by J. M. Briggs
Two Riders came charging to the top of the tor, both mounted on tall glistening steeds with swords drawn. Freezing in place, Morgana couldn't breathe as one of the Riders slowly approached Merlin and Arto.
“Surrender Merlin,” the Sídhe demanded, but his eyes were on Arto. “This is a pointless war. The Iron Realm cannot stand against the might of Queen Scáthbás.”
“I believe that you have enough worlds already,” Merlin answered calmly, allowing Arto to move up next to him. “You cannot have this one.” Merlin added darkly, “Of course I would strip you of those worlds if I could.”
“Curse the day you were sired,” the Rider growled.
“If your kind didn't commit such crimes my siring would not have occurred,” Merlin returned fiercely.
“Enough,” the second Rider snapped angrily. “The Weapon is the priority. Deal with the blood traitor second.”
Morgana shivered as the wind suddenly picked up. Arto's mouth moved slowly and softly, testing unfamiliar words that were too quiet for Morgana to hear. Both Riders drove their steeds to action, charging towards Merlin and Arto. The boy did not hesitate, staring at the Sídhe Riders around him with calm and confident brown eyes. His unruly brown hair blowing in the wind as he slowly dragged the blade of the dagger across his palm. She shouted a warning that went unheard as the wind howled more fiercely around the tor. Closing his fist, Arto held it before him as his words were lost to the wind. His closed fist began to glow, softly at first, but brighter with each step the Sídhe took towards him. They were slowing, Morgana realized with relief as she risked a glance towards the two Riders. Her legs ached as she moved closer to Arto, nearing him just in time to see the boy tip his hand, sending red blood dripping to the ground before him.
Thunder echoed through the valley and lightning flashed across the sky, summoning forth a storm from the clear evening. The glow that had surrounded his hand, exploded outward, illuminating the dusk with the brilliance of the sun. Morgana felt a force hit her chest, sending her crashing onto her back. Pain jolted through her arms and legs from her chest making it painful to breathe. But she could still hear words being carried on the wind from the spell and with a cry of pain, Morgana pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked towards the Riders.
One of the Sídhe steeds had reared, catching the blast in the chest and released a frightened cry as the luminous flesh of its hide began to turn to dust. The Rider shouted and waved his arm, only to crash to the ground as its steed dissolved. The ground was glowing red and Morgana looked down in amazement to see the few drops of blood flowing freely down the slope of the tor like a brook, glowing with power. The Rider on the ground tried to move away, but the magical liquid touch his leg. Morgana flinched at his cry, but couldn't look away as the magic glow traveled up his body and it turned to vapor, blowing away on the stormy wind.
The second Rider tried in vain to steer his horse around the blood, but a mere glance revealed that the Rider's left arm was dissolving and the horse's legs were collapsing underneath it. Gasping softly, Morgana watched in shock as the second Rider and steed fell, vanishing into a cloud of dust before they hit the earth.
The glowing red liquid flowed all around her, following the slope of the tor and leaving soft pulsing sparks of magic behind it. Morgana watched one small stream come towards her with curious fascination, wondering at the magic behind it. Arto had not bled so much, that much she was certain of. She assumed that this spell used the iron in his blood and perhaps pulled iron from the earth itself.
Huffing in pain, Morgana rolled onto her knees and took a long deep breath to fight back the pain of the magical shockwave that Arto had released. She was almost ready to stand when the trickle of blood reached her and touched her fabric covering her knee. Morgana's whole body convulsed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Her blood was boiling, her lungs were tightening and her heart began pounding faster than she could bear.
Falling forward onto her hands, Morgana whimpered in pain as an icy blast in her limbs met with a rush of blazing heat in her heart. Her body quivered as she struggled to breathe, her ears full of her own heart beat and her vision blurred by tears and fear and pain.
“Morgana!” she heard screamed nearby, the cry distorted by the wind.
“Arto, do not touch her,” Merlin's voice commanded.
“But she's hurt,” Arto argued, worry clear in his voice before it took on a tone of anger. “You said that the spell could not harm a human.”
“It cannot harm any creature that belongs to the Iron Realm,” Merlin explained patiently and in a sorrowful tone as the voices came closer.
There was a small hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting against the chill that clung to her bones. Taking in a deep breath, Morgana closed her eyes and focused on listening to the voices.
“But Morgana-” Arto's voice started to say.
“Is part Sídhe,” Merlin interrupted. “You sister was taken many years ago, before you were ever born Arto. Once the Sídhe knew of your birth they fused the child they had stolen and the Changeling together to be their spy and soldier in this world. To watch you and report to them.”
Arto pulled his hand away and Morgana clenched her eyes tighter, waiting. Silence followed Merlin's words and she softened her breath, trying to verify that they were still standing by her.
“She's my sister,” Arto told Merlin, his voice lacking the power that had resounded through the air with his spell and instead sounding like the small child she had cared for all those years ago.
“She is,” Merlin agreed, “But she also belongs to the Sídhe.”
“You're part Sídhe,” Arto reminded Merlin suddenly, hope in his voice. “The spell didn't affect you, why?”
