Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  “Still safer there than out here getting charred by a dragon,” Daniel sniffs.

  My muscles bunch up, awash with emotions. Fear. Shame. Guilt.

  “We’ll figure a way to handle the beast,” Gale says, “but it’s the least of our worries.”

  “That’s right,” Keva intervenes, “there’s also the draugar army Carman’s building, and it’s huge!”

  “They’ve had centuries to build it up,” Gale says, “and the pace has accelerated in recent years. If they’re released from Hell, I can’t tell the damage they’ll do. The good news is that—”

  “Gale destroyed the giant cauldron that was used to make them,” Keva says, cutting him off again.

  “I had Lady Kaede’s help,” Gale says, “as well as that of—”

  “Lady Kaede?” Arthur asks.

  He scans the fort’s remains, his gaze catching on the girl’s still form as she leans quietly against a pile of crumbled stonework. Then, with a surprised chuckle, he dashes across the room, stopping short when Kaede flinches away from his extended hand.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Arthur says, laughing self-consciously.

  The girl doesn’t move nor say a word, her almond eyes emotionless as she stares at him. Finally, with a perplexed smile, Arthur drops his hand altogether.

  “A moment,” Lugh says, slitting his golden eye. “Something here is not quite right.”

  Kaede and Arthur stiffen, Gale’s eyes stray to the cat now rubbing itself all over his boots, while Daniel slowly backs away from us, his eyes wide with fear. Keva and I exchange worried glances.

  “Ah, I think I know what this is about,” Gale says.

  He drops into a crouch to rub Lugh’s cat behind the ear, and sticks his other arm out. Even though I’ve already seen it happen before, I can’t help but hold my breath like everyone else as the skin of his forearm splits open to let a long, golden spear push through with soft, sucking sounds.

  “Yeah, that’s still gross,” Keva says with a shudder.

  “Isn’t that Gae Assail?” Pigfain asks Lugh in awe. “The lance you—”

  “It is,” Lugh says, gaze fevered. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he’s just seen his worst nightmare come to life.

  Gale holds the spear out to him. “It’s yours, I believe?”

  Lugh bares his teeth in a silent growl. “Not anymore,” he says at last. “You may keep it.”

  “But that’s the spear that defeated Balor!” Pigfain exclaims.

  “It accomplished its purpose, I do not need it anymore,” Lugh says, turning away from the weapon as if even its sight hurts him.

  “Balor?” I repeat.

  “Lugh’s grandsire,” Pigfain explains, throwing his Lord furtive glances.

  “Is that why everyone keeps mentioning him?” Keva asks.

  “Who’s been mentioning him?” Arthur asks.

  Keva shrugs. “Just…random demon gossip, I guess.”

  “They keep mentioning him because that’s the reason Carman’s down in Hell,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry. “She wants to free him.”

  A strained silence settles over us.

  “Are you sure of this?” Arthur asks at last.

  “Yes.”

  “This is worse than we thought!” Pigfain exclaims, sounding on the verge of panic. “We’ve got to warn the others, reconvene, figure another way to—”

  “It doesn’t change our plans,” Lugh says.

  “But—”

  “Enough!” Lugh says with finality. “This talk about freeing Balor is but wishful thinking. If they could open all of the Gates of Hell, they would have done so already.”

  “It’s what they said about the first Gate,” Daniel grumbles, and for once I have to agree with him. Carman has a knack for getting her hands on what she wants.

  “So what are these plans of yours, then?” Gale asks.

  “We thought we could catch them off guard by attacking their rears,” Arthur says, pointing at the gaping hole behind me.

  A chill creeps up my spine.

  “You mean by traveling through Hell?” Kaede asks, shocked out of her muteness.

  “Are you insane?” Keva blurts out. “We barely made it out alive, and you guys want to hop down there? Do you even know what it’s like? On top of the draugar, you’ve also got whole cities’ worth of demons prowling down there! No. Nuh, huh. This is a really stupid idea.”

  “Agreed,” Daniel says.

  “Shut up, Daniel,” Keva retorts automatically.

