Invincible: The Curse of Avalon #4

by Skye, Sariah

  Igraine took the other chair, and Mathias hurriedly went to the kitchen to retrieve one of the kitchen chairs for Morgause. She smiled at him appreciatively as he gave her a chivalrous hand and assisted her to her seat.

  “So, is this where you tell us it’s time to come fight?” I inquired finally, after everyone had looked at each other strangely for a few heartbeats.

  Mordred, still appearing incredibly uneasy, sat up a bit higher. “Essentially, yes. I’m here to help you to prepare. Time moves much quicker here than in Camelot, yes?”

  “It is our understanding that for every day that passes in Camelot, it’s more than a week here,” Bash replied. “How long has it been for you since you contacted us with the Round Table?”

  “Not even a full cycle—or, day,” Mordred replied. “Good, we still have a bit of time then to prepare.”

  “How is my dad?” I asked quickly and hopefully. Xander brushed his fingers over my shoulder and pulled me closer into him for solidarity.

  “He is alive, but he’s in a poor state. I’m afraid Nimue has infected him with a sort of shadow poison when she drew his blood,” Mordred replied sullenly, and I let out a small yelp. Xander looped an arm around my waist, pulling me tighter into him, giving me a look of sympathy as he ran his fingers through the length of my hair. I allowed myself to be nestled in to his shoulder, feeling instantly relaxed by his subtle scent of ozone and fresh, summer rain.

  “That’s the same thing that happened to Ava when she scratched her,” Bash supplied, and Mordred nodded.

  “Avalon was able to heal her, though,” Rhys interjected. “Obviously that’s what he needs.”

  I frowned. “Well, that’s great… not impossible or anything.”

  “I’ve slowed down the infection with a potion for now, but I’m afraid it won’t last long. I have to keep administering it, and every time I do so I risk being caught,” Mordred informed, with a sigh.

  “That is troubling indeed,” Igraine said, exchanging a look with Morgause who nodded solemnly.

  “What sort of potion?” Bash inquired, obviously intrigued.

  “Oh, I extracted a bit of my shadow magic and imbued a typical healing liquid with it, somehow it makes the healing properties react and trigger the dark magic once it’s introduced,” Mordred answered, and Bash cocked a brow.

  “You’re an alchemist?”

  Mordred considered this, bobbing a shoulder. “Yes I suppose that’s an appropriate name for it. Before I knew what my mother really was, she used to mix up all these incredible potions and amulets. I tried to copy her but that’s partly when I learned just what dark things she was doing. I started doing my research from books left over in the expansive library in the palace, thanks to Merlin,” he said, offering the wizard a respectful incline of the head, and Rhys sat up a little straighter, positively preening under the reverence. “I am glad I did it, too, because it wasn’t long before my parents remembered they were there, and tried to confiscate them.”

  “No…” Rhys frowned sourly. “Fuck, years of work…”

  Mordred lifted a hand, with a pleasant grin. “Rest assured I got them out before any damage was done. With a little mirror magic, I faked common books to appear like your tomes, and those were destroyed instead. It is sad that any books had to be destroyed, but yours, Merlin, are truly irreplaceable.” I smirked to myself, Mordred seemed to be laying it on a little thick. Exactly what the legendary wizard loved, especially when it was about him.

  “They wouldn’t have been able to be burned anyway. Ha!” Rhys scoffed and grinned impishly. “Silly, stupid king…”

  I chuckled, watching the easy smirk spread over Mordred’s face. “Yes, I agree,” he said, in a pleasant tone.

  “So, what is the status of what she’s doing now? We know there’s an army, we know she has Lachlan—err, sorry, Lancelot’s and Ava’s blood because she tricked us. What could she be doing with it?” Bash inquired. “Summoning Camelot?”

  “To my knowledge… no. But I’m not entirely sure what the spell needs, or what she is using. They may have given up on it, knowing that Avalon is now amongst your world. But I’m afraid your blood can be used for other things…which is partially why I’m here,” Mordred said, heaving a heavy sigh.

  “Is our Ava in danger?” Mathias asked quickly, alarmed. I snickered, and he rolled his eyes. “I mean, more than usual?”

