced the new threat of the Shadow Realm.

  23

  A slow roll of thunder passed overhead as Britomart, Guyon, and Belphoebe finally arrived at the castle.

  “Yes, this is the place,” said Britomart. “I wish we did not have to return to this accursed castle. You know the mistress of this house will never let me back through?”

  “After what you told us,” said Guyon, “I am not surprised. But we know that whoever attacked Belphoebe and I likely came from this castle. We cannot allow that fact to go uninvestigated.”

  “Though I agree with you,” said Belphoebe to Guyon, whilst staring at the towering fortress, appearing black as it was silhouetted against the twilight sky, “Now that I'm here, this place unnerves me.”

  “Yes,” Guyon followed her gaze to dwell on the bare stones of the castle. “There is something in the air here. We best be on our guard.”

  Guyon secretly wondered if anyone actually lived in this castle. From here, he could make out very little, no sign of life along the ramparts or within the castle itself. The bridge extended over the small moat, but the gate was shut, and Guyon saw no light and heard no noise that would indicate anyone was inside.

  “Well if we're here, there's no point in delaying. Let’s get it over with.” Brit dismounted her horse, strode with confidence across the bridge, and knocked her gauntleted hand three times with the loud boom across the gate.

  Belphoebe hopped off of Guyon’s horse and he soon followed. The two of them flanked Brit on either side as they waited, but no sound came from within, and thunder cracked once again above them.

  “I don't like this,” Guyon scratched at the back of his head.

  Britomart knocked again, louder this time, and the sound echoed around them almost like the thunder overhead. Once again, they waited, but still no sign of life could be seen or heard.

  “What is going on here,” Britomart nearly growled with frustration.

  “Perhaps they knew we were coming,” said Belphoebe.

  But something about that explanation did not sit right with Guyon. This place reminded him, eerily, of the Bower of Bliss, the island and castle where they had found one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Yet unlike that place, there seemed to be no way to enter, and no one to fight.

  “I think they're in there,” he said, though he could not rationalize his reasons for thinking so. “Perhaps they are trying to avoid us.”

  “Perhaps it is better if we move on,” said Brit.

  “Or we could find a way to force our way in,” said Guyon.

  “What do you propose,” Belphoebe folded her arms and regarded Guyon. �
��Scale the walls?”

  Guyon immediately shook his head. “They are too high. It would take us days to create a ladder or platform long enough to reach, and we simply do not have the time.”

  “Then we break down the door,” said Brit, though she looked unenthusiastic.

  Guyon considered the idea, scratching his beard idly. “That could work, but we would have to find a tree big enough to break down the door, but not so big that the three of us can't lift it. It may be too much for us to break down this large of a gate.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?” began Brit, but before she could say any more, all three of them turned at the sound of another horse coming from behind them. Immediately, all three of them had their weapons out, with Guyon and Brit’s swords shining in the dim light, and Belphoebe's bow creaking as she nocked an arrow.

  They waited as two new figures approached. The first sat astride the horse and was wrapped in a gray cloak that seemed to blend with the twilight air permeating the countryside. His hood was pulled up so that none of them could see his face, and the gelding upon which he rode was thin and frail. As it approached even closer, Guyon began to wonder how it was able to hold up its master at all.

  The second figure had to be a knightly guard, judging by the armor. He was an enormous man with his helmet down so Guyon could not make out his face. He walked beside the horse with an air of confidence and long strides that easily kept pace.

  Britomart came closer to Guyon, stopping just beside him. “That might be him,” she growled under her breath.

  Guyon glanced at her. “The big man you were chasing?”

  Brit nodded, and there was bitterness in her eyes, yet she lacked the rage she had borne earlier. Perhaps she knew that she had not been in a sane state of mind before, and now she was questioning all her actions.

  “Who are you,” Guyon called out to the approaching pair. “Do not come any closer or we will be forced to assume you are an enemy.”

  The figures stopped, the horse seeming grateful for the rest. The rider regarded them silently, his head tilting within his cloak. “I am not here to hurt you,” came an almost willowy voice from inside the hood. “I am the master of this house, returning after a long journey.”