  “You’re not the boss of me,” the young boy bristles.

  “I can’t let our people keep getting massacred without trying to do something to stop it,” Arthur counters testily, and only then do I realize how exhausted he must be to have even agreed to such an egregious plan.

  “You do have the right idea, though the execution of it isn’t coherent,” Gale says, commanding our undivided attention. “Your idea is to hit them where they’re not looking. And I believe the catacombs should be far enough belowground for us to provide such an opportunity.”

  “How stupid do you think we are?” Daniel says. “We’ve tried that way, but the tunnels have all been blocked. Why else would we be desperate enough to come here in the first place?”

  “But I don’t think all of the tunnels are impracticable,” Gale says, a slow grin blooming on his face. “And all we need to verify that, is to send Lady Vivian a message.”

  Chapter 17

  We hear it moments before the world rights itself again and Pigfain’s portal winks out of existence: The long, insistent bellow of a horn. My heart stammers—another attack!

  With a growl, the banshee steps closer to me, her dagger already out. We all look up, scanning the dark skies for a sign of the beast, but find only the twinkling lights of a spattering of stars through a thick canopy of leaves. It takes me a long heartbeat to realize this was a false alarm, and I expel a breath of relief. After everything we’ve already been through, I don’t think I’m ready for another battle yet, not if it means I’ll be facing my brother.

  And as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I pick out further details of our surroundings—faint lights flittering in the trees, the dark glimmer of a distant creek, the furry tail of a goblin fleeing our presence. We’re definitely in Fey territory.

  A knight rushes to meet us, sliding to a stop before Arthur and Lugh.

  “You’re back,” Hadrian says with a half-salute, his voice deeper than I remember.

  “The horn?” Arthur asks.

  “From the team we sent to rescue the refugees at Fort Dubhe.” Hadrian clears his throat uncomfortably. “Unfortunately, they arrived too late.”

  “The dragon,” I whisper loudly.

  Hadrian looks around owlishly, noticing me for the first time. “A lighthouse came crashing down on top of it,” he says at last, before turning away again. But not before I see the flash of hate in his eyes.

  “A whole lighthouse?” Keva exclaims, drawing a welcoming nod from Hadrian, and I can’t help but feel a twinge at the difference in treatment between us. “How is that even possible?”

  “The power keeping Avalon whole and separate from the surface world is dying,” a thickly accented voice cuts in.

  Gauvain and Gareth have arrived, both grinning widely despite the series of new scars adorning their faces.

  “What happened to you?” Keva asks, staring at the right side of Gauvain’s face. “You look like you’ve been scalped!”

  Gareth barks out a laugh as Gauvain rubs a hand over the patch where his long dreadlocks used to be.

  “Keva,” Hadrian growls reprovingly, and Keva’s cheeks darken in shame at the reproof.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s all right,” Gauvain says. “It does make for a rather edgier look.”

  “Nearly got his whole head barbecued,” Gareth adds. “The dragon didn’t like us going for his belly.”

  “And unfortu
nately, our E.M. doesn’t seem to affect it at all,” Hadrian says, with another reproachful frown at Keva. “It seems the literatures were right, and that—”

  “Enough with the teachings,” Gareth says.

  “Have pity for our latest guests,” Gauvain adds, garnering a scowl from Hadrian.

  “I believe you all know each other already,” Arthur says.

  “I don’t…,” Hadrian starts, before letting his voice trail off.

  “Is that you, Lady Kaede?” Gauvain booms out in surprise.

  The knight seems to draw back into herself before giving a curt nod, her long dark hair swinging over her oval face. Gauvain is about to tell her something else, but Gareth elbows him roughly with his war hammer arm, pointing at Gale.

  “Am I drunk, or is that a revenant?” Gareth asks, a tremor to his voice.

  “Oh, la vache[91]!” Gauvain swears, making me nearly choke on my own saliva. “And he doesn’t look a day older, either.”

  “A draugar?” Gareth asks instead.

  “Not yet,” Gale replies genially. “You two certainly have filled up quite a bit since I last saw you.”

