by LJ Rivers
According to Taryn.
The whoosh of wings approached, and Morgana touched down on the grass in front of me. Again, she leaned close, her lips touching my ear. “Found it. Taryn’s assessment of his queen’s hips might be a little on the lean side, but I think I can make it through. Are you ready?”
I nodded and opened my hands to produce a force field. It expanded to a six-foot-high sphere, and I stepped inside, closing the slit behind me. Morgana lay down on her stomach, holding one hand in front of her. She showed me three fingers. With a deep breath, I took a squatting position, preparing myself for the insane task ahead. The queen counted down from three, and when she lowered the last finger, I jumped as high as I could.
The force field bounced off the ground, and Morgana rolled underneath, turning on her back. The translucent sphere was invisible in the dark, and it looked like I was about to land with my feet right on top of her stomach. Morgana caught me with her palms up, and her knees slightly bent. Part one of our circus act was complete. Now came the dangerous second part of our show, one I had said no to at least five times before the queen persuaded me. We had practised the manoeuvre on the floor in my room, but the ceiling was too low for us to test it properly.
Make or break, I thought, and braced myself. Not that I could do anything to make this succeed. This was all in Morgana’s hands. Literally.
She pushed as hard as she could, and the force field rose into the air. Only to plunge right back down on the queen. I knew it. I was too heavy.
I stared down at her, shaking my head, but she mouthed a stern “Again!” I shrugged and prepared myself for another futile attempt.
There was a fire in her eyes, a determination that looked like it could burn a hole in the force field. She extended her arms and legs, pushing and kicking at the same time. I flew higher this time, but was it high enough? Morgana let her legs continue the move, touching the ground behind her head and then kicking back. Before my force field came down, the impressively agile monarch had stood straight up, balancing the ball—with me in it—on her palms over her head.
I didn’t move, which was a challenge, as I had half a mind to perform a victory dance. Morgana had mimicked a move my dad had shown me countless times in a world some fifteen hundred years in the future and more than twelve years in the past. He said he learned the kip-up in PE at school, but I suspected it had been part of his Harvester training. Something told me the queen of Avalon had taken part in whatever training she made her soldiers go through. No wonder the nobles didn’t take to her. She would never be one of them.
Which only made me think more highly of her.
Morgana beat her wings hard, elevating the both of us off the ground. The thinly veiled flight-instruments looked nowhere near as strong as when she flew alone, now that they had to carry twice the weight. But they held us suspended and kept us in the air as we soared over the moat. A shiver raised the tiny hairs on my neck as I stared down at the murky water. Somewhere in those dark depths were the most ferocious electric eels imaginable.
Morgana denied them their feast. She held me above her head as she continued along the stone wall. After an eternity, which was probably less than two minutes, I could see the dim shape of a square in the dark wall. I let a small part of the force field open in front of me, and when I was level with the window, I leaned forward. My hands grabbed the edge. Morgana raised the force field another three feet, which allowed me to ease into the tight opening.
I released my magic and retracted the force field into my core. In front of me, the flickering light of a torch announced that I still had four feet to go before I was inside. I tried to crawl, but nothing happened. I wiggled and squirmed, but only managed to move a couple of inches. Suddenly, I slid a whole foot in. Then another. Morgana had grabbed my feet and was pushing hard. My belt made a scratching sound as she shoved me further in. It sounded like a chainsaw in the quiet night.
Morgana must have heard it too because my momentum ceased as she let go. There was no way I could reach down and adjust the buckle since my arms were pointing straight ahead. One more foot, however, and I could grab the inner edge and pull through.
“Again,” I whispered, hoping beyond hope that no one heard me, except Morgana.
She did and gave a final, heavy push. The buckle screeched along the hard rock. My fingers curved over the edge inside, and I shook my feet to make the queen release her hold. I tried turning on my back, but the tunnel was too narrow. There was no other alternative than to pull through.
