So long as he bore that mark, he’d be able to control and channel the power of the grail. He could unleash a magick so raw that no one would be able to stand in her way or his. It was why he didn’t want to know the names of the other knights and why he hadn’t looked at the clues that could lead him to where Guinevere had hidden it. He didn’t want the temptation of betraying them. He was already afraid of what he might do one day should Bors and the others anger him past his control.
And yet as he lay here with Merewyn snuggled against him, he couldn’t imagine ever betraying people like her. They were the ones who would suffer most if he turned. They had no power to negotiate. Nothing Morgen could make use of. They would simply be fodder or pawns for her to abuse and kill for no other reason than she was having a bad hair day.
He felt his eyelids getting heavy. Blinking them open, he reminded himself that he couldn’t go to sleep. He couldn’t afford to give his mother anything she could use against them.
Merewyn came awake slowly to find herself incredibly warm. She smelled the scent of leather and pleasant musk…Varian. It was so comforting that it was all she could do not to burrow her nose against his neck and just inhale him. As it was, she felt the heat of his body, the strength of him pressed against her. But what startled her was the fact that her hand rested against his naked skin. She could feel the short, crisp hairs that ran from his navel down to a thicker pelt where her fingers rested.
Slitting her eyes open, she realized he was still asleep, facing her while her left leg was buried between both of his. Her head was cushioned against his shoulder, and his cloak still covered them both. Her heart pounded at their intimate position. Every inch of her was pressed up against him, with her face literally buried against his neck.
There was no way to pull away without waking him. Bracing herself, she moved back as slowly as possible.
Just as she thought, he woke up immediately. She froze the instant those green eyes met hers.
“Sorry to wake you,” she whispered.
He blinked as if he didn’t understand her. And before she could think to remove her leg from his, she felt him harden against her thigh. Heat scalded her face.
But he didn’t seem to feel any embarrassment. Instead, he closed his eyes and nuzzled her gently before he withdrew from her. Merewyn was baffled by that. For a man who didn’t want to sleep with her, he was strangely tender.
He stretched languidly. “I can’t believe I slept.” There was an odd note in his voice that she didn’t understand, but it sounded like he thought sleeping was a mistake.
She tried her best not to notice the way his jerkin pulled against his body, emphasizing the taut muscles that flexed as he moved. It was a most tempting sight he made lying there, and it made her wonder what it would be like to lick that inviting skin the way Narishka did her lovers.
What would he taste like?
Trying to distract herself, she cleared her throat and went back to the topic at hand. “You were tired.”
Before he could respond, she heard the others stirring awake.
Merewyn got up immediately, before any of them saw the way she and Varian were cuddled, and straightened her gown. She frowned as she looked down at the hem. Had the dress stretched out of shape? It appeared to be longer than it’d been before.
It was as if she’d shrunk during the night…
At that thought, a wave of icy trepidation went through her as she turned toward Varian, who was standing beside her.
“Do I…?” The words caught on her tongue as fear seized her completely. Please, please don’t let her be right in this.
“Do you what?”
“Am I…” She had to force the word out of her paranoid throat. “Normal?”
He frowned at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Should you not be?”
Merewyn placed her hands over her face, trying to see if Narishka had turned her back into the ogress. To her relief, her skin was still smooth. There were no scars, no bulbous lips. Her face seemed to be as it was.
She gave a nervous laugh. “I must be imagining things. Sorry.”
He picked his cloak up from the ground and fastened it back around his neck by a silver dragon clip. “No need to apologize.”
Still she had a bad feeling, as if something about her was different. As if Narishka was somehow here with them. Her mistress’s presence hung in the air like a bitter-smelling pall and it made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She continually looked about, half-expecting to find Narishka or one of her minions hiding to spy on them.
The group was mostly silent as they packed up camp, then ate a bit of meat to break their fast.
Beau seemed to be a tad taller, and his arms were a bit more formed as he clung to Merewyn’s side while she ate in silence. The strangest thing was that he seemed to be smacking his lips…only he didn’t have lips yet.
Once they were ready to resume their trek, Derrick audibly gulped. “I guess it’s time to cross the bridge.”
Erik chittered nervously before he ran up Merrick’s arm and hid his small head under his brother’s collar.
Blaise rolled his eyes. “What is the deal with the damn bridge?” He exchanged a bemused look with Varian. “I mean really, how scary can it be?”
“You’ll see,” Merrick said, leading them north once more.
“We’ll see,” Varian mocked in a feigned spooky tone.
Merewyn shoved playfully at him for picking on the triplets that way.
But that playfulness died a short time later when they approached the old wooden bridge that stretched over a fiery pit—one made of burning dragon scales that shimmered like iridescent jewels below them. Every so often one of the scales would launch itself into the air, then burst into flames. The bursting was bad enough, but the real danger in dragon scales came from the fact that they were razor-sharp and could carve through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter.
Even so, Varian and Blaise didn’t seem to notice the pit at all. It was the bridge that made them pale drastically.
“What?” she asked the men, worried that they knew something she didn’t.
