He spun the sword around, feeling the weight in his hand. Morgaina and Ravenna stood like two children on Christmas, hands clasped, anticipating his next move. Merlin was on his knees, arms held up by the guards, shaking his head and mumbling viciously, but no words could be deciphered.
No it couldn’t be, I thought. He couldn’t have turned. He wouldn’t do that, but he didn’t look like the same man he had been a few moments ago.
“You are not like them,” she whispered. “Your heart is dark, and eventually you will stand alone just as you always have.”
At each word his face grew harder and fiercer, his grip tightened. I thought of all his words, all his insecurities, and something from deep inside me erupted. Vehemence shot through my veins, fueling every fiber of my muscles, and suddenly without a second to think they took on a life of their own. I had somehow twisted out of his grip and thrust my knee upward between his legs where no armor protected. He bent in half as a terrible moan escaped his lips. I ran, faster than I had ever run in my life. I sprinted across the open field and threw my body into Brendelon’s stone cold stature, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck.
“I’m with you,” I breathed into his ear, “and I will hold on to you.” I felt his body soften, he turned to look down at me, dark eyes filled with confusion as if he wasn’t sure where he was or possibly even who I was, but I squeezed to him tightly.
In one quick motion, Morgaina had me by the hair and yanked me back. “He is bound the sword, you insignificant girl!” she hissed.
“Remember what Arthur said,” I shouted, trying to awake the dead look in his eyes. “Jesus made the sacrifice; he paid the blood. You only have to accept it!”
She reared her arm back, sending her hand across my face so hard I could feel the tiny blood vessels in my cheek break.
And then something stirred; his head snapped up, jaw set, lips tight into a snarl.
“I am not bound to the sword,” he boomed, taking a threatening step forward. She whipped her head around to stare at him. “… The sword is bound to me.”
She smiled but gripped the small dagger at her hip.
He spun the sword in his hand. “I have the power to control it,” he said, keeping his eyes to the illuminating metal then he looked up to her and suddenly grinned wickedly, “and I have the power to destroy it!” he snarled.
“No!” she screeched eyes wide in shock.
His eyes were still sinister, but the familiar crooked, self-assured half-grin grew on his face. “Yes.”
He gripped the sword with both hands bringing it high above his head, ready to bring it crashing down on a large boulder beside him, looking almost exactly has he did in the portrait. “You do not control me,” he growled.
She hissed loudly and in less than a half-second gripped the back of my hair with her claws, pulling me to my feet and yanking my head upward to expose my throat, her cold dagger pressed at the base.
“You destroy it and I will destroy her! I do not need black magic to slit her throat!”
He stopped, vulnerable, and she knew it.
Her mouth coiled into a smile, but her dark eyes looked at him with disgust. “Weak prince,” she spat. “Now, trade me the sword.”
His face twisted into a snarl as he lowered the sword. He swept his hand out to the side to throw it, but it stayed attached almost as if it were glued.
Morgaina laughed. “It is bound to you whether you want it to be or not.”
His face contorted with hate for her.
“Yes,” she cooed, stepping closer to him. “Let your hate make you strong, and succumb to my demands. You stand with me, Raven!”
I watched as a blackish vapor now reached out from its place on his forearm, slowly creeping to his shoulder; he couldn’t pull his eyes away from it. It was consuming him.
“No, I stand with Arthur,” he growled and suddenly with a forced expression on his face, he released his long tanned fingers from the Black Sword, letting it drop to the ground, and falling to his knees beside it, breathing deeply. “You do not control me Morgaina,” he huffed, “and I will kill you for hurting her.”
“You are a fool, Brendelon!” Ravenna rebuked. Morgaina flicked her wrist forcing the sword to move into her grip.
He stood to his feet, tightening his eyes. “I will spend my whole life to make certain Arthur never touches that sword.”
Trumpets blasted from the distance but no one dared to look. We all knew it was a warning from Mordegrant; the warband was moving forward.
“Well, that will not be for long,” she snarled.
