Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  “I understand how one can never truly recover from being abandoned by those who should’ve been the first to show us love,” I say, surprised to feel pity for the old woman now huddling by the arched windows in defeat. “But this path of destruction is not the answer.”

  Carman’s withered face contorts in fury. “Do not presume to know anything about me!” she spits.

  I lean back in the Siege Perilous, no longer under its evil influence. The carved angels are now climbing back up towards the armrest, carrying some shapeless thing between them.

  “I, too, had to live my life being continuously cast away,” I continue wistfully, “as you well know. I always thought there was something wrong with me, that there must’ve been a good reason for everyone to reject me. And when I found out what I am”—I look down as the first angel reaches my hand and pulls free from the chair, holding out a small lump of metal for me—“I figured that, if they were going to reject me, I would do the same with them.”

  I grab the surprisingly heavy nodule and, with a slight shock, realize that it’s a piece of iron. I smile in derision, wondering how it is that these wooden angels would know what I haven’t told a soul about.

  “But I later realized,” I say, tossing the lump of iron into the air so that it floats at eye-level before me, “that I was focusing too much on what set me apart from everyone else, on our differences, when I should have focused instead on what we had in common.”

  I direct my energy into the floating piece of iron, heating it up until it glows orange.

  I look back at Carman. “In a way, I have you to thank for making me see that.”

  I let my gaze travel past the windows. Although it feels like an eternity has passed, it is still night, and fires have been lit across the school grounds. My thoughts turn to all my friends out there, to Arthur gone with Puck and the banshee, and I send out a prayer that they’re all safe, wishing I could’ve said goodbye properly.

  I take a deep breath. Release it slowly.

  Then, with a tiny flick of my finger, the iron flies straight for Excalibur, the blade lying discarded in the middle of the room. At the last second, the sword leaps into the bubbling metal’s path until every side of it is covered in iron. All but the tip of the sword, pointed in my direction.

  Carman lets out a dry laugh. “You wouldn’t,” she says, understanding my actions.

  I smile despite the woozy feeling that’s overtaken me, then give Excalibur—my ogham—one last command.

  The sword streaks across the room, so fast I barely see it. I feel the blade slide easily between my ribs, as if it’s always belonged there, followed by the dull thud as it lodges itself inside the back of the Siege Perilous. Then, with the last of my power, I coax the iron layer to close over the sword’s tip, cutting me off entirely from my ogham.

  My breath bubbles. I cough, bringing up blood, feeling the sword’s sharp edges pull at my lung.

  Carman hobbles over to my side, ungainly with sudden age. “You fool,” she snaps, grasping Excalibur’s tang in her feeble hands. “You ran it through while the chair was still active!”

  “All…over…,” I say, wincing. This hurts. A lot.

  But it was the only way for me to destroy the Siege Perilous, and make sure that no one would ever be able to use it to unleash Hell’s fury upon the innocent again.

  Carman lets out a startled shriek as a carved demon pulls free from the chair’s base to jump on her, claws out. Another follows, then a third, all three eager to escape the inevitable. Behind me, I can hear the Siege Perilous splintering, the sound like ice breaking.

  “Get these off!” Carman shouts.

  I watch through lidded eyes as she stumbles around in a clumsy attempt to pry the wooden creatures off. But the demons only latch onto her more firmly, biting hungrily at her exposed flesh. I close my eyes in exhaustion. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a horn blast. I feel the corners of my lips lift slightly. It almost sounds like Mordred’s back, calling everyone to safety.

  I grip the sides of the chair as Lake High starts to shake, heaving violently one last time before the Siege Perilous explodes.

  Chapter 42

  There are no flames, no smoke, no skeleton guy to ferry me across some river, nor any judgment scales to weigh my sins against my good deeds. Just lots and lots of dull white, like I’m in the middle of a really thick fog.

  I let out a silent sigh, both of relief and of disappointment.

  “If someone had told me this was what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have bothered to get here so quickly,” I mutter, kicking at empty air.

