Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle)

by Danielle Martin Williams

  “I forgive you for leaving me,” I started, fighting against the shudder rising through my body at the memory of it. “You shouldn’t have done that, but what happened wasn’t your fault.” His face was turned away, but I saw him roll his eyes, ripping small pieces of bark off the tree with his left hand. “Kindness, forgiveness, lo—” I stopped when his eyes shot up to mine, suddenly too nervous to say it. “Well, not everything has to be earned…” I said, dropping my eyes to the dirtied linen shirt before looking back to up to him.

  His eyes clouded, looking uncertain, then he glanced away again. “Katarina,” he said slowly, eyes dropping back down, twisting the wood chips in his hands, “you … you just do not belong in this world.”

  But I feel like I belong with you, I wanted to whisper but I was too much of a coward.

  “I really have become selfish,” he said quietly. “Maybe I always was.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It is difficult not to be, even now I find it arduous, but I cannot be selfish this time.” He looked up with determination in his eyes. “I owe it to you to make everything right, and I am going to send you home.”

  I suddenly realized what he was doing, in his own twisted way he was confessing how he felt… he wanted me to stay.

  “I don’t—” but he pushed his back off the tree and in one swift motion had his hand over my mouth muffling me, and then I heard it; a loud noise rustled near us. His head whipped to the right, as he listened to sound over his shoulder. He put his finger to his lips and motioned for me to follow him into a more sheltered area. We crunched softly through the overgrown brush, trying to find safety from a sheltered area. I followed his crouching figure but suddenly he stopped in his tracks, standing up straight. He reached his hands behind him to hold me there; and I knew there could be no other reason as to why except that we were caught.

  I peeked around his masculine form catching a large group of Black soldiers shuffling forward, holding their swords to Brendelon. He swiftly yanked his sword out and took a step back, still holding me with his left hand. The one in charge stepped in front; he was tall, but like the rest of the army he was covered head to toe in dark metal with helmets that hid their faces with only a thin horizontal slit across the eye area and three vertical slits along the mouth area. He tilted his head sideways. “You know you are no match for our numbers…” he said calmly.

  “It matters not,” Brendelon retorted. “I will take out more men than you are willing to spare, including yourself,” he pointed his sword at the leader, “but if you let the lady go unharmed, I swear to surrender.”

  “No,” I whimpered behind him, but he squeezed my arm and tilted his gaze at me, giving me a foreboding look.

  The tall leader tilted to the side to look at me. “So be it,” he said plainly. “You are the one of importance.”

  I heard a few of the men make groans under their breaths, and I didn’t forget his warning to me.

  He pushed me away from him. “Run Katarina, just as I told you,” he whispered harshly.

  I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t be his burden. He would have a better chance to save himself than be forced to save both of us. It was more difficult then I had imagined, but I forced my shaky legs to move, and I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction of him, hating myself more and more with every step I took.

  Chapter Nineteen: Deception

  The black dust settled; he sat on his knees, staring at her with a blank look and hazy green eyes. She slowly pulled out the shining Black Sword, and his eyes lit up. He scrambled to his feet to take it, but she compelled him to stay.

  “You cannot have the sword,” she stated bluntly.

  “I will trade you anything for it.” He had not meant to sound so desperate, but he was too distracted by the splendor of the sword to play the game smartly.

  “It is meant for a king,” she said with a mock pout, one he had seen before, and despite her beauty, it revulsed him. “…And unfortunately for you… you are not a king.”

  He squeezed his fists tightly into his palms. He hated her, but she had mastered magic beyond what any had thought a mortal could; she was dangerous, and he knew taking the sword would not be easy. He drifted his eyes back to her face, watching her lips move as she continued to speak, despising her more with each word that escaped.

  “…gives strength equal to Excalibur.”

  He flinched; it was not possible to equal Excalibur.

  “The sword is to be a prize for the champion of Cadvic’s tournament.”

  His eyes lit up.

  “A prize to be given the victor’s king,” she corrected with a sardonic smile, “and that king will be as powerful as Arthur. They will not need to make him the High King…”

  He shook his head, feeling the anger burn up into his throat. “You serpent,” he seethed, jumping to his feet. “Arthur is meant to be the High King. No other will sit in that throne.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, giving him a sympathetic look. “I want my brother to be king as much as you.”

  “You are a liar,” he said, taking a menacing stride towards her.

  She met him with her step, eyes tightening, and though she was not even tall enough to reach his shoulder, she flinched not at all. “Why do you think I am telling you of all this,” she hissed. “I want you to win the sword, and I can help you do so.” She swept her hand through the air, knocking him back to his knees then bent down to meet him at eye level. “I will give you the ability to win. You can look upon the sword whenever you so wish and your king will be safe, but first you must do something for me.” She paused a moment, watching his face then she stood and paced slowly; her long gown trailing behind her. “A sacrifice…” She turned to look at his fixated eyes then pulled the hood off her head, revealing her long wild hair. “A soul for each element…”

  He shook his head slightly, eyes clouding; he knew that was black magic, but before he could respond she blew the black dust towards him again and he fell to his face, grasping his hair. “You want the sword, do you not?”she hissed.

