“Why is there wind in here?” I asked. “Aren’t these caverns sealed from the outside?”
He gazed above his head, proudly smiling. “What you’re feeling is the first wind. It’s the source of our power. When an air elemental dies, each of us transforms into our element and unites with the first wind.”
I had read about the first wind many times, but to feel it against my face was something else entirely. All of the deceased air elementals were here in this cavern. Although I could not see them, I felt their power. I had this overwhelming sensation that they were with me.
After about fifteen minutes, we reached a silver door that looked more like a vault. Dad pressed his hand against the seal. A rumbling filled the silence, and then the door slowly creaked open. Inside was a room the size of my high school library. Rows of dark wood shelves lined the walls with hundreds of books bound in leather. One small marble table with four chairs sat in the middle of the massive room. At the far end, I noticed a glass octagon-shaped display case. Without saying a word, I made my way over until I stood in front of it.
“What is this?”
The display only held one item: a white shield with three diagonal red bands. I opened the case and ran my hand over the smooth surface. The longer my hand touched the metal, I felt infused with power. My muscles vibrated as if they were getting stronger. I pulled my hand back, closing the case.
“It’s known as the Shield of Lancelot,” Dad said, appearing next to me. “It has the power to triple the strength of anyone who carries it.”
None of the elemental history books I read ever mentioned Lancelot or this shield. The only time I ever heard that name was during a mythology class I took freshman year. Lancelot was the most famous knight in King Arthur’s army. According to legend, he lived in Camelot and had a saucy affair with the king’s wife, Guinevere. There were hundreds of stories written about them. I didn’t think any were true.
My head flooded with questions. “Why do we have this shield?”
“It’s one of four sacred artifacts. Each of the ruling houses protects one to keep the courts balanced in power. This shield is ours to safeguard. It has remained in this cave for thousands of years.”
“Why is it named after Lancelot?”
Dad ran his finger down the side of the glass case. “Because he was the only mortal who carried it.”
Shock didn’t begin to describe how I felt hearing his words. How could those stories be true? They were fairy tales. Fables said to little kids to teach them life lessons. What did that say about mythology as a whole? All of the myths and legends weren’t just stories. They were facts. I shook my head in total disbelief. Then I chuckled. After everything I had seen over the last few weeks, why did anything surprise me anymore? I needed to know more. “Okay, let me get this straight. Lancelot and King Arthur and all that Camelot stuff were real?”
Dad shrugged. “For the most part, yes.”
“How did Lancelot end up with the shield?”
Dad headed over to one of the bookcases, pulling a thick leather-bound book off the shelf. “Lancelot was a favorite of Queen Britta. She had watched over him from the time he was a small child.” I followed him over to the table. He sat down, searching the worn pages. He settled on a chapter aptly titled, “Lancelot.” “When Lancelot was old enough, Britta brought him to her castle beneath the sea. She became a surrogate mother to him. Once he reached adulthood, he left her to join the Knights of the Round Table.” Dad pointed to a faded drawing of the shield. “Britta wanted to protect him, so she created the shield.”
I sat down next to him as I remembered the stories I once read. Then something I had never considered floated into my head. “Are you telling me that Britta is the Lady of the Lake?”
Dad smiled, seemingly amused by my question. “She is the queen of the water court, and yes, she was known for a time as Nimue, the Lady of the Lake.”
I put my hand over my mouth, totally astonished by what I was learning. More questions swirled in my head. “What are the other three sacred artifacts?”
He flipped through more pages, settling on a picture of a thick gold ring with a round red gem embedded inside. “This is the Ring of Dispel, which shields the wearer from magic. The fire court protects the ring.”
I was about to ask him a question, but then he continued, “Should Rowan ascend to the throne of fire, he will learn the hidden location of the ring.”
I had the sudden urge to quote The Lord of the Rings. One ring to rule them all was on the tip of my tongue but decided against it. “And the other two artifacts?”
His eyes lit up as if he was pleased by my interest. Turning to a different section, he read right from the text. “Hidden within the forests of the woodland faeries, Orion protects the Green Armor. The suit can adjust to the size of the wearer. Once encased, the suit protected the wearer from injury.”
That didn’t make any sense. Why wasn’t Orion wearing the armor? The fire court was attacking woodland faeries all over the mortal world. He could have protected himself or someone else from injury. “Why wasn’t he wearing the armor when he and Jarrod attacked the fire court?”
Dad pressed his lips together, and I immediately regretted saying Jarrod’s name. “When we created the decrees, we decided these artifacts were too powerful to end up in the wrong hands. We felt it was safer for all to keep them hidden.”
Although I thought these artifacts were pretty cool, I agreed they should be kept hidden. No doubt, they could be used for good or evil. It made sense to keep them protected. I thought more about the legends of Camelot—all the stories of King Arthur and the knights. Then I felt a ping of excitement in my belly. “The sword, Excalibur. Is that the last sacred item?”