She held up her hand and like a magnet the bracelet jumped from my wrist into her grip, suddenly glowing magnificent shades of purple and green. She grinned wickedly, as the skies darkened into an eerie gray.
She said something low under her breath and the black vapor dropped to the ground, appearing to be like a snake, slithering quickly toward the wide-eyed knight. He stepped back, but it gripped his ankles, flinging him face forward into the ground, twisting his hands behind his back. He growled and viciously fought to get back to his feet, rolling and twisting his body trying to stand up, but ended up in a position with his knees bent underneath him and his left cheek flat on the ground, right cheek deepening its crimson streak.
“Stop!” I screeched, wanting to run to him, but the guards had me in their grasps once more.
She ignored me, watching his shoulders heaved as he fought to catch his breath. “Well, this is quite different from last time.” She smiled and took two long slow steps toward him. “Here is something you will remember.” She snapped her fingers and the large beautiful frame appeared.
His eyes widened. “No!” he hollered lashing back and forth again.
“Ah, Brendelon the beautiful…” she cooed walking closer to him. He looked up at her with almost pleading eyes. She stroked his cheek, and he writhed under her icy touch. “There is nothing you fear more than losing your freedom, but we would not want such flawless beauty to go to waste, now would we?” He clenched his jaw so tight I could see the muscles bulge.
She snapped her fingers again and this time the frame opened up. It was different from the vortex that brought us here. It was as if the frame came to life like it was an open door one could just walk through and end up on the other side, only we knew there was no other side; it was only a frozen eternity.“It is time for you to return to where you belong.”
He gritted his teeth. “I know where I belong,” he growled at her. I lunged forward fighting against the guards, wanting nothing more than to claw her eyes out, but the guards were much stronger than my fury and this time they were on ready.
Then suddenly the center of the frame began to swirl in a strong but slow motion and his body began to slide as it sucked him closer.
“What are you doing?” Ravenna panicked.
Morgaina gave her a warning look. “Do not cross me Ravenna.”
“We had an agreement!”
“And I will keep my half!” she growled in response. “If he will not be controlled, he cannot be trusted. You will have your power and Merlin dead, just as I agreed.”
Ravenna clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes gave away her distress as she watched her son squirm on the ground, trying to anchor himself with his body.
Morgaina knelt beside him and put up a hand, holding the force still. “Submit to me,” she demanded.
“No,” he boomed again, kicking his legs to the ground, trying to back away from the portrait.
She shook her head. “You risk your life out of love, yet none of them would do the same for you. They knew how to set you free, but they chose not to.” She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “They knew all along, and they chose Arthur over you. Not even one would sacrifice his life to save you.” She stood to her feet.
He lashed out at her, but she stepped back, lowering her hand and once again the force slowly pulled him closer. He twisted left and right, trying to fight against it but it wa
s too strong.
“This is your last chance,” she warned.
“Focus,” Merlin shouted out. “You know what is good in your heart, follow it. She cannot touch that.
He glanced frantically at Merlin, who gave him a sincere look then nodded his head upwards to the sky, and at the same moment, a small white bird swooped down. “Repentance and forgiveness set you free,” he whispered, “but you must mean it in your heart. I know you will do right,” he added.
Brendelon’s eyes lingered on the bird then he lowered his gaze to Merlin. The clouds in his eyes began to clear and he nodded back, forcing his knees under him, no longer fighting the pull but allowing himself to slide forward, then he turned to Morgaina. “You are wrong Morgaina; Arthur told me there was one.”
Her eyes tightened, and she tilted her head to the side as though she did not quite comprehend.
Then he looked at his mother who stared at him blankly. “I forgive you,” he said. “I forgive you for all of it.” Then he bowed his head, and his mouth began moving rapidly.
The sun shoved the dark treacherous clouds, fighting the gloom with its rays of light, brightening the land it kissed, each color extending its brilliance with the passing moments. The pull weakened, and I watched as all his lost pieces finally fell into place. His body came to a halt as he remained on his knees, eyes closed, mouth moving, only less than a foot from the frame.
