Invincible: The Curse of Avalon #4

by Skye, Sariah

  Rhys blasted whoever he could with his magic, and Lachlan hung back to finish what we’d started.

  Me? I barely comprehended what I was doing. I’d taken out around twenty fae, in addition to many from the guys, before we finally reached the palace gate. Not surprisingly, it was locked, and Rhys held out his hands at his sides, summoning the magic. “A little help?” he requested, and Xander stepped forward, reaching for the sky to call for his storm magic. Lightning descended from the clouds, wrapping around him, the wind blowing his hair all around, storm clouds rolling in his black eyes. Bash came up beside him, nodding, and took Xander’s magic into himself, flinching as it burned while it skirted up his arms and swirled around him.

  Mathias and Trystan had no active magic but were powerful, and stepped forward quickly to barrel down the gate the moment the magical wards were released.

  “Now!” Rhys shouted, releasing a blast of bright green magic from his hands, and Bash and Xander shot their magic in tandem, combining with Rhys’. I opened my hand and revealed a blast of combined invisible and Avalon magic, combining with my father’s and we all propelled our power forward; it slammed into the giant gated wall, blasting off the strong, iron hinges and knocking it off center, cracking it down the middle.

  Mathias and Trystan wasted no time body slamming against the heavy wood and it split open, part of it falling and crashing to the stone ground, releasing an echo that pulsated through the stone corridor.

  With a jerk of my head I beckoned everyone to follow and stepped inside the palace. I quickly glanced around, apprising of the situation, snickering at what I saw.

  It was dark, lit only by a handful of torches on the stone walls; half of them had been snuffed out. Rhys summoned a light ball and held it beside him, and I pointed the sword up into the air, lifting it like a torch, illuminating everything around us.

  There were no people to be seen; all the guards were out fighting the noisy battle behind us in the distance. None of the shadow fae had followed us in.

  I snorted, noticing that statues of Arthur, in various imposing stances lined the walls, or elaborate paintings or likenesses sewn into walled tapestries hung from the ceiling. “He’s not full of himself is he.”

  “Always was,” I replied to myself, with a snicker, just as Mordred quipped, “He sure is.”

  He looked at me, puzzled and daft. I probably looked like I was talking to myself, honestly. I flashed him a look that was probably disconcerting and pointed forward.

  “Lead the way, Prince. Cousin,” I added, with a grin.

  Mordred inclined his head at me once, and took the lead, weapon outstretched. I lined up behind him.

  Lachlan walked beside me as we stormed confidently through the castle on a mission. He watched me hesitantly, but something inside of him told me… somehow maybe he knew.

  “Yes, father?” I inquired, quietly enough that our footsteps bounced off the hard walls and echoed down the long hallway.

  “Nothing. I…nothing…” he said quickly, looking away, appearing sheepish. He composed himself, tossing his sword quickly in the air and catching it with the other hand.

  “Are you all right, lassie?” Trystan hurried to catch up with us, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I flinched at the touch and pulled away. Immediately I felt guilty at his wounded look.

  “Sorry, I… sorry. Not quite myself right now,” I replied in a deep voice.

  “That’s apparent,” Xander spoke dryly, and I flashed him a glare over my shoulder.

  We reached two tall, wooden doors with elaborate brass handles. Rhys was about to blast them down when they opened with a large creak instead.

  “Come on in, everyone. Welcome to my new throne room,” Nimue beckoned with a crook of her finger as she sat with false regality upon Arthur’s throne.

  “That will never happen as long as I’m alive, Mother.” Mordred took the first step inside, glowering at his mother. “Leave now, go back to where you came from and we’ll show you mercy.” I fell in next to him, still holding the sword before him, Lachlan next to me, Rhys blinked in in front of us and the guys immediately behind us.

  “Aww, a family reunion. Isn’t that special?” Nimue let out a devious cackle, drumming her long, shadowy fingers on the gilded armrest of the crimson covered, golden throne.

  “Just give it up, Nadina,” Lachlan spat venomously glaring her down.

