Return to Caer Lon

by Claude Dancourt

  “Do you need an official invitation to come in?”

  He grinned and the emotions spiralling in her stare found their match in his. Their relationship would never change. They would always challenge each other, until one of them yielded, never the same twice in a row. She liked that. He liked it too. They were opponents, accomplices, friends, lovers; equals in every way.

  Derek brushed another kiss in her palm and she closed her eyes, the soft caress too much to take already. Sacha fumbled with the knob behind her back and soon she was in his arms again. Cloak, shirt, dress fell around them as desire took over.

  This time, she knew what to expect when he pressed against her, and she wanted him to make her his again. But Derek had other plans, caressing her hair, her throat, covering her body with kisses, worshiping her lips, her chest, her stomach with mouth and hands, stealing every nerve in her body until she nearly lost her mind. When their bodies finally fused, she could only murmur his name and how much she loved him.

  Chapter 35

  The soft light of dawn played with her lashes, stirring her gently out of slumber. Derek slept on his back with one arm wrapped possessively around her, the other across his forehead to block the brightness. His face was tensed, and his hand fisted the pillow like a shield ready to be used. She stretched to brush a kiss on his frown, her hair cascading on his chest. His breathing eased as both caresses apparently relaxed him.

  Sacha nestled back against his side, the glee of waking up near him for the first time tainted with worry. She could lose him today; this fight was do-or-die, and what could he do against magic so powerful? She wished she could give him her strength, her faith, whatever he needed to pull through.

  “I love you…”

  Her whisper grazed his biceps, rising goose bumps on his skin. Intrigued, she blew the words on his throat, rousing more quivers. Her lips followed the same path, curious to discover more than he had allowed her so far, the ridges and plates of his neck and more mysteries down his breast. The brush of her mouth over his navel brought up a strangled sound, dark and almost primeval.

  Sacha looked up to find him staring under half-close lids. The deep blue of his eyes captivated her so she forgot about exploring and cuddled under the arm protecting her, embarrassed by her boldness. Derek lifted her head to him to kiss her gently on the lips before he lay back with her in his arms.

  “Did you mean it?”

  His heart pumped hard under her cheek.

  “I want to go with you.”

  He preferred to keep their last moments together light and carefree. Derek grinned into her hair, teasing so she abandoned the topic.

  “Sometimes you can’t have what you want.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Sacha pushed up for another kiss. His hand slipped under her to help her knees on either side of him. Derek let her control the kiss, but the caress under her thigh arose other desires she still didn’t completely understand, except they both bested her and made her feel powerful. Releasing his mouth, she let him guide her hips down, trembling slightly when he entered her but only because the urge to have him inside her was too strong to repress.

  Derek arched as she moved slowly, unable to look away from her, fascinated by the flush on her skin, her breathing erratic already. Her gaze never released his, emerald against sapphire, the gemstones fighting for control as she resisted his guidance, just for a second, torturing him, simply because she could, but never for long, because she needed him as much as he did her.

  When she grasped his arms for support, his hands circled her hips to rest between her shoulders, first gentle brushes, then greedy when Derek couldn’t wait any longer to feel her all around him, sure his heart was going to explode when she followed him over the edge.

  Their pulses beat in perfect match, as Sacha watched golden light flowed over their entwined bodies from the windows. It was joyous and peaceful, the promises of new beginnings. Derek kissed her lips lightly, still wrapped in her arms, serious again.

  “I have to go.”

  “Not yet.”

  She refused to release him, stretching on his chest like a cat. Derek caressed the silk ebony pooling around them so he could twine his fingers with the loose ribbon still tangled in her curls. Sacha snatched the purple lace from him, tying it around his wrist. He smiled, finally pushing onto his feet to dress.

  “It’s late. I’ll take the services stairs, so no one will-”

  “I don’t care.”

  Derek brushed a finger on her petulant mouth.

  “I do. And I bet your father does, too, at least until I come back.”

