It suddenly snapped its head back down as if it had been spoken to and grabbed a small tree by the base, ripping it clear out of the ground as though it were merely a weed, and in the same motion, hurled it into the self-assured knight, who crouched down, unable to dodge the line of fire. He used his shield to deflect the blow, but the force hurtled him backwards, landing him on his stomach. The beast grunted a laugh and stomped towards him.
I screamed at it—not knowing what else to do—but it was only concerned with the hunched form of the knight on the ground. It stooped to grab him by the back of the armor again, but as it bent down, Brendelon twisted his body and in one quick thrust jammed his sword right into the beast’s middle eye. By reflex, it dropped its hold on him, wailing miserably as it clutched his oozing pupil. Then with a sideways hack of his sword, the beast’s belly slit open letting disgusting green entrails spill out. My stomach turned, as I watched the troll doubled over—howling in agony—now hunched to a height more equal to Brendelon’s. He took a final swing, silver blade sliding across a green throat, as slime slithered down its miserable body.
A tremor ran throughout the ground, as the creature fell forward, never to move again, and Brendelon collapsed besides his conquered beast, panting.
I squeezed my eyes closed, lowering my face to the ground, trying to fight the acid that continued to spin in my stomach. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I reopened them catching a sparkle of beautiful green lying in a pile of dead leaves. Mr. Riley’s emerald. Guilt spilled over to drown out the disturbed feeling I had been fighting, as I thought of all his beautiful artifacts now smashed into nothing. I grabbed it by the chain and slipped it around my neck for safekeeping. The least I could do was return the emerald necklace. I wasn’t sure how I would ever be able to explain this, but at least Mr. Riley believed in magic, maybe he would understand. I shook my head; there was no way. I was experiencing it, and even I still wasn’t sure if I believed it.
Brendelon slowly began to stand, hair slightly sweaty and the light blush under his cheekbones now a deeper shade. “Are you alright?” I called, running over to him. I was about to reach out to touch him in a simple polite gesture but quickly pulled my hand away suddenly, feeling unsure of his reactions.
His eyes flashed bright green, and the right side of his mouth curled into a grin. “Of course.” But he winced as he straightened.
The stench of the deceased troll rolled into our nostrils, and I scrunched my nose. The smell seemed to protrude from every pore of its disgusting body. He laughed at the look on my face and wrinkled his perfect nose up as well, looking rather adorable. “It will only get worse,” he said. “They are foul creatures.”
He plucked his bloodied sword from the ground and took one look back at the beast, looking like a boy who just won a carnival prize, and I couldn’t help but smile back at the playful eyes that finally showed themselves from their hiding place under the deep terrifying glare.
“Do you think we are in your time?” I looked around, trying to ignore the ghastly misshapen heap beside him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It would appear so.”
“Do you know where we are?” I asked, staring into the endless amounts of wilderness, everything looked the same.
He nodded, following my gaze. “It is where she cursed me,” he replied with a touch of aloofness in his voice then suddenly he whipped his head back to face me, mercurial once again as his eyes darkened. “Why did you not listen?” he growled.
I stared at him confused.
He grabbed my wrist roughly, holding onto to the bracelet as his eyes searched around us. “The vortex is gone.” He thrust my arm away from him. “I told you to release the bracelet!” he yelled wildly. “Now…well, now I am burdened with your unwanted company!”
“I’m the one burdened with you,” I snapped, forgetting to be intimidated by him. “I was only trying to save you. I didn’t know I would be stuck here!” But as the words came out, I felt stupid for even saying them.
He flinched, staring at me blankly, and for being as rude as he was, he looked as though he had never heard such a tone before.
“Save me?” he finally spat, scrunching his eyebrows together as his face contorted in a strange way. He probably thought I was as ridiculous as I felt. After all, he was a knight and I was a nobody; how could I even fathom saving him?
“I mean, at least try to help you,” I mumbled, trying to cover my embarrassment.
He blinked and looked away, muttering something about foolishness then glanced back to me. “Merlin will figure it out,” he muttered. And though I should have been, I wasn’t overly concerned about it. Perhaps my subconscious was convinced I was still curled up in my bed.
