Curse of the Fey: A Modern Arthurian Legend (Morgana Trilogy Book 3)

by Alessa Ellefson

  “We’re in Hell,” Kaede says, already moving. “Nobody dies here unless you give them the true death.”

  “With a stake to the heart?”

  “By destroying their oghams.”

  I blink slowly as Keva waves impatiently for me to follow. Note her concern. See her mouth move soundlessly. Then the ground tilts sideways, and I’m dimly aware of the banshee catching me before I pass out.

  Chapter 5

  “Go lick your wounds elsewhere.”

  I startle at the harsh voice, only to find myself standing in the middle of a wide, hilly field of blue flowers nestled between two steep cliffs. A breeze sweeps through the meadow, making the flowers shimmer under the pale sun. The hairs at the back of my neck stand up.

  Bluebells.

  Bluebells covering every inch of land like a giant blanket. Which can only mean one thing: I’m in unknown Fey territory.

  “This isn’t good,” I hear Gauvain say ominously as his cousin steps around me.

  “Surely he wouldn’t set a trap for us?” Hadrian says from further down.

  “I wouldn’t mind a trap if it’s like the one Arthur got,” Gareth says, flashing a big smile.

  “That’s because no girl in her right mind would want to go near you,” Gauvain retorts.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Gauvain smirks. “That’s funny coming from you.”

  Gareth points at his cousin with his war hammer arm. “Your sense of humor is absolutely déplorable.”

  “What I’d like to know,” Hadrian cuts in before the two can get into another of their infamous fights, “is who the Leanan Sidhe came to you as.”

  A glint enters Gauvain’s dark eyes. “Great question, you still haven’t told us who the lucky girl is.”

  “Please don’t tell us it’s that Fey-blooded bastard girl,” Daniel’s nasally voice chimes in, stifling a yawn. “If it were me, I’d have run away before she could stab me again.”

  Gareth snickers. “Yes, we all know running away is your favorite course of action.”

  There’s a dull metallic clang and we whirl around in time to see Hadrian toppling to the ground over Daniel’s unconscious body.

  RUN!

  My cry remains silent, unheeded, and I’m forced to watch helplessly as, one by one, the knights drop into the flowers like flies, Gareth the last of them. The ground suddenly wobbles around me, too. But before I can drop all the way down to the ground, there’s a flash of bright purple, and Lugh’s suddenly standing before me, a young Fey boy with pointy teeth at his side.

  “Enough, Oberon,” he calls out, his chocolaty voice sending tingles down my spine. Without even noting my presence, he turns his brooding face towards the setting sun. “You know we have not come here to fight,” he continues, a little louder.

  At his words, the soft breeze picks up, leaves and flowers clustering in its wake like a giant swarm of bees, heading in our direction. I squint as the air bends and waves, like on a really hot day, before coalescing into the shape of a man the size of a boulder. The Fey lord scowls at Lugh for a long moment, floral cloak flapping angrily around his stout legs.

  “I don’t like having to repeat myself, Lugh,” the Fey says. “Coming here uninvited means you’re trespassing. I believe you know our laws on that.”

  “Such laws are moot in times of war,” Lugh replies evenly.

  “A war that I didn’t start and will make sure not to get involved in.”

  “You may want to get all of the facts straight before deciding on anything,” Lugh says, looking down his nose at the shorter Fey lord. “Especially when both our worlds are at stake.”

  “Do not presume to know what I want,” Oberon retorts, “except to have you out of my Demesne. So pick up your trash, and leave. Now.”

  He snaps his fingers together, and the breeze starts anew, this time moving away from him. A minute later, the fallen knights wake up, confused looks turning to angry glares as they realize what’s happened.

  Only then do I notice the tiny little creatures darting in and out of the knights’ reach, tiny wings beating furiously at the air, as if to shoo them all away.

  “Dwarf pixies,” Gareth says with disgust, spitting on the ground.

  At that, a scintillating cloud of blue lifts from the flowerbed to buzz angrily about his head in an offended series of screeches.