With all my strength, I pushed my back to the ceiling, attempting to keep the belt buckle away from the rocky ground. Grabbing hold with my palms, I hauled myself forward. After a few seconds of more metal against rock, my upper body was free. I let myself fall to the floor on the inside, rolling on my neck and back, ending in a crouched position. I never learned the kip-up, but this move was one dad had succeeded in teaching his daughter.
I looked to both sides, but there was no one to be seen. Or heard. At each end of the hallway was a massive wooden door with wrought iron hinges and handles. Behind the one to my left was a downward stairwell. Two hundred steps down, if Taryn’s estimate was correct, which I had no reason to doubt. That meant two hundred steps up, knowing nothing of what state my grandparents were in.
Behind me, Morgana had entered the narrow tunnel. Dusting myself off, I got up and leaned inside to reach for her. Our fingertips brushed against each other, and she wiggled some more, our fingers now able to lace together. I yanked her to me with ease. Commander Taryn had estimated his queen’s girth perfectly.
“That way,” I mouthed, and started towards the door.
So far, we hadn’t so much as seen a hint of any of Lord Wadlow’s guards. As we stopped by the massive door, we had no way of knowing if anyone was on the other side. All we could do was gamble.
Gently, Morgana gripped the handle and tried the door. She shook her head. We had counted on it being locked anyway, so I had already started loading my palms with fire. Morgana stepped aside, and I lay my hands on the iron lock. It began to glow red, the wood creaking as the heat expanded the metal. With a loud crack the lock burst out of the wood, leaving a gaping hole.
I held the red-hot metal parts in my palms and carefully placed them on the stone floor. Holding my breath, I pushed the door open, half expecting the hinges to squeal. They did, but only for the first second or so. Morgana gave me a thumbs up. She looked like a kid who had found a new toy. I hadn’t thought about her age before, but looking at her dimly lit face, I couldn’t tell for sure. She had to be older than she appeared, but no prominent lines adorned her silky smooth features. Given that her younger sister, Nimue, had borne a son that was a grown man when he went to war against Avalon, the queen had to be at least fifty, maybe more. Just as Mum, however, she could easily pass for thirty. There were plenty of things I wished had not been passed on to me, especially on my father’s side, but this was one thing I would like to run in the family.
I left the door open, as I didn’t want to risk making sounds with the hinges again. Besides, there was no longer anything keeping it closed. And were anyone to come by, the gaping hole where the lock had once been would tip them off anyway.
We entered the stairwell. The spiral stairs began in an opening some thirty feet above us, continuing past our vantage point and into the dark unknown below. Three stars shone brightly in the black circle above. At any moment, one of the guards could walk past the stairwell and peek down, finding two Fae staring up at the sky. Below us, there was only one torch on the wall, illuminating the first fifteen feet of steps. After that, the darkness was total. Did the dungeons have any light at all, or were my grandparents trapped in the absence of it?
Morgana started tackling the stairs, her feet barely touching each of the steps. If I didn’t know her as a Fae, I would have her down as the most elegant feline Shifter. I followed, trying to mimic her silent descent. When she passed the torch, she carefully lifted it out o
f its holder. Her shadow danced on the wall, beckoning me with its voiceless song. It was stronger than ever before. I closed my eyes to try to block some of its pull and placed my hand on the wall. I had to slow down to feel each step with my foot.
My foot hit something. A pebble. It bounced off the steps, its tap-tap-tap noise echoing off the cylindrical stairwell walls.
A male voice sounded in the distance, making me pause.
“Get down here, quickly!” Morgana whispered.
I opened my eyes, expecting to see her a few steps below. I was way off. She was at least thirty feet below me, the torch casting a bright sphere of light around her. She had reached the bottom, and I was only a third of the way down. Shadows or not, I had to get my arse in gear.
“—there?” asked the male voice, much closer than only seconds ago.
“You hear things, Hamlish,” said another.
