by Ines Johnson
Luckily, he didn't have an actual scimitar. If he'd have had that curved blade it would've done serious damage to the rest of my shirt and everything beneath it. But Geraint was in a medieval castle on a winding stairwell with a weapon that amounted to a sword.
He slashed at me with the iron sconce. I blocked him, throwing him off-center and trapping his sword arm against his body. It's what the stairwell was designed to do in the face of an attack. And he had attacked me. Now he was left open and vulnerable for a kick that would send him tumbling down the stairs.
I looked over Geraint's shoulder. Gawain, who stood in his brother's path, sighed again. Gawain had to know what was coming his way. And he had no time to get out of its path.
I gave Geraint's solar plexus a swift kick with the heel of my boot. The impact sent him, the sconce, and Gawain tumbling ass over head down the remaining stairs leaving a clear path for me and Morgan.
"Let's go," I called back to Morgan.
She and I leaped over the entangled men and raced through the Great Hall. Behind me, I heard Geraint shouting for someone to raise the drawbridge.
Outside, I saw three figures in the tower that controlled the bridge. Yuric and Maurice hesitated as they heard Geraint's call but looked down and saw two ladies racing for the bridge.
Baysle stepped in. He smirked with glee when he saw me and took command. The bridge slowly ticked up, cutting off our access across the way.
"See, this is when it would be helpful if witches could fly," I said.
"We don't need to fly," said Morgan. "Just jump."
"Jump?" I looked down into the waters of the mote. "Into the dirty water?"
But then a light brightened in the depths of the water. Inside the illuminated waters, which also illuminated all manner of things I didn't want to touch me, I saw a giant bubble. Who needed a bridge when you had a water witch?
We jumped just as the bridge closed. Only the tips of my boots got wet as I landed with Morgan in the bubble. Just outside the bubble, I saw Viviane floating in her white nightgown. Her smile was huge as she eyed my boots.
"Viviane, go!"
She blinked, focusing on me. Then she disappeared beneath the bubble, tugging it behind her, and we took off into darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Traveling by ley line felt like falling. But not a free fall like bungee jumping or hopping out of an airplane. I would know. I'd done both.
So let me amend my simile. It was more like riding a roller coaster. When the rider's body gets flung here and there out of their control. But they were strapped in and there was little chance that they'd be thrown free and die.
And it was a thrill. Instead of thin air, my lungs were drowned in the energy of the ley line. It was like a battery recharge and I was already operating at one hundred percent after receiving all of Mary Magdalene's magic. So I felt like I was about to burst with energy by the time we pulled into the arrival station.
It felt like I was falling forward. Actually rolling forward. I hit the ground hard. Water splashed on my face. But amazingly, my shoes stayed dry.
"That was a really rough landing, Vivi," I groaned.
"I didn't get them wet, did I?" Viviane pushed her torso up on the ground, her lower body still submerged in the waters. She bent over inspecting my shoes. Opening her mouth and taking in a lungful of air, she blew. Every droplet of water left my boots leaving them pristine and dry. Viviane smiled at her handiwork.
"We're in Glastonbury?" said Morgan, coming to stand beside me.
I yanked my boots away from Viviane's perusal and looked around. The sun had set. There wasn't much to see in the evening light. In the distance, I did see the remnants of a castle. That had to be Cadbury Castle where my mother had been born. It was formerly known as Camelot.
Ironic, huh? Not so much.
Once upon a time, the Arthurian castle of Tintagel had occupied the lands upon which the current castle in Glastonbury sits. At that time, this whole land had been called Glistening Town. The local people had believed witches and fairies and magical creatures walked the pastures and swam in the waters.
They hadn't known how right they were. Looking at the site now, it was mostly a flat plateau with a few ramparts forming a broken, defensive boundary. But that's what you saw if you were looking at it with human eyes.
