by Skye, Sariah
I held out a hand for Excalibur and the blade appeared in my hand, and promptly like it new was I was going to ask it to do, slid down my wrist and wound around it. Excalibur hummed in my hand and I grinned sheepishly. “Really good magic?”
“Right…” Xander eyed the sword in my hand carefully, as if it was going to explode, or turn me diseased or both. “But is it a good thing for something—anything—to have that sort of control over you? Complete control?”
“I’m still in control of my mind!” I insisted frantically. Well, mostly, except for the voices I was hearing…
Maybe Xander had a point.
“You’re worrying about nothing,” Rhys said, with a dismissive scoff. “It’s made with Avalon magic, right? Avalon magic is pure light, pure good. What could go wrong?”
Xander ran his hands contemplatively through his hair. “Well… what if somehow Nimue was able to manipulate Ava… in control of that sword, could she turn on us?”
“I’d never!” I replied, in a voice that was both mine, and the sword’s.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I know you wouldn’t, dearest,” he said, his voice softening.
I took both hands and set them on either side of his face, I was either about to kiss him senseless, even though I was still a bit achy and a lot sweaty. “I promise, there is nothing that would ever get me to hurt you. None of you for that matter.”
He tilted his head to the side, and he lifted his hand and affectionately stroked my cheek, while giving me a warm smile. “I didn’t really think you would.”
“Good.”
Xander deftly leapt to his feet and held out his hand for me to take. I slipped my hand in his and he lifted me effortlessly to my feet. “I’m going to go take a shower, dearest. You wore me out pretty good.” His smile turned scandalous and eyes hooded as he shot me a cocksure grin and licked his lips. “You want to come?” He asked in a husky tone, his hooded gaze landing on my mouth and staying there.
The warm tingles shooting down my spine and pooling low in my belly said yes, I desperately wanted him to. But, in a knee jerk reaction, I felt the sword buzz severely on my wrist and get so hot it nearly felt like it was burning. I let out a little squeal and pawed at it anxiously with my other hand like I was trying to get it off.
“Stop it!” I cried out loud, wincing when I realized that it wasn’t just in my mind.
My apologies, Avalon. I am not used to being approached by men.
You’re not! I am! If you’re going to try to attack my men—
—I’m not.
“Ava… are you okay?” Xander asked with incredible concern knitting his brow, as he reached out to touch me. I took another jump back, immediately regretting it.
“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a grin. “But I’ll forgo the shower for now. I’m… going to go take a walk or something. Work off this pent up energy you know.” With an awkward laugh, I turned on my heels, and darted off further onto the property, ignoring the concerned calls of Xander and Rhys both.
Are you sure you’re good? Seriously? I questioned the sword silently.
I can prove it to you. But you need the help of the witches to see. You’ll understand what I mean then.
“I hope so…” And I went off in search of my grandmother, hoping she’d have some answers.
Chapter Nine
Amidst the handfuls of cottages the Avalon witches inhabited was a generous sized “circle” area, where I assumed they performed their rituals, spells, whatever. I hadn’t actually witnessed any of them; after all I wasn’t an actual witch. I was a priestess. I didn’t really understand the distinction of course, except that one was a “leader," and the other was not so much.
I didn’t understand how I was a leader. I didn’t do anything but cast the damn spell to bring them here.
But the circle is where I found Igraine, talking softly to a couple of the other witches. One of them was the curvy blonde on Rhys’ arm from earlier, the other was Gabriella, the tall, statuesque beauty who played the drums during rituals, and the one I often heard in my “visions” when I called for my magic. When I approached, she noticed the distressed expression on my face and promptly sent them both off. The one gave me a sheepish smile, but Gabriella had a bright smile for me.
“Priestess,” she said with a reverent tone, bowing gently at the waist.
“Stop,” I nudged her, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I’m not better than you. You’re taller for crikey’s sake.”
She tittered laugh, patting my shoulder affectionately and followed the first witch off, claiming it was time to work in the gardens.
My grandmother looked regal as always in her gossamer white robes and long silver hair. She opened her arms and beckoned me in, and I relished in her embrace. “What is the trouble, my dear?”
I sighed, and stepped back to regard her. Swallowing, I held out my hand, palm side up, and willed the sword into full form. “What do you know about this sword?”
Igraine eyed it carefully, shaking her head slowly. “I’m not sure what you mean. I know what you and your men do, basically.” She took my hand, and let me to a log bench, with a small fire smoldering nearby. We heard the sound of the flowing brook that had been carved through and pooled into a generous sized pond further along the property, and it made me take a deep, cleansing breath. Internally I smiled, thinking about Sammy, the three-legged bear probably swimming in it somewhere having a great ol’ time.
“Is something happening?” My grandmother asked, looking upon me with maternal concern.
My jaw ticked, I desperately wanted to tell her—anyone—what was going on. But of course, I couldn’t. “Do you know anything about the spell casted on it?”
Igraine’s eyes narrowed. “It was crafted years ago by a dragon, I don’t think—”
“—the other spell. This isn’t just a normal sword,” I replied dryly.