I picked up speed. My pulse pounding in my veins, I tried to keep my feet from slapping on each rocky step. I sent a silent thank you to whoever made the boots on my feet, as the soles were softer than any boots I owned on Earth.
“The rats are feasting, is all,” said the second voice. He had to be right next to the opening to the stairwell.
I still had fifteen feet left to the bottom. I reached out and summoned my firepower. As it surged through my body, I focused my mind on the flames on Morgana’s torch. They obeyed and zinged through the air and into my palm. My inner fire welcomed the hot tendrils, and when I retracted the magic to my core, the darkness again enveloped the queen and myself.
For two seconds.
A new source of light entered the black circle above us just as I stepped off the final step and crashed into the queen. She threw her arms around me and pulled us both down into a crouching position, facing the floor.
“Who’s down there?” the first voice, Hamlish, shouted. The words echoed down.
“He can’t see us with only that torch,” Morgana whispered.
Unless he’s an eagle Shifter or something, I thought.
“I told you it was nothing, you fool.” The other guard sounded annoyed. “Let’s get back to the game before Innis robs us both.”
“I heard something, and it wasn’t a rat.”
“A bird, then.”
“Son of the Nethers.” Hamlish wasn’t about to give up on his hunch. “Go down and have a look.”
The other guard sighed. “Are you serious?”
“You either go down, Uggles of Nidra, or you will have to explain to the commander why you refused. He might not appreciate that you wanted to get back to the Chonkle-board instead of guarding the lord’s castle.”
Crap!
“Fine. But if Innis has taken my pieces, I’ll hold you responsible.”
Whoever this Uggles bloke was, he wasn’t wearing the same kind of boots that the queen and I were wearing. His footsteps were loud even before he had taken the first five.
Morgana placed her lips to my ear again. “We have to silence them both. Can you handle Hamlish?”
I hesitated, the meaning of her question shockingly clear. Swallowing hard, I nodded.
“Then, Uggles is mine. Don’t do anything until he sees me.”
She rose and danced her way up the first flight of steps. In the sphere of light from Uggles’ oil lamp, her silhouette looked huge, but I knew—or hoped—it could only be seen from below.
Ten seconds passed as Uggles’ steps drew closer. Five more seconds.
“You move at a slug’s pace,” Hamlish complained.
A man’s head and the upper half of his torso leaned over the wall. He must have been eighty feet above the bottom of the well. The rock-hard bottom.
“Who’s there?” Uggles called. “Stop, in the name of Lord Wad—”
His voice cut off in a gasp, most likely by a royal force field.
“Now,” Morgana hissed.
I opened my palms and tugged hard, using my telekinesis power.
“What’s wrong?” Hamlish yelled. “Uggles?” Then he screamed.
I had tilted him over the edge, and he tumbled into the blackness. And down towards Morgana. Or me. Or both.
He struck the sidewall before slamming into the steps with a bone-crushing thud. The sickening sound filled the stone cylinder. At least the screaming stopped, I thought, a little queasy at my calm assessment of the situation.
The sphere of light ascended. Morgana was flying upwards, holding what I assumed was the late Uggles’ lamp. I listened intently for any new voices. Surely, someone must have heard the man scream. Maybe the third guard, Innes, was dropping the gameboard this very second, and in a moment, some horn or alarm would sound? Maybe a bell?
But no sounds came. Not until Morgana’s wings flapped as she landed in front of me. She folded them back in place, still holding the lamp.
“They’re silenced,” she said. “And there’s the door.”
I turned, already with a burning heat emanating from my hand. Not even bothering to check, I melted the lock. Morgana bent down to peek through the three-inch-wide opening, followed by another example of her new favourite gesture. “Empty,” she mouthed.
