I laugh, twirling around like I’ve had too much ambrosia, grabbing Arthur’s hands so he can join in this crazed dance. Then, without a word, Arthur suddenly grabs my face and plants a kiss on my mouth. A tingling warmth floods my stomach at the touch of his soft lips. I feel myself respond, eyes fluttering closed, drawing closer into his warmth.
And then Arthur vanishes.
Chapter 28
A bird lets out a lone, high-pitched note before settling on the cross guard of a long sword planted blade-first in the grass like a grave marker. A body lies a few feet away, motionless in the sunlight.
“Arthur?” I call out, knowing it’s him.
But my cry echoes forlornly against the cliffside, remaining unanswered. I close my eyes, trying to bring the strange vision back for a hint as to Arthur’s location. The cold wind picks up, making me shiver. At least Arthur didn’t look like he was going to freeze any time soon. Rather, the vision makes me think he’s slipped through a portal into another, sunnier universe…
I bare my teeth in a silent growl, slowly scanning the area—the line of trees, black against the starry sky, its edges blending seamlessly with the mountain’s rock wall, in a perfect circle. A Fey circle.
Bastards.
I drop to my knees, staring fiercely at the spot where Arthur and I were kissing just a moment ago.
“Arthur!” I yell at the trampled ground, sounding like a crazed woman. “Arthur come back!”
I punch the frozen ground, sending flurries of snow outward, and keep pounding until my knuckles are shredded and bleeding all over the snow.
Arthur sits up with a groan, rubbing his disheveled head. The bright summer sun reflects off his blood-spattered uniform, and he turns his face to the warm light, breathing in deeply, eyes closed. Peaceful.
“Dammit, Arthur, come back here!” I shout again.
I punch the ground once more, sending a burst of angry energy out that makes the earth ripple, and shakes the snow off the nearest treetops.
There’s a sharp squeak of surprise, and I whirl towards the forest line. I slit my eyes as a fresh pile of snow starts wriggling, then a long-nosed mouse pokes its way through, coughing.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Papillon says with another indignant squeak. “All you had to do was knock properly.”
“Where’s Arthur?” I shout, jumping to my feet. “Where did you kidnap him to? Bring him back here!”
Papillon unfurls his dragonfly wings and flutters over to my side like a mutant bumblebee, then hovers just out of reach to brush the snow off his fur, preening. Shaking with rage, I force my hands into my pockets before I can smack the annoying creature away.
“How about we go to him instead?” Papillon says at last, finally catching onto my mood. “Allow me.”
Papillon drops to the ground, lifts his hind leg, and raps it on the bloody snow in a rapid rhythmic patter. I frown, waiting expectantly for a moment or two, but nothing happens.
“I don’t have time to play stupid games with you. Tell me where he is, now!” I explode.
“Shh,” Papillon says, holding a tiny paw up, giant ears perked. “It’s coming.”
“What’s co—”
I start as the blanket of snow turns to water, a giant pool of warm water that soaks through everything. I stare in earnest at Papillon through the heat now fogging the air, wondering what kind of trick he’s playing on me. Then the earth starts to glow, refracting through the water in iridescent colors.
“Arthur?” I shout again, forced to close my eyes against the spreading light. “Are you in there?”
Arthur grows still, as if straining to hear something. He turns around, hazel eyes flickering across the landscape, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Morgan?” he calls back, his voice sounding oddly near.
The air pressure shifts making my ears pop, and I suddenly find myself plunging straight into the ground, the soil swallowing me whole like a giant maw. Then, in the span of a breath, the earth spits me back out the other side, and I’m pelting through a clear blue sky, straight down for the skeletal remains of a massive, six-headed monster.
With a strangled gasp, I try to slow myself down, barely avoiding a gargantuan rib, before I hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud.
“That looks like it hurt.”
I blink dazedly as Arthur’s face appears above mine, a disgraceful groan escaping my lips.
“Where?” I manage to wheeze out after a few painful breaths.