  He looked up, only seeing shiny black steel, and nodded weakly. He was not sure he believed her, but he wanted the sword more than anything else he had ever laid eyes upon. It consumed him, filled him with zealous desire. His palms itched to touch it, and his body ached to have it; he would do anything for it; he knew that for certain.

  “A woodcutter for the earth, a fisherman for water, a glassblower for air, and a blacksmith for fire, do you understand me?” She ticked off each with her fingers.

  “And what of the fifth?” he mumbled.

  She smiled wickedly. “In due time…”

  I ran as far as I could before falling to my knees on the hard ground, in a hysterical panic. I was so helpless it was pathetic, and I hated myself for it. How could I leave him? I bent over not knowing what else to do so I just began to pray, begging God to save him.

  I heard a loud horn and scrambled to my feet, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my blue dress and scurried out of sight from the road as I promised Brendelon I would. I glanced out and saw a long line of horses trotting forward. The banner man in front had a large golden flag raised with the black embroidery of a large sun and a lion beneath it—just like the flags I had seen at Mordegrant’s. My heart picked up pace; they would be able to help me!

  I ran out to the center of the worn down road covered in fallen leaves, waving my hands to be seen. The dark brown horses in the front halted. One of the men—dressed in the same golden tunics with black embroidery of the flag—put up a hand to stop the others.

  “Hail, maiden,” he called, looking past me into the forest, his eyes were cautious.

  “Please, help me!” I panicked. “A Black Army has invaded over on the southern shore line near Mordegrant’s castle; they’re in alliance with the Saxon army and they have captured the cousin of the War Duke! You have to go save him!”

  “Lady, be calm,” he said glancing towards another soldier, who only nodded back. He
reached down to hoist me onto the horse. “We will go to the castle for help.”

  “No!” I screeched, backing away from him. “You have to go now! They could kill him!”

  “If they are invading the shores, our first priority is to our king,” said the second knight, pulling up his reigns to steady his anxious horse. “We have already been attacked; we will not allow it again. You are welcome to journey with us. We will do what we can to help him.”

  I looked back into the endless trees of the forest, deciding I would much rather go with them then be alone in the wilderness trying to find Arthur’s castle, besides Merlin said he was marching towards Cadvic’s; I would be all alone there. I grabbed his hand, and he hoisted me up, before kicking his stead in the flanks, galloping back towards Mordegrant’s castle.

  The ride was horrid, and I struggled to keep calm against the hysteria that was rising. Though I am certain it was my own panic that made the ride seem endless, we finally rode through the familiar gates of Mordegrant’s castle. The knight helped lower me to the ground near the horses’ stables.

  “I will speak with my king, wait here,” he commanded.

  I hated waiting around, but I did as I was told. I had learned my lesson about not following orders. I sat beside one of the stalls, hugging my knees, unbraiding my hair and working my fingers through it to get out the knots, trying to distract myself from thinking of the horrible things they could be doing to him. He seemed sure that they wouldn’t hurt him. The leader said he was the one of importance… Morgaina needed him just as I had thought before, but I still couldn’t figure out the connection. Why was he such an important piece? I dropped my hand from clenching the top of my hair, suddenly realizing I had picked up on his nervous hair-gripping gesture.

  The time passed too slowly, something wasn’t right. I stood, running my hands along the dress nervously, as I glanced back to the forest and open fields behind me. It was taking too long. I would speak with Mordegrant myself because the longer I waited the more danger Brendelon was in, but as I turned to walk towards the castle, my path was suddenly blocked. I jumped back startled by the dark figure in front of me. I squinted against the sunlight and made out the face of a small beautiful woman with a blue crescent moon tattooed between the eyes on top of flawless snowy skin and long, wild, dark auburn hair, shining copper in the sunlight. I had never seen her before, yet I knew exactly who she was.

  My heart stopped in my chest. I blinked. It had to be my imagination. She was in my head, and I wouldn’t let her use my weaknesses. I squeezed my eyes, saying a small prayer but when I opened them again, I could still see the bottom of her flowing black dress and gray cloak against the green grass. I slowly looked up to her smirking face.

  “Did it work?” she whispered, dark purplish eyes dancing.

  I stumbled backwards. She couldn’t be here. This wasn’t happening. I closed my eyes again, squatting down to the ground, holding my head in my hands. I wouldn’t let her in my head. I wouldn’t. I thought of bright green eyes and playful lopsided smiles.

  Her cold frail hand gripped my arm, yanking me to my feet. I peeked through my lashes. This time she had four large guards donned in black armor behind her.

  “You’re not real,” I whispered.

  She smiled. “But I am.”

  Two of the guards from the Black Army, grabbed my arms roughly, hoisting me onto the horse. I tried to scream, but he clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle me, as he mounted the horse behind me. I glanced back to the castle walls, praying the knight would return before they took me, but all was still.

