“Evidently,” I say, annoyed.
“I was tired of this crusade of theirs, and knew it would lead to the total genocide of my people. So I faced him myself, stripped him of all his oghams, and showed him his own abilities.”
My mouth goes slack. I knew that long before Gale, Jennifer, Agravain, and now the rest of our troops, my father had discovered that knights carry Fey blood in them. I just never imagined that she was the one who’d shown him the truth.
“Was he shocked?” I ask.
“Not as much as one might think. I suspect that he may have already entertained the idea. But when he brought the knowledge to the Council upon his return, he was met with savage condemnation instead. Most of all from the Pendragon.”
“Guess showing up with me in tow didn’t help either,” I mutter.
Danu smiles kindly. “You and Mordred were not conceived until his second visit.”
“Second visit?”
She nods. “I do not know how much you are aware of what was done to your father when he returned to Caamaloth after his first visit. Not only was he greatly criticized, but he was stripped of his titles and rank, publicly whipped, then put into a closed house.”
“The asylum,” I whisper.
“It is only after he escaped that he returned to me.”
“And that’s when we came into the picture,” I finish for her.
“You need to understand that not once did your father blame the Order for his mistreatment,” Danu says, laying her warm fingers over my clenched fists. “Hate is what had put a wedge between my people and his, a hate that had been stoked over centuries. He knew that the only way to bridge our peoples was through forgiveness instead.”
“Forgiveness, huh?” I say bitterly. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work with Carman.”
“Peace will never be possible whilst the love of power is greater than the act of loving itself,” Danu replies carefully.
“Spare me your philosophical BS,” I retort. “I need something concrete. Don’t know if you noticed, but Carman’s setting the whole world ablaze, not in small part thanks to that dragon of hers. A dragon I helped create.”
Danu lets out a tired sigh. “Carman is seeking to absorb my powers into herself,” she says, repeating her earlier words. “And she partially succeeded in doing so when she merged the Sangraal with her ogham to give it shape.”
I slowly let my breath out. “That’s it, isn’t it?” I say, looking at her for confirmation. “She wants to be just like you, which means that dragon is Carman’s ogham, isn’t it? Destroy the dragon, and Carman becomes fully human.”
“That is correct,” Danu says, and for a second I think I see sadness in her eyes.
This is far from the tender mother-daughter moment I’ve imagined all my life, but at this moment I couldn’t care less. What’s important to me, though, is protecting my friends. And she’s just given me the final piece of the puzzle to do so.
“Thanks for the visit, and all,” I say, jumping to my feet, eager to relate my discovery to Arthur, “but I’ve got dragons to slay, thrones to destroy, and Hell to close back up.”
Chapter 30
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to let you do anything to Morgan!”
I startle at Arthur’s shout.
“Let me?” Lugh lets the question hang in the air, the threat implicit.
I hurry up the last few feet separating me from the outside, and find Arthur and Lugh staring each other down, Excalibur drawn between them. Neither of them notices me as I step quietly their way.
“Admit it, it’s because of that stupid inscription that you’re helping us out,” Arthur continues, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. “All this time I thought you actually cared for her, but you just want to use her like everyone else.”
“Trust me boy, I would much rather have let things rest as they were,” Lugh says, “but your pitiful Order certainly did not help keep Carman locked away as it was meant to, and now it is too late to return things to their previous state. You are as responsible for what is happening to Morgan as much as we are.”
“And what is happening to me?” I ask.
Both of them startle at my intrusion and I refrain from smirking at them.
“What is it you’ve kept from me, Lugh?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Other than the truth about my mother, that is.”
“Here,” Arthur says, grabbing my hand to pull me after him.
He marches me up the skeleton’s central neck, then out its gaping jaw, between child-sized teeth sticking up from the soil, edges still keen despite their age.
“There,” Arthur says, pointing at the dead beast’s skull.
“What about it?” I ask, eyes dancing up the sharp-toothed maw until they catch sight of the strange markings that seem to have been burned above the eye sockets. “What is it?” I ask.
“A bloody prophecy,” Arthur says through gritted teeth. “And the reason for—” He stops, combs his fingers roughly through his hair, too cross to finish.
I squeeze his hand to let him know I understand, then rise to the tip of my toes to get a better view. If I’m not mistaken, this must be the very same prophecy that Mordred keeps referring to. The etchings are black against the green-tinted ivory of the bone, forming strange shapes that I’ve never seen before.
“How would you even know what it says?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. “I can’t even tell what language it is.”
“That’s exactly what I asked,” Arthur says. “Lugh was kind enough to translate for me. And you know what it says? That for them to return to full grace, they need the ultimate sacrifice. Or something to that effect.”
I look back at him. “I suppose full grace means Paradise? But ‘ultimate sacrifice’ could mean anything. Why do you think it’s got something to do with me?”
“I don’t, but they do,” Arthur says. “And I’ll be damned before I let them do anything to you just so they can get back to the place they left willingly.”
I laugh, loving how protective Arthur is of me, feeling truly cared for, for the first time in my life.
Arthur’s frown deepens. “How can you laugh about it? This is your life we’re talking about.”