  “Get those fleas away from me!” a tinny voice shouts, coming from the winged gerbil on Gareth’s shoulder, and I recognize the Fey creature I’d seen through Mordred’s scrying, the one that turned Gareth’s arm into a war hammer with an ill-fated wish.

  “What happened to your usual guard?” Oberon asks Lugh, eyeing the weary knights with evident distaste. “Were you forced to adopt these pests because all of your people have deserted you?”

  “Unlike others, I do not need a guard,” Lugh says, voice dropping dangerously low at the implied insult.

  Oberon’s gaze lifts to Lugh’s eyepatch, and he smirks. “It’s not what it looks like to me. Think your daddy would approve of your new look?”

  “We came together because we have forged an alliance,” Hadrian says quickly before Lugh can react to this new insult.

  “I would much have preferred it had you sent Sameerah as your ambassador,” Oberon says, ignoring Hadrian completely. He smiles toothily. “She’s a damn sight finer to look at than your sorry arse. Not that she would have changed my decision in the least.”

  “None of us relish imposing our presence upon you, least of all her,” Lugh says, a muscle twitching in his cheek with barely repressed impatience, “but the bones have spoken, so here we are.”

  “You mean she has spoken,” Oberon says derisively.

  “Indeed.”

  “Then I’ve certainly got nothing to do with you.”

  Lugh’s eye flashes in anger. “And why, pray, is that?”

  Oberon’s own glower darkens, the air around him crackling with electricity. “Because I told myself I’d never work with that harlot after she abandoned us in this shithole.”

  “Perhaps if some of us had not been so pretentious back in the day, we would never have ended down here at all,” Lugh retorts. “Besides, you did not seem to mind playing godling in this shithole, as you say, until Myrdwinn taught knights how to fight back.”

  “There’s another traitor whose neck I’d like to wring,” Oberon growls.

  “There’s nothing we can do to change the past,” a tired voice says, as if from beyond the grave, “but we can work for a better future. Together.”

  I feel my heartbeat spike at the sound of Arthur’s voice.

  Where are you? I want to shout, but I know it’s pointless. I can never interfere with my visions, no matter how hard I try. All I can do is watch and listen.

  “An alliance with your people is like drinking hemlock[1], a derisive idea if I ever heard one,” Oberon says with a scoff.

  But I’ve lost all interest in the Fey lord’s posturing, my focus lasering instead on the edge of the flower field, where the shadows from the setting sun are deepest. And then I see it again, quick as lightning, the flash of a predatory smile in a tattooed face.

  Chapter 6

  I must be dying. There’s no other explanation for why I keep dreaming of Arthur when there are evidently more pressing matters to attend to, like my own survival. It would also explain why my powers have gone completely wrong, and why I feel so wrung out.

  The acrid smell of smoke tickles my nostrils, bringing me fully awake, and I find myself staring into Keva’s annoyed face.

  “Could you please stop passing out?” she says, waving the banshee away. “It’s unnerving, and a total waste of time.”

  “It’s not like I choose to do so,” I croak out.

  I rub my eyes to dispel the black still crowding my vision, though the knot in my chest remains. I know something bad’s about to happen to Arthur. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  “Listen, I’ve
been talking to K,” Keva says, glancing over at Kaede seated a few feet away from us, “and she’s willing to help us out. For now.”

  I follow her gaze across the rocky path. The knight seems completely oblivious to what we’re doing, intent upon sharpening her swords instead.

  Keva leans in, dropping her voice conspiratorially low. “Of course, I didn’t tell her we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing, but I figure the longer we stick with her, the longer we stay alive. Which, in my book, is a good thing.”

  The banshee growls softly and Keva grimaces. “Yeah, yeah, we’re glad you’re here too. No one else would have bothered to carry Morgan around.” Keva crosses her arms. “But admit it, if it weren’t for Lady Kaede, we’d all be dead. You too, don’t deny it.”

  The banshee lets out a noncommittal grunt, waving her bony hands around, and muttering something about arriving first. I tune their arguing out as I crane my neck around. Gone are the salt flats that surrounded our mountain spire. Instead, we’re now ringed by tall, pebbly hills. And, behind one of them, is the thick column of smoke Keva and I had decided to investigate, its dark fumes spiraling into the grey skies above. I have to admit that now we’re so close to it, Keva’s right—I have no idea what we’re supposed to do when we find its source.

