Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  As she neared the center of the lake the vapor thickened, stabilizing.

  The Lady held out a graceful, misty arm. “Ursula of Acidale. What brings you to the Lake of Tears?”

  “I have come for the sword.”

  “You wish to wield Excalibur? The sword of kings? You are only a girl.”

  “That’s not what the queen thinks.”

  A fluttering noise rose from the Lady’s throat, and it took a moment for Ursula to realize it was laughter. “Is that so? And what would you do with such a weapon?”

  “I would fight the dragons who want to kill me.”

  The apparition’s eyes blazed. “The wyrms have crossed our borders?”

  “Yes. One attacked the castle this morning.”

  She felt Bael’s warmth behind her, and the Lady’s eyes landed on him. “Bael, Lord of Albelda?”

  The way the Lady pronounced ‘lord’ suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced about Bael’s title.

  “At your service.” He bowed his head.

  “Are you also interested in the acquiring the sword?”

  Ursula looked at him, waiting to hear what he would say.

  He shook his head. “No. I am here to help Ursula.”

  “You’re a little old to be a squire.”

  Bael flinched, but he didn’t say anything. The lady turned back to Ursula.

  The lady floated closer, wisps of mist curling from her ivory face. “Tell me more about why you want the sword.”

  “Dragons have attacked New York and now Avalon. It seems like the only way to defend myself.”

  “What do I care of the mortal realm?”

  “I don’t know. Why do you protect the blade?”

  A smiled shimmered on the lady’s lips. “Excalibur may not be able to slice me in two, but in the right hands it can change the course of history. Even destiny.” The Lady extended a long, graceful arm, reaching for Ursula, brushing ice-cold fingers along her cheek.

  Ursula pulled away reflexively.

  “Don’t worry,” the Lady whispered, “I won’t hurt you.”

  Before Ursula could pull away, the lady’s hands shot out grabbing her face with fingers so glacially cold they seemed to sear her skin. Ursula tried to pull away, but her vision darkened, until she was no longer floating above the lake.

  Now, she was running through a dark forest, gripping a heavy sword. Faint streams of moonlight pierced the trees’ canopies, and the damp air smelled of pine and blood. Dry branches clawed at her, catching at her hair and scratching her arms. Her lungs burned, and adrenaline surged through her body. As she ran, she lifted the sword, slicing at the branches.

  The scent of evergreens enveloped her and her legs propelled her forward, even if she didn’t know why she was running.

  She continued pushing through the trees until she reached a cliff’s edge—only the barest sliver of wet stone between her and a thousand-foot drop. Nearly slipping off the precipice she grasped for a tree branch. Far below, dark, glassy water filled the bottom of a ravine, glinting in the moonlight.

  She desperately grasped the pine needles with one hand, her sword in the other. It was then that she realized it wasn’t her own hand—she was in the body of another, reliving her memory.

  A voice echoed through the forest, sending a sharp stab of fear through her gut.

  Ursula could feel her body tighten with terror at the sound of the man’s voice.

  “Lady Viviane?” The voice called again, closer now, thick with rage.

  Someone was trying to kill her—to slaughter Lady Viviane.

  Steadying herself on the cliff’s edge, she gripped her sword, lifting up the blade with two hands. When Ursula glanced at it, she recognized the pommel. Excalibur.

  “Lady Viviane!” The booming voice sounded closer now, and she had to remain completely silent.

  Slowly she lifted the blade so that moonlight sparked off the steel. Carved into the blade were three words: Cast me away.

  The sword shook in the woman’s hands, and she turned back the water in the ravine. Anything was better than letting him catch her…

  She leapt, falling soundlessly through the air, the wind whipping at her hair. She didn’t make a noise as she fell to the water, nor when the impact tore her consciousness away with an agonizing burst of pain.

  Her legs went limp and she drifted under the surface. As she sank into the icy water, a presence rose up from the depths to greet her.

  “Lady Viviane?” a gentle voice whispered. “What have you brought me?”