“Very good,” he nodded. “The sword is protected by Britta. Or the Lady of the Lake, if you’d prefer.” He focused on a drawing of the sword. The steel blade and brass hilt were both engraved with Celtic knots. The design on the pommel looked like a lion’s head. “This sword is incredibly powerful. Not only can it prevent the death of the carrier, but it can also lift the veil that protects Avalon.”
I was overwhelmed with all of this new knowledge. I couldn’t believe these objects and people existed. I mean, it wasn’t that surprising when I remembered that Avalon was part of many of these myths. None of my mortal friends would have believed me if I had told them about elementals. I couldn’t imagine telling them about all of this. If I had, they would’ve called the closest mental hospital to come and get me.
All I wanted to do was grab the book out of his hands and read every single page. The sacred artifacts were interesting for sure, but I also wanted to learn more about the veil protecting Avalon. No one had ever explained how it came to be. If I had to guess, I would say the answers are probably in this book somewhere. When I had more time, I promised myself I would search this entire library thoroughly. But for now, I had to refocus and remember I came here to learn about my akasha power.
I glanced around the room. “Where are the akasha journals?”
Dad pointed to the only sealed bookcase in the library. I sauntered over there. The front of the case was covered entirely with dust. No one had opened the bookcase in a very long time, but that made sense. Only the akasha could translate the books. If I could read the texts, it would confirm that I was the next akasha. My chest tightened as I slowly opened the glass door. A strong scent of leather resonated all around me. I picked up the first journal on top of the pile.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, opening the book. My shoulders sank. The words written looked like hieroglyphics. I flipped a few pages, and they all appeared the same. I let out a disappointed sigh. “I can’t read a word of this, Dad. I’m not the next akasha.”
Dad’s eyes widened with surprise. “That’s impossible. I know you’re the next akasha.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.” Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them go. Translating these books could’ve helped me save my fa
ther, balance the elements, and defeat Valac. What was I going to do? Everyone was counting on me. Just as I was about to close the book, I noticed the words in the text moving. “Wait one second,” I said, as they shifted into different formations. “The symbols are changing position, but I still can’t read them.”
“Let me see.” Dad moved quickly across the room, settling next to me.
I blinked twice to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. “It doesn’t make sense. Why are they moving?” I searched through every section, each more confusing than the last.
“I don’t see any movement,” Dad said, smacking his hand against his knee. “This is a sign, Kalin. It’s you. You are the akasha.”
“You said I’d be able to read the books, but I can’t.” Disappointment overwhelmed me. Everything I had feared was coming to fruition. All of my life, I had been hidden away from the elementals because my parents believed I was the akasha. I never once got to visit Avalon. I was lonely, always feeling like a huge part of me was missing. And now, see it was all for nothing. “I need to get out of here.”
Dad scratched the back of his head. “I refuse to believe what you’re saying. The fact that you see the symbols moving means something. I know it does.”
I wished I believed as he did, but I didn’t see the point. “It means I’m probably hallucinating.”
His eyes roamed the room. “I need to find a bag.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”
Dad glanced around the room, finding a discarded canvas bag. He grabbed it and then loaded the journals inside. “I want you to take these with you. You need to try to read them.”
I pressed my lips together. “What’s the point? We already know I can’t.”
“Yet,” he said, handing the journals to me. “You can’t read them yet.”
There was no point in arguing with him. He believed I was the akasha, and he wasn’t backing down. “All right, I’ll keep trying.”
I managed to carry the huge canvas bag through the caverns without Dad’s assistance. He offered, but he was weaker than he wanted me to believe. Once we reached his chambers, one of the guards took the bag out of my hands. They both followed me to my bedroom. I rubbed my eyes, exhausted from barely sleeping the night before. I planned to spend the next few hours skimming through a few of the sections. What would it hurt to try a few more times? The door clicked when I turned the knob. When I stepped inside, I saw something I wasn’t expecting.
Before I could say one word, Mom held up her hand. Dad just stood there with his mouth hanging open, no words coming out. Mom stepped toward us, arms crossed. “Kalin Matthews, you have a lot of explaining to do.”
Chapter Seven
Rowan
The sun disappeared below the horizon, while its rays scattered into twilight. Marcus had left to find his father. During his absence, I went through the room that was once my quarters. I had expected Liana to destroy my belongings or burn everything to ash. After all, she was furious when I refused to take the throne. I was surprised to find most of my things intact. All the furniture was exactly how I remembered, while my clothes and shoes were still in my closet. After I showered and changed, I scrounged up some bread and cheese from the kitchen.
During dinner, Marcus returned wearing a torn white t-shirt with fresh bloodstains lining the hem. He didn’t answer me when I asked about the blood. His silence confirmed what I had already suspected. The hounds were dangerous, feral creatures. Darius, his father and the leader of the pack, was the worst. Even before Marcus could shape-shift, his father forced him to fight other hounds. There were brawls that he barely survived. But Darius didn’t know any better. Their anger was encouraged by Prisma.
She enjoyed watching them fight, even to death. It was entertainment for her.