  “So, you’re saying Kaede’s agreed to take us to the fire?” I say, hearing the suspicion in my own voice.

  “Right,” Keva answers after sticking her tongue out at the banshee in a very unladylike manner.

  I look back at Kaede. The girl’s finished polishing her sword, and is tipping the blade around so she can inspect her face in its reflection. There’s definitely something odd about her, I tell myself as the knight pulls and prods her face like she can’t believe she’s real.

  “Barring your unhealthy obsession for KORT knights, how much do you think we can trust her?” I ask Keva.

  “First, who are you to talk about unhealthy obsessions?” Keva replies, cocking her eyebrow in disapproval. “Second, yeah! We wouldn’t have made it this far without Kaede, especially with you snoring happily away.”

  “Yes, but this is Hell,” I say. “It changes people. For all we know, she could’ve turned into a—”

  “Demon?” Keva says with a scoff. “She’s saved our lives, Morgan. Besides, she’s not the one who’s prone to letting her powers run amok and try to kill everyone around.”

  I clap my mouth shut, stung.

  “Let’s go,” Kaede says, done admiring herself in the blade of her swords.

  “Coming!” Keva replies, jumping immediately to her feet without her usual string of complaints.

  “Why did she agree to take us there?” I ask Keva before she can scurry off, and hating myself for the jealous pang I feel at how readily Keva seems to have taken the other girl’s side. “She must know what we’re up to is dangerous, even if you didn’t tell her.”

  “Can you stop with your whining? I’ve said she saved our lives, many times over. I don’t care what you think, I’m going with her.”

  And with a final sniff, Keva turns around to rush after the knight.

  “I still think there’s something off with that girl,” I mutter. And, despite feeling lightheaded, I let the banshee hurry me along, scared of leaving Keva out of my sight.

  ◆◆◆

  By the time we’ve gone around our ninth hill, I find myself wishing I were still sick and unconscious. We may no longer be in our cave, but everything here is just as grey and dreary, with the added benefit that I keep jumping at the slightest noise. And when I’m not freaking out, I find my thoughts inexorably drawn to Arthur’s plight, wondering how real my dreams are, and if he’s all right, or…

  “So here’s the plan,” I tell the banshee to keep myself distracted. “One, we spy on Carman and figure out what she’s up to. Two, we head back up our mountain spire, and wait for Mordred to open the Gates.”

  The banshee grunts, and I wave her doubts away.

  “He’ll have to at some point or another, if only to let Carman back out,” I say. “Then, step three, we get back to Avalon, and warn the others so they can stop her. Easy peasy. Brilliant, right?”

  My words are met with stony silence.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Ssoundssss dangerousssss,” the banshee says hesitantly.

  “Yeah, well let me know if you come up with something better,” I retort, hating her lack of enthusiasm at my scheme.

  Trying not to show how stung I feel, I squint up ahead at the other two girls. Kaede’s still in the lead, marching like she’s been a guide in Hell all her life. A guide who doesn’t seem to care much who’s following her or not, I note with guilty satisfaction, as the gap between her and Keva grows longer. I still can’t shake the feeling that there’s something fishy about Kaede rescuing us in the nick of time, only to unquestioningly put her life at risk again to take us deep inside demon territory. Even more shady, is how easily she gobbled up Keva’s flimsy explanations. Unless this is a trap, like I fear…

  “Keep an eye on Keva for me, will ya?” I tell the banshee, suddenly speeding up.

  I quickly catch up with Keva, garnering a dejected look from her. This forced march is certainly taking its toll, turning her slight hobble into a full-on limp.

  “Need a hand?” I ask.

  “Mind your own business,” Keva mutters with a grimace of pain.

  I stifle a sigh. In no mood to bear the brunt of another of her bad moods, I hasten ahead of her, and soon leave her far behind.

  “Showing off, are you?” I hear Keva shout.

  “I’m sure the banshee won’t mind carrying you this time around,” I say over my shoulder, eyes never leaving the KORT knight’s back.

