Dark and Stormy Knight (31 page)

Hesitantly, she took his outstretched hand, which was greenish-gray with freakishly long webbed fingers. The moment they touched, light exploded inside her mind.

The next thing she knew, she was off her horse and standing beside the god on the transparent floor of his chariot. Afraid what might happen if she looked into the eyes of a deity, she cast her gaze downward. Awe swelled in her chest as she observed the teeming life beneath her feet. Massive columns of kelp swayed on the current as a school of small silver fish darted around them.

“Wow.” The insipid word escaped her lips before she realized she’d spoken.

Manannan mac Lir let out a big, booming laugh. “I’m so pleased you’re impressed.”

A blush scorched Gwyn’s cheeks. She bit her lip, keeping her focus on the sea. Words seemed inadequate to describe the primordial splendor of the seas. She cleared her throat, knowing what she was about to offer would sound hopelessly lame.

“Impressed doesn’t begin to cover it.”

He released another chuckle. His jolliness made her feel slightly less intimidated, but only slightly. Keeping her attention on the ocean, she dredged her memory for the chamber filled with her father’s stories. As snippets about the deity beside her floated to the surface, she could hear the echo of her father’s clear tenor voice.

He was known to be a great trickster and magician…he could assume any form or identity…his wife was the beautiful Faery Queen Fand…the Isle of Man is named after him…he owned a cloak of mists that made any who wore it invisible.

If only he could shake that cloak to make her forget her stepmother. As unpleasant memories began to seep in, Gwyn blinked to clear her thoughts.

The cloak was as fluid as his pupils and, in similar fashion, changed color from moment to moment like the sea. Deep blue, then blue-green, then gray-green, then deep blue again. Her hand twitched with the urge to touch as she wondered if the garment felt as nebulous as it appeared. As she watched the cloak swirl and shift hues, an idea dawned. How much easier it would be to slip in and out of Avalon and Castle Le Fay if no one could see her!

The prospect unleashed a flood of relief, which worry dammed a moment later. How did one go about asking a god for the loan of one of his magic objects? Biting her lip, she returned her gaze to the underwater view just as a school of small silver fish darted through the billowing kelp in perfect unison. Dare she hope he would offer the cloak’s use the way he’d offered his enchanted cup to King Cormac and his branch of magic apples to Bran?

The druid had her horse’s reins in hand and was turning to take his leave. While she was lost in thought, Bran and Manannan had been chatting away like old chums.

“Godspeed,” Bran said through one of his dazzling smiles. At that, he kicked his mount and set off across the sea in the direction from which they’d come.

Regret and relief tangled in Gwyn’s gut. As much as she valued Bran’s assistance, her sexual attraction had been disconcerting. More time with him might have pushed her over the edge, and the last thing she wanted was to cheat on Sir Leith, especially when they were so close to breaking the curse. Well, she hoped they were, anyway.

A sharp crack near her ear jerked her out of her musings. The Wave Sweeper lurched forward, nearly knocking her off her feet. She gripped the front edge of the chariot with both hands to steady herself.

There was nothing apart from ocean as far as the eye could see. Unsure what to say or do in the presence of an ancient god, she decided it would be safer to let him take the lead. She would hold her tongue until spoken to. Dread churned in her gut as her mind labored in vain on a plan to pinch the cup. Without the cloak of mist, the mission seemed impossible, but she could not seem to muster the nerve to ask for the loan.

As the chariot bounced gently over the waves, the brisk wind stung her face, the damp spray smelled salty, and the sea hissed and slapped hard against the bow. Her gut grew tighter with every mile of ocean they glided over.

The Wave Sweeper had no wheels, so it was more of a water sleigh than a chariot. A very fast-moving water sleigh. Judging by the force of the wind on her face, they had to be going at least sixty miles an hour.

By and by, Avalon came into view.

“Do you have a plan with regards to recovering the chalice?” the god asked, his tone friendlier than expected.

This was her chance. She took a deep breath of damp ocean air to steel her nerves. “Actually, I was hoping I might borrow your cloak.”

“Though I’d gladly loan it to you, you do not require the cloak of mist to render yourself imperceptible.”

