Spear of Destiny (Misadventures of Loren Book 1)

by Ines Johnson

  I opened my mouth and began shouting for Viviane. I screamed at the top of my lungs as we reached the bottom of the hill. I managed to land us in the Chalice Spring.

  I looked down in the waters, relieved to see Viviane peering back at us. She broke the surface and glared at me.

  "You got mud all over my boots," she admonished. "Where's the spear?"

  "The High Priestess of the Banduri has it," I said ignoring her and stepping into the waters with Morgan. "We need to get Morgan to Gwin. She's been cut by the spear."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Viviane raced us back through the portal. This time the journey was like going on a roller coaster ride. The air pocket made it feel as though we were climbing up and racing down the track at the same time. The energy pummeled my body and roiled my stomach.

  I held Morgan tightly in my arms, trying to take the brunt of the motion. She had enough to deal with on her own. Her hands bled all over my shirt to mix with Geraint's tomato stain.

  Her body trembled. Her mouth opened, gasping for air. She dry heaved. Then her hacking and wheezing took on a wet, gurgling sound. I leaned her over as she became violently ill.

  Hopefully, there was a housekeeper for the ley lines. Or would Viviane have to come back and clean this up? Or maybe Morgan's upchuck would simply dissolve into the energy and become a part of someone's spell?

  I knew I wasn't making any sense. My mind was racing, trying to outrun my fear that Morgan might be losing her magic as Merlin had. But Merlin hadn't been healed after he'd been wounded. His wound was still open, having festered for weeks. Morgan had been hurt moments ago. I just needed to get her back to the castle where she could be healed.

  Finally, we broke the surface of the waters with a splash. I looked around to see that we were in the moat of Tintagel castle.

  The surrounding grass was wet as though a rain shower had swept the land, but the sky was dark and empty; blameless with no clouds. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped, tattle tailing its location so that another might find it. The wind shifted and a pile of leaves fluttered in the air, landing right in front of me.

  "She's acting like a mortal," said Viviane as she peered at Morgan. "Humans become sick when they travel by ley line."

  Morgan's eyes were pulled closed. Her lips were fading into a pale blue. Her hand continued to bleed and her body continued to shake with tiny tremors. She wouldn't respond as I shook her and called her name. I tried to stand with her in my arms, but I couldn't. I had no energy left of my own.

  "Help," I shouted. But my voice barely carried over the wind. I tried again and again, my voice gaining tenor with each call for help. Until finally, the drawbridge lowered.

  The glint of steel, long blades and rounded disks, glinted in the moonlight. When the weapons were lowered, the first face I recognized was Gawain's. His hooded gazed opened wider and wider as he scanned from my head to my toes. It wasn't a long perusal as I was crumbled on the ground with Morgan in my arms.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as Gawain dropped his weapons and set his feet in motion towards me. But then he was blocked out by a large mass. In fact, the whole moon was eclipsed from my sight.

  "What the hell is going on?" Arthur's voice filled the night sky and shook the tranquility out of the darkness.

  I heard a splash behind me as Viviane's pale feet disappeared into the waters. I was left alone with a bleeding witch in my arms. Her blood and magic, and maybe even her life, seeping from her body.

  "Help me," I said.

  Arthur reached down and swooped Morgan's limp body from my arms. Lifting her as though she were nothing more than a flower plucked from the field. I was actually surprised to see the horror on his face at Morgan's state. I was so used to seeing the two of them go at it with Morgan steaming and Arthur calmly pacifying her. But now his face blanched as he scanned her wound. His stormy gaze fixed on her closed lips that were now nearly as blue as her eyes. He turned with her in his arms and stormed into the castle.

  I felt arms pulling me up from the ground. A callused palm tilted up my cheek. Coffee-brown eyes peered into mine and gave me a jolt of energy.

  "Can you walk?" Gawain asked.

  I could, but I didn't want to be strong any longer. Heroism work was hard, especially when your mission failed. I just wanted to curl into a ball and let someone else take over. My hesitation was all Gawain needed to scoop me up into his arms.