Arthur shrugs, before helping me up. “I have no clue, but…”
“But?” I prod him, testing my legs to make sure nothing’s broken.
“But it’s kinda nice here, isn’t it?” he says. “Quiet, peaceful… You could almost forget about everything that’s happening out there.”
He looks away in shame, shoulders hunching as if expecting me to laugh at him. But I know what it’s like to suddenly lose all your bearings at once and become…orphaned.
“Still would be good to know where we’ve landed,” I say, though I have a strong suspicion.
Papillon may have conveniently eclipsed himself, this is definitely the Demesne of a powerful Fey. I take in the giant ribcage stretching over us. Whatever the beast was, it must’ve been dead for a long while, for moss is eating away at its skeleton in large patches.
“Well, wherever we are, I’m glad to be here with you,” Arthur says haltingly.
I feel myself flush to the root of my hair, and find I’m smiling giddily. “Me too,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion. I slide my hand into his. “We’re gonna find a solution together, to everything. You’ll see.”
Arthur squeezes my hand in return, and he lets me lead him to the first of the giant ribs. From up close, I can see the fine cracks in the smooth and polished bones, a grey green sheen coating its surface like the nacreous insides of a mollusk.
“I wish I could ask him why he could never be happy with what he had,” Arthur says sadly, lost in his own thoughts.
“It’s not too late for that,” I say.
“But it is for everything else. What’s been done can’t be undone, and you know how terrible the Order’s punishments can be.”
“But he made it through the first trial safe, didn’t he?” I say. “And that one was for murder.”
Arthur winces at that word.
“Sir Cade’s only had him arrested for money matters,” I quickly add. “Maybe I could convince my uncle to get him to work his debt off.”
He forces a chuckle. “Like doing dishes for the rest of his life?”
“Hey, look at me,” I say, stepping close to him. “Look at me.”
Arthur’s gaze flicks up to meet mine for the barest of seconds, but not before I catch the worry etched there.
“It’s going to be OK,” I say. “We’ll find a solution, I promise.”
I don’t know how, but I’ll fix this too. And for that, I need to find that flying rat so we can get back to Caamaloth. I make to move away, but Arthur pulls me back, keeping me close to him.
My heart flutters, stomach tightening in nervous excitement as Arthur’s hand cups my cheek, tilting my head towards his. Then his lips are on mine, warm and soft, setting all my nerves ablaze. Arthur’s fingers twine in my hair as he deepens the kiss, forcing me to curve into his body.
My thoughts have gone hazy. I know this isn’t the right time, and certainly not the right place, but somehow I can’t remember why.
Then, too soon, Arthur breaks away, eyes wild. I stare at him in confusion, hating how cold I suddenly feel.
“I-I’m sorry about that,” Arthur says with a shaky voice. “That wasn’t”—he clears his throat—“this isn’t right.”
His words act like a slap. My fingers flex with the sudden desire to punch him, but instead I try to coach my features into a mask of indifference.
“Oh?” I manage to say.
Arthur doesn’t even have the balls to look at me. Surely he can’t be embarrassed, can he? Is it my breath? Or coul
d it be because I’m a terrible kisser? The thought is enough to make me wish the ground would swallow me whole and send me to the other side of the planet.
“I just mean…” Arthur stops, takes a ragged breath as his gaze slides up to my mouth, then looks away again.
Saint George’s balls, it really is because I’m a bad kisser!
“You mean what?” I ask, voice gone hard, the knot in my stomach tightening.
“It’s just, with everything that’s happened,” Arthur resumes tentatively, “what with Luther and what he’s done to you and the others… I don’t know that this is…proper.”
Relief floods through me, and I slowly exhale. OK. This isn’t about me, really. I can deal with that.
“Listen to me,” I say, gripping both his hands in mine. “I said we’d look into a solution for your father together.”
“But—”
“But whatever your father’s done has nothing to do with you,” I say. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sure I could ever forget what Luther’s done to me and my family. But I could, perhaps, learn to forgive him.”