  “Not directly, but if we do not go over to Camelot and begin to stop them…things could be quite disastrous,” Mordred said, with a downturned expression. “The army is… formidable.”

  I flinched, and Xander tensed under me. Bash let out a low whistle.

  “What sort of army, now? Are we talking… humans?” He inquired, and Mordred shook his head.

  “Not entirely. I’m afraid that my mother and father have been consorting with demons. Particularly—shadow fae. Like myself, and like Nimue. My mother,” Mordred replied. Mathias cursed, and Trystan started speaking in Gaelic under his breath.

  “Demons. That’s just… great.” Mathias began to pace, wringing his hands out in front of him, and repeatedly running them through his hair.

  “That is in addition to the army he already has. The human army. They have no special skills except for being adept fighters, but they are many.” Mordred sighed. “I’m afraid that is all I know, I cannot give you specifics. I fear that my double-agency may have been found.”

  “Double agency?” Bash asked.

  “Yes. I am posing as a commander of the Camelot army, but secretly I’m a rebel, in charge of the Avalonian army. We are a thousand strong, with another couple hundred assisting with spells and magic, but they are not fighters. I’m afraid it doesn’t compare to Arthur’s thousands.”

  “Thousands?” Mathias cocked a brow.

  “Yes. Around two and a half thousand, give or take.”

  “Fuck me.” Xander pounded an angry fist on the armrest of the couch and began shouting in Chinese.

  “He led us to believe it was even more, I think,” I said dryly, and Mordred laughed lightly.

  “Afraid my father is a bit of an exaggerator,” Mordred explained, and Rhys laughed wildly.

  “That’s the understatement of a lifetime!” He slapped his leg repeatedly, unable to contain himself.

  Mathias’ handsome face pinched sternly. “So, if Arthur has this huge army… how do we stand a chance?”

  “A demon army, no less.” Rhys had calmed, and now had a ball of some kind of white magic in his hands now, and he was tossing it back and forth absentmindedly between his palms, looking to be deep in thought.

  “You are going to need reinforcements,” Mordred said simply.

  “Really? Just that easy? Reinforcements?” I snorted loudly. “What, are we supposed to contact the National Guard? ‘Hello, yes, you’re not going to believe this, but a mad man from the past is going to unleash his demon army on the world. Send tanks and bombs—thank you.”

  “I am afraid I’m not privy to your world, but I do hope you have some sort of solution,” Mordred replied, with a thin-lipped frown. “Sir Percival and Guinevere continue to wander the villages between Camelot and the Rebel encampment, recruiting more fighters, but even if we were to get everyone who is able to join, I’m afraid it’s only another couple hundred at best.”

  “So, where are we going to find another what—thousand fighters?” Xander asked hopelessly, and I was about to offer some sort of trademark-Ava, smart ass remark when I felt Excalibur warm up suddenly and tremble. It was hot, like being burned with a curling iron and I slapped my chest in surprise and pain and yelped aloud, completely out of place.

  You don’t need another thousand fighters, Ava. We have everything we need. You, and me. As it “spoke” to me in my head it was loud, booming my ears with determination like a noisy engine. My eyes darted around nervously, wondering if it was possible anyone else could hear the “voice” inside my head, or if somehow Excalibur was speaking out loud. I’d say it was impossible, b
ut I once thought things like incubus demons and shape-shifting swords were impossible, so…

  “Ava? You trying to feel yourself up there?” Trystan asked, with a perverted smirk as his eyes tracked down to the hand that was of course poised over my breast, much like I was fondling it.

  I don’t know who you are, but you’re a bit of a dick. I retorted to the voice in my mind, as I glanced down and quickly pulled my hand away, smiling innocently. “Ah, no. Just… a chest pain.”

  “Right…” Trystan replied with an impish grin. I scowled at him, pulling the chained blade out of my shirt and clamping my fist over it, afraid that my secret would be found.

  They won’t find out. They can’t know, Ava. But just know that between you and I we have what it takes to take out Arthur and Nimue. You just need a good plan.

  Right, get right on that…

  “Ava? Are you okay?” Xander asked with concern on his handsome face.

  “Fine!” I answered a bit too quickly.