  With a sharp crack, the vision disappeared, and the phantom Lady stared, her golden eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. “So you’re the one,” she said softly.

  Ursula shook her head. “What one?” This wasn’t still the Darkling business, was it? Because Ursula had no intention of causing the apocalypse.

  “The one who’s been foretold. The one I’ve been waiting for.” She leaned close, her icy breath against Ursula’s ear.

  “The end starts when magic thickens the air,

  The lost, as if unburied from the soil

  Uncovered from the dankest roots of oaks.

  Darkling, remember. Will you ring death knells

  for Mount Acidale, kingdom of fire?"

  Ursula’s heart skipped a beat. “No!“

  The mist thinned in front of her, the pommel of the great sword protruding from it.

  “Take it,” said the Lady. “Wield the blade of kings. Kill the dragons if you desire. Or remake the world…”

  As if drawn by a magnetic pull, Ursula reached for the sword. She grabbed the handle, slowly drawing it forth. Four feet of steel, perfectly weighted and lethally sharp, with the words etched on the blade, “Cast me away.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Bael had already stepped off the path by the time Ursula turned around, sword in her hand. It felt right in her fingers, as if it were a piece of her she’d never known she was missing. Slowly, she walked along the path of fog, the word Darkling rolling around in her skull like a curse. She swallowed hard. Was it true?

  Her body was trembling when she reached solid ground. Bael’s words echoed in her mind. The Darkling has many names—Abaddon, Bast, Fenriz, Moloch, even Lucifer. If the Darkling is allowed to return, chaos will claim the world.

  And yet this sword felt so right in her hands. Trembling, she stared at the ground, hardly aware of the world around her, until she felt Bael’s warm hand on her shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you hear what she said? I’m the Darkling.”

  “She’s wrong.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “I wouldn’t have claimed you if you were the Darkling.” Bael eyed the sword. “She’s beautiful.”

  She offered him the pommel. “Do you want to hold it?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

  “Go for it.”

  Bael took the sword, stepping away from her. He sliced it through the air, but the movement seemed strangely awkward for Bael, the strike veering off course. He tried it again, the blade wavering as he swung it.

  Ursula frowned. “What are you doing?”

  Bael shook his head with frustration. “I thought this sword was supposed to be perfection, but it’s not. It’s heavy and poorly weighted. Feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. How are you going to fight with it?”

  “What are you talking about?” Ursula thrust out her hand. “Give it to me.”

  Bael passed it to her and she took a few practice strokes. The blade carved through the air like a peregrine falcon, the blade nearly an extension of her body.

  Bael’s brow furrowed. “Apparently it’s meant for you.”

  “And you still don’t believe I’m the Darkling.”

  “No.” He snatched his jacket off the ground, then his sword. Already, the rising sun was staining the sky a deep crimson. “We should get moving. Let the rays of the rising sun warm our backs. I’ve already g
athered some food for us.”

  Ursula gripped Excalibur. By Bael’s side, she began to walk up the path toward the gorge, her mind drifting back to the memories of that frantic escape through the woods. She felt certain she’d seen the Lady of the Lake’s memory—how she had come to live as a phantom in the lake. She just had no idea whom Viviane had been running from, or why she’d been willing to give her own life to keep the sword from him.

  When they reached the gorge, the rising sun tinged the mist with deep shades of marigold and coral. This time, as they crossed the bridge, no mist wraiths assailed them. Through the boulder field, and past the Black Knight’s courtyard, Ursula nibbled on pistachios and apples. Bael kept a brisk pace, pausing only to pay his respects to King Arthur again.

  When they stepped from the forest, the sun had risen higher in the sky, and Castle Dahut came into view. Ursula’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. If it had been practically a ruin before, it certainly was one now. Where the keep had stood a day before was only a thick column of smoke twisting into the sky.

  Bael unsheathed his sword. “We get the apples with our magic. Then we leave.”

  “And how, exactly, do we get our apples?”

  “I know where they’re being kept.”

  Ursula smiled. “Your little tour last night was fruitful.” She bit her lip. “So to speak. Anyway, when we get the apples, how will we call the boatman?”

