by Lizzy Ford
He’s cutting off my ability to breathe and I clutch his wrist.
“Or you can use your magic for me and I spare you.”
“N. . .no!” I gasp.
“Then mayhap I should kill you now!”
“You . . . curse . . .” Choking, my vision is turning into tunnel vision, the edges of my mind going black. Pain is trumped only by panic.
I’m suffocating . . . spiraling into darkness . . . the world growing quiet, fuzzy, dull . . .
Silently, I scream for him to stop.
A flare of fire shoots through me from the medallion, zapping him hard enough to shove him back.
I collapse and suck in air, coughing hard. My throat burns and I touch the tender skin around my neck. The world is wobbly, my senses all over the place as they’re revived by the sudden flow of oxygen in my brain. Dazed, I realize I’m lying on the ground and push myself up.
It’s strangely quiet behind me. I turn, dreading to see what I’ve done.
Wow. I didn’t just fling him away; I threw the Desert Knight a good thirty feet. He’s climbing to his feet, surprise and rage on his face. Unfortunately, he’s recovering faster than I am, trotting towards us, unfazed by the shock.
My body is sluggish and I climb to my feet, wobble, and manage to recover my balance a second before he grabs my arm again.
I catch the flash of steel barely in time to fling myself away. He grabs me around the waist and the knife drops once more. Bracing for hot pain, I wait, only for him to release and shove me away.
I catch myself against a tree and pat my body down, startled I’m not dead or hurt or missing any limbs.
The medallion is gone. Frantically, I search the layers of clothing without finding it and whip around in time to see him throwing it to the ground. The Desert Knight plucks an axe free from his waist.
He’s going to crush the key to the Shadow Knight breaking the curse.
“No!” I shout, lunging forward.
Someone else snatches me, and I react instinctively, slamming a heel into the top of his foot and wrenching forward to knock him off balance.
“Witch, desist this now!” the Red Knight hisses.
I jam an elbow into his solar plexus.
He grunts but doesn’t let go.
“I cannot . . . protect you, if you attack him!” he says quietly enough for only me to hear.
“I need the medallion!”
“Stop.” Lifting me off my feet, he shakes me.
He’s not letting me go. Exhausted, horrified, I give up and hang onto his arm and pray the medallion is indestructible.
The axe rises and falls the way it did when his ancestor claimed the heads of the former Shadow Knight and his queen.
Any hope I have of the medallion withstanding the blow shatters with the Heart of Black Moon Draw. It smashes into a million tiny pieces, like glass.
I can’t move, can’t breathe.
This world is going to die, and any hope I had of helping save lies in shards.
The Heart and magic of Black Moon Draw are destroyed.
As if the kingdom feels it, the ground beneath our feet rumbles. I cling to the Red Knight. The trembling doesn’t last long, and I look from the ground to Westley, who’s staring at the sky.
The fog above the mountains is transforming from light to dark gray, the color of thunderclouds. A piercing wind whips by us from the ocean and I twist, observing in dread as the new color of fog races through the skies away from Black Moon Draw and into the rest of the realm.
The battle-witch said the Heart being destroyed could lead to certain doom.
“Something bad is coming,” I murmur.
“I know,” the Red Knight says grimly. “Now keep quiet, so I can save your life, witch.”
Chapter Twenty
“The source of Black Moon Draw’s magic is now gone. As for the battle-witch” - the Desert Knight declares, replacing his axe and grabbing a knife - “I shall ensure she never uses magic again!” He starts towards us, determined.
“M’lord, if I may,” the Red Knight pushes me behind him. “Disarming a witch is my area of expertise. You can kill her a million times without my assistance, or once with it.”
What have I done? I can’t take my eyes off the medallion.
Magic molded this gem, but our love gave it power.
The Heart lasted a thousand years, until it met me. Jason was right – I really am a failure.
I don’t care what happens to me. All I can think about is how I’ve let down the Shadow Knight in the worst possible way. Without the magic, what are the chances he can still save this place?