I’m sorry you cannot tell anyone. I regret that burden was placed upon you. It is for the greater good, though, and safety. If knowledge of this fell into Nimue’s hands…
You don’t have to tell me twice. Just… leave my men alone.
I am sorry for that. It’s just… my nature. It’ll all make sense soon.
“I see you’re deeply disturbed,” Igraine said, setting a comforting hand on my leg. “I cannot tell you much about it—I don’t know much. The only person who would know unfortunately perished some time ago.”
“Efa?”
“Why yes, my mother.” Igraine smiled warmly. “She was a venerable woman. No doubt whatever spell she cast on it, I can promise there was nothing malignant about it.”
I nodded slowly, still holding the blade in my hand, but letting the tip fall to the ground. “I am sure of that. But much like anything else… too much Avalon magic, whatever… it sort of feels intense. Like I can’t really control it. It… made me sort of charge Xander. I can’t deal with that. I love Xander, I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You just need to relax and trust, Ava. Like with Avalon, like with your protectors. I understand the anxiety of something you don’t truly understand,” she said, “but once you calm and just believe in it, like you have everything else, I believe you’ll find your peace with it.”
I tapped my fingers against the hilt, feeling my mouth tip into a sidelong frown. “I’m not sure how to do that.”
Igraine smiled brightly. “Well, much like you did before when you were troubled and we first met; cast your worries into the fire to find your answers.”
I snorted lightly, I didn’t know what dancing around a fire would have to do with it. Sighing with defeat, I stared into the fire anyway, watching the way the flame danced and the plumes of smoke swirled and spun into the air. After a few moments, I could actually hear the light, steady drumming, provided by Gabriella and my eyes slowly slid shut, and my mind’s image turned a bright white, like being underneath a cloudy sky.
“Ava?” Looking up, I gasped. A tall man stood before me; st
rong, and noble. And, even though I didn’t know him, I knew in my heart, looking into his eyes that we were connected.
That I could trust him.
He held out his hand with a smile that made my heart leap. Not out of love, but admiration and understanding. I set mine in his and allowed him to assist me up.
“Now do you see?” He asked hopefully.
“I do,” I nodded slowly, with awe. “It all makes sense now.”
“Now you know you don’t have to fear. You know you know who I am, I wish you could tell your protectors but for now…” he trailed off.
“I know.” He pulled me in for a gentle side hug and we stood silently for a few moments before the vision faded and the sight and smell of the fire replaced his silhouette.
“Better?” Igraine asked smugly.
I nodded vehemently. I held the blade a little tighter in my hand, this time relishing in the warmth I felt as its magic flowed through me. “I… I know the secret. I get it now. We’re… connected.”
“I know you are.” Igraine opened her arms for a hug again, and I still held the hilt of the sword, letting it drop to my side as I embraced her. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“It will… I know it will…” And for the first time in a while I truly felt like, with Excalibur, it would be.
Chapter Ten
Bash
“Goddammit!” I swore angrily, slamming my fist onto the tabletop as I watched Mordred’s and my latest failed concoction blow up in smoke and catastrophe. “This just isn’t possible to create on a larger scale. Anything I have that could enhance any magic is nothing that your people would be able to handle or even have.”
“We can’t give up. My mother’s shadow fae are… insidious. They will have the ability to drain them, and enhance their own strength. There has to be something.” Mordred had jumped backward when the cauldron boiled over, and pulled off the protective goggles I made him wear. He was reluctant to do so at first, but after a nasty blowout that probably shook the house and nearly singed off his eyebrows, he realized that I meant business. With a combination of naturally occurring ingredients, modern chemicals and pharmaceuticals, he was quickly learning my concoctions were a lot more devious than anything he’d ever been able to create. Though, he was no slouch in the alchemy department himself. Armed with years’ worth of Merlin’s magical knowledge, written in books over the years he stole and saved, he was actually quite formidable. However, even with that we still lacked the knowledge of something to create on a large scale that the rebel army could use to protect, enhance or otherwise.
I was sure that damned secret inside that sword was the answer, however I wasn’t able to properly see what was inside it… and that was terrifying. Knowing that that was what our beloved Ava was wielding, and I just didn’t understand it. I could see it, but when I tried to get down on its molecular, atomic level, my mind would get fuzzy and confused. It was hiding something, I was sure of it.
“Sebastian?” Mordred’s voice brought me out of my self-loathing, and my gaze snapped up.
“What?” I snapped, then softened my demeanor. “I’m sorry, this is just frustrating. So much is at stake here, and I—”
“—um, dude.” Xander’s voice interrupted us. I turned and noticed him in the entryway. He was breathing heavily, drenched with sweat; his hair was plastered with it to his forehead. I arched a brow.
“The hell happened to you? Get chased by zombies?” I asked, and he frowned severely.
“Ava. Ava kicked my fucking ass is what she did,” he said, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead, and I felt my eyes narrow. My first reaction was to crack a joke but it was clear by his deep glower that pulled down at his eyes and pinched forehead he was in no mood.
“Your priestess is quite formidable,” Mordred commented, intrigued and Xander and I exchanged a knowing look.