“No,” Morgaina murmured, eyes frantic as she watched her spell slowly dissipate. Ravenna stepped forward as though to help her but suddenly stopped. She stooped down, and grabbed something off the ground. She slowly turned it over in her hand, opening her palm just long enough for me to see the crumpled white flower.
The black dust slithered its way back up to the sword, releasing its hold on him, and his green eyes flashed up. “I am not alone Morgaina, the blood was paid.” The mischievous smile crept up his lips. “And your black magic will never win.”
Her face contorted. “You have already done enough,” she sneered. “The sword is awake, and I will kill Arthur with or without you.”
A noise sounded again, and Morgaina glanced over her shoulder as about a hundred men, mixed between Arthur’s army and Mordegrant’s approached. “You will lose, dark prince,” she threatened. “Curse or no curse, I will make you suffer for your defiance. Kill him!” she roared, pointing at him, as she turned to the black guards. They immediately succumbed to her demands drawing their swords and moved forward.
“No!” I screamed as Merlin thrashed about hollering.
“Do not touch him,” said a soft whispery voice, and suddenly the black guards froze. I looked over to the distracted, yet beautiful face of Ravenna, who stood perfectly still with her left eyebrow raised and eyes widened but staring into nothing. The only thing that moved was her delicate hand as it rolled the smashed white flower over and over in between her elegant fingers.
“What do you think you are doing?” screeched Morgaina staring at her in disbelief, but Ravenna’s face stayed motionless.
“He is my son,” she said, almost to no one. Brendelon’s eyes flittered to her, confused, but she didn’t notice because it was almost as if she was in a different world. “My son,” she repeated softly to herself. Then she finally snapped out of her stupor and glanced up at Morgaina determined. “He belongs to me, and I will not let you take him,” she declared forcefully.
“You are a fool to cross me Ravenna!”
Her head was tilted downward as her sinister eyes rose, just as terrifying as her son’s. “I know black magic too,” she hissed, “and I am a PENDRAGON! You are nothing! It is my nature to succeed!”
“It is your nature to let love be your downfall,” Morgaina seethed, pointing at Brendelon. Then suddenly a dark gust shot forth from Morgaina’s palms into Ravenna’s path but it was suddenly stopped before it reached her. Ravenna tilted, then slowly shook her head slowly back and forth, in mock disappointment. “Is that all you have, pathetic daughter of Gorlois? You should be thankful my brother put him into his grave before he saw what you turned out to be!”
Morgaina’s shoulders moved up and down in strong breaths, as her eyes turned murderous. “I will send you beneath the earth for that,” she whispered. She ran forward with the Black Sword in her grasp, ready to take Ravenna’s life. Ravenna’s eyes widened slightly but before she could reach her, Brendelon lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Morgaina’s waist bringing her plummeting to the ground. She hissed and slithered away from him like a snake, holding the Black Sword in front of her. He slowly backed away from her, as he pulled his own sword from his sheath.
“Halt!” boomed a voice, I looked up and had never in my life been would I have thought to be so thankful to see the towering form of Gawain, with Bors at his right, trotting forward on their steeds and the warband behind them. “Do not move any further, evil serpent,” he continued, “or it will be your head!”
“Gawain, separate the men from Mordegrant’s, he is against us!” shouted Brendelon, keeping his eyes carefully on Morgaina.
Gawain’s eyes widened but the other men heard the command and slowly the horses moved to two different sides, a sea of gold and a sea of crimson. Gawain held his sword out, only a short distance from Mordegrant. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked keeping a wary eye on him, carefully glancing back and forth between Brendelon and Mordegrant.
Mordegrant’s horse stepped forward, as he laughed deeply in his mask. “Has he not told you?” he questioned, keeping his face directed at Brendelon.
“Tell me what?” Gawain boomed.
Mordegrant laughed again. “Aye, tell him… son.”