The Desert Knight halts. “Very well. She will be dead before we attack at dark fall,” he replies. He sheathes his knife.
I’m vaguely aware of him walking away, trailed by his men and Westley.
Fighting the urge to break down and sob, I register the Red Knight’s words a moment after he speaks them.
“We need to get you to safety, witch.”
Blinking back tears, I say nothing.
He takes my arm and strides away quickly, his urgency restrained but clear in his tense features. Studying him, I can’t help but think this is the worst day of my life. A short distance away, Disney Princess waits, eyes rimmed with red from fresh tears and her features even paler than Westley’s. Even Ugly Duckling beside her appears horrified.
The Red Knight keeps up his breakneck pace through the encampment, until most of the brown cloaks have been replaced by white ones. Only when we reach the largest tent at the middle of the camp does he release me.
“What in the name of all the gods in the sky is going on?” he demands, turning on me.
Taken aback by the anger on his features, I retreat.
“’Tis my fault, brother,” Disney Princess says mournfully. “Had I but known, I might have not betrayed him.”
“Your bonding to the son of the Desert Knight is an issue I cannot handle right now,” he says, red creeping up his neck. “How you allowed me to betroth you knowing you were already bonded . . .” He draws a calming breath. “It will not matter, if we cannot stop the kingdoms from devastation. Witch, what can you do?”
“Nothing.” My throat is tight and hurting from the Desert Knight’s abuse. “I have no magic. I can’t help him or anyone else.” I’m back to being useless again.
The Red Knight is pacing. He eyes his sister as if he wants to give her a piece of his mind and then halts. “You swear, witch, what you say is true? You spoke to a woman dead a thousand years?”
“I did.” I’m starting to slide into a bout of self-pity and shake my head. Not about to let the misery take hold, I cross my arms and face him. The Shadow Knight spoke relatively well of his neighbor and appeared surprised by the thought he’d be betrayed by the man before me. “What’s your story? You just dump all your allies whenever you think someone else is going to win a battle?”
“I do not just dump my allies,” comes the sharp response. “I want the curse broken at all costs. The end of an era approaches; a thousand years have passed. I, too, believed the death of the Shadow Knight would end this fog and save our realm. After trying for many, many years to reason with him and others, I waited until the day before the era ends to decide his death is necessary.”
He appears earnest, but he has every other time we’ve interacted. Rarely do our interactions end well.
“I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” I snap, sorrow turning to fury. “The Shadow Knight has been betrayed by everyone he trusted. I, too, let him down, refused to help him when he asked, and left him to the fate only he was able to see so clearly. I’m a fool, but you’re worse! You’ve known this was coming for a thousand years and chose to screw him over instead of saving your world!” My shoulders sag. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t help him. No one can.”
I never should’ve left his side. At least then I could’ve used the medallion to help him. I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now facing th
e oncoming armies and knowing he failed after a thousand years.
I rack my memories for any clue the warrior queen might’ve given me about what to do now. No notes appear on my hand, and fear blooms within me.
There’s nothing to guide me this time. The hole in my heart is growing, and I don’t think a bout of self-confidence is going to help me save the Shadow Knight. I have the urge to hug him, wrap my arms around him and wait for the world to end together. It’s not his fault his family was cursed, not his fault if he can’t stop what’s coming.
It’s not fair. Even if – by some miracle – this really is fiction – it’s still not fair.
There has to be some way. I can’t give up now.
“Let us think for a moment.” The Red Knight is trying hard not to explode. I can see it on his face and in his jerky movements. He sinks onto a chair and grows quiet.
I’m not holding out any hope that he can bring my magic back or convince the Desert Knight not to attack.
“The Shadow Knight would know what to do,” I point out. “He always does. I bet he’s already got a plan on how to win and save the world.”
Disney Princess appears hopeful, while the Red Knight scowls.
