You think that just because you lost your father, that you are owed something in this life? You are owed nothing, you are nothing! One of the dragons snarled.
You may be the descendant of Morgana, but that does not make you worthy to take that which was once hers, came the other.
She fought back the retort she felt forming. They could read her mind, they knew about her—so what? That did not change anything nor deter her from her course. Morgana le Fey was her ancestor, and like her, she would lay claim to her birthright. These bitches had nothing to say that would make her change her mind. Sweat started to pour down her face as her nervousness grew, overwhelming her concentration. Despite her determination, she felt her confidence slip.
Look at us! they cried in unison, but that was their last attempt to stop her.
She was past them, but not yet proven worthy. The first test completed, she walked faster, avoiding the other numerous pitfalls around her. There were stones that would give way to an abyss, snakes that would poison the mind as well as the body, and arrows that would fill the mind with despair as her bodily functions failed one by one. The next test could be quickly disposed; the dangers around them could not. She had knowledge of this and that made her powerful.
The second test, the test of skill, loomed before her like a knowing father. A knight stood guard before a set of stairs that led toward the castle. Two rock walls shot straight up from either side, forcing the advancer to go through the knight. He was clad in armor common during the eleventh century and looked worse than the museum pieces she’d seen over the years. The feathered helmet did not move as she drew closer. The breastplate shone with the moonlight’s reflection, a gleaming two-headed axe was held within his right hand. As she approached, she noticed that her reflection could be seen in the knight’s armor.
When the intruder was within five feet of the knight, movement caught her eye; the feather upon the knight’s helm quivering with life. Two blood red orbs appeared in the helmet and the knight was instantly full of life; his axe swinging swiftly down upon the intruder.
The woman in black was quicker, dodging the blow without hesitation. The long sword came up from beneath the cloak, power surging throughout it as she brought it to bear. The sword began to glow as heat came off it in waves. The knight raised the axe above his head, preparing to make another swing.
Unexpectedly the knight lunged at her. Startled, her reaction was slower, and she was caught with the force of the blow. The long sword was flung from her hand as she struck the ground with her right shoulder. Pain flared up her side. She felt nausea try to make her pass out and she fought it.
He hovered over her, red eyes watching. Did you really think you’d get past me? he asked within her mind, his laugh echoing in the depths of her soul. Those dragons have always been fools and I’m surprised you got past them. You are not worthy! She could almost hear him snarling when he said that last. He brought the axe over his head, ready to deliver the final blow.
The woman’s senses flooded her once again. The knight brought the axe down, but she rolled over and out of the way as it struck the stone where she had been an instant before. She crouched and watched the knight as he turned to face her.
Nice moves. Why not give up? I promise to make it quick, he said, as he tossed the axe from hand to hand. Then he gripped it tightly and brought it down again.
She leapt out of the way and landed by her sword. Her hand grasped it and she felt the power pour into her. She lifted her weapon before her and got to her feet. “Try me,” she said, her voice deep and filled with power. She could see him hesitate, but the years of confidence would be his undoing.
The axe came at her again and she held her ground. It hit the sword with earth-shattering force but did not budge. The axe shattered, crumbling to dust as the sword’s power leapt up and enveloped it. The power then surged into the knight and a howl rose from him as it ran over and through his body. His body convulsed, a black pulsing light engulfing his armor. The armor disappeared and the howl faded. The knight was silent as the red orbs retreated back into nothing.
Sweat ran down her body in streams, she could feel it slide along the curves of her breast and down towards her waist. She had narrowly missed death. She could feel herself shake from within and she forced it from her and concentrated on the task at hand. The woman stepped over the place the knight had been and started to climb the stairs. She felt a slicing pain across her back and caught a flash of light behind her. She went down on her knees, hands grasping the stairs, sword falling in front of her. She could hear laughing from behind. Anger rose within and she grasped the sword so tight, her palm went white with pressure. She rose and turned on her attacker, back stinging and the warm trickle of blood warming her back.
At first, she thought he had fled, he was nowhere to be found. She scanned the area looking for a sign of where he hid. Then she saw the axe hovering five feet away and realized that he was waiting for her to reenter the arena.
“I beat you,” she spat at him. She undid her cloak and let it fall to the floor. She brought her sword around, ready to fight again.
You have no idea what you are dealing with, much less how to defeat someone who has been dead for hundreds of years. I did not become the Guardian of the Second Test by letting little girls get the better of me, he snarled back.
She could not see him; all she could see was the axe, hovering. That would make it tougher. If he dropped the axe how would she find him?
She stepped forward, feeling a little like Darth Vader. Her sword dancing in the moonlight. “Bring it on, old man,” she commanded, and he complied. The axe came up and around, she deflected it and pushed him with her blade. The axe danced in mid-air, then came across in a sweeping motion. She deflected it again, brought her sword up in an arc, then reversed and sliced through the air in a downward motion. She could hear him cry out in pain but could not see what she had hit.