  He took over. I rested my head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Gawain's long strides ate up the distance over the drawbridge as he caught up with Arthur.

  Along the way, I saw the squires peering at me. Yuric blew out a long breath and rubbed at his chin as we passed. Maurice scratched the back of his neck while his thick brows wrinkled. A few of the other squires strained to get a glimpse of me as Gawain rushed us inside. I caught sight of Baysle standing apart from the group. His lip curled as he shook his head at me.

  I shut my eyes and turned back into Gawain's neck. I could tell when we were inside by the change in temperature. The warmth of the hall lights and wall sconces seeped into my tired bones.

  Arthur bellowed for Gwin. His voice was so loud it shook my eyes open. Gwin appeared before us as though she'd materialized out of thin air. I heard her intake of breath deep in my heart as she took in the sight of her sister.

  We made it up into the infirmary. The room was blindingly white; white walls, white fixtures, white sheets. Arthur lay Morgan down on one of the cots in the empty room.

  He carefully arranged her limbs. Then he brushed her dark hair out of her face. His thumb lingered at the corner of her pale lips. When he straightened, he rounded on me.

  "What happened?"

  "Merlin," I said. My voice wobbled along with my knees as Gawain set me on my feet.

  "Merlin did this?" asked Gwin as she ran her hands over her sister's prone, unresponsive body. "With the Spear of Destiny?"

  "No," I said. "He's not the one who sliced her with the spear. It was the High Priestess; Erwen. The one who came to town."

  "Where are they? How did they find you?" demanded Arthur.

  "They didn't."

  I took a deep breath. But when the air expanded in my belly I felt like I was going to throw up. I forced the words to come up first.

  "We found them." Then the words kept coming in fast chunks that left a bitter taste as they spilled off my tongue. "Viviane said she knew where Merlin was, and she'd take me to him if I gave her my shoes, and if I used the spear on her to break her curse so she could walk, but she told me not to tell any of you knights because you might cock block us with your chivalry."

  Arthur stood sentry at the foot of Morgan's bed. Gawain and Geraint were posted at the doorway. Gwin chanted over Morgan, who lay prone. Morgan's breathing was labored. The blood continued to pour from her wound. Each bearded face frowned at me in confusion.

  "That doesn't make any sense?" said Arthur. "How did we go from shoes to a spear to a witch on the brink of death?"

  "I was going to go alone," I said, pushing past the pain in my throat. Though I hadn't vomited any digested food, the words coming out were like acid clawing its way out of my mouth. "But Morgan cornered me as I was leaving and I let her talk me into coming along. I thought we'd be okay. I thought we'd save the day and show you…"

  My voice sounded like a child's as I trailed off. Show them what? That I was great at being impulsive. Unparalleled in my ability to make rash decisions. A superstar at getting myself into jams. Catlike in my ability to get myself out of danger and land on my feet. Because I was. I'd gotten myself out of this jam completely unscathed.

  My eyes went back to Morgan. She still hadn't opened her eyes. She continued to shake and tremble. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn't stopped. Gwin's normally calm and dulcet tones held a note of fear as she chanted over her sister.

  "I told you to stay here," said Arthur. "I told you to train, to gain the knights' trust. I come back to find two of my knights bruised up from a
fall and my squires in a state because they lost not one but two ladies under their protection."

  I'd never looked away from a man before. But I did now. I could handle the fury in his eyes. I pissed people off on a regular. What my upset stomach was having trouble digesting was the disappointment woven through his words.

  "I'll get my things and go," I said, turning for the door.

  "No," said Arthur. "You're not leaving this castle. You'll go to your room and you'll stay there. Someone will guard your door because I can't trust that you'll stay put. That means I need to lose another hand because of you."

  Gwin looked up from her vigil over her sister. Her gaze flashed between me and Arthur. She pursed her lips when she looked at me. Then she turned back to her sister and took up her chant.

  I turned back to the door. My gaze connected with the two knights standing there. Geraint stood with his back stiff as a straight-edge. Gawain's shoulders were hunched and rounded.