He stared into the distance, seeming suddenly quite calm for someone with such a dynamic character. Then he grasped my wrist and pulled me forward, leading the way through forest trees to our left that spiraled out of the ground refusing to touch the light of the sky as they curled in helpless arches to the forlorn dirt. He remained quiet, eyes occupied, appearing to be deep in thought as though carefully constructing a plan. Monotonously, we crunched through dead leaves and small sticks that had fallen to the miserable ground, filled with small patches of grass desperately fighting for life amongst the dreary wilderness.
“Take caution,” he finally said in a low tone. I liked the sound his voice—when he wasn’t yelling or growling—it was deep and demanding, but had a calming melody to it, like water over rocks. “It is enchanted here,” he continued, pointing to some trees that formed a barrier into a surreptitious dwelling. “We are near the fairy folk. They make you forget things, ensnare you for years… but it would only feel like days.” The words dripped out provokingly, as he gave me a roguish look, and with the remote and sullen atmosphere around me, I couldn’t help but feel the terror that breathed against the back of my neck. He smiled, appearing to be amused at the frightened expression on my face. “They play dark tricks and cannot be trusted.”
“H—have you ever been trapped there?” I hated how small my voice sounded, but there was something about him—besides his rude demeanor—that made me nervous. I felt like I was standing in the presence of an A-list celebrity or better yet some undiscovered Roman god of beauty.
He smiled at me wickedly, pushing branches that swung down low out of our way. “No, they would fear the misery I would cause had they tried.”
I looked away from the devious eyes and tried to swallow, but realization wound a tight ball in the center of my throat. He was scary. It was as though his good looks were merely a weapon used to lure in prey, and the chivalrous façade was only a tool meant to leave the victim credulous and vulnerable; I was beginning to think I shouldn’t trust him.
“What do they look like?” I asked, skimming the surroundings to find any signs of these fairy people and to take my mind off the short poundings of my vigilant instinct that resonated throughout my torso.
He pointed to his forehead. “They carve blue moons between their eyes. They are small, and their garments are made of fur.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If you see one, you will know.”
“Is Morgaina of the fairy folk?” I asked, remembering how he had searched my forehead before believing I was not her.
“She was raised with them and took the mark, but she is not quite one of them.” He stopped, scowling at the mention of her then turned in a small circle observing the vast amount of trees around him.
“What is she?” I was curious now.
He shifted his eyes down at me. “She is a sorceress, amongst many other things that I shall not name in front of a lady.” He shrugged his shoulders again, looking up towards the slanted treetops. “She uses demons and black magic to do her drudgery.” His gaze was still tilted upward, but I could see the emeralds watching me from the corners. “She is powerful…” he drawled out in a chilling tone, “evil in its foulest form.”
I glanced around, feeling very uneasy at the dark shadows that crept from the fores
t trees in places where the sun could not penetrate through. I couldn’t help but feel that she was near, watching us, and the idea of it suddenly made him seem like a teddy bear. “Aren’t you afraid?” I blurted out.
He chuckled. “Why should I be afraid?”
“Because she could kill you.”
He smiled wickedly again, as he began walking forward. “I do not fear death, girl.”
My eyes widened, shocked at his words, which only seemed to entertain him. “But it is human nature to fight for survival,” I mumbled, not really sure what to say.
He stopped and turned to face me, the sinful gleam brightening in his eyes. “If it was in your nature to survive, you would have released the bracelet.” He put one hand behind my neck and roughly yanked my head towards him, leaning down close to my face, nose-to-nose, making my heart beat so fast, I was sure it would burst. “Your instincts should have told you to run from me,” he whispered sardonically. He put a few inches between our faces, green eyes sparkling with nefarious amusement, as he slowly lowered his hand from my neck. “But here you are.”
My legs felt flimsy, and I tried to swallow down the acid rising in my stomach, but it was nearly impossible with the huge knot that had tangled once again in my throat.
“How are you to know I will not leave you to fend for yourself.” He tilted his head down, as his eyes peered threateningly at me. “Or take your life myself?”