“I believe you have a chance to help,” he says finally. “No other battle-witch needs a medallion. Does your hand tell you aught at all?”
I glance down and shake my head. Even the scary countdown is gone.
“Still, ‘tis possible your magic is simply dormant,” he reasons. “Or mayhap, there is another medallion, trinket or secret the Shadow Knight knows. I dread to think I will have to outwardly oppose the Desert Knight to put an end to this.”
“You do not have the numbers, brother,” Disney Princess says.
“No, but I can create enough of a distraction to give the Shadow Knight and the battle-witch a chance.”
“You’re serious?” I ask, surprised. “You really are an ally of his?”
“I want what is best for my realm,” he replies, somewhat irritated. “And I want to ensure you return home, for reasons we discussed. It seems to be in my best interest to assist.”
“Why do you want to go back with me?” I ask once more.
“Those reasons are mine.” He stands. “The Desert Knight is likely watching us. Sister, remain here. I need to devise a way to smuggle you out, witch.” Without another word, he leaves.
I bury my face in my hands, tired and stressed out. I can’t take my mind off the Shadow Knight or get rid of the wired energy boiling up inside me. I need to see him, to make sure he’s okay, to smell his brownie-leather-clover scent, and help him the right way for once.
We sit long enough to snack on some hard cheese and bread. Wine helps loosen my tense muscles. Disney Princess seems as distraught as I am, her gaze frequently going to the entrance.
I’m a little jealous of her, even knowing what she’s done. She had a man like the Shadow Knight in her hands for a year, long enough for there to be more than friendship between them.
“Does the Shadow Knight know you were betrothed to another?” I venture, not caring if it’s my business or not.
“Aye,” she admits. “I swore him to secrecy.”
Ugh. That makes me feel worse. He was serious about me being his queen. If only I’d known . . .
Am I seriously considering a proposal at a time like this? I don’t know what I’m thinking. Regret is heavy in my gullet, settling beside the guilt of knowing I’m the first battle-witch in a thousand years unable to protect the Heart of Black Moon Draw.
I study the cracks of the crust of the bread in my hand. There are moments when I want so badly for this world to be real and others when the possibility of dying in two days horrifies me.
“M’lady.” The Desert Knight’s harsh tone makes both of us jump.
Disney Princess hops to her feet, gaze sliding to Westley, who enters behind his father. I stand more deliberately, dread sinking into my gut.
“Where is your brother?” the Desert Knight demands gruffly.
“I am unsure, m’lord,” she replies with a pretty curtsey. “We were resting.”
His tan gaze falls to me and I resist the urge to shrink away. He signals to men behind him and two warriors enter the tent, approaching.
My fingers drop the bread automatically. Before I can move, the two each take an arm. “What’s happening?” I ask, heart in my throat.
“New plan, witch.” The Desert Knight turns away smartly.
I glance at Disney Princess, who is frowning. “Go get him!” I mouth the words to her.
She nods.
With fear bubbling, I wait to see what horrible fate awaits me.
We step outside the tent, where there are half a dozen horses waiting for us. The Desert Knight says nothing to me and mounts his while the others follow his lead.
Westley motions to the guards, who take me to him. With some effort, they get me on the horse behind the teen, and I wrap my arms around him, not looking forward to yet another trip on horseback. My ass is never going to recover.
If the world ends tomorrow at sunset, I guess it doesn’t really matter how sore I am.
Judging by the position of the sun ball in the sky, it’s late afternoon. The skies remain dark gray, and the fog appears to grow darker, the closer it is to its source in the city. I lean around Westley to see where he’s steering the horse.
Columns upon columns of mounted warriors line the foothills, as far as I can see. They’re waiting at the mouth of the pass leading through the mountains. The sight makes my breath catch in my sore throat.
There’s no way the Shadow Knight can defeat such an army without his own and without my shitty magic.