  Geraint leaned back, his lip curling down as his accented brows rose in loud judgment.

  Gawain lowered his head and pressed his lips together. He avoided my gaze as he made way for me to pass through the door.

  No one came to my defense as I left the room. I didn't expect them to. I tried to hold my chin high as I walked, but there was too much weight on my shoulders, and my head hung low.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I'd never been sent to my room before. I'd never had four permanent walls to call home before. My stay at boarding school was all too brief. My visits to my father's family never felt welcoming. But this room was mine.

  The four-poster bed had been my mother's, as was the chest and vanity. Igraine had made the frilly comforter decades ago. The sheet was done in garish pinks that made me think of cough syrup but it kept me warm at night. Gwin had set a vase of flowers on the dresser at the beginning of the week. The blooms were wilting now, but I didn't throw them out.

  They were mine. All these things were mine. They'd been given to me to make me feel comfortable and at home. And now all these things could be taken away.

  They would be taken away. Because nothing in my life had ever lasted. Not the places I stayed. Not my parents and their loving hugs. Not any of my intimate relationships. Nothing. For some reason, I was like Teflon. Nothing stuck to me.

  I wrenched my arms from myself. If they didn't want me here that was fine. I was used to being unwanted. I'd save them the trouble and just bust out of this joint and go where I would be wanted.

  My phone slipped out of my clammy palms and I had to bend down to retrieve it. My fingertips were numb as I dialed the number. As it rang and rang, I became more and more anxious. But she picked up on the third ring.

  "Hey, girl, heyyy."

  My breath caught at the sound of my bestie's voice. Nia sounded happy, chipper. Either she'd dug up some dirt and found an ancient artifact in the bowels of the earth, or she was getting some loving from one of the two men perpetually chasing after her.

  One of those guys was a fine ass Frenchman. Zane was an artist who'd been in love with Nia for his entire life; which was a long time since he was also Immortal like her. I loved Zane like a brother. We had a lot in common with art and living a bohemian lifestyle.

  But my money was on my bestie's other suitor; billionaire developer, Tresor Mohandis. Did you catch the billionaire part? Tres was a super chic sheik with a brooding alpha attitude. But he had a yacht and a private plane and more money than a girl could count. I was Team Broody Billionaire all the way.

  "I was just about to call you," Nia said. "But I didn't want to infringe on your family bonding time. Is Igraine stuffing you with weird parts of animals? Are you even sleeping in your own bed or are you and Gwin and Morgan having slumber parties every night? Wait, first, tell me, does Gawain still have his virtue? Hang on, why are you being so quiet? The only time you're ever quiet is when —What's wrong?"

  I opened my mouth now that I could finally get a word in edgewise, and then I choked. It started as a sniffle, and then it became a whimper, and morphed into hiccupping snorts.

  "Loren? What? What is it?"

  I couldn't answer her. I could only cradle the phone to my face and cry as Nia made cooing noises. Then she growled through the receiver, demanding to know which knight messed with her girl.

  "Was it Gawain? Did he pull that whole I'm facing death BS? Or was it Geraint; the old stick up his arse. Did you put a stick up his arse? Please tell me you didn't put a stick up his arse."

  Her repeated use of the word arse got a little chuckle out of me. But the laugh sounded no different from my cries.

  "Oh, sweetie, I'm gonna go and charter a plane right now," she said. "I'll be there by tonight."

  "No," I finally managed. "Don't do that."

  Just the thought that she would come to my aide loosened the pangs in my heart. The fact that she would stick by me was the salve that finally soothed the sick feeling in my gut.

  "I'm fine," I said.

  But that was a lie and I know she knew it. I'd lied to her a fair bit when we'd met, before I got to know her and know that I could trust her.

  She'd gotten to know me too. She remained quiet on the other end of the line, waiting patiently for the shoe to drop. Crap. I'd have to tell her that too, that I'd promised her shoes to a water witch.

  "I screwed up," I said. "Morgan's hurt and it's all my fault."