“I carry the blood of a Sídhe,” Merlin agreed gently. “I am not loyal to them. My entire self, my soul and my magic are in the service of the Iron Realm.”
“Can't we help her?” Arto asked, defeat creeping into his voice.
“The changes to what your sister is cannot be undone,” Merlin told the boy. “And only she can change the bonds of her loyalty.”
There was silence again, a horrible condemning silence. Slowly, Morgana opened her eyes and studied the blades of grass blowing in the wind before her. She made no move to reach for Arto and they gave no sign of knowing that she had been listening.
“Come Arto,” Merlin finally called. “You are ready.”
“Ready?” Arto repeated, his voice beginning to drift away as Morgana listened to the footfalls of the two. “Ready for what?”
She did not hear Merlin's response or even if he made one as they moved further away from her. The chill finally faded and Morgana raised her head with difficulty. Dragging herself to her feet, she stumbled forward and looked down the slope of the tor. They were not yet too far ahead of her, Merlin walking with his stick in one hand and his other on Arto's shoulder and moving quickly towards the distant hills. She swallowed as her eyes dropped to the softly glowing lines of blood across the ground. Raising her chin and narrowing her eyes, Morgana hiked up her dress a few inches and began the climb down the tor after Merlin and Arto, following the still glowing light on Merlin's staff.
31
Prisoner of the Sídhe
Her chest ached and her arms were tingling with little jolts of pain as Alex struggled to open her eyes. Alex was sprawled on her back, but the surface was hard, smooth and chilly. The realization that she wasn't in her bed penetrated the haze around her mind, but fear and panic did not yet set in. She must have rolled off her bed in the night by accident, that would explain the pain and the tiles underneath her would explain the chill. Her fingers brushed the surface beneath her lazily as a slight moan escaped her lips. The surface was cool to the touch, cold even, but felt almost slick. Besides, she remembered with a frown, she and Jenny had a large rug between their beds.
Alex's mind began to clear and she could hear strange melodic voices in the distance. She stopped moving and could barely b
reathe as she recognized the sounds from her dreams. The memory of the Riders hit her hard, knocking the air from her lungs in a pained gasp of fear and rising panic. Keeping her eyes shut as naturally as she could manage, Alex struggled to slow down her breathing and appear asleep. She couldn't hear anything other than the voices which sounded distant making her believe that maybe she was alone.
Barely keeping her hands from shaking, Alex slowly opened her eyes. The smooth domed white stone ceiling that looked like it was made from one solid slab was about eight feet above her. Three small glowing balls of light hung in the air just below the ceiling granting Alex illumination. Twisting her head slightly, Alex looked around the room which was round in shape with more smooth white walls. To the right of her was an arched doorway with a heavy looking black door with golden metal accents and a small window.
Still taking long and slow breaths to hold her panic at bay, Alex carefully sat up. She was still in her jeans, shoes and shirt; only her coat and bag were missing. Her body ached and protested at the motion as her hand went to her chest, feeling for any sign of injury. There was no blood or torn skin, making Alex wonder just what the blast the Sídhe Rider had used on her had done. She shivered as the memory of the first Rider's threats rushed to the forefront of her mind. Harming humans directly wasn't what they were after, she realized, even those too old to be changelings. Alex's stomach turned and she closed her eyes tightly to hold back the tears prickling in her eyes. Wrapping her arms around herself, Alex shuddered from the cold and from fear, but kept tears from falling. Several soft dry sobs escaped her despite her efforts, but the sound of movement outside forced her to quiet.
Lying back on the floor, Alex turned her head carefully towards the door and tried to appear asleep. Her ears pricked up and the sound of her own heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears as the sound of a key being turned in a lock nearly echoed in the stone room. Breathing as slowly as she could, Alex resisted the urge to open her eyes as the sound of footfalls indicated that someone was entering the room.
They stopped, less than a foot from her. She could feel cold almost radiating from the figure and into her sprawled arm. Suddenly, they moved and pressed their foot onto her lower arm, pressing down on it. With a cry of pain, Alex's eyes flew open and she rolled onto her side as she tried to free her arm. A golden accent boot held her arm pinned and increased the pressure, making Alex hiss. Raising her eyes, Alex swallowed as she looked up at the second Rider who had hurt her.
“You killed a Síd,” he announced in a cold, but beautiful voice. Had Alex not been afraid, she may have found the voice charming and calming. “Iron poisoned,” he hissed, grinding his foot down on Alex's arm. “Your fate would have been to serve, to obey and pleasure. To produce more iron folk for our needs, but now you shall suffer true torment until I and all my comrades are appeased.” He lifted his boot off of Alex's arm and kicked her in the chest, knocking the air from her lung and causing her to flinch back. “And I have never been satisfied by the heat of an iron folk body,” he growled, pulling his foot back to strike again.
With strength and speed born of desperation and fear, Alex rolled away from him just in time to avoid the strike. Pulling herself up on one knee, Alex braced herself to move quickly and stared at the Rider. His sword hung at his side, but he made no move to draw it. Instead he smirked at her, his violet eyes still glowing with rage. He was between Alex and the door, and she knew that simply running past him would never work.