Gawain’s hazel eyes went wide. “Son?” he choked out. His eyes pierced through Brendelon’s back. “Mordegrant is your father?” he spat out disgustedly.
“Force Arthur to retreat,” Brendelon demanded, ignoring the question, as he kept his eyes on Morgaina. Merlin thrashed about but it was to no avail. Gawain saw him too, he scrunched his eyebrows together.
“What have you done, Bran?”
Morgaina laughed this time. “He has sparked Arthur’s undoing.” She gripped the Black Sword tighter. “He is a traitor, and he will be the end of this pathetic warband,” she hissed.
Gawain glanced over his shoulder quickly but then he laughed, and everyone turned to him surprised, everyone except Bors, who seemed rather entertained himself, but worked to keep a straight face.
“Bran is a great many things, most of those things being bad, I will give you that, but a traitor he is not,” he mused. He glanced over his shoulder once more to the rolling hills to the east and there in the distance I could see an army coming forth. “We knew you to be the traitor Mordegrant, although I was quite surprised to learn of Bran’s parentage.” He raised an eyebrow.
I didn’t understand how he knew the things he knew, but then it hit me: where was Bedivere, Kay, and Lancelot? Where was Vivian for that matter? She should have been with Merlin. I looked at Merlin and his eyes were alight.
Brendelon seemed to be just as surprised but quickly turned his attention back to Morgaina, whose face was continuing to twist in a rage.
Merlin smiled coyly. “I had to be certain to stay near Bran, and the best way to do so was to allow you to capture me. You do not really think you could take me that easily, do you Morgaina?” he dripped condescendingly as she snarled at him. “Vivian and Elenora warned us of your plan. We were able to inform Arthur as they made their march towards Cadvic’s castle,” he continued.
“Aye,” Gawain boomed again, “and they shall be here soon with Cadvic’s army behind them, who will want your heads for your deceit and here we are with prime positioning to take the first pickings!” He smiled, a little too joyous for the beginning of a battle.
I saw Mordegrant’s shiny mask move from left and right. I wished I could have seen his expression, but I was certain it was as stunned as Morgaina’s, if not more.
“Vivian,” Morgaina hissed. “So she still use
s magic does she?” She began huffing in large breaths of air that made her seem to grow once again. “You are all miserable pathetic beings,” she screeched, “and I am a powerful sorceress; you will fear my power!” She held the Black Sword up to the sky and suddenly it turned dark; the clouds rolled in on command the way they had at William Cole’s estate. The thunder cracked loudly against the sky as the lightning lit it up in small strobes of light, and the rain poured down.
She lurched forward at Brendelon, but he blocked her with his sword and in the same instant, Gawain commanded his army to move forth and like two rivers flowing greedily towards an ocean, both armies gushed together but instead of waves crashing onto rocks, there was only metal clashing against metal. It was terrible and my stomach clenched tightly as I stood, unable to do anything but watch. Morgaina furiously attacked at Brendelon. She wasn’t as skilled as he was, but the Black Sword seemed to give her an abundance of power. I trembled, desperately trying to yank my arms from the grasps of the frozen guards that gripped me.
Another loud trumpet bellowed across the land from the south. I turned to see the navy blue tunics weaved in with crimson pouring in. My hope surfaced as I took in the numbers; it would be enough to turn the tide, especially with Ravenna holding back the Black Army.
As soon as they neared, I saw Bedivere and Lancelot swing off their horses, dancing to a deadly song as they attacked those who had fallen from their horses. Kay sailed his horse valiantly through the seas of men, hacking each down who dared stand in his path. I looked over and saw Arthur in the distance slashing downwards from his large white horse, but then a loud crack sounded through my ears, and a bright flash of light struck the ground at Brendelon’s feet. He leapt out of the way, but he was off guard, and she was charging at him.
“Help him!” I screamed towards Bedivere and Lancelot, but they were too busy to hear me, fighting off oncoming foes. The Black Sword was too strong, and she knew it too because she smiled wickedly as she pressed forward against him, the black blade cutting into the shiny steel.
Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) Page 30