Return to Caer Lon (16 page)

The wind had finally brought dark clouds over the town to give the late afternoon the gloom of
a
cold
,
stormy winter night. Mist was already licking the roofs
. T
hey heard thunder
rolling
as soon as they stepped out of the library. Derek hoped the weather would hold until they reached the inn.

The constant roar in the sky covered the noise of their steps on the pavements. They hurried through the large place, but
the
rain outran them and started to fall before they reached the street heading to the Wild Boar. The first drops soon became a curtain of water, damp
en
ing everything.

Derek saw Sacha skid on the slippery pavement and he settled for a more conservative pace. They risked twisting an ankle on the uneven wet stones.

Their hoods were useless in the storm, endlessly pushed back by the fierce wind. The
p
rince finally renounced keeping his in place and let the tempest
plaster
his hair to his skull. Rain was running down his face
,
so he had to blink constantly to clear his vision. The storm made it impossible to see farther than three feet ahead.

He avoided the first blow by chance, forced to move sideways to avoid tripping into a puddle. Derek blocked the second hit, grinding his teeth in pain on the impact of the hard club with his forearm. He lunged to avoid a third swing and the
h
ilt of his sword collided with his adversary
's
throat, crushing the men’s trachea.

Derek twirled
. S
lowed down by his cloak,
he
barely deflected a knife aiming for his side. Another pivot and he slashed the other man from the waist to the opposite shoulder in one swift movement. The ruffian wobbled backward and fell.

Panting, the
p
rince looked for a third attacker, but the rogue had chosen an
easier
prey
.
The attacker
s
queez
ed
Sacha’s throat
,
chok
ing
her
. Derek saw the gleam of her dagger hitting the ground through a fog of anger and rushed forward. Steel bit into the exposed flesh of his upper wrist and hand, draining blood.
The
p
rince
switched his sword from hand to hand and thrust, killing the man with a vengeful grunt. He reversed his grip on the
h
ilt without
pausing,
us
ing
his sword like an oversized dagger in the back of the last aggressor.

A hiccup escaped Sacha when the dead body fell on her. She pushed away frantically, nearly tripping in her haste to escape. Derek steadied her by the shoulders, quickly checking
her
for injuries. Air rasped and hissed through her lips as she tried to retrieve her breath, twisting his insides into
knots
. Derek crushed her into his arms, craving
the
slaughter
of
the beast that
assaulted
her a second time.

Her skin was cool against his cheek, her scent spicy with fear and relief. His body
,
fuelled by adrenaline
,
claimed carnal dominance and a more intimate embrace. His free hand closed on her neck to take her closer
.
Sacha mewled in pain. A nasty mark
marred
the fair skin of her throat. Shaken to the core, Derek pushed away to grab her hand, his mind still fuzzy with lust and anger.

“We
cannot
stay here. Come.”

“My
L
l
ord!”

The young man spun on his heels, fetching his sword again in the general direction of the call. He lowered his guard when he recognized the silhouette signalling them inside a small house.

“Quick! There are four more men
.
I saw them split earlier. They must be waiting for you up the street.”

Gisela closed the panel behind them and barricaded it, before she made sure the windows were covered.

“Who are they?” asked Derek.

“The Guild.
A gang of thieves and mercenaries,
obeying no one.
You probably attracted their attention, paying for small services so largely.”

The young man rattled in discomfort. It had never occurred to him his generosity would get them the wrong attention. They needed quick answers and...
Gisela added
softly
, “
Some
say they obey the
S
orcerer-
K
ing of Camelot…”

Sacha moved in his back and his stare automatically sought her out. She had approached the chimney, apparently fascinated by the small fire. Derek saw her hand moving toward the logs, yet he did not really notice.
If Wolfryth was after them...
The need to have her close rag
ed
in his stomach
again, potent
.

Suddenly his mind
re
connected with his eyes and he bawled in warning. Lightning ripped the night and the sky exploded above their heads. The outside chaos burst into the house when the fire detonated. Gisela jumped back with a yelp of surprise.

Slowly, the flames decreased to their normal size.

“You control fire!” the servant said in marvel.

Sacha turned her head to the other woman, her stare abnormally bright.

“Yes.”

“I knew you had magic
.
” Gisela said before she pointed at Sacha’s dark hair
.
“Holly wood is a powerful charm.”

Stunned, the lady stretched her arm to touch the comb, but the maid stopped her.

“No! You must wear it
,
so it protects you.”

Derek cut in, bringing the conversation
back to
more urgent matters.