  Her eyes shimmered, the half-mouthed proposal a brutal reminder of why she had wanted to share his bed in the first place.

  “Derek-”

  This time a kiss replaced his hand.

  “No. I will come back, Sacha.”

  Her hand moved across her midsection and he followed the caress with his eyes, dying to take her back into his arms and forget the world.

  “You’d better.”

  Derek grinned.

  “You really can’t resist bossing me around, can you…?”

  She rolled her eyes, her pout swinging from annoyance to laugher. Seriousness won. Derek sat on the edge of the bed, touching her face lightly to grasp a few more seconds of bliss.

  “Will I see you in the courtyard later?”

  Sacha didn’t want her last image of him to be one of a soldier clasped in cold steel instead of one of the man he was now, with mussed hair and bribes of unruly emotions dancing in his eyes. Two different men. Two faces of the same heart.

  “Yes, of course.”

  oOo

  Elwyn finished tying Derek’s breast and back plates, a ritual the friends had shared for years. Elwyn helped Derek with his armor and Sebastian helped Elwyn with his before joining the spectators while his elders entered the arena. This time, no tournament would take place. Derek would fight alone, to the death.

  Sebastian watched as Elwyn secured one last leather strap and landed one hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Done.”

  The prince nodded curtly. The armor weighted a ton on his shoulders. Ever since he had quitted Sacha’s arms, a chill he couldn’t shake off clutched his insides, the cold grip hardening by the minute. Derek blew air through his nose, trying to retrieve some of the confidence he had left with her.

  A maid knocked and entered the room, a white handkerchief in hand. She delivered her message in haste, visibly taken aback by the three men frowning at her.

  “My Lady Sonia of Gosharling sends her favor as a proof of luck and she would be delighted to express her best wishes herself.”

  Elwyn grinned, ignorant of Sebastian’s imperceptible frown. Derek shook his head.

  “Please thank your mistress for her wishes. She is welcome to join the company in the courtyard in a few minutes.”

  The maid choked at his refusal, but she bowed and exited the room. Elwyn turned to Derek, his eyes like saucers. Sebastian inclined his head to mask his smile.

  “Derek, are you out of your mind? Mighty Sonia refused half the court!”

  “I know.”

  Derek fidgeted with the hilt at his waist. The contact comforted him, somehow. Elwyn continued to stare. Derek knew he had to say something, but could not find the words just yet. His light blush attracted Sebastian’s attention from the door back to him. Derek ran one hand through his hair.

  “Hell, forget it.”

  Elwyn’s gaze suddenly turned a piercing blue. He grabbed Derek’s forearm in a surprisingly strong grip, pushing his sleeve up to reveal the purple ribbon Sacha had tied around his wrist at dawn.

  “What’s that?”

  Derek’s stare fell on the display and his blush intensified. Elwyn paled.

  “Those are my sister’s colors. Why? When? What did you do?”

  Derek’s crimson face answered for him. The hold turned into a tight grasp. Derek pulled away, hands up in a peace offerin
g.

  “We both wanted it, Elwyn, and I fully intend to-”

  “Whatever!”

  He stormed out of the room. Derek sat at the table behind him, defeated, and Sebastian chuckled.

  “This is not funny, Sebastian.”

  “Come on. You just told your best friend you unmaidened his twin sister. You’re lucky he did not jinx you.”

  “God. Do you have to make it sound so gross?”

  Sebastian laughed harder.

  “Right. You did so much better. It is not so much of a surprise after all. You and Sacha played cat and mouse long enough. Don’t worry; he’ll get over it. I would worry more about Sacha if she learns about Sonia’s offer.”

  “I don’t care about Sonia.”

  “Good.”

  Derek glanced at his friend, but let it go and walked to the window to look down. A horse was ready for him. A lad was leading two more for some early riders. A few people had gathered in the courtyard already. Time was flying too quickly. He wished he had a few more moments. A few minutes to tease Sebastian about Sonia, a couple more to talk to Elwyn. Hours to spend with his mother. Days to bicker with Sacha and nights to make up for it. He wished he had not to leave. The chill in his stomach reached the size of an ice pack.

