“Does Camelot know you have a Royal Relic?”
I frown. “This?” I hold my necklace. “This is not a Royal Relic.”
“If there’s royal blood fused with a memory within it, it’s a Relic.”
Blood? Inside my necklace? I shiver at the thought. Elaine continues walking up the stairs leaving me puzzled and disturbed as I follow.
We go around and around the spiral of steps, the sound of our climb echoing through the castle. The top of the castle has no roof. Its ceiling broken through showing the cloudy sky. We approach a veranda. Lichen covers the stone rails. Over the edge I see the entire landscape of Sarras. The land surrounding the castle is darker than the outskirts.
“See the darker areas?” Elaine points. “That’s the Waste Land separating another forest. From here we should be able to tell if there are any disturbances. We must be patient though.”
I keep my eyes peeled, inspecting the treetops for disturbances.
“How are my father and sisters doing?” Elaine asks.
“They’re well,” I reply. “Fisher is my favorite professor in Camelot. He’s kind and a great teacher. Laudine is… well, she’s my counselor. And Lynette is a senior Black Knight.”
“I’m glad they’re doing well,” Elaine says. She rests her chin in her hand, and she leans over the banister. She studies a patch of trees far away. “And how is Lancelot?”
I quirk my brow. “Lancelot is the High Knight—a very talented one. Is he your relative or a friend?”
I don’t know much about Lancelot’s family, but he does look a bit like the Pelles family with his blond hair and classic good looks.
She tilts her head toward me and smiles a little, her eyes not changing. “Lancelot is my fiancé. Or was my fiancé.”
My mind blows over. “Oh,” I say, shocked.
I glance at her ring finger. There’s a golden ring with a brilliant-cut diamond on it—very traditional, just the kind a no-nonsense man like Lancelot would get.
“You seem surprised,” Elaine says.
“I… didn’t know he was engaged.”
Or that he ever wanted to get married. Lancelot has never even mentioned Elaine by name or really talked about the Grail Guardian.
Elaine shrugs, looking back to the landscape. “It was a while ago. Before I was chosen as the Grail Guardian. Our engagement wasn’t meant to survive my mission. I’m here in Corbenic. He’s in Camelot. He can live the way he wants. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was married now with children.”
“He’s not,” I say, trying to sound normal.
A murder of crows bursts from a thicket of trees in the distance. They caw, swirling into the air like a dark, spiraling cloud.
“There they are,” Elaine says. She swears under her breath. “They’re heading into the caverns.”
“The caverns?”
Three crows from the thicket fly toward the banister. The crows land, each holding something nearly invisible in their beaks.
Elaine speaks to them in an ancient pagan language. Then she plucks something from each of their beaks and pets them. She turns to us as the crows fly away.
“Three strands of hair,” Elaine announces, inspecting the strands in her hand and holding them up to the dim sun. “All short hair. One is black and curly, one is brown, and the last is straight and black. Three people are heading into the cavern.”
“One is Mordred,” I say. “One is Arthur, and the other… who can it be?”
“Dark, straight hair,” Merlin says. “Nobody comes to mind. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’ll go with you,” Elaine says.
Merlin shakes his head. “You’re too important, Elaine, and the last hope to guard the Grail. You stay here in case we fail.”
“Okay,” Elaine agrees. “I’ll point you toward the cavern.”
We descend the steps. At the bottom there’s movement. A man enters the castle, startling me out of my skin. He’s tall and somewhat resembles a crow with his upright posture and sharp gaze.
He raises his hand as if to use magic.
“Galahad,” Elaine shouts. “It’s okay. These are Camelot members.”
Galahad nods to Elaine and lowers his hand.
Elaine turns to us. “Galahad is the Black Knight assigned to guard me. We left Camelot together and have been in Corbenic since.”
We meet Galahad at the bottom of the steps. Up close I see that Galahad has striking eyes in the shade of brilliant hazel. Elaine explains to him our story.
“I’d assist you,” Galahad says, “but I’ve taken an oath to stay by Elaine. I’d like to help, however. Perhaps you could shoot a flare into the sky if you need help? Can one of you use fire?”