“I don’t believe in prophecies,” I say, “even if they’re written in fancy letters; They’re just a way for lazy people to force their desires for change onto some poor schmuck. And that’s not me. I’m not here to make amends for the choices of others. I’m here to make up for my mistakes, and…” I stop, taking a step closer to him.
“And?” Arthur breathes, all iron melted from his voice.
I stare into his eyes, noting the golden flecks sprinkled across his green irises. Slowly, I gently trace the tiny white scars that cross his right cheek.
Maybe it’s because I’m still a little drunk on the figs, but I finally make myself say it. “And to protect those I love,” I whisper.
Arthur’s eyes go wide, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s heard. Then he’s leaning into my touch, stubble prickling my palm. With a smile, I close the small gap between us, and brush my lips against his.
“I take it your meeting was all you wished it to be?” Lugh asks archly.
I grin wickedly at Arthur’s beet red face, before turning to face Lugh. Yep, I’m definitely still buzzed.
“Not exactly,” I say, “but it was fruitful. Somewhat.”
I glance at Arthur who still doesn’t seem to have recovered from my sudden public display of affection. Now’s the time to lay all the cards on the table. I grin, noting how both shift on their feet uncomfortably, probably wondering whether I’ve gone completely unhinged. But they’ll both lose it too when I tell them everything.
“First off,” I say, the words spilling out of me as I start pacing, “do you remember how I used to hear voices?” I ask, ignoring their concerned looks. “Well, it turns out I wasn’t crazy, and it was my brother’s voice.”
“Mordred’s?” Arthur as
ks.
“I know!” I say excitedly. “It must be related to the whole twin thing, and the sharing of blood, or some weird thing like that. Not to mention us being part Fey. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it the whole way back here, because there’s something that doesn’t add up. Why is it I stopped hearing Mordred’s voice in my head all of a sudden, when all my life I could? So I tried to remember when it stopped.” I whirl on Arthur. “And the first thing that came to me was when you threw me in jail.”
“I didn’t throw—” Arthur starts.
“But that didn’t make sense either, because then shouldn’t I have been able to communicate with him again when I escaped?” I continue, talking right over him. “And I didn’t. Which means that it must’ve happened before. Frankly, figuring it out was actually difficult, what with everything that happened… Can’t say I was paying much attention. But, I do remember the last time I spoke to Mordred telepathically. Distinctly. And that was when Arthur locked me up in his parents’ house.”
“I didn’t lock you—”
“Then Lake High was invaded by those Fomori, and Dean took me to Carman’s tomb to free her, and that’s when it stopped,” I finish, breathing heavily. I hold my left out, palm up so that my scar is evident.
“Your hands!” Arthur exclaims, having just noticed they’re no longer stained.
“Dain used your blood to break the wards,” Lugh says slowly, thinking aloud. “Which means Mordred’s blood must have been necessary as well.”
I nod emphatically as Lugh reaches the same conclusion I did.
“The second and last time your father came to visit Danu,” Lugh continues, “he had Excalibur with him. And when he left again, the only thing he was carrying…was you.” His face clears from its usual frown. “Did you not find the sword lodged within Carman’s altar?”
“Right where Dean poured my blood,” I say.
“Could someone explain to me what’s going on?” Arthur asks, sounding uncharacteristically petulant.
I turn to him. “The reason Mordred and I could talk to each other telepathically was thanks to our oghams!”
“Oghams which left their bodies along with your blood,” Lugh says.
Arthur reaches over his head to grab Excalibur’s pommel, eyes round with shock. “You mean to say…”
“Our oghams are in that sword,” I finish breathlessly.
“But if your oghams are inside Excalibur,” Arthur says, “doesn’t it mean your link has been altered? Ruptured, even?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, looking questioningly at Lugh. I’m still too new at this whole Fey thing to understand all its ramifications.
“Have you ever noticed anything strange since Excalibur was pried out of the altar?” Lugh asks me instead.
I stare at Excalibur’s hilt, the large golden and silver cross gleaming in the warm sunlight. “I think it’s the reason for the visions I’ve been having,” I say.
“What visions?” Arthur asks, sounding tense.
“I told you before that when I was stuck in Hell, I kept seeing things,” I say. “Keva thought it was just me losing it, but then when we came back and it turned out everything I’d seen was real…”
Arthur’s face pales. “You saw…everything?” he asks.
“Well, not everything, but enough to get an idea,” I say, wondering if he’s thinking about the visit he got from the Fey girl who took my form.
“What I am worried about,” Lugh cuts in, “is whether Mordred may have used the same device to spy on us.”
I bite on my lower lip. “That’s what I’m afraid of too.”
“Could it be?” Arthur asks, an expression of horror dawning on his face.
Lugh stares at me for a moment, before nodding. “It seems there is a distinct possibility of it,” he says.
Arthur exhales sharply. “It would explain how he always managed to be a step ahead of us. Do you think he can hear us now?”
“No,” Lugh says. “The wards here are strong, too strong even for him.”
“Which means he’s not aware that we know of his link to Excalibur,” Arthur says, relieved.