“She is, but she has no battle experience. None. We do, however. There is no way she should have been able to kick my ass that way,” Xander protested, as his mouth set into a deep frown. “Something is up with that sword.”
I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “I knew it… how do you know?”
Xander gave a deprecating laugh. “Sec…” he disappeared briefly, returning with a towel that he swiped over his face. He draped it over his neck and leaned over the table in my “lab," and sighed. “She was able to deflect everything I did. She moved like a seasoned warrior, with battle knowledge she just doesn’t have. She knocked me down and the entire time Rhys said, ‘it’s the sword, it guides her’ basically.” He snorted loudly. “I gave her a regular sword, she wasn’t able to lift it even. Now either she’s a fantastic actress or there is some major secret in that sword.”
“I knew it…” I muttered in dismay. “This is…” I covered my face with my palms, groaning into them. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t either. She… attacked me. Like… got angry and came at me. I swear it was like looking into Lachlan’s face when he looks like he’s going to kick our asses for being stupid. Like when he learned about the, uh,” he stammered, blushing flicking a gaze at Mordred.
“Tai chi?” I suggested, knowing exactly what moment and bitter face he meant of Lachlan’s.
“Yeah. It was just… weird. I’ve seen Avie angry, but never at us—not truly, you know?” Xander folded his arms over his chest and sighed. “I’m not sure what to make of any of it. But the more time she spends with that sword, the more it seems like it’s… taking over? I’m not sure if it makes sense… but I’m worried about her.”
“But… pardon my ignorance, but what does Merlin say about it? Is it evil, or, what?” Mordred piped up, and Xander shrugged.
“He says it’s not. He says there is no way with the Avalon magic it is anything but honorable, but…” he trailed off, obviously unconvinced. “You don’t know Ava like we do.”
“I assume not. But, Merlin is not evil though, is he?” Mordred asked. Xander and I looked at each other and stifled laughs. “Is he?”
I bit my lip, swallowing my chuckle. “No, he’s really not. He’s just been a plague on our asses for weeks now.”
“I know Ava really cares about him, whether she admits it or not,” Xander agreed, with a laugh. “But evil? No, especially when it comes to her.”
I nodded in agreement.
“So, if Merlin says this sword—Excalibur—is good, do you think he’d lie about it? Especially if it’d hurt the priestess?” Mordred asked, and reluctantly, I groaned. He was probably right.
“No… I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we just need to trust the magic,” Mordred said, with a shrug. “After all, it’s the same magic that created Avalon, even if we don’t quite understand what made the sword in the first place.”
I released a sighing groan. “I just wish we knew someone who knew about these sorts of weapons. How they work, whatever. If we knew, perhaps there is something I could duplicate about it to help the army.”
Xander frowned at me gently. “No luck?”
“Nothing on a large enough scale. I could imbue a few weapons with spells, or make even quite a few potions that might bolster strength. Like this…” I said, turning for the tall cabinet I kept most of my potions and ingredients locked up in. Waving my hand over an unseen panel, it opened and I grabbed for a handful of vials with faintly glowing liquid inside. “These would help enhance magic, and with Mordred’s help I was able to put in a bit of shadow to make it immune to that, but there would be no guarantee that even if placed correctly, it would work on a large scale. A handful of fighters might get its benefits, but nothing more. And nothing that can be re-created with their magical abilities.” Sighing, I set them carefully on the table top.
“Still a handful of soldiers’ safety and skill enhancement is better than nothing,” Xander mused quietly, tapping his fingers on his cheek.
“Yeah but if what Mordred says here is true,” I began, a frustrated growl in the back of my
throat, “that means a massive loss of life here. I’m not okay with that.”
“No, me either.” Xander and I exchanged small smiles, and I sighed.
I figured that was about the end of it, when we heard a noisy popping sound.
“Guys! Get out here, there’s something you need to see!” Rhys popped in just outside the laboratory door, and Xander was immediately enraged. He lifted his hand, sparks of lightning dripping from it as he glowered.
“Goddamned you, you are not supposed to—” he started to yell, but Rhys rolled his eyes and flicked his hand, effectively cutting off not only Xander’s magic but his voice as well.
“Ugh enough. Seriously none of you ever listen!” Rhys protested petulantly. Xander’s eyes widened with frustration, and I patted his shoulder.
“Rhys I’m pretty sure we’ve told you not to teleport inside here, huh? I could blow up the entire house if you scare me enough,” I replied, and Rhys just snickered and waved me off.
“Okay fine, I’ll remember that. But—you need help? Help has arrived,” Rhys insisted with a smile, flicking a gaze at Mordred who appeared confused.
“Help?” He looked at me and shrugged. I was no privier than he was.
“Who can help us?” I asked, confused.
“A certain old conjurer who I owe money to, goddammit,” he grumbled in dismay, “is standing in our living room right now with… reinforcements.”
“Huh?” I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket, confused as to why the wards didn’t go off.
“Finnian. He doesn’t need to use your wards. Duh.”
“Right…” I said. Xander’s face reddened with fury at the mere mention of his former benefactor. “Can you, uh—” I motioned to Xander and Rhys smiled guiltily, waving his hand and giving hi back his voice.