In addition to the remnant ramparts, there was also a remnant charm on this place. With the witch blood running through my veins, I saw the shadow of turrets in the horizon. There was the ghost of a drawbridge lowered over the dry land. The revenant of the battlements surrounding the top of the castle faded in and out as I blinked.
But the sight wouldn't stay in focus. The magic was old and there were no longer any witches or wizards in this land to reinforce it. Tintagel and its magic had moved on, leaving this place behind.
There was nowhere for an ailing wizard to hide in this wide open space. There were no resources he could rally himself with. No magical beings he could siphon energy off. So why did Viviane think Merlin was here?
"Arthur said they checked the castle and Merlin wasn't here," I said.
"He's not at Cadbury Castle," said Viviane.
Both Morgan and I turned on Viviane. Did she think this was a game? Because Morgan and I were in serious trouble when we got back to Camelot. Well, Morgan was. I wasn't sticking around to receive my punishment.
"He's up there." Viviane pointed to the top of a hill.
"Merlin's up on the Tor?" Morgan's voice was filled with wariness. Her adventurous spirit suddenly dampened.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "What's up there?"
"Oh, just the stuff of myths, legends, and nightmares."
I looked up at the hill. I knew it by legend. My mother used to read me stories about it.
In reality, the Glastonbury Tor was a lumpy looking land mass with a patched stairway leading to the top. At the summit sat a solitary structure; the Tor. The structure was all that was left of the 14th-century Christian church built for Saint Michael. Originally, the church had been made of wood, but an earthquake sometime in the 13th century brought the holy place down. The church was rebuilt with stone in the 14th century, but it was demolished by human hands a century later. All that remained was the tower, or Tor.
My mother had spoken of this mystical place in some of the bedtime stories she read to me at night. Another name for this place was the Isle of Avalon. In many stories, Avalon was said to be the Celtic underworld where fairies and elves and other magical creatures lived.
"Well if he's up there, then that's where we need to go," I said.
"Please be careful not to scuff the boots," called Viviane from her place in the water.
Morgan walked towards the mist covered hill. This land was once an island, but was now a peninsula with lakes covering three of its sides. The hill sat on a damp bit of low-lying land. With so much opportunity for condensation, a visual illusion known as Fata Morgana emerged where the hill appeared to rise out of the mists. As we headed towards the base of the hill, the mists began to rise into the night's air now that the sun had set.
"If Merlin really is up there," I said, "he'll see us coming."
"Here," said Morgan. "Let me show you how to shield."
We stopped at a well-situated spring at the foot of the mountain. The Chalice Spring, a placard said it was called. The waters came from beneath the Tor from a spring deep in the ground.
"Magic runs through our veins, much like this well," said Morgan. "And like this well, there is a spring that resides in us where our magic is stored. It's here."
Morgan placed her flat palm on my belly. I inhaled and felt a fullness there at her touch. But when I exhaled, the feeling didn't remain.
"It's in your gut. Can you feel it?"
I felt something in my belly. But I doubted it was a wellspring of magic. My stomach grumbled, echoing in the silent night.
Morgan looked down at my belly, jerking her hand away. Then recognition dawned in her dark blu
e eyes and she rolled them, making a clucking sound with her tongue.
"What?" I shrugged. "I missed dinner."
"Fine, I'll shield us both. Come here."
I came to stand next to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I felt something push at my shoulder and thigh, but when I looked down I couldn't see anything solid.
I blinked my eyes a couple of times. Finally, the veil fell off Morgan's magic and I saw a golden mist swirling from her belly and reaching out to surround the both of us. It was much like the golden mist I saw around Tintagel when I looked out the corner of my eye.
Once the magic was securely in place and we were hidden from view, we started up the hill. Our steps were quiet but there was still a rumbling sound that trailed us. I reached into my satchel and pulled out the brown paper bag Igraine had seen I'd need.
"Hungry?" I asked Morgan.
She leaned away from me with a pinched frown. "How can you eat that garbage?"
"Oh, I love it," I said taking a healthy gulp of the stew. "My mom used to make it for me all the time."