  The words are barely out of his mouth that the cousins are grabbing Gale in a tight hug.

  “We thought you were dead!” Gauvain exclaims, eyes uncommonly wet.

  “Wait till we tell Lance,” Gareth says before his cousin punches him in the shoulder. “I mean, when we see him again.”

  Gale pats the big knight above his war hammer. “That might be sooner than you think,” he says, and the cousins grow still.

  “You have a plan, then?” Hadrian asks, sounding suspicious.

  A sharp breeze cuts through the trees, raising a trail of dead leaves in its wake.

  “Ugh, not him,” Gareth says, slouching dejectedly.

  Keva slants a questioning look in my direction, but I’ve had plenty of visions to know who it is before the round Fey Lord materializes at Lugh’s elbow.

  “Back so soon?” Oberon calls out. “I take it that silly scheme of yours didn’t pan out?”

  “We were successful, at least in part,” Lugh says without raising to the bait.

  Oberon cocks a derisive brow at us, evidently less than impressed.

  “Plans change,” Gareth grumbles.

  “It’s a dynamic approach,” Gauvain adds, “made to adapt to new data and events, where—”

  “Spare me your lessons, you sodden bear cubs,” Oberon says dismissively. “All I want to know is how you’re going to get me out of this bloody mess you forcefully plunged me into.”

  Gareth rolls his eyes at the Fey with such a mournful sigh, I chuckle.

  “Indeed,” Lugh says, golden eye calculating. “I am glad of your enthusiasm, for we will require your heroic abilities once again.”

  At my sight, the two cousins break into identical smiles, and amble over to fold me into their crushing arms.

  “I don’t need to display any heroism!” Oberon shouts, and the cousins release me, tension rippling across their muscles. “That has already cost me a great many of my people, as you very well know.”

  “My sister wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t tried to save your people,” a sharp voice interrupts.

  Blanchefleur, looking pale but fierce as ever, lands besides Lugh to glare at Oberon. Wrapped around her shoulders is Sameerah’s black mamba, now as white as snow.

  “None of it would have happened if your boss hadn’t invaded my territory,” Oberon says.

  “You let us in,” Lugh points out.

  “Only to tell you to buzz out!” Oberon exclaims, spittle flying. “You’d been pestering me long enough. And now you dare ask me to risk my people again just so you and your puny army can do”—he waves his hand wildly about—“do whatever it is you’ve planned to do this time?”

  “A preemptive strike, actually,” Arthur says, voice a bare whisper, “with the goal of destroying the Siege Perilous.”

  Lord Oberon and I both sputter at the same time. This isn’t what was mentioned at the fort ruins.

  “We’ll have inside help,” Arthur carries on, “and with you distracting them from the outside, they won’t notice our presence in their midst until it’s too late.”

  “Nobody is as fast as you and your pixies,” Lugh adds placatingly.

  “Except for that beast and its hellfire!” Oberon spits. “Don’t you try to cajole me into doing something that you yourself refuse to do.”

  “We would be much obliged,” Lugh says, after a slight hesitation.

  Oberon opens his mouth to refuse once more, but then snaps it shut again, dark eyes glinting with greed. “How much obliged?” he asks.

  “One favor,” Lugh says, “as long as it does not harm my people nor myself.”

  Oberon’s face remains impassive, waiting expectantly.

  “And I will carve out a portion of my Demesne for you to resettle your colonies,” Lugh finishes.

  “Deal,” Oberon says with a predatory smile. “Remember what happens to those who break their oaths, Lugh,” he says, spinning around with great flourish. “Call me when the mission starts.”

  ◆◆◆

  “I don’t mean to bust your balls—” Gareth starts.

  “—bubble,” Gauvain interjects.

  “—but those Dark Sidhe have got wards, you know,” Gareth continues, “and we haven’t been able to break through them.”

