Redoubling his speed, he hurried forward until the sword was just within reach. He slid to the ground, covering the last few meters in a flash, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his broken sword.
Without even thinking, he swung the tip of the shattered blade around to cut anything it came in contact with. The resulting cry was exactly what he was hoping for. He spun to see he had sliced Cymochles in his unprotected, unarmored, knee. Cymochles had his sword raised above his head, readying it to come down and end Guyon, but Guyon’s sudden, quick attack had temporarily put an end to that idea. Cymochles stood momentarily frozen in place with pain, though the cut was not so great as to cause him to fall.
Not pausing for another moment, Guyon slashed upwards, moving in close so the shortened tip of his blade could do its work. The strike caught Cymochles in the cheek and up across his nose towards his brow.
Cymochles screamed and clutched at his face, his sword dropped and forgotten. Guyon raised his own partial blade, readying himself to bury it in Cymochles’s skull. As much as he believed in second chances, he knew his options were limited in this case. It was kill the man, or be killed.
“Stop!” Guyon momentarily froze. It was Phaedria. In Guyon’s hesitation, she slipped between him and Cymochles, who still clutched at his face.
The interruption was annoying, but Guyon could deal with such problems. He took a deep breath. “Where is the amulet?”
“I don’t have it,” she said.
“Then I suggest you move aside.”
“No!” she pleaded. “I don’t have it, but this island is the only way to get to it.”
Guyon frowned. “Explain.”
“This place is a source of great power. It has long housed the amulet, but when Acrasia came through a breach in this very spot, she took it and sealed it away.”
“Where?”
“I can show you. If you promise not to kill him.”
He raised the broken hilt of his sword so its tip pointed at her throat. “No games.”
She nodded, and seemed to breathe a little easier.
Cymochles looked up, his face covered in blood, but his eyes still whole. “I will die killing you before I let you take pity on me.”
Guyon brought his the pommel of his sword down on the man’s head so firmly that the knight instantly crumpled to the ground. Phaedria let out a soft yelp.
“We can’t have him following us,” explained Guyon. “Now, lead me to this place.”
“It is not a place, exactly. It is all around us.”
“I don’t have time for riddles,” said Guyon, adding a little bit of impatience to his voice.
“I’m telling the truth,” she said. “We can...we travel to Annwyn sometimes. That is where the amulet is kept.”
Guyon frowned. “I thought the breaches could not be opened except from the outside?
“That is true, but there is something of a pocket, a shadow of Annwyn that is still accessible to us. Those of us who have been there before can go there again. We can use it to travel to any place where a breach has formed before.”
Guyon adjusted his stance. That was incredibly valuable information. If such things were possible, then a whole army of demons from the Otherworld could travel from one place to another with barely a thought. If the Faerie Queen didn’t know about it already, he would need to bring her news immediately.
But first he had a job to do.
“So you can take me to this shadow-version of Annwyn?”
She nodded, “If you promise not to kill me or Cymochles.”
Guyon nodded.
Appearing relieved, Phaedria turned away from him and began waving her hands in a manner typical of magic users. Guyon watched carefully.
“Once I’m in this place, how can I get out.”
“The amulet is your only option,” she said, “Unless you can convince someone there to take you out.”
She was right, that wasn’t an option. “Well then,” he said. “I guess I’ll just have to find the amulet. But how will I defend myself. There must be many down there who will want me dead.”
“I think you’ll find we are somewhat...different on the other side.”
With a final hand motion from Phaedria, a shining red-white line began to form ahead of them. Once it had elongated, it widened to show a shimmering circle, appearing much like molten silver.
Guyon adjusted his shoulders to ready himself. This was madness. He had no sword, and he was about to enter in the depths of the most dangerous place he could imagine. He didn’t know what Phaedria meant about those from the Annwyn being different, but it did not give him much comfort.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and the glowing circle of light.
“One more thing,” said Phaedria. Guyon turned to look at her. There was an uncharacteristic smirk on her face. He tensed. Something was off. “Mortals cannot stay there for longer than three days...before becoming permanent guests.”
With that, she kicked him from behind with surprising force for such a small frame. Guyon stumbled forward, unable to stop himself as he plunged head-first into the breach.
20
Una sat upon a large stone by the edge of the water. She didn’t like this, not one bit. In the past, she wouldn’t have cared less if a knight wanted to take the brunt of the danger. She wasn’t a fighter and had little skill in combat apart from a few self-defense techniques her parents had taught her.
But now all she wanted to do was follow after that Phaedria woman and Guyon. She knew it had to be a trap, and now Guyon had been gone for several hours without any indication of where he was or if he was alright. Una was about ready to pull her hair out.
She and Guyon had a much different relationship than she’d had with George. She wouldn’t say she was attracted to him, though he was handsome enough. But it was abundantly clear that Guyon was not her type. Oh, he was a good man. She wouldn’t argue with that. And hearing his story had put her in a regrettable state of emotions. Even her voices had shut up upon hearing of Guyon’s past, though she knew that was probably a coincidence.