I rest my head against Westley’s shoulder. Escorted by several warriors eyeing me like I’m some kind of stray dog with rabies, we start into the pass, his father and four others ahead and the entire army of Brown Sun Lake behind.
“What’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Are you throwing me off a cliff?”
“My father would love to throw you into a pit of despair, but he has a better option.”
“Is there really a pit of despair?” I ask.
“No, witch.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “’Tis an expression.”
Nice, LF. Assuming this is still a book, that is, which I’m starting to doubt. “Then where are we going?”
Westley is quiet for a moment before responding. “The Shadow Knight offered to surrender, in exchange for you.”
“He did what?” I nearly shout the words, drawing the attention of everyone around us.
“Quiet!”
My god! The man thinks I have magic. He has no way to know the medallion is gone. “He can’t do that!” I hiss.
“Naia, keep quiet!” Westley shifts, eyes on his father. “I do not know what else to do. You are his battle-witch. You can do something or mayhap he knows aught we do not about your magic.”
It’s hard not to panic and jump down to run screaming for the hills. I hug him harder and press my face to his back. The only thing worse than knowing I’ve disappointed the Shadow Knight: having to tell him it’s my fault his world is about to end.
Tears sting my eyes. I have no idea how to tell him the truth and it crushes me thinking about it.
The ride through the pass is the longest two hours of my life. I can hear the sound of doom – the squeak of horse leathers, ring of hooves on stone and rattling of weapons in their sheathes – coming from behind me and know I’m bringing with me the destruction of Black Moon Draw.
The emerald hills beneath gray skies draw my gaze when we reach the other side of the mountains. Instead of cheering me up with their sweet scent, the knowledge I can’t save them sends me tumbling into despair.
All this will be gone tomorrow. The place that feels like home, the man who makes me feel alive.
It’s not real. My chant no longer works. All I can think about is how much this is going to hurt. If this is a book, or a dream, I’ll never recover.
We ride along the foothills of the mountains on the road leading towards the mile long walls of the city at the heart of Black Moon Draw. The walls soon tower above us, smooth, carved from the stone of the mountains. The sky above the city’s center is black.
The road leads to an entrance made of wooden planks wider than the trailer of a semi-truck. One of the planks is open, and I find myself peering around Westley to see into the home of the Shadow Knight.
Edifices carved out of the same stone as the walls, wide streets lined by lit torches, wooden doors and window shutters painted different colors. Even before we ride unchallenged through the entrance, I’m in love with the understated romance of the city. As we enter, I can make out the light filigree that decorates each façade.
It’s as unique and beautiful as the hills – except for the plethora of lifelike statues scattered everywhere. They’re are downright creepy.
Lost in wonder, I admire everything around me, except for the statues, not even noticing the lack of people until I hear one of our escorts muttering about ghosts.
It’s true. There’s no sign of life anywhere. The city hasn’t been vacated for the impending war; it looks like no one has lived here in years.
We follow the main avenue that wraps around the city, each lap around growing smaller as the spiral tightens, until we reach the open doors of a castle on the hill at the center of the city, directly beneath the eye of the black clouds swirling above. The castle has dozens of spires, towers and layer upon layer of levels, enormous, a sign of wealth unlike any I’ve seen in this world so far. This is what a castle should look like.
I could’ve lived here. The thought makes my cheeks warm. Then the devastation kicks in, and I want to cry again.
I don’t, instead focused on the incredible world around me. The Desert Knight marches triumphantly up to the open gates of the castle without so much as a single Black Moon Draw warrior appearing.
If the statue-strewn streets of the city are dead quiet, the castle’s bailey and interior are downright eerie. We dismount and enter through doors hanging sadly off their hinges. At one time, the castle was the height of grandeur. Tattered tapestries depicting great battles hang from the walls, which appear to have been gilded at one point. Flecks of gold and silver sparkle in torchlight. The soaring wooden beams far overhead are almost white with cobwebs, and a thick layer of dust covers the heavy stone furnishings and floor in the massive foyer area.