  They moved up through the sloped hills down into the small valley where flat grassland spread; it was near the place where Brendelon and I had been transported. I glanced around nervously. Everything was perfectly still—no motions from giant trolls or white dust from fairies. Even the breeze even seemed to flee; it was too calm. The guards lifted me off the horse, pushing me down onto the ground. I glanced up to the dark shape of the mysterious raven that suddenly appeared before me, hopping closer, as it cocked its head to the side watching me with its beady eyes. I scrambled to my knees, pushing my body away from it. I had been right in doubting it; she was using it to spy on us.

  “What do you want with me?” I demanded, keeping my eyes on the raven, feeling uncertainty that it would not attempt to peck my eyes out.

  “This,” she said as she ripped the emerald necklace from my neck, “and leverage.” She smirked. “Those fools were not supposed to let you go.”

  I grasped my chest, remembering the painful burn of her nails clawing at me in my mind. At that moment another small band of her black knights trotted forward. One slid off his horse, pulling a man down with bound hands and a bag over his face. They threw him to the ground and yanked the bag from his head.

  It was Merlin! And though I was sorry he was caught, his presence comforted me. He shook his head, adjusting his eyes as he realized where he was. He looked around searching, but then he focused his gaze on the witch beside me. “You traitor!” he shouted.

  She turned to him. “You are the traitor Merlin!” Her face twisted into a snarl. “You betrayed my father by helping Uther murder him and steal his wife before he even lay cold in his grave!”

  “I did no such thing, Morgaina. You let your hate twist your perception of the truth!”

  She laughed insanely. “Twisting the perception of truth you say? Just as you twisted the view of the kings and lords of Britain? Using Excalibur to force them to believe that my bastard brother is fit to rule? It is time I show everyone who really is in control.”

  He gritted his teeth together. “Stop this Morgaina; leave Brendelon alone. You have no idea what kind of darkness you are meddling with.”

  Brendelon? Did Merlin figure out that Brendelon was connected somehow too? “Why do you want Brendelon?” I demanded her, feeling a surge of protectiveness. I looked at Merlin, who appeared angry but not confused.

  “Because he is going to destroy Arthur,” she said bluntly.

  “He’ll never turn on Arthur!” I shouted at her, even though I still did not understand how he was the key.

  “You think you know him?” Morgaina hissed at me. “Has he told you of the men he sent to graves? The raging slaughter he brought on because he was stuck in his own depraved mental state?” she said, pointing to her head as she smiled wickedly at me. “Did he tell you of our deal? There is truth to why he thinks himself wicked. He is!”

  “Deal?” Merlin shouted almost in a terrified tone, his face now unsure. “What have you done?”

  “You don’t know him all!” I screeched at her at the same time. He had done bad things but he wasn’t wicked; he was lost.

  “I do.” The voice was light whispery almost like wind chimes. I turned behind me and I saw her.

  She had long raven black hair, so shiny it almost had a hint of blue in it. She was tall and slender, her face was beautiful: flawless pale skin, with the same straight, perfectly constructed nose of Brendelon and Arthur, only smaller, more petite. Her eyes were a fierce green, bright as Brendelon’s and just as wicked, surrounded by thick black lashes. It had to be his mother, but she looked much too young.

  “Ravenna,” Merlin whispered almost in awe. “How could you? For this… this demon!”

  She ignored him and instead walked slowly over to me, her long dark purple dress dragging behind her elegantly making her appear as though she were floating. Her eyes were intent, but then they caught the white flower that was still behind my ear. She plucked it out, observing it for a moment. “After all, he is my son,” she said confirming my speculation. Her face burned with hate, but the tone of her voice still light and musical; it was clear where he got his melody from. “I think I know him better than anyone else.” She crumpled the flower in her hand, dropping it beside her. “He only fights for Arthur because Merlin taught him to do so. He refuses to take his place to punish me.” Her face twisted in disgust.

  “He fights for Arthur b
ecause he loves him!” I spat, feeling anger at memory of his harsh childhood stories. “You know nothing about his heart and soul, you who stood by letting him be beaten then sending him away as a child!”

  Her face twisted into an ugly snare, and she lurched forward slapping me across the face. It felt like a million bees stinging me at the same time; the pain made my eyes water.

  “Merlin tricked me,” she hissed pointing a delicate hand to his direction without looking at him. “He took my son so that he could deceive him to think he was nothing more than some pathetic henchmen for my brother’s bastard! A child conceived by lust for another man’s wife is not fit to be the High King!” she screeched.

  “They were married!” Merlin shouted back.

  “What Uther has done is an embarrassment to my father’s name!”

  Morgaina stepped in, putting a hand on Ravenna’s shoulder in mock kindness. “Uther was a murderer, trickster, and seducer; he deserved to die.” Her expression matched Ravenna’s, two beautiful women, both twisted into ugliness by their abhorrence and vengeance with only their hate as an alliance. “And you Merlin… you deserve to die too.”

  “And you will,” Ravenna added, wrathfully.

  Merlin’s mouth hung open as he shook his head slowly. “Ravenna, please tell me you had nothing to do with Uther’s death.”

  Her eyes tightened; she looked repulsed at the accusation, but she denied nothing. “I had the heir,” she breathed, “and you…” her face contorted demonically as she pointed at him then shook her head turning away. “Now you will you see your precious Arthur fall at the sword of his servant.”