She blinked at him in astonishment. “I don’t?”

“Nay. You need only invoke the
Feth-Fiada
.”

Her brow puckered. “What’s the
Feth-Fiada
?”

“A magic charm to make one invisible to the naked eye,” he explained. “Even camouflaged, however, your task will not be an easy one. Queen Morgan never lets the Cup of Truth out of her sight. You will need to create a distraction so she doesn’t notice it’s missing until you are safely away.”

Gwyn chewed her lower lip. Creating a diversion was a good idea, but how to go about it? She could throw something, she supposed. Or break something. Or maybe kick someone in the shins. Any might work, but stealth still seemed a better course to pursue. If she were invisible, she could wait until the queen wasn’t looking, grab the cup, and run like hell.

“Are you ready, lass?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Manannan held his left hand over her head as he began the incantation.

“By my power as Lord of the Sea, the Cloak of Mists I place o’er thee.”

As he spoke the magic words, rolling white mist began to rise from the floor of the chariot.

“Across the isle of Avalon, you shall pass unseen.”

The vapor climbed, obscuring her thighs, hips, and waist. Rising higher, the cloud enveloped her chest, shoulders, and neck. As her eyes were covered, dizziness set in. To steady herself, she clamped her hands on the lip of the chariot.

“The spell I cast shall remain in force until we meet again—or until you bathe in fresh water.”

The vapor cleared, restoring her vision and orientation.

“Did the spell work?” To her eyes, she was still visible. “Can you still see me?”

Feigning a look of surprise, he cast around as if in search of the source of the voice. “Who said that?”

His teasing made her smile. “I’ll take that as an affirmation.”

Mirthful expression evaporating, he arched a green eyebrow. “Do you doubt my powers?”

“Of course not. It’s just that…”

Leaving her answer hanging on the wind, Gwyn turned her attention to the misty landform looming on the horizon.

She worried her lip as they drew closer. A narrow, rocky beach surrounded the towering cliffs and the water was rough near the shore. Defeat wilted her courage until she remembered that Manannan mac Lir was affiliated with the Children of Danu, the demi-gods born of the mother goddess who later became the Fae. According to the legends Gwyn’s father shared, the race of supernaturals arrived in Ireland on clouds—a feat aided by the deity beside her.

“Let me guess. You’re going to conjure a cloud to float me to the top like a magic carpet.”

The Lord of the Seas let out a booming laugh. “You’re not going over the cliffs, lass. You’re going under them.”

Brow furrowed in confusion, Gwyn scanned the imposing crags for an opening. As far as she could see, their etched faces were rock-solid from top to bottom. Just as she started to ask for clarification, the chariot veered sharply to the right. Her heart lurched along with her body. She grabbed the front of the Wave Sweeper for stability when an enormous sea cave came into view. They appeared to be heading straight for it.

“That’s where you’ll enter,” Manannan said, pointing. “Normally, none can do so without Morgan’s permission, but my magic will take care of that hiccup. I’ll also fix it so you can breathe underwater.”

He must have seen the color drain from her face because he set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t trouble yourself, lass. I’ll escort you as far as the ingress.”

Gwyn was shivering, not because of the cold, but because she was frightened of the idea of going on alone. Even with the power of invisibility on her side, she could not see how she could possibly prevail.

Or even make it to the island alive. The swells all around were growing in size and fury. Spray burst across the bow as the chariot rocked and pitched under their power. She suddenly felt very small and very alone. What made her think a coward like herself could do this?

The Wave Sweeper stopped a few yards from the entrance of the cave and, taking her by the elbow, the sea god helped her into the gently swirling surf. The water was knee-high and neither cold nor warm.

Using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she looked up at him, hoping her face didn’t give away how anxious she was about going forward alone. She still had no idea how she was going to get the cup—or even get from here to the queen’s castle.

“What do I do now?”

“The current’s too strong for you to wade to the cave from here, so you’ll have to go over the butte and climb down,” he said. “Once you get to the cave, wait inside. Someone will be along soon enough to take you the rest of the way.”

She didn’t like the idea of hiking her way to the cave, but felt better knowing she’d have an escort, even if she didn’t know who or what that escort might be.