  Nimue rolled her eyes, shifting in the throne and uncrossing and re-crossing her legs, one over the other. She sat forward, glaring at us. “Dear son, there is no such thing as mercy. To show mercy is weakness and there is no room for that in this world.”

  “Oh fuck you,” I shouted, annoyed. I balked only a moment, realizing it was my own voice. Strange.

  “No thank you. I’ve already done your father, I’ve had enough of that, can’t imagine you’d be any better,” Nimue retorted, slowly raising. She took a handful of steps forward, slowly raising her hand. “Now, I see I’m a bit outnumbered. That’s really not fair, is it?”

  “Nothing you have ever done is fair, why should this be?” Bash asked rhetorically.

  “Because you don’t make the rules. I do.” Her eyes narrowed and she threw out her hands, strands of thick shadow magic shooting from them. Instinctually I threw up my shield and lifted the sword to block, but they weren’t aiming for me.

  “What the—”

  “Shit!” The guys all exclaimed as the shadow encompassed them, rendering them immobile. The shadow twirled up and surrounded their limbs, pinning their hands to their sides. Mathias tried to break free but the shadow’s grip tightened and he grunted and groaned. He began to open his mouth to speak, but Nimue flicked her hand out, and the shadow swirled up, and circled his head, covering his mouth. She did the same with the other guys and Rhys before I could make a move.

  It doesn’t matter. We got her. With them tied away, they’re safe; they’re no harm to her.

  Yeah I get it, I replied silently, frowning. But I don’t have to like it.

  No one does, Ava. No one does.

  Grumbling, I shook my head.

  “Trouble with the sword Ava dear?” Nimue asked, innocently fluttering her eyes.

  I laughed bitterly. Slowly I approached her with soft footsteps, my movements not matching the anger or fury I felt. Or… we felt. I was trying to remain composed, but I was about five-seconds away from losing my shit. “No, no trouble. You’re about to have trouble with it, though.”

  Nimue snickered and laughed. “Oh this is good. Well I have to say I’m surprised you got this far and didn’t chicken the fuck out. I know how your anxiety gets the better of you. Your dad used to talk of it all the time. ‘I have to go check on Ava… she was so scared earlier…’ Ha! What a joke. A witch with anxiety problems.”

  “Not a witch, you skank. I’m a priestess. You’ll find I have no anxiety right now, bitch,” I retorted, my voice lowering again as I took another step forward.

  “Bitch? I really hate that word.” Flippantly, she flicked her fingers, releasing a bolt of shadow at me. With a smug grin, I quickly raised the sword, deflecting her magic as effortlessly as waving. The magic bounced off and exploded in a mass of black powder, trailing to the ground.

  Nimue arched a brow. “Impressive, I have to admit.”

  “Thanks. I thought so…”

  “Ava! It’s a trick!” My father yelled behind me. I turned, peering over my shoulder, wincing while the guys struggled, their eyes pleading and bodies tense with distraught.

  “Dad! I’m okay,” I insisted. I noticed she left Lachlan’s mouth uncovered; probably so she could relish in his screams when I was struck down dead.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  “Ava!” My father’s eyes widened in terror as Nimue moved in a dark flash, blinking and landing just behind me, shooting out a dart of her insidious magic from her hand.

  As quick and effortless as a breath I spun quickly, raising the sword angled in front of me, quickly deflecting h
er magic; it landed on the silver and gold blade with a sickening hiss as it dissipated and exploded away.

  Nimue flinched, looking surprised. Now it was my turn to grin evilly.

  “I think you’ll find we’re evenly matched now, Nadina…” I kept the sword raised, stepping towards her, each footstep I grew with confidence in my ability and the ability of my “hidden” companion. Nimue grew weary and more fearful as I stalked her down.

  “We’ll never be even, daughter of Lancelot. Never…” Nimue rose her hand, shooting out another dart of her evil magic, and with a jerk of my elbow I moved the sword to deflect. Surprised, she shot another at me, this time towards my feet, and I swiped the sword low and deflected that. She shot with both hands at me, going high and low, and with a strange, impossible agility, I spun, kicked, deflected and guarded against every blast of magic she shot at me, sometimes two or three at a time. No matter what she gave me, I combatted effortlessly. The more I used the sword, the brighter it grew until it was practically on fire, shining so brightly like the sun, refreshing and liberating in all this dank darkness that Nimue provided.