I stepped back from him, bumping into a tree behind me. “Y—you saved me from that dragon…”
He crossed his arms over his red tunic. “I saved myself.” He smirked matter-of-factly, and there was a truth to his words. After all, of course he had to fight it off; he would have been killed as well. I had expected fight or flight to make a showing but neither did, both appearing to be as afraid of him as I was, and so there I stood—alone and trembling—staring dumbly at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
The right side of his mouth curled up wider showing all his marvelous teeth. “See now you understand,” he said slowly, as if reading my mind, pointing his tanned index finger at me. “You should fear me.”
Abstraction was all that remained as his words pierced into my mind. Mr. Riley had said he wasn’t mentioned in the legends of Arthur’s heroes because he disappeared before Arthur was king, but it was starting to become obvious that maybe he wasn’t mentioned because he wasn’t a hero at all—at least not the typical fairytale knight in shining armor kind—and if he wasn’t the hero, did that mean he was the villain?
His eyes glittered, clearly delighted by my reactions. Then he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me through the trail, causing my arm to tingle once more. “Worry not,” he said with a friendly chuckle, eyes softening as his mood completely changed. “You are safe for now.”
“D—do you like scaring people?” I stammered, panic melting into confusion. His mood changes were too rapid for me to keep up, and he seemed to be enjoying this quite a bit. I suddenly had no idea if he really was mean or just liked to appear to be, after all who was I to determine which side was genuine; I didn’t know him at all.
“Yes very much so,” he replied bluntly with a slight shrug, “but it is their own insecurity that makes them fearful.”
“Is this all just some game to you?” I tried to sound demanding, hating the stir of emotions he had caused, but my voice only came out weak.
“Everything is a game, Katarina,” he said, using my name for the first time, and I hated how much I liked it, “and all that matters is how well you play it.” His harmonious voice was nonchalant, and he wore a charismatic grin, but his eyes were sadistic, baffling me all the more.
I only knew one thing for certain; he was right. My instincts should have told me to flee. I should have been afraid of him, but in that moment I wasn’t, and I wasn’t sure if ever would be again. His ambiguity caused an allure that stifled the intended alarm, doubt was muffled with interest, and curiosity subdued the fear. I was immersed, consumed with contemplating the makings of this apparent eighth wonder of the world, and it left no room for cautionary intuition.
He strut forward, shoulders straight, and appearing to not fear any of the things he had been warning me about, as he walked carelessly through the despondent wasteland. I scampered after him as he veered further left off the beaten ground littered with fallen leaves, following the flow of the small stream that sang a song as water rushed over pebbles and rocks. The birds joined in on the chorus, giving what had once seemed like a fearful forest a sudden calming peace, changing almost as swiftly as his moods. We left behind the grim enchanted places and after some time, found our way into an area that was vivacious, filled with flowers brighter than I could have ever imagined, only dulled by the brilliance of the man before me.
For most of the walk, he had remained deep in his thoughts, seeming to not want to be bothered, but the silence began tormenting me. I had been flawed with an inquisitive nature, and he… well, he was a question I could spend the rest of my life trying to answer. I knew I should keep my distance; he was perilous and unpredictable, but despite the impending threat of danger, I had become nothing more than a mindless fish drawn to a sparkling lure, willing to do just about anything for a bite.
“What do you think brought you to that field?” I started carefully, leaning up against a large tree with branches that spiraled out in different directions forming an almost perfect ladder, reminding me of the trees I use to climb when I went hiking with my grandfather.
He looked at me like he forgot I was even there then wrinkled his perfectly sculpt eyebrows. “I do not remember clearly,” he muttered.
Disappointment resurfaced. “You don’t know anything?”
He sighed and gripped a chunk of his hair. “I know we are near Tintigal, assuming all is as before.” He dropped his hand frustrated. “Mordegrant was placed on the throne by his kin who is married to Morgaina’s aunt. Morgaina’s father had long ago been lord over Tintigal, and she still thinks herself to be the rightful heir, often remaining in this area, which is certainly why she was here.” He pouted his full lips. “But I remember nothing of the curse nor do I know why I would come to this loathsome place.”