“I can,” I reply.
“How many colors?”
“I only know how to make red fire.”
“If I see your flare, I’ll know to help then.”
Elaine and Galahad walk us outside and back into the Waste Land. Elaine points us to the caverns. “Be careful. There are steep ravines and dangerous rivers. It’s a maze in there. Don’t go crazy with fire or else you could kill everyone in the cave, including the King. Narrow space and fire don’t mix well.”
She’s right. With Mordred and my fire colliding, it’s going to get dangerous.
“We’ll be careful,” I assure her.
We trek toward the caverns. Merlin is still slick with sweat from his poisoned state. He can’t fight Mordred, that’s for sure.
I spot red berries, which I gingerly pluck as we walk. Once we reach the dark opening, Merlin steps forward without hesitation.
“We’re going to split up,” Merlin says. “The cavern goes into different directions. I’m going to the left.”
“Wait,” I call out. “You’re still weak.”
“I’m feeling better.”
I grab his arm. As I do I notice a shoe print in the dirt that doesn’t belong to Merlin’s sneakers. The prints are headed left.
Merlin is choosing to fight alone.
I look up quickly, hiding the fact that I saw them and pull the berries out of my pockets. “We need some food. We can’t fight in our weakened state.”
“Fine.” Merlin sighs impatiently and grabs the handful of berries from me and pops them into his mouth. Once he swallows them he coughs.
“Tastes terrible,” he says. “Let’s go.”
He begins walking into the tunnel of rock. As he approaches the split in the path, he stumbles. He warily leans against the cavern’s mouth as he pants, his bangs clinging to his forehead. I stand in front of him, prepared for his anger. He looks at me wide-eyed, his face pale.
“What the hell did you give me?” Merlin whispers.
“I’m sorry, Merlin,” I say. “You can’t go.”
“Why?” Merlin asks, his voice getting faint. He staggers, nearly falling over. “You… You poisoned me?”
“Not exactly. The berries will knock you out for an hour.”
“What the hell is wrong with you,” Merlin rasps weakly. “What the hell…”
“Why did you try to go fight Mordred by yourself?” I return.
“Whoever fights him… isn’t going to come out alive. The cave and fire…” Merlin trails off. “Morgan. You can’t use fire in there. It’ll kill…”
Merlin looks at me with disoriented eyes. His mouth moves, no sound coming out. If he were able to say words, I imagine him cursing me out.
I crouch in front of him. “I know that fire magic in a tunnel can become as dangerous as a bomb.”
“You’re. A monster,” Merlin says as he grows limp, staggering to the ground until his cheek meets the rocks. “I almost… trusted you again. But you’re the same… You want to destroy yourself…”
“I don’t want you to die,” I counter.
Merlin’s eyes flutter. I lean over him.
“I love you,” I say. “I have always loved you and always will.”
&nb
sp; I wipe the sweaty bangs out of his face. His eyes are shut, mouth open. He’s out cold.
“You need to be here, for Arthur,” I continue though he cannot hear me. “You’re Maven, remember? Nobody needs me.”
Standing back up, I head into the cavern to face Mordred alone, prepared to fight to the death.
Chapter 16
I run as fast as I can through the rugged cavern, my fire lighting the way. Bats scatter into the air. I flinch, startled. The wind from their fluttering wings brush my skin. Shivering, I continue on. In the distance I hear the roar of a river coursing through the rocks.
There are muffled sounds farther ahead. Coming close, I make out people talking.
“Get up!” A man screams. Mordred.
“I-I can’t.”
A loud smack.
I sneak toward the cavern wall and crouch behind a rock. I glimpse two men towering over Arthur. Mordred’s cold fire illuminates them. The mystery man has his back turned to me.
Arthur lies on the floor, a small puddle of blood under his head. My heart jolts. I recall the vision I had at the Henge as a child—the vision of Mordred harming Arthur. Even from this distance I can make out dark bruises on Arthur’s face. Arthur moves and slowly sits up, struggling. His hair is wet with sweat and blood. I grit my teeth trying to contain my anger.