  We’re all seated on a grassy knoll, away from all the preparations that Lugh and Hadrian are supervising. And I’m glad of it, if it means I don’t have to deal with the suspicious stares and whispered accusations that have followed me everywhere I go these last couple of days. It is the welcome I’d expected to receive as a traitor, but a part of me had still hoped things would be different…better.

  Well, at least I’m clean for once, I tell myself to quell the unease growing inside me. And I’ve got a new uniform to boot.

  “And the catacombs are too well protected,” Lady Ysolt adds.

  I’ve learned she’s the only faculty member who’s both made it out of Lake High and can still fight. Like everyone else, the war has changed her. She’s gotten leaner, meaner, and her gaunt cheeks only highlight her fevered eyes.

  “I’m actually surprised at how quickly those wards got those up,” Gauvain says, bouncing his knee up and down nervously.

  “The wards that protected our school for so long were only decoys for the ones that are up now,” Gale says. “All it took was for their creator to activate them.”

  “How do you know all that?” Lady Ysolt asks, fingers drumming the pommel of her sword.

  A small smile plays at the edges of Gale’s mouth. “There’s something about being locked up in Hell that somehow sets tongues wagging,” he says.

  “I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Blanchefleur says, stopping her pacing long enough to stare at Gale with evident distrust. “How many draugar did you say there were?”

  “Close to seven thousand,” Gale says, “although our latest intervention may have brought that number down a little. We should thank Asheel, too, as a matter of fact.”

  “Who’s Asheel?” Arthur and Lady Ysolt ask in unison.

  “A horrible demon in charge of the draugar,” Keva says with a shiver. “She became quite powerful after Carman used Morgan to restore her powers.”

  All eyes turn to me, and I try not to flinch away from them.

  “It wasn’t Morgan’s fault,” Keva quickly adds, but the harm’s done.

  They already think I tried to kill Arthur, now they can add this whole restoration of demons’ powers to my growing list of sins. If only that were the whole extent of it.

  “Carman tortured Morgan to use the Sangraal,” Keva insists, “and she—”

  “The Sangraal?” Lady Ysolt asks, her voice cracking like a whip. “Where is it?”

  Keva shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Still with Carman, I suppose.”

  “Not exactly,” I say, keeping my gaze averted from their ac
cusing stares. “I, uh, think it was absorbed by the dragon when she created it.”

  I hear Lady Ysolt’s sharp intake of breath. “No.”

  “That would explain its powers,” Blanchefleur says, resuming her pacing. “As well as its imperviousness to our attacks.”

  “And you said Carman’s now intent upon freeing Balor,” Arthur says, trying to shift the conversation away from me.

  I nod miserably, rubbing at my temples where I can feel the beginnings of another headache.

  Sameerah’s old snake, currently coiled around Blanchefleur’s arm, lifts its coffin-shaped head with a hiss. “That’s why the Fomori have been sacrificing themselves so obediently,” the Fey warrior says, “because she’s promised to get their master back. Does Lugh know of this?”

  “He is aware,” Arthur says. “But if I got this right, he already defeated Balor once.”

  “A feat once performed might not necessarily be repeated,” Blanchefleur states, sending another wave of unease through our little group. “Balor is no fool, he’ll know what to expect. He’ll make sure to destroy everything beforehand, no exceptions. Lugh wouldn’t be able to resist him this time, nor, I fear, the great Danu herself.”

  “Which brings us back to our plan,” Arthur says. “To close the Gates of Hell once and for all, before such a catastrophe can happen.”

  “Very well,” Lady Ysolt says, sounding resigned. “I shall inform the Board, and let them know that I will accompany you as well.”

  The statement seems to shock the knights. From what Keva and I have gathered so far, things at Caamaloth are pretty dire, and Arthur’s financial support notwithstanding, the Order doesn’t seem too keen to be helping out around here.

  “Morgan?”

  Startled, I look up to find that everyone’s gone but for Arthur. Arthur, who’s been a constant presence at my side since I got back from Hell, even though I can barely look at him from shame. Arthur, who’s made sure I’m always taken care of, even though he’s evidently got more pressing matter to attend to.

  Arthur, whose hand I never want to let go again.