“Loathsome?” I placed my foot on the lower branch and began climbing to get a better view of the endless rolling green hills that peeked out from a copious forest, blooming with vibrant colors announcing the life of spring. “What do you mean loathsome? It’s beautiful here.” I leaned my cheek against the branch and watched two blue birds with white bellies swoop down low, one chasing the other before looking back down at him.
He stared up at me, one eyebrow lowered and one raised as though baffled and seemingly certain I had lost my mind. I felt my cheeks burn, realizing I had been caught in my own world for a moment and, once again, probably looked absolutely ridiculous to him. I blinked and turned my face away, cringing inside. “So would that be Arthur’s aunt too?” I mumbled, trying to ignore my embarrassment, as I carefully worked my way back to the ground
“Uh, aye.” He seemed to be at a loss for words, as he watched me descend, and I hated myself for being so odd, as Stacey put it, especially in front of someone as perfect as him. “But he hardly knows her,” he continued hurriedly, glancing away awkwardly for a moment. “Arthur was taken as a baby and hidden; they only knew him to be Uther’s son after he pulled the sword.”
“That’s terrible to be taken from your family so young.” I wiped my dirty hands onto the sides of my jeans, ignoring the slight ache from the rough branches that dug into my skin.
He scrunched the left side of his face, looking at me like I was unintelligent. “Had he stayed, he certainly would have been killed. Ector was more of a father to him than Uther would ever have been, had he lived.”
I knew I should stop before his mood changed again, but I was still hungry for more. “How do you know?”
He scoffed slightly. “All kings are terrible fathers.” His eyebrow burrowed in irritation. “Besides, he was only a b
aby. He knew no different.”
I hooked my thumbs onto the lower straps of my backpack adjusting it, mentally taking note that as he was in fact a prince, which meant his own father was a king, and according to his reasoning, must have been a terrible one. “So did you only know him after he pulled the sword too?”
He glanced away, shifting his weight. “That is when I first knew him to be my cousin, but we had been raised together.”
“You lived with Ector too?” I hedged.
He kept his eyes averted, but I saw the muscles in his jaw flex out. “No,” he said gruffly, as he began walking again.
“Where did you—”
“You know,” he interrupted, his eyes darting around as though he were searching for scattered items to gather. “Arthur pulled the sword when we were only of fifteen summers.” The words came out fast, as he continued rummaging the landscape. “But these old dogs would not hear of having a boy rule over them,” he continued. I had a feeling he had meant to distract me, and it worked. “So after days of deliberation they finally decided to call him the Battle Duke of Britain until he could prove he was fit to rule. It was Uther’s old title when Aurelious ruled—”
“Who is Aurelious?”
“Our uncle,” he replied indifferently, “and Arthur wears the title proudly. They only meant to make a fool of him,” he said pointing at me, “but he quickly proved them all wrong.” His green eyes gleamed with mischief.
“What do you mean?” I asked, boiling over with curiosity.
He raised his eyebrows, enjoying the suspense of it. “Well, after a few months, old King Lucan began causing trouble.” He pulled me by my elbow as he crossed the small stream, lithely placing his feet on the stones and guiding me to do the same.
“He was testing Arthur, so of course we had to face him. Now, I would have just gone to find Lucan on the field to take him there, sword to sword.” He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, eyes off in a different world for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to me, smiling slightly. “But we were outnumbered and Arthur was smart, a lot smarter than me. He rode right up to Lucan’s castle, and in God’s truth it was the grandest place I had seen, just like the palaces in Rome.” He spread his arms wide, emeralds twinkling as he spoke. “And that damned fool of a king left it unguarded, thinking we meant to meet him on the battlefield. Arthur stormed in as though he had been crowned High King since birth, and Bedivere—as cunning as he is—played right along demanding that they all cook a feast for the Battle Duke of Britain! The measly servants all scrambled, ashamed of their impertinence, and while Artos and Bed kept them distracted with demands, the rest of our guard took control of all the gates around his massive wall.”
Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) Page 6