  “You’d rather still be facing Carman and her hordes of demons?”

  I jump at the jovial voice. “Who’s there?” I squeak out, bringing both fists up defensively. “Show yourself, you coward!”

  A bark of laughter greets my threat, and I turn towards the sound to find a form condensing itself into a familiar shape.

  “I don’t know who taught you to fight, but I can tell you’re terrible at it.”

  The boy steps up to stand in front of me, his long hair tied in a low ponytail to display an open face and large violet eyes full of mirth.

  “You always were, you know,” he adds, eyeing me up and down as if expecting me to sprout a new limb.

  I tilt my head, then let out a gasp of recognition. “Mordred?”

  “In the flesh, so to speak,” my brother says with a toothy grin. “Thanks to you and the time suspension Danu’s holding until this whole business is finished.”

  “Business? What happened?”

  “You sat on the Siege Perilous.”

  “I know,” I start. “I didn’t mean…you look so…different.”

  Mordred rubs a hand down his pristine cheek, the thousands of blue woads gone. “Does it look bad?” he asks, embarrassed.

  “Not at all.” I smile. “You look better. Younger.”

  Mordred lets his hand drop back down, and looks away. “I feel naked without them,” he admits.

  It’s now my turn to laugh, and the sound of it surprises me. It’s been so long I’d almost forgotten I could.

  “Morgan?”

  A thrill courses down my spine at Arthur’s voice. I turn slowly, scared that this is a cruel trick of my imagination, and suck in a breath at finding him staring at me. My eyes travel down Arthur’s body, detailing every inch of him, searching for traces of previous injuries through his torn uniform. But there are none.

  Arthur smiles at me, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “You did it,” he says, voice catching hesitantly, as if afraid to scare a bird away.

  Breaking into a smile of my own, I throw myself into his arms, hugging him close, wanting to feel the reassuring solidity of him. If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.

  Arthur’s lips leave a trail of light kisses along the top of my head, his muffled laugh tickling my ear.

  “If I’d known you’d greet me like this, I would have tried dying earlier,” he says, his hands warm against my back.

  I jerk away from him, punching him on the arm. “That’s not even close to being funny,” I say, turning away so he cannot see the tears burning in my eyes.

  His words have brought the terror and emptiness that followed his loss back in full force, reopening a deep wound that was still too raw.

  “I’m sorry,” Arthur says, drawing me back into his arms. “I won’t joke about it anymore, promise.”

  I tuck my head against his shoulder, breathing the familiar scent of blooming flowers and ripening fields of wheat on him. A smell that reminds me of rolling hills of flowers in the springtime, and of lazy warm summer days.

  “Wait a minute,” I say against his shirt. He should be smelling of sweat and coffee, of metal and leather grease. Not like…her.

  With another hug, Arthur steps away from me, and that’s when I hear the soft footfalls making their steady way over to us. I look over my shoulder, and have to squint as a star-bright figure parts the mists around
us. Danu, in her full splendor, the way she must have looked at the height of her glory, before she was cast away from Heaven.

  I feel Mordred move beside me, and glance at him to gauge his reaction. I almost expect him to burst out in rightful anger at this mother of ours who did even less for him than she ever did for me. But instead, Mordred’s eyes grow wide in a face gone pale with shock.

  “M-Mother?” he whispers hoarsely.

  He may be as tall as she is, but he looks for all the world like a lost child, unsure of the welcome he is to receive now that he’s found his way back home at last.

  “My child,” Danu says, beaming proudly at him. “How I have longed for us to be reunited.”

  To my surprise, Mordred drops to a knee in front of her, a mute request for her benediction. Danu’s smile deepens as she sets her long-fingered hand on his brow. I turn away, feeling like I’m intruding, and frown at Arthur instead.

  “Are we dead?” I whisper to him.

  “Doesn’t matter as long as I get to stay with you,” Arthur replies, making my stomach flutter.