  “Ready to give up yet?” I asked, with a gentle laugh.

  Her face appeared hollow—more than usual. Darkness pooled under and surrounded her eyes, shadows marred her face and she began to lose her cohesion. Her limbs flashed between normal humanoid and long, shadow tendril with no form. Still she smirked at me, still thinking she had the upper hand.

  She didn’t.

  “Never. But you’ll be begging me once I start taking down your companions. Your father first, followed by the big one—shame because he’s so hot, then—”

  The light that surrounded the sword changed color and hummed feverishly in my hand. I glanced back at my father, Rhys, and the guys as they appeared terrified, immobile, helpless and unable to speak. I glowered, feeling the rage deep inside that had been beginning to boil in my stomach heat and was about to explode over in a torrent of vengeful fury.

  “I will never allow you to touch them. I will never allow you to touch anyone again, Nimue,” I barked at her, lifting my blade and pointing the end of it where her heart would be. She raised a hand, attempting to shoot her magic at me, but with a flick of my free hand, my Avalon magic was easily able to dispel it. Her eyes widened, full of terror, maybe realizing that she was about to meet her evil maker.

  It’s probably still a trap, she’s trying to trick you into thinking she’s weak so you strike.

  Yeah, I know…

  She has been weakened though, Excalibur hummed, and spoke in my mind. I nodded in acknowledgement. Though it doesn’t really matter. It’s almost time.

  “Ava…” I heard my father whisper silent pleas in a shaking tone. I didn’t dare turn away from Nimue, as she backed away slowly.

  Almost time…

  I shook my head as the rage boiled over inside. “You have hurt so many, Nimue. Countless people. Countless supes. Why? Here I thought Morgaine was the most evil of the bunch—turns out it was you all along. It’s so funny, you know. The legends that are recorded don’t say much about you. A little here and there,” I said, with a shrug, “but certainly nothing impressive. Almost like someone wanted to block you from existence because you just don’t matter that much.” I chuckled bitterly, jabbing the sword at her a bit more until she gasped. Moving on instinct, I reached my hand out, calling for the Avalon magic and I poured it into her. Her eyes widened and she gasped, choking.

  It’s almost time… the sword spoke again.

  “You… can’t beat me… alone. You are an Avalon witch, you cannot kill. You cannot… kill me…” Nimue choked through coughs, and I cocked my head, still pouring more magic into her. She tensed and gasped, attempting to fall to her knees, but I grabbed her dark shirt, holding her up.

  Now, Ava. NOW!

  “You’re right, Nimue… I can’t. But I’m not alone. I am never alone…” With a wink in her direction, the sword lit up bright as a supernova waiting to explode, a flash of the brightest, most colorful light, swirling around the blade until finally resting on the surface for the words that would end this all:

  “Blade of light, blade of might, release your secrets, END THIS NIGHT!”

  The sword exploded. I couldn’t make out the guys, I could barely make out the shaking silhouette of Nimue, trembling beneath me as I gripped her shirt. The sword fell to the ground with a loud clank and Nimue almost appeared hopeful until it spun and twisted and a tall, broad shouldered, red-haired man with blue eyes appeared just behind Nimue, the sword of Excalibur in his hand.

  Nimue flicked a glance over her head at the new figure that just appeared. She gasped, realizing who it was and exactly what was about to happen.

  He winked a playful eye at her. “Good to see you again. Except… not. Enjoy your trip to hell, bitch. This is for my mother!” And with a severe thrust, he plunged the blade into her back until the tip of it exited her stomach, a dark viscous liquid pouring from it and falling to the ground, hissing and wheezing the moment it touched the stone.

  The drumming in my head grew frantic and I called for the last bit, and between it, and the blade wielder we gave it everything we had.

  Nimue’s humanoid form shifted into a blob of dark shadow before imploding in around the sword’s blade and shooting out in an explosion of epic proportions that knocked me and the sword-wielder on our feet, and shot out like a bomb, shaking the castle walls and probably the entire kingdom.