  Derek turned away from the window.

  “Don’t forget that you promised to knight me.”

  The young prince nodded and grasped his friend's forearm in the traditional knight's grip.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  He had to believe it.

  oOo

  When he stepped in the courtyard, funnily enough he wasn’t the center of attention of the little group crowded on the steps. The shouting match involved one imperious feminine voice Derek knew too well and two deeper ones he also recognized.

  “I am going.”

  “So am I.” added Elwyn.

  Geraint shook his head.

  “This is complete madness. You both stay here.”

  Elwyn and Sacha tweeted in unison.

  “Derek needs our help.”

  Giving in meant not facing Wolfryth alone; not dying alone if he failed. Agreement dripped warm over the knot in the pit of his stomach, loosening it for a second before pride rebelled, hooking its claws deep in his chest. He didn’t need anyone’s help. He had Excalibur to fight magic and his rights to strengthen him. Failure was not an option. He had prepared for this fight all his adult life. His crown, his battle. No one else’s. He stepped forward.

  “No.”

  “I don’t remember asking for your permission.”

  Derek’s ears grew scarlet. Did she have to be that difficult? Couldn’t she let him go with the memory of the endearing woman she was earlier in his arms? He glared. She scowled back. Derek towered over her, uncaring for Elwyn’s snarl and Geraint’ frown.

  “I said no.”

  Blazing eyes threw jade stings at him. Derek smirked, kindling more anger. Her fingers curled, promising a hit she restrained at the last minute. He wondered how she would react if he grabbed her waist to kiss her into submission in front of the entire court.

  Derek broke the stare contest, shaken by the need to try anway.

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  He waved at the servant to bring the horses back to the stables. Turning tail, the prince caught an amused expression on his mother, quickly erased.

  “Prince Derek.”

  He noticed a small hiss in his back, and bowed his head in greetings with a smile that roused another grumble, the words too low to catch.

  “Lady Sonia.”

  “A sword is not enough to defeat Evil, even this one.”

  Derek lost his smile. What now?

  “Caladbolg was forged to bring balance to the world of men.”

  Instinctively, Derek put one hand on the sword at his side. Sonia approached further.

  “It will serve the Blood as long as the Blood serves all. Yet iron without velvet is useless for the arm which fetches it.”

  She was holding some old piece of fabric or a tapestry of some sort. His hand jerked on the hilt, flexing with impatience.

  “My people watched over Excalibur’s Scabbard for centuries, waiting for the new High King to fulfill the prophecies, and deliver us from our vows.”

  Last week, he could have laughed his head off at the excessive drama. Before he could even realize it, he had pulled Excalibur from its stealth for all to see. The blade gleamed in the pale morning light. Energy flowed down his arm and swelled in his heart. The silver runes carved in the steel branded their meaning in his mind.

  “One face to conquer and one face to protect. I will.”

  Derek dropped the useless sheath on the ground and buckled the Scabbard at his waist. The sword hummed under his palm. He felt different and the same; stronger; complete. Sonia bowed deeply.

  “Good luck.”

  Chapter 36

  The next hours disappeared in the clap of iron shoes on the road. Derek let his mind empty with the ride, making one with his mount so doubts and regrets kept quiet.

  He had considered stopping in Lann Stefan when he reached it barely an hour before dusk, then decided against it to finally stop in the clearing Gaul had indicated a few days before. Mistress Marion would ask too many questions if he appeared at her door fully clasped in armour, and without Sacha.

  The named lady had probably started listing unpleasant ways to make him pay for leaving her behind the moment his horse disappeared from view, if not earlier. Derek didn’t doubt her list counted more than a hundred ideas by now, from sharpening her dagger on his rib-bones to disdainful cold glares. He played with a stick to shake the embers. If he pulled through, he’d even bless public humiliation.