Blindly, she waited for him to attack again.
Then what she feared most happened, he dropped the axe. It fell dead to the floor with a loud clang. An image flashed in her mind, the axe had been destroyed earlier, where had he acquired another? She turned to look in the corner and was just in time to duck as a dagger flew from a nearby weapons rack. How could she have missed that? Was it there before? Cursing, she advanced on it, sword deflecting the weapons flung at her. Then it ceased, and all was silent.
She remained there for a second; the only sound was her harsh breathing as she waited for his next move. “Come out, you coward,” she cried out in anger. “Show yourself!”
She felt an arm close around her throat and her lifeline closed as she grasped for air. Her sword almost dropped from her hand as her other one flashed upward to grab the arm that was choking off her air supply.
I have never been beaten and I will not let you be the first, he growled. She was beginning to see stars as her life started to slip away.
“NO!” she yelled, grabbing her attacker’s arm, using her body weight to shift backward, pulling him up and over her. She could feel the impact as his body hit the ground. Quickly, before he could move, she brought her sword down on where she thought his heart would be. He cried out in agony, the scream piercing her mind and ringing throughout her body. The scream died out and she could hear him gasping at the stale air, probably out of habit. After all, wasn’t he dead?
“It can’t end like this,” she heard aloud. His body appeared on the arena floor, sword buried in his chest. He was wearing chain mail and brown leather pads. His brown hair was braided and lay clumped by the side of his head. His blue eyes stared up at hers, his face pleading. “Please, you do not know what you are doing, you can’t let this happen. Turn away—go home—,” he gasped, but then blood filled his mouth and he was unable to speak further.
“I am home,” she replied, intensifying her grip on the sword and giving it a twist. The knight’s face relaxed as the sword was wrenched free. His body started to crack. Dust was all
that remained as the wind hit and shattered the ashy form, leaving not a trace that he had ever been there.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her cloak and swung it around her shoulders once more. This test had been harder than she had thought. He had given quite a fight. But luckily that was as hard as it was going to get as she was confident that the next would be easier than the first two. She smiled as she turned back to the stairs. As she wearily dragged herself up the steps, her feet got tangled and she fell to the ground. An arrow shot out across the air from a hole in the stone wall. Yet again, the woman in black was quicker than expected. She moved with a speed unknown to a common man as she leapt out of the way seconds before it passed through the space she previously occupied. The arrow slammed into stone wall with a “clink” and landed harmlessly on the floor, poison gleaming in the moonlight as it dripped from the arrow’s point.
She swore at her mistake and moved on more cautiously. The staircase ended and the walls to her sides came to a halt. The half-moon poked through the clouds long enough to see the woman step closer to the castle. Then it hid again within the blanket of gray and white.
The castle lay before her and all that stood between her and it, was a clearing, a moat, and the outer gates. She walked across the clearing to the gates and opened them with little effort; they weren’t even locked. She stepped onto the stone flooring that stretched forward only few feet but lined the inner ward. A faded crest had been carved upon the stones; the royal crest of the dragon.
She took in the castle. Two towers loomed to either side of her; the third main tower stood in the middle. The main tower was the highest of them all and it seemed to reach for the heavens. One window could be seen near the top of each and iron fences stretched from the places where the towers touched the main wall. Ten flags lined the wall, each bearing the mark of the dragon. A drawbridge lay in front of her, having been sealed for centuries. A moat stretched out across the borders of the great castle but was void of water; the river feeding it long since diverted in other directions.
The sight was so magnificent that the woman temporarily lost herself. Drawing herself back, basking in the beauty, she walked over to the edge of the platform before her. She stepped up to the first step of five that led to the top and prepared for what was to come.
Calling upon her last bit of strength and courage, her arms rose towards the stars in a gesture common to the legends of wizards. The air sizzled with electricity. She drew upon the power she had possessed since puberty and let it fill her. Storm clouds developed quickly overhead, lightning striking, and thunder following instantaneously. A string of creaks rose from within the castle. The sound of machinery started to rumble loudly and then the moaning of rusty hinges shook the air. The drawbridge slowly lowered onto the platform, dust flying everywhere.
A smile parted her lips as she stepped onto the drawbridge and walked across it towards the inner defenses of the castle. The sturdy English oak beneath her feet was as strong now as it was then. She entered the castle walls and looked around. As old as it was, it still held the fragrance of centuries worth of people. She continued past the walls, the inner defenses, and entered the city within. The royal palace rose before her as she slid down Main Street. The palace seemed to have eyes and it looked down upon her like a mother would a child, for it seemed to know that for all the centuries it waited, the wait was over.
She had passed the three tests. The third was gaining the castle walls. Now she knew that little resistance would be met along her way to destiny. The castle walls rose from behind, the mountain it rested upon towering over it. She also knew that on the west side of the castle, a cliff dropped a thousand feet to the ocean below. The placement of the Keep was perfect for defense and would have been very hard to lay siege to back in the day.