Yet despite the fact that she would never consider a romantic relationship with Guyon, she’d formed a bond with him over the weeks they had traveled together. There was something there she couldn’t put her finger on, like a team spirit, an understanding that they were working together for something greater.
But even that connection was not enough to convince her to tell him everything. She couldn’t tell him about the voices, not yet. He might leave her if he found out about them, about the fact that they had the potential to take over her magic, maybe her entire body.
Una had grown up learning to fit into multiple roles. She’d used this skill to her advantage over the last few years, taking on personas to best manipulate others to get what she wanted. Perhaps that had been a poor approach. Now it seemed those personas had taken literal form.
We could help, you know, said her clever voice. We could guide you to the island.
Una stilled. Could they? It had been long enough that Una was certain Guyon was in trouble. If the magic, or her voices, or whatever power she had could get her to the island to help, should she take it?
She considered the possibility for a long moment, and the voice did not speak up again, apparently choosing to let Una think it through.
No, she couldn’t risk it. If she gave those voices any leeway, they might seize all. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that the voices were not there to help her.
Ungrateful girl, said the angry voice.
She’s just worried about her friend, said the timid one.
Quiet, said the clever one again. Una, we only want to help. Haven’t we served you well up until this point? We closed the breach, we saved you from violation and death more than once. We healed that woman so she could tell you all about Acrasia.
Una swallowed. That was the first time one of the voices had addressed her directly. And their wor
ds were starting to make too much sense.
Get out of my head, she thought, hard.
We are you, Una. To leave would be to die.
You want to take control of me, to use my magic without my will.
If that is what concerns you, we can refrain. We only took control before because your conscious mind did not know how to use your magic successfully. We do. We know so much more, and we could teach you if you desire.
Una frowned. They were starting to sound far too reasonable, and she didn’t like it. But what if they were telling the truth? They made a fair point that they had always helped her when she needed it. Her magic had never been used for true evil yet. And every time she had to wrestle for control of her power, it was always when she was under threat from some outside force.
Yes, it was clear the voices weren’t at all linked to Duessa or any of the other Sins like Acrasia. If that were the case, they wouldn’t have encouraged her to kill Pyrochles or any of the others from the Otherworld. Yet those had been the very times when she’d been in the greatest danger of losing control.
And what if the voices could teach her somehow? Maybe they were simply manifestations of the magic itself, voices meant to guide her along. Was she refusing the very help she needed to master this power within her?
For a moment, she was tempted, truly tempted. This could be her chance to become far more powerful than she’d ever been. She wouldn’t even need knights like Guyon. She could defeat all of the Sins herself, close all the breaches for good, and return to George with the Faerie Queen’s blessing and gratitude for doing her job for her. She could save Guyon right now, in whatever predicament he found himself in. She could become a goddess among these people, their queen. She could stop the Saxon invasion and unite everyone. She’d start here, in Britain, but there was no reason to stop. She could unite the world under her banner. She could be…
A cold horror took hold of her heart. Those hadn’t been her thoughts.
No, she was not those things. She was not a ruler, nor would she ever be. That role was more suitable to others. And if her magic wanted to be a goddess, to dominate other people, then she had all the evidence she needed that it was dangerous. And yet it was still a part of her, and she was going to have to deal with it somehow.
Una frowned. That last thought might not have been hers. It felt almost like one of the voices trying to reason with her. But it was sometimes hard to tell the difference between her own thoughts and those of the voices. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She needed someone to help her, the Faerie Queen or someone knowledgeable of such things. Otherwise she was likely to go mad.
Footsteps sounded off to her right, coming from further in. The entire area was still plunged into deep fog, so she couldn’t see who it was, but she immediately scrambled off her rock and hid anyway.
A dark shape moved nearby, a man walking just close enough that Una could make him out, but not so close that she could identify any specific features.
But if she could see him, then he would see her if he looked closely enough. So she kept low next to the large rock she had sat on.
The man walked up to the edge of the water, then stared off into the distance as if looking for someone. “Phaedria,” he yelled in a strong yet dry voice. There was something familiar about it.
The man waited, as so too did Una, watching carefully. After about a minute, she heard a gentle tinkle of disturbed water. Someone was coming in a boat, and that someone was almost certainly…
Phaedria materialized, her white dress plainly visible even in the obscuring fog. She was standing in the same boat she’d used to ferry Guyon across, pushing the vessel forward with a single pole. Guyon was not with her.
The man waited patiently with his arms folded while Phaedria docked the boat along the shore and alighted on dry ground.
“Archimago,” she greeted the man. Una’s heart chilled. Archimago was here, and Phaedria was obviously connected to him.
Use us, came a familiar call inside her head. We can end them here and now.