  If you don’t have the numbers to beat them, you have to outsmart them, the sword spoke with determination in my head.

  Right. Aside from Arthur pulling out his army, I don’t see how that’s possible.

  “What did you say?” Bash piped up, suddenly intrigued.

  “What? I didn’t say anything!” I protested.

  “Yeah, you did. You said, ‘aside from Arthur pulling out his army…’.” Grinning triumphantly, he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Brilliant.”

  “But… I didn’t say anything,” I replied under my breath. You really need to stop confusing me here, person-in-the-sword. They’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.

  A small price to pay for victory.

  Says you.

  It will all make sense in the end.

  Keep saying that…

  Bash was eyeing me strangely. That’s when I noticed my lips had been moving slightly, like I was talking to myself. Whoops.

  Shrugging it off, Bash looked away. “Mordred, you know your father the best. Do you think there is any way he can be talked down?” Bash inquired of the dark prince. He shifted in his seat and bit his lip nervously.

  “I am unsure. He’s pretty stalwartly aligned with my mother. Years of Shadow fae influence, I’m not sure if he can be purged from it. Shadow fae magic is… dark and insidious,” was Mordred’s dire reply.

  I gave a dry chortle. “Tell us about it.” Rhys and I glanced at each other, remembering when we’d both gotten hit with it. It was anything but comfortable. That brought up another thought, though. “Actually, do you have any reason why she’d need our blood? Mine and my father’s? Other than maybe attempt to resurrect Camelot?”

  “A good question,” Mathias said with approval, nodding towards me. I gave him a small wink.

  “From what I know about her spells,” Mordred began thoughtfully. “She would need more than the two of you for that. Or…” He tapped a finger on his chin and screwed up his face, pondering.

  “Or?” Bash prodded him on.

  “Or… she could be using it for herself. Both you and your father have strong magic, she could be using it to strengthen herself. Shadow fae—full ones—have to take energy from living beings. The more magical it is, the more energy it is,” Mordred explained, and Bash snapped his fingers.

  “Thank god she didn’t get Rhys’ then,” Bash said, and Rhys postured proudly.

  “Or she just could be trying to fool you. Or it was an excuse to infect you with her poison. It could be any of those, really,” Mordred replied, with a sigh.

  “Okay, great. So…getting back to the Arthur thing,” Xander said, “is it possible to heal him? Have him call off his army?”

  Mordred blew out a tense breath. “I am not sure. It would take the strongest powers of Avalon to do so, I would think.”

  Rhys snorted. “Um, duh. You have the two most powerful right here,” he said, motioning between the two of us.

  “He’s not wrong about that,” Mathias concurred.

  Trystan scratched his fingers over his rust-colored stubble. “Okay so he calls off his army. That leaves Nimue’s shadow bastards…”

  “And not to mention, we can heal Arthur all we want, but that still doesn’t mean he’ll go against Nimue,” Bash pointed out, and Mathias nodded in agreement.

  “Still, there’s a chance he could and if there’s even a chance to quell the death count, I think we need to go for it,” Xander said. Everyone uttered words of general agreement.

  “In the meantime, we need to look at Nimue’s magic. If she bolstered herself or the army with Ava and Lachlan’s blood… what could that mean?” Mathias inquired, turning to Mordred. “Do you have any idea? Bash?”

  Bash shifted uncomfortably. “I have no idea. That’s… blood magic. It’s… well I refuse to touch it. Rarely anything good comes from it.”

  “I concur,” Mordred responded. “There are tomes about it in Camelot, but little good it does here. And I certainly don’t have knowledge in it. It’s vile and unconscionable.”

  “Tomes?” I piped up. “Like… more of Rhys’ shit?”

  Rhys shook his head quickly. “No fucking way. I might be nuts—”

  “—nah, you’re not nuts, you’re an ass,” Xander interrupted, obviously wanting to get a rise out of the wizard.

  Rhys turned and blew him a huge kiss. “Yes, but it’s a nice ass, don’t you think?” Rhys moved to his side, and motioned to his butt as he wiggled it in his seat, much to the storm-wielder’s horror. I laughed into my hand and couldn’t stop when Xander glared at me.