Whoever was in charge of maintenance in Wadlow Castle had done an impressive job of greasing the hinges. Even this door, which I couldn’t imagine was frequently in use, opened with only a whisper of a whine. Inside, Morgana’s lamp lit up a narrow corridor. The left side was solid rock, and on the far end, about ten pances down, as my brain had started calling it, stood a chair, lit from above by an oil lamp on the wall.
Morgana froze and held an arm out to stop me too.
On the chair, head on his chest, sat a man. Snoring.
Morgana pointed at the iron bars on the right side of the corridor as if I hadn’t already seen them. The snoring man was guarding the prison cells. Behind the bars, separated by another line of bars, sat another man crouched over a body. My grandparents didn’t move.
Please, by the Lady!
The guard coughed, hawking noisily. He leaned to his side and spat into a small copper pot. As he was about to go back to sleep, he tilted his chin up.
“Is that you, Hamlish?” He coughed again. “You better have brought more ale.”
Holding the torch as a shield, Morgana moved so fast she could have been mistaken for a Dodger, until she was directly in front of the guard. She raised her left foot, so she balanced on her toes, then spun around. Her right foot smacked the guard in the temple, catapulting him through the room. With a clunk, his head hit one of the iron bars. He would be asleep for much longer than he had anticipated.
“Ruby?” The voice was low and raspy, but unmistakably my grandfather’s.
I ran to the bars, gripping them tightly. “You’re alive! Thank the Lady!”
The frail figure that had only days ago been a strong, albeit ageing, farmer, lifted his head, cupping his hand over his brows to shield against the flickering torchlight behind me. Smudges of dirt and streaks of blood painted his cheeks, and blackened bags swelled under his lustreless eyes. “I—it’s really you.” He coughed, bending forward, one hand clutching his stomach.
“I’m here to help. How’s Lili?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
Tears swam in narrow rivers through the grime and dust on his face. “Moments away from Nimue’s embrace. How did you get here, annwyl?”
“Never mind that. Shield Lili, would you?”
He already was, but lay down over my grandmother anyway. I called on my fire again and, in seconds, I had melted the lock on the gate. I swung it open and went inside, dropping to my knees by my grandparents.
I reached out to embrace him.
“No!” he hissed.
As did the snake around his neck. Tiny sparks of blue emanated from its oily skin.
I retracted my arms. “Electric?”
He nodded. “Took my powers.”
“They will return once we get that thing off you. Scoot over, so I can have a look at Lili.”
I le
aned down to her nose, listening for a breath. It was there, but only just. In the flickering light, her veins drew black lines beneath her pale white skin. Tiny sparks of blue emanated from around her neck as well.
“We have to go,” I whispered.
Hesitating, Llewellyn nodded at Morgana. “Who’s that?”
“A friend,” Morgana whispered. “Can you walk?”
As she entered the cell, her torch cast more light on my grandparents. Their clothes were ripped, but they didn’t appear hurt—apart from being left to die in a dungeon.
“I can, but my Lili Helene cannot.”
Morgana gave me the torch and crouched next to the dying Fae on the floor. “I can carry her.”
“She has a snake around her neck,” I said.
“That won’t hurt me unless I touch it directly.”
I had already been impressed—shocked, really—by the queen’s strength when she carried my one hundred and eleven pounds above her head. My grandmother might have weighed more in her healthy days, but she had withered since her illness set in. Still, how the queen managed to pick her up as if she were a bundle of clothes was beyond me. She was tough as nails, my queen.
“And where do you think you’re going, Your Highness?” said a gravelly voice behind us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The voice belonged to a heavily built man with a short, bushy beard. Three guards flanked him, all wearing dark blue cloaks with a W embroidered in silver.
Morgana straightened, still holding Lili in her arms. “Lord Wadlow. I didn’t think a Sorcerer of nobility would lower himself to visit the dungeons.”
Wadlow guffawed, his belly wobbling under his black robe. “I don’t unless I’m visited by royalty.” He bowed dramatically. “I am honoured, Queen Morgana.”