After thanking Manannan, Gwyn waded through the temperate, tugging surf to the narrow band of sand surrounding the island. The instant her feet touched solid ground, her clothes dried, astonishing her. Worry gnawed as she made her way up a mossy rise and down a terraced cliff to the cave.

Inside, she looked around her in awe. The way the basaltic columns lined the cave’s marbled walls resembled an immense pipe organ in a curious oceanic cathedral. The music that poured forth—a symphony of rushing water, sweeping waves, and gentle gurgling—created a booming, cavernous echo.

She took a seat on a rock out of the way of the spray, as anxious to get on with it as she was about the mission itself. Or maybe she should call it a quest. A quest for the Holy Grail, because that was indeed what she’d undertaken. She just wished her errant knight was along to help her.

After she’d sat there several seemingly endless minutes, the water swirling over the cave’s rocky floor began to glow with golden light. Forgetting she was invisible, Gwyn scrambled off her perch and took cover behind a basaltic pillar. From there, she watched in fear and wonder as the swirling surf rose up and assumed the shape of a magnificent watery horse.

“The Lord of the Seas sent me,” the horse said. “To take you under the waves to Avalon.”

Under the waves? She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, even if she could breathe underwater. Still, it was better than the alternative. Turning back meant certain death from the curse. Going forward only risked probable death at the hands of Queen Morgan.

Truthfully, neither option thrilled her, but the odds of survival were better if she went with the horse, so she picked her way through the rocks to where the beast stood and hoisted herself onto its swirling but impossibly solid back.

No sooner did she find her seat than the horse dove under. Out of habit, Gwyn held her breath as they plunged deeper and deeper into the salty surf. To her amazement, she didn’t feel buoyant or the least bit wet. When the horse’s hooves struck the ocean floor, the beast broke into a gallop. She tightened her hold on its foamy mane and, remembering the sea god’s briefing at last, started to breathe.

The horse stopped outside the entrance to an underwater cave. The cave turned out to be an upward-climbing tunnel. From the top, streams of light flooded downward at an angle like heavenly rays. As they emerged in the shallows of a cove, the horse dissolved into the surf, leaving Gwyn alone on the rocky beach of an island. The towering volcanic walls she’d seen from the other side formed a fortress about a mile out to sea.

Overhead, the sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky. The air temperature was moderate. Perfect, really. A soft, balmy breeze carried the scents of sea and fish to her nose. Tiny waves lapped at her ankles.

Deep green hills rose in the distance, forming an undulating ridge of round peaks and deep clefts. Not knowing what else to do, she walked toward them. The terrain grew rockier. Curious mists crept across the ground in curling ribbons of transparent white. Flowering trees dominated the flora. The air smelled sweetly of blossoms and felt remarkably fresh and mild. Birdsong resounded from every branch.

When she reached the crest of the hill, she gazed down into the glen below. Her breath caught when she spotted a storybook castle set atop a small island in the center of a loch, its water unbelievably blue.

A rope bridge stretched from the shore to the island and a gate stood between her and the bridge. As she made her way toward the gate, dread clenched in her gut like an iron fist. The gate was guarded by two uniformed sentries.

She stopped just outside, grateful for her invisibility. Since the enchantment didn’t allow her to pass through solid objects—especially objects made of iron—she’d be forced to wait until the guards opened the gates.

Luckily, two men on horseback were approaching. Turning to get a better look at them, she decided
men
wasn’t quite the right term. Yes, the mounted visitors were male, but not human. They had long, straight white hair, pointed ears, and wore leather armor and thigh-high boots.

Pulse racing, she slipped through the gate behind the riders and followed them to the dicey-looking rope bridge spanning the divide between shore and castle. The elves dismounted, hobbled their horses, and proceeded to cross the bridge on foot. She followed them, gripping the knotted rope railing for dear life and stepping only where they stepped to avoid falling through.

They couldn’t see her, but seemed to sense her presence, because every few seconds, one or the other glanced behind them. Her heart nearly stopped each time one of them turned round. To make matters worse, something stirred in the depths of the waters below. Afraid to see what it might be, Gwyn kept her gaze glued to the backs of the elves.