  “What? You walked right into that one.”

  Mathias slapped his hand against his face. “Children… all of you…”

  “Oh cool off, Spartacus,” I scolded him, and he glowered for a brief moment before relaxing his face into his much more handsome, but still intimidating smile.

  “Anyway, I wouldn’t touch that crap for all the money in the world,” Rhys replied, giving a shudder.

  “Merlin is right,” my grandmother piped up. “Blood magic is quite sinister.”

  “We don’t make it a point to know much about it,” Morgause said, with a sigh. “Just that we know it messes with the user and turns them into something beyond reprehensible.”

  “Sure sounds like Nimue then,” Bash said bitterly.

  Mathias sighed in defeat. “Well that’s great. How are we going to know what we’re up against if we don’t even know how the magic works?”

  “Uh, we might not… but we know someone who does.” I arched a brow, staring all the guys down pointedly, clearly recalling the uncomfortable ritual my “loving mother” performed on me to imbue me with all the magic of Avalon.

  “Who, lass?” Trystan asked.

  Rhys slapped his hand on the table. “Duh. Of course. Morgaine.”

  “Morgaine? The Morgaine?” Mordred asked in surprise.

  “The one and the same,” I replied bitterly.

  “The problem with that, is can we trust her?” Bash asked, and with that, Rhys and I looked at each other with devious grins. He lifted his hand, palm side up, and summoned a particularly nasty looking mass of magic that was the color of a sickly green bruise.

  “We’ll make her. Trust me, if there’s anyone she’s afraid of, it’s me because I can put that bitch in her place,” Rhys said, wiggling a brow.

  “That is before you got shoved in a vessel,” Xander reminded him, with a smirk.

  Rhys turned his head slowly, pulling a face at him. “One time…”

  “All it takes, bro,” Xander replied with a shrug.

  “Yeah but I have you all. She won’t do shit,” Rhys insisted, and I nodded.

  “All right. So… the idea is to talk to Morgaine, see what she knows, and make preparations to enter Camelot and seek out Arthur,” Mathias said.

  “And heal my father,” I reminded.

  “Of course,” Mathias said, offering me a pleasant smile. “That goes without saying. How long do we have be
fore Lachlan’s spell wears off?”

  “Your time? Maybe about three days,” Mordred responded after a brief moment’s consideration.

  “Well then, if that’s settled.” Rhys teleported out of his seat and across the room. “Let’s go grill a bitch.”

  “You mean a witch,” Mordred corrected.

  “Och, laddie, with Morgaine the terms are one and the same,” Trystan said, with a wry chuckle.

  “And please bring Mordred,” Rhys said deviously. “This should be the most amusing thing ever since Trystan’s mirror manscaping!” Immediately, Trystan glowered angrily, face turning as red as his rusty-hued hair.

  “Rhys! I’ma—” Trystan began, but before he could tear after the wizard Rhys already disappeared and transported out in a puff of smoke, laughing evilly the entire time. “Ava, luv. Hold my pants. I’m gonna kill him.” Trystan stretched his limbs and shifted into his eagle, shedding his clothing as he did, and swooped gracefully through the room. Mathias rushed to the door quickly, opening it and letting him out before he slammed against it.

  “Hold my pants. It’s the incubi version of ‘hold my beer’.” I chortled ungracefully at my own stupid joke. Xander shot me a dry smirk before he burst into laughter.

  “Be the gods… all of you people…fucking insane I swear…” Mathias covered his face with his palms and shook his head. “Let’s go!” He barked, and the rest of us—Mordred, Bash, Xander and I, still carrying Trystan’s pants—scrambled like scolded children to follow Mathias out of the door to Morgaine’s cottage, none of us wanting to face the gladiator’s ire if we didn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  Morgaine, my mother, was being held in a spelled cottage in the center of the witches’ little village. Igraine said that was so everyone could keep an eye on her. With their magic, and a combination of Bash’s alchemy she wasn’t going anywhere. Finally.

  The guys and I, with Mordred in tow, all paused outside of her cottage, just long enough for Trystan to land on the ground and Rhys to teleport. Trystan glowered at the wizard through his eagle eyes, who just fluttered his lashes innocently.