Una wasn’t sure how much that was true, but it was a tempting offer. Almost more tempting than using her magic to go after Guyon. Archimago had been a thorn in her side for some time now, and it would be good to see him get what he deserved. And this Phaedria woman was apparently working with him, which meant Guyon was in danger, if he was not dead already.
Una swallowed at the thought. Perhaps if she listened, she might learn more of what happened to the knight.
“Did Cymochles do his job?” Archimago asked as Phaedria walked up next to him.
“Unfortunately, he was as stupid as ever,” said Phaedria. “The knight defeated him, without much of a fight, I might add. He is clever that one.”
Archimago cursed. “We can’t afford more mistakes, Phaedria. The Sins are watching us. If we do not deliver they will find others to do their dirty work for them.”
“For you maybe,” she said, seeming unconcerned. “You’re one of these humans. You didn’t come from Annwyn.”
“Do not forget,” replied Archimago coldly. “That if it weren’t for lowly mortals like myself, you would still be trapped in that gods-forsaken place.”
Una couldn’t make out much of Phaedria’s face, but she appeared to take Archimago’s meaning, albeit reluctantly. Changing the subject, she began, “Well you needn’t worry about the Faerie Queen’s chosen knight. I sent him into the Shadow Realm.”
“Are you mad?” Archimago took a hasty step forward. “That’s exactly where the amulet lies. If he gets his hands on it…”
“Relax,” Phaedria did not seem at all perturbed by Archimago’s outburst. “Mammon is there, and countless others as well. Acrasia has the amulet well-protected. There’s no way he will find it in three days.”
Three days? What happened in three days? Mortals cannot long survive the Shadow Realm, explained one of the voices. She wasn’t sure which.
Una thought that through. The voices had told her things before, things she had no knowledge of. Perhaps they could be useful. What can you tell me about it, she asked, inwardly.
The Shadow Realm is a reflection of the Otherworld, but one more easily traveled. Those from the Otherworld can pass freely from it to our realm, wherever a breach has weakened the barrier, then reappear in yet another such place.
Una chilled. That held troublesome connotations for the future. It would be difficult to fight the Sins and their minions if they could simply vanish and reappear elsewhere. Though it explained how the City of Pride had emptied so fast. George had described the place as being packed with monsters from the Otherworld. But when she and Arthur had arrived, it was nearly empty. They’d passed some of them on the road, but not nearly as many as George implied.
And you’re saying Guyon will die if he stays there too long?
Yes. The word was simple, but it flowed through Una’s mind like a strong breeze through a row of trees. It was confirmation of what she suspected all along. Guyon was in trouble.
Archimago continued. “Nevertheless, his survival is possible however unlikely. We cannot afford to underestimate him or anyone else. Speaking of which, where is the girl?”
How do I find him? Una spoke inwardly, ignoring Archimago and Phaedria for now.
There was a pause. You...cannot.
Why not?
You… the voice sounded as though it was searching for an answer. Even if you wanted to, which you should not, you cannot open a portal, for you are of this realm.
So only those of the Otherworld can open a pass to its Shadow Realm?
We, are not certain, came the voice, hesitating again.
Something felt off about all this. Her magic, or whatever it was that made up the voices, was talking to her, but this was the first time she had felt it hesitate. It was almost as if it was holding something back from her, something she had managed to stumble across nonetheless. For the first time, the magic had made a mistake.
Something like a
low hiss came from one of the voices, and Una smiled. Yes, you know I’ve discovered your cover up.
But before the voices could answer, Phaedria spoke. “She was here when I left. She cannot have gone far.” Una brought her attention back to the conversation. They were talking about her.
Archimago waved a hand. “We need not concern ourselves with her, other than to avoid her. She’s dangerous, but Duessa wants her undisturbed.”
Una frowned and leaned in closer. “Why on Earth would Duessa want to keep her alive?”
Something stirred within her, like a mental manifestation of physical fidgeting. It was her magic, she knew it instinctively. It knew something.
Tell me why Duessa doesn’t want me dead?
There was a pause, then, you carry the old blood.
Yes. Finally some answers she had been seeking for so long. Nearly trembling with anticipation, Una asked, and what does that mean?
The old blood are powerful, they master magic naturally, without training.
And?
And nothing.
There has to be more to the story than that. I assume that line came from my father. Can you tell me who he is?
We cannot.
Cannot or will not?
We cannot.
Una slumped against the rock in frustration. Archimago and Phaedria were still talking, but Una had long forgotten about their conversation. Now that the voices had finally opened up to her, and she finally had some answers, they still couldn’t tell her the one thing she wanted to know the most: the identity of her father.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Perhaps she should focus on something else, ask other questions that the magic could answer.
What about old blood makes it old? How is that special?
We have told you enough, came the reply.
Tell me, and perhaps I will use you. Una wasn’t sure if she meant it. She could always change her mind if she wanted. But right now she cared more about answers than her own safety. She could use the magic in some insignificant way, like lifting a feather from the ground. Nothing major, just enough to satisfy her promise.
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