“Remember our agreement?” Mordred says coldly. “We need to move fast, or the knights will catch up to us. I’m sure the Grail Guardian has noticed us by now.”
“Grail Guardian?” the other man asks. “Are you sure she’s really in the Waste Land?”
“I can only assume she’s watching,” Mordred says. “I’ve been warned so by Lucius—and Lucius is always right.”
I blink upon hearing the name. Lucius? Perhaps he’s the man Vivian and Merlin spoke of in Dartmoor Forest during Arthur’s Round.
“I’m just…” Arthur pants. “I can barely walk.”
“Come on.” Mordred extends a hand. “Up you go.”
Mordred helps Arthur up. He then examines Arthur’s forearm. My skin crawls. Fresh cuts are slashed across his skin.
“You see, your blood says this is the right direction. The sooner we get to the Grail, the better for you. I don’t know how you can survive any more blood loss. You don’t want another cut on your arm, do you?”
Arthur holds in a sob.
“It was your idea,” Mordred continues gently. “You wanted me to take away your role as king. So here we are.”
“I was wrong,” Arthur says. “A man like you should never be king.”
Mordred suddenly strikes him across the face, nearly felling Arthur. Fire runs through my veins—I’m ready to move.
I lunge out of my hiding place and sling a large fireball at Mordred’s head. It’s been a while since I’ve used powerful magic, and I grow lightheaded for a moment before landing on my feet.
Mordred turns, raising his arm before the fireball hits home. He counters with his own fire. Sparks fly. Arthur covers his head, yelping. Mordred grins, waving the sparks away.
How did he know?
Mordred locks eyes with me, smiling as if he’s happy to see me. “Le Fay, your fire energy is as bright as a stoplight. I could sense you a dozen meters away. Seems you need to brush up on your magic control.”
I grimace. He’s right. The months I’ve been without magic has made me rusty.
Arthur widens his eyes in shock upon seeing me. “Morgan!”
The man next to him also turns.
I gape at him. He still has the bruise I gave him on his eye, all red and swollen.
Agravain matches Mordred’s smirk. “Good to see you, Le Fay. I thought you were expelled, but I suppose your lover let you off.”
“I was chosen for this mission,” I reply sharply. “What the hell are you doing here, Agravain?”
“Lancelot sent me out for the day as punishment,” Agravain replies. “Right after your temper tantrum. It was convenient for me. I was meaning to leave for the day anyway.”
“I mean, why are you with Mordred?”
“Mordred is my master,” Agravain says. He pulls up a corner of his tank top revealing the Luminary symbol on his abdomen.
I gasp, shocked. “But you don’t even use magic!”
“This isn’t about magic,” Mordred says. “There are bigger issues at hand. Things you couldn’t possibly understand, Le Fay. Agravain, I think you can take care of this.”
Agravain bows curtly. He takes out a gun from his holster.
“Don’t hurt her,” Arthur yells as Mordred yanks on his arm.
Agravain’s hands are gloved, but I still try my defense against metal: I bring my hands out, heating the gun in his grasp. He doesn’t drop it—his gloves are heat resistant.
Behind him, Mordred drags Arthur into a dark tunnel. Arthur tries to look back at me as he gets pulled away.
“One trick pony?” Agravain queries, cocking his brow.
Before I can say anything, he pulls the trigger. A rock explodes next to my head. I dive, scraping the skin off my knees in the process. Landing, I turn to shoot fire at him. More bullets. Crack! Crack!
I run behind a stalagmite as it splinters. I grimace and point my palms toward the direction of the shots.
I shoot fire the size of a car at him.
Agravain screams. The gun drops, clattering to the cavern floor. He holds his red burnt arms, his eyes bulging with horror.
“You bitch!” he snarls.
I dive for the gun, grab it, and throw it into a chasm.
“I’ll spare you your life,” I say as I turn to him. “You’d better find a puddle.”