  For the second time tonight, words spilled from my bowels in a rush. But this time, when I was finished, I felt relieved. At the same time, I wished my best friend was here with me because I needed a hug. But she was on the other side of the world. And she remained mute.

  "I was trying to help," I said in my defense. "These knights are not giving me a chance. I was trying to prove myself."

  I waited in the silence. I heard her inhale, and then her sigh. I huffed.

  "Obviously, you have an opinion on the matter," I said. "Go on."

  "Okay, sweetie," she said. "Do you want me to talk smack about Artie and his merry boy band? Or do you want me to tell you the big-girl's-panties truth?"

  "Nia," I groaned. "You know I hate underwear."

  "Yeah, I do know that. I've just bought a whole new wardrobe because of it."

  I had a habit of borrowing her clothes and going commando. "How about this? Can we avoid the ugly truth and you just come back here and get me?"

  Nia took a deep, audible breath. On the exhale, she said the one word I didn't want to hear. "No."

  I flopped back on the bed. "Puh-lease." I pressed the phone between my chin and shoulder and threw my arms out. Tossing my head from side to side, I kicked my heels at the edge of the mattress.

  "No," Nia said more firmly. "You're going to go downstairs and make nice with the others. You're going to share your lunch. You're not going to toss sand in the sandbox. You're going to stay there and fix this, Loren. These people are your family."

  "You're my family."

  "Which is why I'm doling out the tough love."

  I sat up on the bed, folding my legs under me. "You wouldn't have done the same thing?"

  "Hell yeah, I would've," she said. "And I would've been just as wrong as you are now. Remember, the last time I did something stupid? You almost died."

  Of course, she'd throw that in my face. Poor Morgan was laid up in the infirmary, likely losing her magic, possibly losing her life.

  "You and I both have a habit of running away from our pasts," said Nia. "I'm there with you —in spirit. Cause I'm on the other side of the world and all. But you have to do this. You have to see it through. If you don't you'll hate yourself."

  She was wrong. I already hated myself. But she was also right. No one had asked me to leave. No one had turned me out. If I left it was on me.

  "But let Artie know that I will charter a plane and kick his Celtish ass if he makes you cry again."

  "I can't do that," I said. "I can't leave my room."

  There was a brief pause in which I could feel her su
rprise. "Wow, so they actually went medieval on your ass."

  Chapter Seventeen

  I didn't go march anywhere after I got off the phone with Nia. No, I did what all guilty people did; I rested inside my cell and plotted my next move. After a long, fitful night's sleep of tossing and turning, I'd made my decision.

  I put my friend's boots on, strapped my father's bag over my shoulder, and opened the bedroom window. Hefting myself over the ledge, I got a foothold on the bricks of the castle.

  It was an easy maneuver. I was an avid rock climber. These old castle walls with their nooks and crannies were nothing to a seasoned climber like me.

  Making my way over to the next room, I jimmied open the window, and slipped inside. It was Morgan's bedroom.

  She had a TARDIS blue comforter spread over her bed. Instead of celebrities or models, posters of the Periodic Table and old white men with messy hair and frantic eyes were displayed on her wall. I recognized Einstein and assumed the other old-world pocket protectors were also great men of science. There was a stack of textbooks whose names I couldn't hope to pronounce, even though I spoke a couple of languages passably and had been drilled in Latin since I was a child. There was also a letter from Cambridge University.

  I ran my fingers over the embossed lettering of the old institution. My forefinger tracked down to a single word; accepted. Then I noted, it wasn't the only acceptance letter. There was a stack of them. From Harvard, Yale, the University of Dubai. All over the world, institutions of higher learning wanted Morgan on their roster. But she was stuck here, her magic and skills at the exclusive beck and call of her community. And now, thanks to me, she might not leave that sick bed.

  When I opened Morgan's bedroom door there was a mountain in my way. Maurice's large body sat back against my door. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as he snored softly.

  I climbed over my night guard and began down the hall. But then I stopped and turned back. I leaned down and gave the kid a shake.