Yes, come to me my child.
She welcomed the voice and felt herself slipping away.
The common people’s homes that lined the street on both sides of her were battered and worn through with age. She entered the courtyard of the palace and started for the front doors. Darkness enveloped everything around her, evil emanating from every core of it’s being. She felt it and found herself longing for its touch. She wanted to become part of it but she knew that if she did, she would no longer be in control; it would.
Too late for that, she told herself as she entered the palace.
Evil surrounded her instantly, trying to bond with her own. She forced it out of her and fought to control it. Walking down the main hall and through the corridor she felt she knew by heart, she fought an endless battle against the power seeking to fill her.
She walked into the king’s quarters and looked around. A bed made of gallant material was on one side, a suit of armor befitting a king on the other. A large window with a balcony looked down at his kingdom to the south. She could smell none of the dust that should have been there. Her eyes locked at the treasure in the center of the room, her heart skipping a beat and her eyes widening. All her life she sought this one thing; this one way out of her already boring existence, and now here it was at last. She stepped boldly into the room, then raised her arms into the air. “Come,” she whispered, not able to find her voice.
At first nothing happened. Then a gust of wind struck up suddenly and her cloak whipped behind her, her wavy red hair flying with it. With her arms still raised in a beckoning call, she cried out louder for it to come to her; her eyes starting to glow. At first, they were a soft pink, then they began to glow a bloody red. A light lifted from her eyes, surrounding everything in her sight. She watched intently as the talisman started to glow as well. It sat upon a podium made of silver. The cover of the book was a bright red and was made of a type of leather that never tore. A dragon, not unlike the royal crest, was engraved on the cover. The thick book began to shake, then it rose off the pedestal and into the air.
The power surrounding it was unimaginable and was only told in legend. It hovered in the air at first, then it started to float towards her outstretched arms. As it approached, her arms lifted wide in anticipation.
Slowly, the book started to lower. As it did, she realized that this was what her life was meant for; this was why her mother brought her into this world. To fulfill the prophecy given by druids before they were driven west out of fear; fear that they may have been right.
The book lowered into her hands and she could feel the fire burn through her. She embraced the feeling of power. Her own resisted but was overwhelmed and finally intermingled with the power of the book. She tightened her grip on it, then raised it high above her head and laughed in triumph. Her laugh started slow and soft but started to grow louder and thicker; her voice was full of power that wasn’t there before.
The woman that had been there before was destroyed in the wake of the monster that followed.
Part I
We're going off tonight,
To kick out every light,
Take anything we want,
Drink everything in sight,
We're going till the world stops turning,
While we burn it to the ground tonight.
Nickelback
“Burn it to the ground”
for Tabby
Chapter 1
Ferrets
I
While John fought for his life on a distant battlefield to the north, Tristan sat by himself, looking over the Jagre Plains, lost in the grief of what had been done to him. For an unknown reason, Merlin had led them back to the spot where they’d been kidnapped, more than likely because that’s where their pack horses had been left. Whether they’d continue by horse or on those enormous beasts, he neither cared nor wished to speculate.
During the battle, he had picked up on the name griffin, and that turned out to be exactly what these things were called. Whether he’d gleaned it from Merlin’s mind or recalled it from the recesses of his memory—didn’t really seem to matter. Another beast of legend had come to life, and yet his heart didn’t care to think
on that either.
He watched the sun as it began to lower towards the horizon and thought back over what life had been like just a mere week before. The boring life that he’d led, the happiness he’d felt with his future wife by his side; he didn’t feel like he’d ever be that person again. Something had been stripped from his soul, his inner sanctum violated, and his body unclean. He was rubbing at his arms even now, as if covered in some grime that would never come off.
In the foreground was a river, which, if followed north, would take him back to Crystal Cove and his home. Though part of him wanted to do just that, get up and start walking, another felt that it was the one place he couldn’t bear to return. How could he look upon his brother’s face after what had just happened? Whether he could have done something about it or not didn’t matter; it had happened.
Ashamed, he began to rise but halted when he felt a hand touch him on the shoulder. Recoiling, he jerked from its touch, his flight reaction pushing him yards away before he turned to see Willow crouched down, her fingers extended, a worried look on her face. He couldn’t stop scrambling, feet digging into the ground, trying to get away from her as fast as possible.
He was unclean. He was not fit to be touched.
“Leave me alone,” he muttered, fear oozing through every word. She couldn’t touch him, not like this.
“Tristan,” she pleaded, trying to get through to him.
He knew she was hurting as well, but he couldn’t deal with that right now. He had enough to work through, including this itching feeling that his clothes were filled with the plague. He shook his head violently and got to his feet. Running, he stripped off all of his clothes and flung them as far as he could. Head down, he dove into the nearby stream, immersing his body in its cold welcoming hands.
The New Age Saga Box Set Page 47