He continues to scream looking at his wounded arms as the fire spreads on his tank top. In agony, he thrashes, falling to the ground. I can’t bear to watch.
I turn and run in the direction toward where Mordred was headed.
Eventually Agravain’s screams quiet down. Then it becomes eerily silent, the only sound the white noise of the river.
At the next bend there’s a thin trail winding into another cavern and, below, a violently gushing river. The water looks black. I prepare to carefully balance on the path, hugging the rock wall with my back.
Before I take a step, there is movement next to me. I turn my head.
I come face-to-face with Agravain—his skin blistered red. My heart leaps out of my chest. He breathes with a rattled wheeze. I try not to lose balance as I back away. I can smell his burnt clothes and hair wafting off him as hotly as his rage. He brings his gloved hand out.
“Agravain, don’t—”
He punches me across the face. My fire illuminating the caverns fizzles out. All I see is darkness.
I crash into the icy river, the water thundering in my ears.
Chapter 17
I claw my way to the surface, trying to swim. It’s pitch-black. I gasp for air, the water freezing the life out of me, slowly. I hear roaring water. My stomach meets my heart as I plummet down a waterfall. I crash into the water below and then swim up to the surface again. Clinging onto the nearest rock, I put my hand in the air, conjuring a flame. In the distance, there’s a dark shore. Taking in a deep breath, I plummet back into the water, swimming to the shore with all my strength.
When my feet hit jagged rocks, I try not to lose balance against the current. The rocks are slick, causing me to slip several times. My elbows and knees sting. The biting cold numbs the pain. I fall again and crawl the rest of the way to shore.
Shivering, I stumble into a narrow tunnel ahead. Water echoes, trickling down hundreds of little channels hidden within layers and layers of rock. Stalactites hang from the cavern’s ceiling. It seems the surface of the earth is hundreds of kilometers away. The solitude and confinement here is worse than what I experienced in prison.
“Merlin,” I whisper to the air. “Merlin. I hope you find them.”
He’s smart. He’ll find the trail of my blood, the bullet dam
age in the cavern. He’ll be led to the narrow path. Agravain should be passed out now, unable to harm Merlin. It should work out… right?
And me? Perhaps this cavern is my grave.
I wonder what people will do when they hear I’ve lost my life in the Waste Land. When I think about Father, I regret not making amends with him. I regret not telling Merlin how I feel. Perhaps it’s selfish to tell him my feelings, but I should have done so while he was lucid and awake. After everything, he deserves to know the truth. Strangely, when I think of Guinevere, I regret not having as much time with her. I wish I had more… fun. What a strange thought to have during such a serious time, trying to save the King in a desolate place. To want to have fun.
I trudge on, making a flame follow me. Soon I will run out of energy to fuel the fire and I’ll slowly die in darkness like a beetle flipped onto its back, struggling until it eventually stops moving.
Something clatters to the ground. Clink. I jump.
My necklace dimly shines in a puddle. I reach to pick it up. Blood from my hands trickles onto the surface of the necklace. The chain has broken. I hold the wet necklace, shiny with water and the red of my blood.
I feel a tingle in my hand. The necklace feels hot. Behind the opal there’s a glow of ruby red.
Memory races through me. The necklace… I held it in my hand as a child.
Candlelight glowing. Mother holds a small knife. She’s singing her song. The pendant is actually a locket. I hold the open locket in my hand, looking into the blankness of it. There are no pictures cut out and placed inside. Mother nears me, holding the palm of my hand.
“Listen carefully, Morgan,” she says. “It’s for your own good.”
She slices the tip of my finger.
I scream.
I was five years old. The scream tears through my head, my spine, and through my limbs.
I wish I didn’t remember something so horrible in my last moment. Mother hurting me. And for what? One of her pagan spells? Will she ever stop haunting me? Coming back to the present, I hastily throw the necklace toward the stone wall, yelling like a wounded animal. It hits something with a clunk.
I swat at my sweaty bangs, trying to calm my breathing. I look to where I threw the necklace. It glints there in the semidarkness.
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