  “We don’t. He would betray us immediately. Can you travel by Emerazel’s sigil?”

  Ursula nodded. “As long as we find those apples and I can get my magic back.”

  “Good. Stay low, run fast. The dragon is bound to be around here, waiting for you.”

  Without another word, Bael charged forward, running as fast as a storm wind across the grass. Ursula sprinted after him, trying keep up, but she was no match for his speed. As she ran she strained her ears for anything that sounded like beating wings, or claws on stone. A hundred feet ahead, Bael reached the moat’s edge. He was waiting for Ursula by an enormous pile of rocks.

  “You need to run faster,” he said.

  She pumped her arms faster, sword swinging as she ran. Her lungs burned. At last she reached the stones, nearly slamming into Bael from the velocity of her sprint. For a moment, she caught her breath, until Bael nodded at the pile of fallen stones and rubble. It had once been the drawbridge, and now the rubble filled the moat, forming a path. Bael led the way, and she clambered over the stones, taking in the ruins of Castle Dahut.

  The passage through the wall remained mostly intact, and their footfalls echoed off its arched ceiling. But she sucked in a breath as they crossed into what remained of the courtyard. The grass was littered with stone fragments—and among the rubble, bodies lay bleeding into the earth, their blue dresses stained red. Nimue’s handmaidens. Nausea welled in Ursula’s gut, but she tried not to let the carnage distract her.

  Smoke curled into the air, and an inferno blazed in what remained of the keep. Bael picked his way through the rubble, his sword ready, and Ursula moved behind him. As they moved deeper into the courtyard she realized with a sickening jolt that many of the bodies had been mutilated, their dresses torn, their skin carved with claw marks. Battle fury ripped through her nerve endings, and she gripped her sword tighter. She wanted to drive this blade right into that dragon’s heart. Maybe she was the Darkling, and if she was, the first thing she’d do would be to hack the entire dragon army to pieces. Excalibur seemed to hum in her hands, glowing with a pale light.

  “Ursula!” a voice pierced the quiet.

  Ursula whirled to find Niniane lying in the rubble, her dressed spattered with blood and mud, dark curls wild around her head. She looked like a broken doll among the carnage.

  Her heart slamming against her ribs, Ursula ran to Niniane. When she reached her, she dropped Excalibur on the grass, and fell to her knees.

  “You came back.” The girl’s voice was barely a whisper, and a trickle of blood ran from her lips.

  Ursula pulled the girl’s head into her lap. “I needed the sword to fight the dragons. I got it. Can you sit up?”

  Niniane swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I came to assist the queen, but I was too late.”

  Ursula took the girl’s hand in hers. “We need to take you to help. Where’s the infirmary?”

  Niniane pointed at a burnt-out husk of a tower on the opposite side of the courtyard. Completely destroyed.

  “What about your parents?” asked Ursula.

  Niniane’s eyes began to close.

  Bael stood over them, looking down at the girl. “We need to get the apples.”

  Anger sparked. “We need to help her, not worry about the apples.”

  “With my magic, I can heal her.”

  Niniane’s eyes opened, her gaze unfocused. “They moved the apples to the chapel.”

  Without another word, Bael ran across the courtyard.

  Niniane blinked. “Is he your lover?”

  “Who? Bael? No, not really.”

  “Then maybe he’ll be mine,” she rasped. “He’s very handsome.”

  “Don’t try to talk, Niniane. Just wait until Bael returns.”

  Already, Niniane’s eyes were closing. “The dragon looked like fire—” She let out a long, raspy breath, and another trickle of blood trickled from her lips.

  “Niniane.” Ursula squeezed the girl’s hand. “Niniane.” But the girl didn’t move, and her chest had stopped rising and falling. Ursula stroked the girl’s curls. “Wake up, Niniane.” Gently, she lay Niniane’s head on the ground, then straddled her skinny body, pushing on her chest to try to jump-start her heart. Niniane’s head lolled, but Ursula tried to keep her focus, counting and pressing harder, desperate to revive her.