  I clear my throat, embarrassed at how much I enjoy hearing him say such corny things. “I’m serious,” I say. “This whole place, that”—I point behind me to Mordred and Danu—“you…”

  “You’ve got a point,” Arthur says, wrinkling his nose. “I doubt you’d smell so bad if we were dead.”

  “Oh, excuse me!” I say, crossing my arms tightly. “But when one’s at war, one doesn’t have the time to take a bath, and—”

  I pause as his meaning finally sinks in, and I can see Arthur’s struggling not to laugh out loud.

  “OK, so where are we then?”

  Arthur’s warm hand grabs mine, and he pulls me after him. The ambient light grows brighter as we go up a hill, stabbing at my eyes until I’m forced to close them. My fingers tighten around Arthur’s, trusting him entirely. He could be marching me back down to Balor’s Gate, I wouldn’t let go of him. Not again. Not anymore.

  At last, we slow to a stop. “Open your eyes, Morgan.”

  I crack an eye open, then both as I take in the tall, ancient tree, its gnarled branches heavy with ripe figs that glow like hundreds of sparkling amethysts.

  “How…,” I start, voice trailing off as I realize we’re somehow inside Danu’s cave.

  “Your mother used her power and ours to bring you and the rest of us here, before Avalon collapses completely,” Arthur says. He frowns slightly. “Though from what I’ve heard, that’s going to happen any minute now.”

  “So we really aren’t dead,” I say.

  “We are and we aren’t, and we have you to thank for it,” Mordred says, startling me.

  I didn’t realize he’d followed us, and I cast him a questioning look.

  “It certainly isn’t something I’d expected to happen,” he continues, looking at his hands, before dropping them to his sides with a shrug. “But what you did back there…”

  A sick feeling slithers up from my stomach as those last, horrifying moments come crashing back down on me. The pain. The darkness. The loss…

  “It broke the spell,” Arthur says, leaning down so we’re eye-to-eye, and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  “A curse, really,” Mordred adds. “Yet here we are, thanks to your sacrifice.”

  I look back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t get it,” I say. “Are you talking about me destroying the Siege Perilous? But that’s only normal, anyone would’ve done the same if they could’ve.”

  Mordred shakes his head. “Not me. The thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

  “But you were helping me,” I say. “I saw you—”

  “I wanted to thwart Carman,” Mordred cuts in, “but I didn’t want to let go of the power the Siege Perilous gave me. But you…you let go of all of that. That’s why I’m here now, along with all the others.”

  “Not everyone,” I say, with a twinge of guilt, thinking back of all those who have gone, dead in this terrible war. And I think also of Carman and Balor. They may have been terrible people, and nothing can excuse what they’ve done, but to live like they do or did is a hell in and of itself.

  I feel Arthur’s hand tense around mine as Danu joins us.

  “Look, child,” she says.

  She waves gracefully outward, and the blinding light slowly dims to reveal the tranquil lake that surrounds her tree island, its surface glittering like it’s made of liquid diamonds. I draw in a sharp breath at the sight of the long line of people that darken the opposite shore, recognizing the little ball of white fur hopping excitedly at its front beside a figure cowled in grey.

  “Puck? Banshee?” I whisper.

  As if she’s heard me, the banshee raises a bony hand in silent greeting. Fresh tears spring to my eyes, thrilled to see that, despite everything that’s happened, they’re both fine.

  And she’s not the only one. My throat constricts as countless more people and Fey creatures emerge from the cave’s mists to join the others by the edge of the water, their faces glowing with an inner fire, their eyes locked on a spot in the lake.

  Taking Puck in her arms, the banshee is the first to move. With a final nod at me, she walks straight into the lake then slips beneath its dazzling surface, disappearing without a ripple.

  “Banshee!” I yell.

  But Danu holds me back before I can climb down the island to dive after my friends. “You gave them this opportunity,” she says, “don’t take their choice away.”

  “Opportunity?” I ask, turning on her. “To go drown themselves?”