Garbage, the dish's actual title, was a mixture of all the discarded parts of a chicken; the heads, feet, livers, and gizzards. Those pieces were thrown in a pot with beef broth and a bunch of spices.
The pepper and saffron hit the back of my throat and I coughed. Between my grumbling belly, the slurping of my dinner, and the subsequent choking on my meal, I wasn't making our approach very stealthy. But I knew that the shield applied to sound as well as sight, so I slurped away. I got in a good belch after I was done.
Morgan, who although disdained most acts of chivalry, had at least been raised with manners. Unlike me who'd been a feral thing on dig sites and camping grounds. She shook her head at me, but didn't chide me. Instead, she told me more about the Tor as we climbed to the summit.
"There are tunnels beneath the hill. Legends tell of people disappearing in the caves down there. They say it's the entry into the city of Avalon, the world of the fairies."
"Wait! There really are fairies?"
"They even say a UFO has landed at the tower."
"Is any of that true?"
Morgan shrugged. "I'm sure the UFO bit is likely rumors spread by the tourism board to keep people coming to visit the site. But science junkies and paranormal enthusiasts are their real target. They investigate and write papers and books and television shows. Those are the people with money to spend, unlike the hippies who come to feel the energy of this sacred land. They're usually dirt poor."
I didn't see any scientific or technical equipment or tents out today. Probably because it had rained all weekend and the ground was damp.
"I do know that there are tunnels down below," said Morgan. "But I doubt there's any access to Avalon. Those doors have been shut for centuries. We believe that's where our kind came from. But they want nothing to do with us any longer. They think witches and wizards are beneath them since we mixed with humans. Plus, they had a spat with Arthur, the first. Legend has it that he was supposed to marry a fairy princess. Instead, he fell in love with Mara. The fairy king never forgave the slight."
My head was spinning as I climbed. Fairies were real? And there was yet another Arthurian soap opera the history books missed. Man, Hollywood would have a field day with these love triangles and tragedies.
"It seems like a lot of that goes on here," I said. "Unrequited love. You don't have your eye on one of the knights? Or a squire perhaps?"
Morgan wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
"Maybe you're pining for another witch?"
"I'm not that liberated," she said, her brows up to her hairline. "And no, I'm not interested in any of the men of our kind. None of the knights or squires will touch a witch without having matrimonial intentions."
"You don't want to get married?"
Morgan shrugged again. "Maybe? Someday. But I'd like to live my life first. I've been on this earth for one hundred and forty-eight years and I've never been on a date."
"Never?"
She shook her head.
"So that means you've never…?"
"Had sex? Nope. Like I said, none of the men at Camelot will touch a witch without first putting a ring on her finger. My mother still has her sights set on me marrying Arthur. I would do anything just to get out from under his tyrannical rule."
"Arthur's not so bad." Not if you liked bulky, bossy, alpha males. Which admittedly was my weakness.
"Oh, yeah?" snorted Morgan. "I'll trade you Geraint for Arthur any day."
I shuddered just hearing his name. Geraint was bulky and bossy, but he had this air of superiority that killed my lady-erection. "It's not right. A man that pretty shouldn't be that mean."
"I've never seen him behave around someone the way he behaves towards you. He's normally very quiet and thoughtful. I know he had a tough time growing up in the 19th century, being a Moor. The world outside isn't as inclusive as Camelot."
Oh, no. She was not about to make me feel guilty for my total dislike of that man.
"But you get under his skin," Morgan continued.
"Yeah, I have a way with men."
I rubbed at my head. Now that my belly was full I felt like I was getting a bit tired walking up the hill. Which was odd. It wasn't that far of a hike or that steep of a climb, but my body felt weary as we neared the summit.
"Man, flying powers would come in really handy right now."
"Flying is possible," said Morgan. "It's just tiring. You're levitating your own body weight for extended periods of time. Someone once built magic shoes that let them fly but the wind resistance messed them up and they crashed. I can't remember if they survived or not?"