They didn’t respond to her.
“How is this here?” Varian asked Derrick, his voice low and filled with awe. It was obvious the bridge held some major significance to him that she was unaware of.
Derrick shrugged. “We don’t know. It was here when we arrived and has been here ever since.”
Merewyn scowled at Varan’s dire tone. “What is it?”
“Slaughter Bridge.”
It still meant nothing to her. “Should I know that?”
Blaise let out a deep breath before he answered. “It’s where Arthur and Mordred fought their last battle.”
Merrick nodded. “Arthur’s blood marks it still. And we have to cross it to get to Merlin’s. There’s no other way into the valley proper.”
Looking back at the old wooden-and-stone bridge that arced gracefully over the river of fire, Merewyn swallowed as a chill went down her spine. She could only imagine what must be going through Blaise’s and Varian’s minds as they stood before the very thing that had brought all of them to this point.
On that bridge the course of history had played itself out. The destiny of the world of man and fey had collided and left a permanent rift between them that would most likely never be repaired.
In one day, everything had changed. A king had died, one prince had been killed, and two more had been laid to rest in stasis until they were summoned again to refight this battle. Three cities had been pulled out of time, and Varian and Blaise had been left to try and keep their enemies from ruining the world she’d been born to. They were unknown guardians fighting a thankless, bloody war that had left scars on both of them.
Feeling for their sacrifice, she reached to take Varian’s hand in hers.
Varian paused at the foreign sensation of someone’s hand holding his. It was the first time in his life that anyone had done that. As a child,
his mother and father had grabbed him by the upper arm, hair, or collar of his tunic to drag him about.
And when she laced her fingers in his, something inside him melted.
He offered her a hesitant smile as they followed after the others who were already on the bridge he didn’t want to cross. This was a sad reminder of a day he’d just as soon forget. The only man who’d ever meant anything to him had drawn his last breath here.
It was all he could do not to turn and run, but Varian was anything except a coward. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to approach it.
As he stepped foot on the old wood, his conscience burned. He could feel Arthur here. He could hear his voice whispering to him. And all too easily, he could see him fighting against his nephew. See the two of them locked in heated battle like two rams who struggled to reign supreme. Even now the sound of sword against armor and shield rang in his ears. The smell of blood infiltrated his head.
It made his heart ache to think of Arthur falling to Mordred. He should have been here that day…
A sudden wind stirred, whipping his hair around his face and blinding him. Merewyn let go of his hand to pull her own hair out of her eyes as her face paled. She held it at her neck with both of her hands as she passed a nervous look to him.
Out of nowhere a mist surrounded them. It blocked the light until they were swathed in absolute darkness. There was no sight of the fire below. No sound or smell. It was as if all their sensations were blocked by something evil.
“Who goes there?” a demonic voice roiled out from the mist.
Before he could even part his lips, the two brothers cried out, “Derrick, Erik, and Merrick. Servants of Merlin.”
There was a brief pause before the voice responded. “Then you may pass.”
The three of them ran across the bridge to the safety of the other side.
Varian frowned, wondering why they were so afraid when it didn’t appear to be that menacing.
The mist curled around Blaise and seemed to swallow him whole. “And who are you?”
“Blaise, son of Emrys Penmerlin.”
It pulled back until the light highlighted Blaise’s form. His long, white-blond hair whipped around his shoulders before it settled quietly into place. “Be welcome to our domain, son of Merlin.”
Blaise started forward, then paused to look back at Merewyn.
Again the mist thickened around Merewyn as if it were caressing her. “And who are you, lady?”
She shifted as if it were making her uncomfortable. “Merewyn of Mercia…I know nothing of Merlin other than the legends people tell of him, but I am friend to Blaise and the others. And I travel with the bantling named Beau. He can’t speak yet, but he’s harmless to all.”
“Then you, too, may pass.”
She smiled at Varian before she reached to take his hand again.
Varian started forward with her, only to find his way blocked by some unseen energy. That same thing forced their hands apart and pushed Merewyn away even though she visibly fought it.
“Varian!” Merewyn shouted as she and Beau were driven across the bridge.
He inclined his head to her while he waited for the demon to question him.
“And who might you be?” it demanded.
“Varian duFey. Knight of Arthur.” The hot wind blasted him so hard that he wasn’t sure how he kept his feet. It smelled of sulfur and fire that was so pungent, it was all he could do not to choke on the stench.
“Traitor!”
Varian tensed as he finally placed the voice who accused him. “Sagremor?”
The mist cleared to show him the image of a knight who’d died centuries before. Sagremor had been another knight of the Round Table and had died here on this bridge, fighting Mordred before Arthur reached him.
He’d been the first to turn his back when Varian had moved forward to be knighted. But not before the man had spat on the ground before Varian’s feet.
Now Sagremor condemned him again. His dull gray armor cast no reflection or light in the darkness. But his eyes blazed red through the slit in his helm. “How dare you call yourself a knight of Arthur when you wouldn’t even defend him!”
Varian curled his lip. “You know nothing of my loyalties.”