  With a shriek I was propelled backward and onto the ground, skidding across the floor, wincing as my ass scraped against the stone. Weak, tired, and a bit confused, I struggled to stand. With a groan, I moved to push myself up with my hands when one outstretched out before me. I looked up into the face of the man who was held inside the blade, grinning at the familiar smile.

  I set my hand in his and he grabbed it tightly, pulling me square up to my feet. “Well done… sister, dear.”

  I grinned right back at him. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Surprise!” I breathlessly grinned, still holding my brother’s hand as everyone—Lachlan, Rhys, and the guys— looked on in absolute shock and awe.

  “That…is…” my father stammered, released from the shadow finally as he fell to the ground, tears shining in his blue eyes. My blue eyes and the eyes of my brother.

  The soul in the sword belonged to my brother; the infamous Galahad, who my father thought was lost on a battlefield all those years ago.

  “Ava?” Mathias cautiously asked, stepping forward.

  “Hey guys. Allow me to introduce Excalibur. Otherwise known as my brother,” I replied, with a wide grin, motioning to him. My brother grinned widely as my father sobbed openly.

  “Galahad…” Was the only word out of his mouth.

  The mouths of all five men—including Rhys’—fell open in absolute shock.

  “I did not see that coming,” Rhys squeaked; I thought his jaw was going to fall off his face

  “Are you serious? He was living in that sword all along?” Trystan asked, shaking himself off, still struggling to move from the lingering effects of the shadow prison they were all in.

  “Is she—?” Rhys asked in a squeaky voice, appearing just as stunned as the others.

  “Dead as a doornail. She’s gone. God that felt good!” Galahad replied before turning to the wizard. “Good to see you again, Merlin.”

  Rhys barely nodded in acknowledgement.

  The shadow magic slowly wore off. Lachlan was the first to his feet, wearing an expression on his face of disbelief, like he’d just seen a ghost. And, I suppose he had, really.

  The guys slowly regained their footing, and Mathias, the fastest, slammed into me like a shot, taking me in his arms and kissing my cheek repeatedly; the others weren’t far behind, giving me bearded kisses and wrapping me in their arms.

  “Och, Avie… you scared the shite out of us, luv,” Trystan said, crashing into me, as Xander wrapped himself ar
ound my back.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, regarding all of their worried, handsome faces. “I wish I could have said something but—”

  “—We know, babe, we know…” Bash said reassuringly. As grateful as I was for them though, I was curious to see the reunion between my father and my brother; of the son he thought he’d lost that had actually been with him all along.

  “Hello, Father,” Galahad said in his direction. Lachlan reached out for him tentatively, like he was afraid the vision would fade if he did, like a mirage.

  “How—how is it possible? You… I saw you dead on the battlefield outside Cornwall. You’re… there’s no way…” Lachlan and Galahad were around the same height, and except for the red hair, they appeared almost identical in stature and size.

  “It is me, Father. I wish I could have somehow told you… I know how you worried. I’m sorry for that,” Galahad replied, taking my—our—father’s hand and setting it between both of his.

  “Sorry? There’s nothing to be sorry for, but just… how?” Lachlan asked, his voice barely a squeak.

  “Ava’s great-grandmother came to me in the mists just as I was about to perish. I was riddled with guilt after running off, knowing that you’d already suffered so much, I asked if there was something she could do—some power she could give me. There wasn’t but there was a spell, similar to the one that would lock Avalon away from harm to lock my soul, my essence away into the first inanimate object I encountered after it was casted,” Galahad explained. “You barely missed her, and by the time you arrived I was already unconscious, barely hanging on to life, but she suspended me for a time. She must have known you were coming, because the first object that I came across that would bind me—”

  “—Excalibur,” Lachlan replied, his gaze dipping to the sword in his son’s hand. It’d lost its golden gleam, and deep, viscous blood dripped from it, pouring down the blade and mixing with the purple stone in its hilt giving it an ominous appearance. “I came across Arthur just before finding you. He thought he was dying, gave me the sword. But he said the most peculiar thing… now it makes sense…”