I stop, surprised at my own words. And the lack of pain in my stomach only proves that I’m not lying.
Arthur exhales loudly. “You could?”
I nod, keeping my hair from being blown in my face by a cool summer breeze. Arthur smiles at me, and for a moment, everything seems to be all right again.
Then Arthur stiffens.
“Greetings to the both of you,” a woman’s deep voice says.
I whirl to meet the new threat, and find a woman smiling benevolently at us. She’s tall and pale, jet black hair shot with grey that frames an angular face. Her amber eyes glow softly as she motions behind her. Set deep within the giant skeleton’s pelvic bone, is the entrance to a cave, one that wasn’t there minutes ago.
“Who are you?” Arthur asks gruffly.
The woman’s smile widens, and a strange feeling tugs at my mind, as if remembering a long-ago dream.
“I am Danu, Morgana’s mother.”
◆◆◆
My knees buckle, and a pair of sturdy hands catches me.
“Watch it,” Lugh says, smooth voice warm in my ear.
I recoil in disgust, jerking away from his touch. Lugh’s presence here proves Papillon right. He knew about this place, but chose to withhold the information from me, when I had every damn right to know!
Now that I am finally in front of this supposed mother of mine.
“I do not think it wise to expose yourself thus,” Lugh says.
For a moment, I believe he’s talking to me, but the Fey woman shakes her head.
“It matters not,” she says. “Our time left here is short.”
“Things could still be revert—”
The woman, Danu, lets out a low, raspy laugh. “Ah, my dear Lugh, always the idealist. But the wheels have been set in motion, there is no stymying the flow of things. Not this time.”
I snort. Funny how she could be saying the exact opposite of what I told Arthur just a few moments ago.
“These bones are turning to dust before our very eyes!” Lugh exclaims, sounding like this isn’t the first time he’s had this argument with her. “At this rate, Carman will be able to destroy you in a heartbeat.”
“Carman wishes to absorb my ogham, which is not exactly the same thing,” Danu says, looking at the monster’s moss-eaten vertebrae jutting out of the ground in an uneven path before her. “As she did with the Lapis Exillis.”
“All to free Balor,” Arthur says pointedly, gaze shifting continuously between us three.
“The Siege Perilous is a bit of an added problem,” Danu agrees with a slight nod. “But like with everything, the seat has two sides to it.” Her gaze shifts over to Lugh. “Are you not looking forward to finally moving on? There was a time when that was all you wanted.”
“Not when it means we could risk losing even the little that we have left,” Lugh replies.
“But this is what we asked for,” Danu says, “the right to choose our own paths. And with free will come risks as well. We must accept our responsibility in handling our own fate. There is not one without the other.”
Her words remind me that Danu isn’t just any Fey, but the very angel who lead the rebellion against the Heavens. She may talk now about gaining free will, but I know well enough it’s but a paltry excuse to let her and the other Fallen Ones have their vilest desires run rampant.
“Come with me, Morgana,” Danu says, interrupting my dark thoughts.
I balk, rage and fear roiling in my stomach. “What for?”
But Lugh pushes me forward. “Go on, we do not have much time for you to waste in pointless tantrums,” he says.
I mean to snap back at him, but find my feet are moving of their own accord, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of her.
I take in Danu’s ragged dress and dirty feet, the strands of white in what had once been midnight hair, the lines forming around her wide eyes and along her thinning lips. I had expected my mother to look somewhat like Irene, or perhaps Lugh’s sister. But Danu looks…old.
“What is this place anyway?” I ask, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably as my voice ends up on a shrill note.
“The heart of Avalon, my Demesne,” Danu replies.
“Wait, are you saying all of Avalon’s your Demesne?” I ask, eyes growing wide in confusion.
But Danu simply nods again. “Now come along.”
I cast a long hesitating look at Arthur, but Danu’s already disappearing inside the cave, taking with her answers a part of me so desperately wants.
“Go,” Arthur mouths at me.