  Danu’s smile is wistful. “To return home.” She extends her other hand as more knights and Fey follow in the banshee’s footsteps. “Your sacrifice has allowed them to open their eyes and heart at long last, and see what was there all along.”

  “What?” I ask, voice wobbly.

  “Too many believed that death would have sent them into a sea of eternal fire to expiate their sins. So burn they did, until you showed them that what they needed was to let go of their hate and self-loathing. Only then did they understand that the fire they had expected was but an illusion of their own making, bred of their own fear and guilt.”

  My legs give out from underneath me, and Arthur rushes to catch me. I stare numbly as more of them disappear into the lake. All of them dead. And all of them waiting to cross the final Gate.

  In the end, I failed.

  I wasn’t able to save them.

  “Do not mourn for them, Morgana,” Danu continues. “They are finally at peace, and moving on to a place beyond sorrow.”

  “All of them?” I find myself asking.

  Danu hesitates slightly. On the far shore, two shimmering figures step together into the water—Myrdwinn and Lady Vivian, clasping hands and smiling brightly.

  “Some have lived with fear for so long, they are unwilling to relinquish it, dreading its absence even more,” she says at last. “For those, Hell is always open.”

  I spot another familiar face and a sob tears from my lips. I watch Keva pause in her tracks, Daniel mirroring her like a human shadow.

  “She can’t be dead,” I say, voice quivering.

  Keva turns her face in our direction, shielding her eyes against the lake’s bright glare. For a moment, I imagine her look of disdain at our torn and bloodied uniforms turn into a knowing smirk at finding Arthur and me practically in each other’s arms. Then, with a final toss of her braid, Keva motions for Daniel to keep up with her, and they, too, disappear beneath the lake’s surface.

  Arthur’s arms tighten around my shoulders as we watch more of our friends make their way into the starlit lake: Owen, Jack, and Kaede, Father Tristan and Lady Ysolt, followed by a dapper-looking Sir Boris. Blanchefleur, Lugh, and Oberon are next, bracketed by Urim and Thummim, Lance and Gale close on their tails.

  I don’t know that I can stand this for much longer. Half our Order, it seems, and many more I’ve never met, make their way through the golden Gate, and just a
s many Fey.

  Arthur tenses beside me at the sight of Luther. He’s standing a little off to the side, looking both fearful and awed at the same time. I reach over my shoulder for Arthur’s hand and twine my fingers with his, feel him release a long breath as his father decides to follow along with the others.

  “I guess it’s my turn now,” Mordred finally says, when the flow of people has somewhat abated.

  I bite hard on my lip to stop it from trembling. “Please, don’t,” I manage to say.

  Mordred’s eyes go round in surprise, then his features soften. He wipes my tears away with a calloused knuckle. “I died back there, sis,” he says. “Besides, even if that hadn’t been the case, this world—your world—isn’t made for the likes of me.”

  “I could show you,” I insist, pleading. “It’s really not so bad. You could go to school, like you always wanted.”

  Mordred lets out a bark of laughter at my usual promise to him. “It’s all right. Jennifer told me what that’s like, not to mention what I saw with you, and I really don’t think I’ve missed much after all.”

  Then, with a final nod at us, Mordred leaves. I keep my eyes on his back as he proceeds down the island, head held high and shoulders back. The light clings to his body as he wades into the water, welcoming.

  And then he, too, is gone.

  I rub unconsciously at my chest in a vain attempt to dispel the dull throb I feel there, then sense Danu’s attention shift to me, and look up into her golden eyes.

  “It is time we said our goodbyes as well, daughter,” she says, cupping my cheek in her surprisingly warm hand. “But always remember how proud of you I am.”

  A new and sharper pain rips through my chest, from front to back, and only then do I remember that I impaled myself on Excalibur after turning mortal. I look down at the gaping wound between my ribs, blood dripping profusely down my uniform. I gasp in shock, no longer feeling the rest of my body. Everything around me is disintegrating.

  “It’s OK, Morgan,” I hear Arthur say, as if from very far away. I try to tether myself to his voice. “I’m right here with you.”