Flying shoes might be worth it now. My legs felt heavy as I tried to take the last few steps up the hill. I noticed Morgan had slowed too. She also rubbed at her head.
Morgan and I both stopped mid-stride. We stared at each other. The truth of our predicament came slowly to our foggy brains.
In unison, we both turned our gazes to the top of the hill. We took the last few steps to bring us to the summit. Those steps felt like we were slogging through chest deep water. It wasn't blue water that weighed us down. It was another blue substance. At the top of the hill, I came face to face with my worst nightmare.
"We know you're there, witches," said Erwen. "Double, double, toil and trouble. Come on out of your magical bubble."
Chapter Thirteen
A group of twenty women filed out of the Tor. Their catwalk was pagan chic as long, tall wispy woman after lithe, statuesque svelte woman glided towards us. They were dressed in flowing robes that showcased their toned thighs. Their feet were sandaled in stylish silver and gold slippers. On their heads were crowns of leaves.
But they gave away their true century with their accessories, including a Rolex watch on one woman and a fitness tracker on another. One had a blue tooth in her ear. Around each of their necks, they wore a bluestone locket.
"Oh, hey," said a brunette with irises that matched the stone at her chest. "I remember you."
I remembered her too. Thalia used to strut down the hallways with Erwen and Ruith back at boarding school. I cringed, waiting for her to call out that cursed nickname.
"Loren, right?" Thalia aimed a genuine smile at me.
Thalia had always been nice where Erwen and Ruith seemed to like to watch others writhe in pain. But I'd always assumed Thalia's niceties were due to her, let's call it, airiness.
"It's so good to see you again, Loren. It's been forever."
Thalia opened her arms and took a step towards me. I stepped back as that cursed stone came in closer proximity to my skin. My gaze was fixed on it, not her. Thalia stopped, looking from her chest to mine.
"Oh, no, Loren. Don't tell me you're a witch?" She covered the stone on her chest with her hand. Her face contorted from welcome to somber, as though she'd just discovered I had a terminal illness. "I'm so sorry for you. And you were such a nice girl."
Yeah, she didn'
t know me very well. No one who knew me back then, or now, for that matter, would put my name and nice in the same sentence. But Thalia had always seen the world through a kaleidoscope perspective. Seeing it in colorful, fractal pieces.
As much as Gwin and Arthur had tried to conceal what we truly were when Erwen and Ruith came to town, I didn't think I could deny my true identity any longer. The effect their blue kryptonite had on me was visible. And there was the matter of appearing from thin air once Erwen had metaphorically popped Morgan's bubble.
"Don't worry, love," said Thalia. "We have a way to fix your little witch problem and make you all better."
"Better?" I asked, turning to Morgan.
I felt the tension running off Morgan. It soaked the humid air making the atmosphere dense and taut. Looking over, I also noted that the women had formed a circle around us. Looking out the corner of my eye, I no longer saw the golden mist of Morgan's cloaking spell. We were well and truly revealed. I also felt a heaviness in the pit of my stomach where Morgan had said the well of my magic lay. It was as though I was lugging around a fifty-pound dumbbell.
"The Banduri believe witches stole their power," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "They've been searching for ways to give that power back to the earth."
"Ways like how?" I asked. It was rude, I know, to talk about these women as though they weren't there. But none of them jumped in to answer. They each eyed Morgan and me like we were a science experiment they wanted to dig their manicured nails into.
"Ways like burning witches on a cross," said Morgan.
"Oh, no, dear," said Thalia. "We believe all life is precious. We don't practice sacrifice. Not anymore. We voted. Our new motto is cure, not kill. Right, Erwen?"
I looked to the center of the group. I expected Erwen to be eyeing me now that I'd pulled a witch card out of my hat. I'd wanted to reveal myself back in Camelot but wasn't able to. Now she'd see me as I truly was; a powerful, magical being that she'd have to take seriously. But she paid me no mind. Erwen's gaze was on Morgan.