“Your kind is a disease,” Alex hissed, letting her pain and anger seep into her words. “A plague, a pestilence. Something to be put down like a wounded hound.”
The amusement faded from the Síd's eyes and he bared his teeth as a growl echoed in the room. Rising slowly to her feet, Alex waited for his move, trying to guess what it would be. Professor Bosco's explanation of fencing attacks echoed in her mind as she glanced down at his feet for a hint of movement. Sliding her foot forward on the smooth rock, Alex centered her balance and waited.
The Síd stalked towards her, twisting his golden covered hand before his body, preparing to strike her. When the attack came, Alex shifted back; dodging the blow and hearing a snarl escape the Síd's lips. She lunged forward, under the Síd's arm to grab at the hilt of his sword. As the Síd twisted to grab her, Alex let her left side go limp and allowed gravity to help roll her to the side. A slow metallic ring echoed in the room as the blade was pulled from the scabbard awkwardly. The sword nearly hung up on the scabbard as the Síd's body prevented the scabbard from shifting further, but a final desperate tug sent Alex crashing to the floor with the sword.
Scrambling to her feet, Alex tightened her grip on the long sword. It weighed only a few pounds, but the blade was thicker than the fencing equipment she had used previously. Dismissing the differences, Alex brought the blade up in front of her just as the Rider turned and glared at her.
“You think you can kill me with that?” the Rider demanded harshly. “In my own realm! You have no power here. Your iron blade was left were it fell!”
Hands shaking, Alex sidestepped towards the door, fighting to keep the blade stable. She watched the Rider reach for the golden cord still hanging from his waist and tensed. A slow smirk crossed his face as he lifted the cord from the hook on his belt and began winding it around his hand. Glancing towards the door, Alex wondered for a moment if she could make it. But then what would she do.
The Síd snapped the cord in the air, smiling as Alex flinched at the sound. He took a step towards her. Swinging the sword, Alex flinched as the blade clanged off the metal of his armor and swept across his cheek. A think line of silver blood appeared, but the Síd just laughed. Less than a second after the wound appeared, Alex saw the silver line vanish as the white skin knitted itself back together.
“You have no power here,” the Síd repeated, snapping the cord in the air again and laughing coldly.
Bringing the sword up once again, Alex swallowed and released a slow breath. A hundred tiny bits of thoughts were running through her brain, all of them screaming iron to her. But her dagger was gone, she had nothing except herself and the Sídhe blade.
She moved before the idea finished forming in her head, moving the sword up her own left arm. The slice of her skin made her grit her teeth in pain, but her eyes were locked on the Rider's as his own widened. He backed away as red blood oozed out of the slice on her upper left arm and over the smooth metal of the blade. Releasing a breath, Alex swung the sword away from the wound, sending drops of her iron based blood through the air. They hissed as they collided with the Síd's face making him scream in pain. His golden covered hands rose to protect his face, but Alex swung back, bringing the tip of the blade slicing across the Síd's cheek.
This time she didn't hesitate, pulling back the blade as the Síd clawed as his own face to stop the corrosion of the blood. Thrusting forward, she drove the tip of the sword into his throat and grunted, shoving it forward a little more. The screams stopped instantly and the Rider's hands fell away from his face to his sides. Eyes widening, Alex was frozen in place as the flesh of the Rider dissolved before her eyes, turning to a thin dust. The armor crashed to the floor of the room, clattering so loudly Alex expected an army of Sídhe to come bursting through the door. Then there was silence, leaving Alex alone and staring at the armor strewn about her with a sword dripping with red blood still clutched in her hand.
Catching her breath, Alex stared down at the armor and listened for any sound of movement outside the door, but everything was quiet. In the distance she could still hear the haunting voices, but the tone had not changed. It took a moment for the adrenaline to slow and Alex to be able to move again. Rushing to the door, Alex peeked out carefully.
The room beyond was the same domed shaped as her cell, only much larger with multiple black doorways in the wall and a hallway leading away. A round white stone table with chairs stood in the center of the room with weapons spread across it and Alex's bag half dumped out. Creeping forward
and listening for any sounds or movement, Alex went to the table and picked up her phone. She wasn't surprised when a no signal indicator appeared, but quickly gathered up her things, checking to verify that her dagger wasn't present. She slung the bag over her shoulder and peered through the windows of each of the black doorways. All the other cells were empty.
Alex was still, debating the best course of action as she stared into the long dark tunnel stretching out before her. The haunting voices and the black stone tunnels were straight out of her dream, reminding her of Bran's warning theory. Pulling out her phone, Alex checked the battery and turned on the flashlight, preparing to move forward into the darkness. As she passed her cell, the glint of the golden armor caught her eye. Glancing back into the tunnel, Alex darted inside and picked up the breast plate of the armor. It was large on her and most of the pieces wouldn't fit her, but the slight built of the Sídhe meant that while it was long on her, it wasn't too bulky. Everything else was too fitted and long for Alex to use, but having something protecting her vitals made her feel a tiny bit better. She picked up the belt and tightened it around her waist, hanging the cord on its hook, but not sheathing the sword. Alex collected the small ring of golden keys from the pile and carefully moved everything to the side of the cell in two trips.