“Good, because I’ve got something else to tell you,” I say, brimming with excitement. “Carman’s ogham is her dragon.”
Their reaction, or lack thereof, is not at all what I was expecting, and it’s leaving me feeling rather…deflated.
“Um, guys, have you just heard what I said? Carman’s dragon is her ogham!”
Arthur shakes his head. “That can’t be true. You said so yourself: She used you and the Sangraal to bring forth life.”
“No,” Lugh says slowly, wiping his hand down his face in a very humanlike way. “The Sangraal was the source of power she needed to shape her ogham into another entity, for she was not strong enough herself at the time. I should have guessed.”
“But if that’s the case, it’ll make her that much harder to defeat,” Arthur says somberly, “half-human or not.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance, “I’ve got a plan for that.”
Arthur looks alarmed. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
◆◆◆
“Are you nuts?”
“Perhaps if you stopped struggling, I might not drop you again,” I retort.
Nibs freezes in my arms, and I manage to regain our balance at last, my feet grazing the top of the trees below.
“And just why did ya invoke me here?” the clurichaun mutters, finally keeping still.
“Frankly, I had no idea it would work,” I say, laughing nervously at the recollection of Nibs appearing in thin air at my call. “Didn’t think calling out one’s name three times summoned all Fey.”
Nibs snorts in disgust. “Only if the dumbass willingly gave ya permission to do so. Which most certainly is not my case. And to top it off, ya”—Nibs’s heel hits my shin and I grunt in pain—"decided to test it out while flying?”
“I needed the exercise,” I say. Not to mention that I don’t want everyone to know the full extent of my plan. Not yet. It’s enough that Lugh and Arthur already don’t fully approve of it, I don’t need to get the rest of the Order on my back too. Especially with how tense things have gotten since the attack and Luther’s arrest. “And I had some questions for you. Thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
“I certainly hope ya don’t mean that literally,” Nibs mutters.
I suddenly veer off to the side, keeping Lugh’s Oak Tree behind me, and am gratified to hear the clurichaun squeal.
“Don’t ya dare do that again!” Nibs shouts at me, his small fingers clutching at my forearms.
“Then answer my questions, and answer them truthfully.”
“Ya couldn’t have asked me over a bottle of vodka?”
“Arthur, Percy and Lance tried that once, and you bailed out on them, remember?” I say. “Now come on, I need you to confirm a couple of things.”
“That your breath stinks?”
“First, that Carman’s a halfie like me,” I start.
Nibs remains silent, until I start shaking him again.
“OK, OK,” he gasps. “She is! But I thought ya knew that already. Or are ya just that dense?”
“Just testing,” I reply truthfully, glad to see he is being honest after all. I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise. I take a deep breath. “Second, that she’s trying to copy Danu, even going as far as turning her ogham into a dragon.”
Nibs twists around in my arms to glare at me. “Gee, what gave it away? The fact that the beast always responds to her, no matter how far apart they are? Or the fact that you were bloody there when she created the damned thing to begin with?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, miffed. “How the hell was I supposed to know what it was? I thought you wanted to help me defeat her.”
“Have ya ever heard of a little thing called a geas?” Nibs replies with his nasal twang. “If ya break it, ya suffer the most miserable and excruciatin
g of deaths. Which, needless to say, ain’t good for my complexion.”
“You and Keva sound so much alike,” I say with a sigh.
A geas. It seems like the Fey world really likes to have their unbreakable blood oaths to forge alliances.
“If you’ve been sworn to secrecy, then why can you talk about it now?” I ask.
“Because ya already know the truth,” Nibs says. “Will ya now put me back down? Heights and I don’t quite agree with each other.”
“I’m not done yet,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. “What’s Carman’s next step?”
Nibs remains decidedly mute, even after I threaten to let go of him, and I’m forced to conclude that must fall under the oath of secrecy as well. Not that it matters much. It’s not like Carman’s worked very hard to hide the fact that she wants to free Balor so he can defeat Danu for her.
So I dive in with the real questions. “How well are Mordred and Carman getting along these days?”
I feel Nibs shrug against me. “They never were the best of buddies to begin with,” he says.
“But?”
“But it’s true things seem a little arctic these days between ‘em. Why?”
“Bad enough she’ll try to get rid of him?” I ask.
Nibs tenses up. “Why? Ya wanna see him disappear for good?”
“No!” I exclaim.
This seems to mollify Nibs some. “She won’t do a thin’ to him till Balor’s out,” he says. He shudders violently in my arms, and I nearly lose my grip on him. “She won’t do anythin’ permanent to him ‘til she’s got what she wants,” he amends.
Unless someone else can take his place, I surmise.
Perfect.
“I’m gonna let you go now,” I tell the clurichaun, dipping towards a patch of trees left untouched among the ashes.
“How sweet of ya,” Nibs says. “Couldn’t be happier.”
“On one condition,” I add.
Nibs growls in disgust. “You want a boon?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Once I find your missing ogham, I’ll restore it to you,” I say.
Curse of the Fey: A Modern Arthurian Legend (Morgana Trilogy Book 3) Page 28