  The fire sparkled, the noise sending his heart into a frenzy. The night was quiet around him, not an owl squeaking, not a leaf moving. The forest was completely silent. Too silent?

  Derek fidgeted to find a more comfortable position against the boulder, his frustration growing. He needed to rest. A tired man made a sloppy fighter. He had to rest but the more he tried to relax, the more his mind brought up random images, which either made him smile or disturbed him: his mother, bent over her little cauldron preparing a new remedy that would smell heavenly and taste foul, Elwyn, crouched against the wall in the dungeon, Sacha, surrendered in his arms while she slept, Geraint’s hand squeezing his shoulder after the council the previous morning, Wolfryth’s mask of rage when they escaped.

  The young man changed position again to play with the tokens at his wrist. Sacha’s comb was twisted with her ribbon to keep it in place against his skin. He wasn’t sure why he had taken it. An impulse. Superstition. The holly wood was soft under his fingers, not warm but not really cold either. The magic he could feel around wasn’t a treat. Yet. Derek closed his hand around the comb, and finally decided to push onto his feet. Since sleep eluded him, he might just as well get into the High City.

  He tracked crushed leaves and combed grass, footprints, every tangible sign they had left walking the very same path three days ago, but his efforts were useless. The trail scintillated softly, its irregularity familiar in the moonlight. The same low energy reeled under his boots, welcoming him back or daring him to approach.

  The weapon at his waist became heavier. Derek paused to gather his bearings, his breath short. Had the climb been so strenuous the last time? The lump in his throat didn’t feel like exhaustion.

  Branches above his head sprang to life. His blood boiled through the block of ice his forearm had become under the comb’s impulse. Derek gritted his teeth preventing a yowl of pain. The wind swirling around him seemed to scorch him alive. The roll was more of a pulse now, similar to primeval battle drums. His heart throbbed to mimic their rhythm. Eyes were watching in the dark.

  Yellow flared, and the trees changed into columns of stone, the canopy into a ceiling with thick beams. Tiles replaced leaves at his feet. Derek fetched Excalibur, pushing its point forward.

&
nbsp; “Do you think your toy impresses me?”

  A clap of fingers, and dozens of torches fired on the walls to chase the shadows away. The young man kept his eyes on his adversary, immobile.

  “Hand me the sword.”

  “Never.”

  Derek lunged forward, meeting only air.

  “You’re laughable. Szarik.”

  Derek felt his boots slide on the floor while an invisible hand pulled him forward, crushing his chest until breathing became an impossible luxury. Cold racked the top of his neck. He tilted his blade up to ease the non-existent grip in desperation for air. The stifling grip disappeared instantly. Wolfryth’s hiss reminded him of a wounded animal. Derek sneered but kept his mouth shut, circling his adversary with his sword pointing forward, the blade parallel to the ground and the pommel up his shoulder. His eyes trained on the sorcerer. The giant in front of him wore only a wolf skin for protection. One quick thrust and he could…

  The torches on the walls roared in warning.

  “Brann angrep.”

  Flames exploded all around Derek, dashing, fencing, trying to rip his chest and back apart. Excalibur swirled widely, cutting the angry tongues. Sweat glided along the young man’s spine. As soon as he destroyed one, two or more whips sparkled to life and attacked him. His shoulders burned as never before. Raising the sword again and again became difficult, then next to impossible. Fog came out of his mouth when he panted, the sharpened teeth of frost biting in his heart. He felt so cold…

  Suddenly the brands retreated to solidify into their master’s hands. Derek stumbled back, gulping air, his head heavy. His armor slowed his movements, making him easier prey. The comb now bit into his flesh to undermine his strength. How stupid he had been to take it with him. Derek fought with his gauntlet to get rid of it and access the purple lace around his wrist. His fingers were numb with cold, forbidding him to tear away Sacha’s tight knot.

  Wolfryth smirked. The sword in his hand was completely formed now, twice as large as Excalibur and several inches longer. With only one gauntlet on, the weight of the weapon felt wrong and Derek shook his other hand bare for a better grip.