  After what seemed an eternity, Bael’s firm hand clasped Ursula’s shoulder. “It’s too late,” he said softly. The scent of sandalwood enveloped her with a comforting, familiar darkness.

  Ursula leaned back, a tear streaking her face. Rising, she wiped it off on the back of her hand.

  “We need to leave,” said Bael firmly. He thrust a shiny, red apple at her. It was warm, almost hot. “Take it. We need your magic to return to New York. I’ll draw the sigil.”

  She bit into the apple, and the flesh of the fruit burned her lips, tasting of ash and creosote. As she swallowed each bite she could feel Emerazel’s fire course through her filling her veins with magic. When her body blazed once more with hellfire, she looked at Bael, his body exuding pure power. He stood in the center of a sigil scratched into the earth, and he gripped a dark bottle. “Calvados. I found it in the rectory. Priests always have the good stuff around somewhere.”

  He began to pour the brandy onto the sigil.

  “Wait. You forgot a line.” She traced it in the dirt with her fingertip, then turned to pick up Excalibur from the blood-soaked ground. Just as her fingers tightened around the hilt, a terrifying, inhuman scream ripped through the air. The dragon was returning. Hot fiery battle rage surged through Ursula’s body, and she lifted her sword. “I could fight it.”

  Bael shook his head. “There’s nothing to defend here anymore. The castle is destroyed. And what’s more, you don’t know how to use this sword yet.”

  “I’m good with a sword.”

  “Even if you were brilliant with it, you’ve got no armor.”

  The dragon’s blood-chilling scream tore through the air, closer this time. Battle fury and a need for vengeance burned through Ursula’s body like an inferno, so hot and powerful her body shook, and the sword seemed to hum in her hand. She needed blood—dragon’s blood.

  “Ursula!” said Bael sharply. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not a good idea. There’s nothing left to fight for here.”

  Another shriek from the dragon ripped through the air, so close now she thought she could feel the flames from its mouth. The thick black smoke billowing above the keep whooshed to the side as an enormous form passed through it. Ursula couldn’t bur
n anymore—but Bael could. He was right. Best to get out of here.

  She took a step closer to Bael into the sigil, her body pressing against his.

  “Now.” Bael pulled her closer to him.

  There was a thunderous slam and the earth shook. The air simmered and the dragon appeared in the courtyard. At the sight of his yellow, reptilian eyes, his shimmering blood red body, fear slammed into Ursula like a fist. Her breath left her lungs.

  “Now,” Bael whispered into her ear.

  The dragon crouched, ready to attack, and Ursula summoned her fire magic. Her pulse racing, she recited the sigil spell as quickly as she could. At the final word, the dragon lunged, but before its teeth could close around them, an inferno of fire blazed around Ursula and Bael.

  CHAPTER 21

  T hey coalesced in the sigil room, surrounded by smoke and ash. Bael coughed by her side. Since she’d last been here, someone had tidied up. Cardboard and duct tape now covered the shattered window, and the broken glass swept from floor. Ursula’s legs still trembled—a relic of looking into the dragon’s eyes—and her palms felt sweaty on the sword’s hilt.

  She stepped into the hall. “Hello? Anyone home?”

  Footsteps sounded further down the hall. In another moment, Zee and Cera poked their heads from the kitchen doorway.

  Cera ran to Bael, her eyes wide. “Lord. What happened to you?” Her gaze darted between Ursula and the shadow demon. “You’re not trying to drink her blood anymore?”

  “No. I went to help Ursula retrieve the sword.” He coughed as he spoke. “The handmaidens in Avalon took my magic, and with it, the blood hunger.” He coughed again.

  Cera’s eyes widened with concern. “Are you all right, my lord?”

  “I’m fine,” said Bael with a shrug. “Just a bit of ash in my lungs.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you about that,” said Ursula.

  “What happened?” asked Cera.

  “Another dragon,” said Bael. “We had to leave in a hurry. Ursula and I haven’t eaten much in the last couple of days.”