When Marcus finally started talking, he told me he had arranged a meeting with his father. Darius was eager to meet, insisting I come immediately. His enthusiasm made me suspicious. My gut told me Darius had a plan. How I fit into his scenario, I wasn’t sure. Although he was Prisma’s guardian, Darius hated her. She would use him to punish the other hounds if they disobeyed, and on occasion, force him to kill his kind. But she alone could control the hounds, leaving him no choice.
The meeting was meant to be peaceful. My goal was to create an alliance with the hounds. They might give me the leverage I needed against Valac. I had no idea how many supporters he already had. Due to the nature of our meeting, I considered not bringing a weapon. A show of force might send the wrong message. However, I couldn’t trust Darius. Not yet. I hid my sword under a glamour that most hounds couldn’t see. The hounds might smell the iron weapon, but I had to take the chance.
Marcus led us across the barren drylands of the fire court. We hiked for two hours, even passing through an abandoned village on the edge of our territory. It reminded me of one of the old black and white cowboy movies I used to watch in the mortal world. The wood on the small houses was charred, while shattered glass and trash lined the dirt walkways. There were no plants or life of any kind for miles. Gusts of wind blew through the area, whistling through the broken windows and door frames.
“I can’t believe they left the comforts of the castle for this place.” I finally said, breaking the long silence.
“Out here, they can do what they want.” Marcus massaged his upper arm. “This place has been abandoned for a while.”
After noticing his injury, I couldn’t ignore the obvious anymore. “What happened when you went to see your father?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, staring at something in the distance. “We’ve got enough to worry about as it is.”
Now I was sure. Darius had forced him to fight. That was the only possible explanation. “If you want to talk about it—”
“I know,” he interrupted, lightly punching me with his good arm.
He would talk to me when he was ready. It wasn’t something I needed to stress over. All I could do was get his mind off of it. “I noticed you’ve been looking a bit sluggish lately. Old age and all.” I looked at him as if I was sizing him up. “I’ll bet I could finally beat you for once.”
The challenge put a smile on his face. “I could have two broken arms, and you still couldn’t take me out.”
“That hurts, Marcus.” I put my hand over my heart, pretending to be in pain. “You’ve scarred me for life.”
He grimaced like I had punched him in the face.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized what I had said. Marcus had never forgiven himself for removing my wings. And thanks to my scar reference, he was probably replaying it in his mind. I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, man. It just slipped out.”
“It’s fine.”
Marcus hadn’t brought up the subject in a while. I assumed he was over it. Kalin disagreed, mentioning more than once that we needed some bro-therapy. I rejected the idea because I thought we had moved passed it. Judging by the pained look on his face, she was right. “You’re not acting like it’s fine. Are you still upset about what happened?”
“Of course I am. I probably always will be. I’m the reason you can no longer fly. I tore off your wings, scarring you for life. I tasted your blood in my mouth.” He lowered his head. “I almost killed you.”
Nothing I said before had put him at ease. I had to find a way to end his suffering. “You were under my mother’s control,” I reminded him. Marcus wouldn’t look at me. “I watched you try to fight back. I don’t blame you for any of it.”
“You don’t get it, Rowan,” he said, voice full of frustration. “It’s easy to forgive when someone causes you pain. But when you put the hurt on someone you care about, it’s nearly impossible to forgive yourself.”
“Actually, Marcus, I don’t think you get it.” His eyebrows furrowed. “The greatest pain you caused came days after I lost my wings. It was the letter you wrote. The fact that you blamed yourself, and then ran away.” I grabbed him by the forearm. “I would have rathe
r died from my wounds than lose your friendship.”
We both stood silent.
Marcus took an exaggerated breath. “I’m sorry about the letter. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I see it wasn’t. I should’ve talked it out with you.”
I hadn’t realized how angry I was over the letter until the words came out. I had always assumed it was about the loss of my wings. But in reality, it was about Marcus walking away from me, and the time I spent wondering if we would ever speak again. “We’re both idiots.”
“Pretty much,” he agreed.
“But you can still be my wingman,” I said, smirking.
Marcus waved his hands. “No way, you can be my wingman.”
I crossed my arms. “It’s so obvious I’m Batman and you’re Robin.”
Marcus chuckled. “Aren’t you forgetting I’m older and stronger than you? That makes me Batman.”
“Okay, okay, Batman and Robin is a bad analogy. But I’m definitely He-Man.” I started laughing. “And you’re Battle Cat.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You wish you were He-Man.”
“Don’t get your fur in a bundle over it.” I patted him on the back. “Battle Cat is just as important as He-Man.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “I’m starting to understand why no one likes you.”
I pretended to wipe sweat from my brow. “Being a hero comes with many burdens.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “I think I liked you better when you were unconscious.”
By the time we reached the edge of the abandoned city, the sky had darkened into night. It had become difficult to see much farther than a couple of yards in front of us. About a block away, I noticed some activity in front of a large brick building. The structure wasn’t in the best condition. There were shattered windows and a large hole on the side of the exterior. As we got closer, a few hounds made their way outside. Most were in their mortal form, except one.
Mortal Enchantment Complete Box Set Page 32