I nod, and finally, against my better judgment, I follow Danu into the darkness. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting that emanates from the cavern walls. I’m striding down a long interminable passage after Danu’s light footfalls. The whole place smells stale, like a cellar that hasn’t been aired out in years, and my mind flashes back to the time I escaped from Hell.
“So why did you make a dead animal your home?” I ask to break the uncomfortable silence.
“An ogham can take many forms,” Danu says, her voice echoing down the tunnel. “A gem, a cat, a hobgoblin—”
“You mean Puck?” I ask, stunned. There’s no way. She must be playing with me.
Danu presses her pale fingers against the wall, and light flares up at her touch, almost blinding me. “Or a dragon,” she continues, blatantly ignoring my question.
I repress a shiver. I think I’ve had about my fill of dragons for now.
Yet I can’t help but look curiously around. This place is where my father met her, where they courted each other and fell in love. At least on his end. She was probably just finding a temporary solution to her infinite boredom.
My fingers graze the ridged surface of the tunnel wall as we progress ever downward, leaving a trail of light that slowly fades again. This is where I was born. Where Mordred and I would have grown up if Danu hadn’t abandoned us.
Not a very cheery place, I have to admit, but anything would have been better than the lives we’ve led instead.
I blink as something bright winks ahead of me, only to reappear on the ceiling above, then again, further down the passage. There are other Fey creatures down here with us, I realize, all senses alert, and they’re following us like wolves stalking prey, or…
I stop, staring straight ahead at Danu’s back.
Or like moths drawn to a flame.
“You’re glowing,” I whisper.
Danu’s footsteps halt at the edge of a wide arch, a half-smile on her resplendent face. Gone is the old hermit with coarse dress, dirty features and unkempt hair. Instead, stands a goddess, her skin moon-touched, hair sparkling like she’s plucked stars from the very sky to adorn it. Only her eyes are the same, their unfathomable gold eyeing me questioningly. Lucifer, the angel of the Morning Star. A title that turns out to be quite literal.
“Is s
omething the matter?”
I shake my head, pulling at the collar of my shirt in a vain attempt to breathe normally. Not until now did the fact that my mother is a fallen angel hit me so hard.
With a knowing smile, Danu sweeps gracefully through the arch, and a heartbeat later, I follow suit.
“If you’re hoping this little tour of yours is going to make me change my mind about you, then you’re sorely mistaken,” I say loudly, hoping to distract myself from the heart attack I can feel coming. “A hole in the ground isn’t going to impress—”
I stop midstride, mouth gone slack.
Unfolding in front of me is an endless cave, hundreds of carved columns stretching from floor to domed ceiling, jeweled vines creeping up their graceful shafts in dazzling colors. Lights shift lazily about the cavern as salamanders seek new resting places, away from the playful sylphs flitting around in tiny green gusts.
My head slowly swivels around, taking everything in, and I catch sight of a strange white figure poking its head out from between two spindly columns.
“Ghost?” I whisper.
The spectral form tilts its round, noseless head, black eyes unblinking beneath a pair of vicious-looking antlers.
Danu lets out a low laugh. “Ghosts do not exist, Morgana,” she says.
“I know that,” I mutter, stung. “And my name’s Morgan. There’s no ‘a’ at the end.”
Danu dips her head in acknowledgment before gliding on ahead, forcing me to get moving again or risk losing her. A thick mist appears as we wend our way through the forest of bejeweled pillars, playing first around our ankles, then steadily reaching up to our knees the further we get from the cavern’s entrance.
I occasionally glance back, feeling the weight of unknown eyes upon me, and feel my hairs stand on end as I catch more glimpses of the pale creatures. Soon, others like it join it, following us in silence. All white as death. All observing my every move expectantly.
“Stay close,” Danu says.
I start at the disembodied voice, and find I’ve strayed away from her, the mist so thick now I can barely distinguish her silhouette a couple of feet away.
“What now?” I ask, rushing to her side, ashamed to admit I’m feeling a little scared.
Curse of the Fey: A Modern Arthurian Legend (Morgana Trilogy Book 3) Page 26