“No, but I know of your cowardice.” Sagremor drew his sword.
“Varian!” Merewyn shouted. “No! You leave him be!”
To Varian’s shock, she actually picked up a rock to throw at Sagremor’s back, but it glanced off the armor harmlessly.
Sagremor threw his hand out and shot a blast that knocked her back. Rage suffused every molecule of Varian’s body as he drew his sword and charged forward.
“Don’t you dare harm her!”
Sagremor turned and brought his sword down hard against Varian’s. The force of the strike reverberated through his body as Varian summoned his own black armor into place. If this was to be a fight to his death, then he intended to make it count.
Merewyn pounded her fist against the invisible wall that kept her from the fight. “Blaise!” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Do something.”
“Like what?”
“Stop them.”
He moved forward to strike against the wall, too. “I’m no more effective than you are.”
Beau then took up her cause, slamming himself uselessly against the wall. But nothing he did made any sort of wave in the field.
Growling in frustration, she splayed her hands against the wall and watched as Varian ducked below one swing and rose to kick Sagremor back. He swung at Sagremor’s head only to have the knight raise his sword sideways to block the strike. Sagremor knocked Varian’s blade aside, then sliced up from under Varian’s arm. Varian twisted away, feinting to the right to slice at the man’s leg. Sagremor lifted his foot and kneed Varian hard in the chest, then brought his sword down to slice his back. Varian raised his sword just in time to block the stroke.
He shoved Sagremor back. The knight struck the side of the wall.
“Sagremor!” The disembodied male voice was fierce with anger.
He looked up at the gray sky above them. “My liege?”
“Release the fey and let him pass.”
“But—”
“There are no buts in this. Do as I say.”
Varian stood back and cast a suspicious look toward Blaise, whose face was ashen.
She knew instinctively to whom the voice must belong. “Merlin?”
Blaise gave a subtle nod.
Sagremor’s eyes glowed a vicious red before he vanished into vapor.
Varian didn’t move at first. Instead, he listened for the sound of Sagremor attacking him from behind. After a minute, he finally trusted enough to start his hesitant journey toward Merewyn and Blaise, both of whom were still standing behind the wall.
It didn’t recede at his approach. He met Merewyn’s sad amber eyes. Wanting to comfort her, he splayed one hand over hers, but still he couldn’t feel the warmth of her touch. He held his sword in his right hand as he glanced up toward the dismal sky.
“Merlin?” he called. “I can’t leave the bridge.”
The words had barely left his lips before he felt a rush of air that was followed by the sensation of Merewyn’s hand on his. She curled her fingers around his as if afraid something would rip him away from her again.
That sensation gave him more comfort than he ever wanted to admit to feeling. He would have kissed her hand had the others not been watching them so intently. As it was, he walked forward with her by his side.
Beau cooed and hugged his leg as he waddled beside them. What a strange sight they must make.
And as he neared the end of the bridge, the gray lifted from the landscape. It flowed over until everything was lush and green. For the first time since they crossed over, he could hear the sounds of insects and birds.
Merewyn paused, gaping at the breathtaking beauty around them. “What happened?”
“There’s always green here,”
Derrick said. “Merlin keeps the outside dismal so that Morgen won’t know that he’s free of his prison.”
Varian was baffled by that. “Why does he stay here?”
Derrick shrugged.
He looked to Blaise for an explanation.
But he was no more helpful than Derrick. “I never understood his motivation for anything.”
“I’m just glad he’s here,” Merewyn said softly. “Given his powers, he should easily be able to get us into Avalon, right?”
Varian let out a nervous laugh. “Here’s where I have to remind you that nothing has been easy up until now. I find it hard to believe that that’s going to change.”
Her gaze bored into his. “Have faith, Varian.”
He shook his head at her. How could she have faith in anything? Especially given the centuries she’d spent with his mother. But as he looked at her, he found an alien part of himself wanting to believe in her faith. To believe in her.
Unwilling to think about that, he glanced to the triplets. “How far to Merlin?”
“Not much farther. A few hours.”
“Merlin?” he called, but only the cry of birds breaking into flight answered him.
“He won’t speak if you call him,” Merrick said irritably. “He doesn’t like being questioned. We’ll have to make our way to him if you want an audience.”
Varian cursed. Unfortunately, that was too much like the man he remembered. “He was always an unreasonable bastard.”
“Hey now, that’s my father you speak of.”
As if that mattered? “And?”
Blaise shrugged. “I just felt the need to point that out.”
Varian let out a tired breath before the triplets began to lead the way again. They didn’t speak much as they traveled. Rather, the triplets seemed to be keeping their eyes peeled for something, which made both him and Blaise keep their eyes peeled for whatever was unsettling them.
“Should we be concerned?” Merewyn finally asked the unspoken question.
Merrick snorted. “Always. Haven’t you learned that yet?”
Blaise cast a wry grin at Varian. “Sounds like someone else took a tumble into the pit of despair.”
Varian laughed. “Yes, but at least we have sunshine now.”
Knight of Darkness Page 19