  Kaede’s finally stopped at the top of the next hill, but she seems confused, looking around uncertainly.

  “Are we lost?” I call out, slightly out of breath as I finally catch up with her. “The fire’s that way, in case you were wondering,” I add, pointing over her right shoulder. “And it seems it’s not much further away.”

  Blatantly ignoring me, Kaede turns to her left instead, and I have to swallow back a curse as I follow her down the other side of the hill.

  “Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot,” I try again, “so why don’t we start all over? Hi, I’m Morgan. I’m a squire and landed here because of the big bad witch herself. What about you? How did you end up in Hell?”

  “Collectors,” Kaede says, her hooded gaze searching the next hilltops.

  “Right, you already mentioned those,” I say, as she suddenly backtracks, bowling Keva over into the banshee’s bracing arms. “I suppose Keva’s already told you about Rei,” I say to Kaede’s back as the knight starts climbing the hill we’ve just descended.

  “Who?” Kaede asks distractedly.

  “Rei, your squire,” I say, as she stops dead in her tracks, ears perked. “I wanted to, uh, give you my condolences,” I finish lamely. At her silence, I clear out my throat, and add, “I’ve been thinking, and this plan may need to have a few kinks smoothed out, but—”

  “Down!” Kaede cries out, throwing herself to the side just as a black-quilled arrow thunks into the ground, inches from where she stood, and barely a foot away from me.

  I stand frozen for a second, mind blanked out, when I hear Keva’s sempiternal grumbling. Neither she nor the banshee have realized yet what is happening.

  “Stay back!” I shout at them.

  I drop into a crouch as a second arrow whistles past my face.

  “Seriously?” I hear Keva say, sounding way too close for comfort. “Arrows are so seventh century!”

  “I said get back!” I shout again, scanning our surroundings for the archers.

  My breath catches. There! I stare at the spot where I thought I saw a stick poke out. Or the tip of a bow being drawn.

  “Kaede, go around while I distract him. I think that…Kaede?” I look back at where the knight dove for cover, but she’s gone.

&
nbsp; I swear viciously. Another arrow whistles past, and I hear Keva’s cry of pain. My stomach plummets.

  “Keva!” I shout, scrambling over the rocky ground as fast as I can to get to her.

  I find her hunched on her side, the arrow sticking from her shoulder, the banshee trying to keep her from rolling down the hill.

  I drop to my knees beside them. “Shitshitshitshitshit!”

  My first instinct is to try to heal her like I did so many others back in Lake High. But at the sight of my own blackened hands, I freeze. What if I poison her instead?

  The banshee notes my hesitation, and pulls her obsidian knife out instead.

  “I’m OK,” Keva breathes, before growling in pain as the banshee gingerly twists the arrow’s shaft, testing how deep it went.

  “Can we pull it out?” I ask the cowled figure.

  “Are you insane?” Keva shoots back, eyes glossy with pain.

  The banshee shakes her head. “Mussst open moooore,” she says.

  “Shit.”

  Keva’s hand finds mine, and squeezes tight.

  “You’ll be fine,” I tell her, feeling rather queasy myself.

  With precise moves, the banshee snaps the arrow’s shaft in two, ripping a scream from Keva. Cold sweat beads on my forehead. I wish I could take her pain away. My free hand clenches and unclenches uselessly at my side. Another arrow flies high overhead, and we both flinch. Only the banshee seems unfazed as she prods Keva’s wound.

  “W-Where’s K-Kaede?” Keva asks, lips trembling.

  “She’s ditched us,” I say, turning a furious eye in the archer’s direction. “But I know where our attacker is.”

  Keva grunts, slumping forward under the banshee’s careful instruction. Now’s the time for the surgical removal of the arrow.

  “Go get…the bastard…,” Keva says, knowing what I want to do without me saying it, and she releases my hand.

  With a tight nod, I dash away, keeping low to the ground. More arrows zing by in quick succession. I twist sideways as another flies past, feel the burn it leaves along my neck. My breath rushes out, and I nearly loose my footing on the uneven ground. Whoever or whatever it is, it’s going to pay.