“We have to go back to the inn.
We need our-
”

“You can’t!” Gisela cried “It’s too dangerous!”

The young man
racked his mind for solutions. If he went alone, he could outrun… Sacha was quicker than he.

“Gisela, do you think you can bring back some of our things?”

The blond woman nodded fiercely. Sacha stepped toward the door.

“
Perfect.
I am coming with you.”

Derek seized her arm when she passed by him.

“Out of question.”

“
There is no need,
my lady.
A servant
can go un
noticed…
”

Gisela smiled at Sacha, then at Derek, before she moved away to prepare for her shift at the tavern. He was grateful Sacha did not insist. The dark-haired lady had escaped his grip to walk back to the fire again, her face revealing nothing of her inner thoughts.

The young man approached and held his hand
up
to smooth the argument he was sure was coming. The wound scorched painfully at the movement and he could not repress a groan. Sacha turned to him instantly and gasped. “Derek
,
your hand!”

The gash had reopened, and fresh blood was soaking the rim of his sleeve, running down his fingers. He pulled his hand away with a grimace.

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

Sacha glared.

“Of course it is. I tend to make a point
of
fussing over silly things. Sit down so I can have a look.”

He took a step back.

“I told you, it’s-”

“I will not let you bleed all over Gisela’s house. Sit.”

Derek sulked but obeyed, and lowered himself on the stool
at which
she was pointing magisterially.

“You are worse than my mother.”

Sacha knelt in front of him with some clean clothes and a bowl of water to wash the cut. Her smile suggested she considered his protest a compliment. Maybe it was.

Chapter 16

The
kiss fluttered across his mouth, delicious and tempting. Her lips brushed and teased, hesitating between softness and pressure. The caress blurred his thoughts, erasing the memory of another tantrum.

The delicate fingers curled against his chest, fisting his wet shirt. Elwyn shifted in discomfort. Fillin straightened up and her movement put more weight on his broken ribs. He hissed in pain. The pretty woman covered her mouth with her hand, blushing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot…”

Every breath was a painful fight.

“…Alright.”

Elwyn wished his groan was enough to persuade her. He was tired
. H
is chest and back
burned
. As much as he liked the company, he wanted her to go away. She
had
used him for magic. And she
had
used kisses to make him forget she sent their practi
c
e bowl flying with a flip of her hand after another attempt at the sublimation spell failed.

Her last outburst targeted Sacha when he tried to explain that even he barely managed the difficult enchantment without his twin by his side.
I certainly don’t want to hear
anything
about
her. Fillin’s retort nagged
at
him, its cold sting holing in the pit of his stomach. Sacha was his sister and he missed her
;
of course he wanted to talk about her. Just like he wanted Sacha to meet Fillin. She would, once they escaped. He would free Fillin and take her with him
to
Haven…

The young woman chuckled. Did he say that out loud? Why was she laughing? Amusement sparkled in her eyes, a brief flash of gold across the polished bronze stare. Within the second, Fillin was playing with his shirt again, distracting him, reminding him it was damp
en
ed.

“You have to take it off before it gets your bandage wet, Elwyn…”

H
e
had
never noticed how she mouthed his name to make it roll on her tongue, like she enjoyed its form on her lips, swallowing the last of it with a small thud of the tongue. The syllables bloomed in the air, light, spreading to create a different call, some beckoning sounds he had to possess. They surrounded him, playing on his skin and in his hair, humming inside his head to creep down his spine until he could no longer retain a shiver and a low growl.

New words compulsively bounced in his head, foreign
at first, then crystal clear
.
Narijt droch Forra, kilten den Forra.
The Source is to be found. The Source is to remain sealed.

The sudden cold nearly froze him. Rain bit at his tensed body like a million of angry bees. He held tight
,
grinding his teeth in the effort. Ice hit his left hand but the enraged scream disappeared in the curtain of water and thunder. Blood beat loudly in his ears, his heart about to explode in furor. Breathing was strenuous.

“Elwyn?”

Air abruptly entered his lungs again and he focused on his companion. Brow furrowed, Fillin was observing him and the look on her face was something he had never seen before. Predatory; distrustful. He looked for an excuse, unable to wrap his mind around what just happened.

Flames danced in the hearth, eagerly licking the logs. Sparks erupted and disappeared with a bang. The fire grew brighter and it roared when the storm forced a gush of air down the chimney. A chunk of wood exploded loudly, creating more sparks
;
Elwyn jumped
to
his feet
.

The silhouette in the doorframe cast a formidable shadow inside the room. Elwyn pushed on his feet. The scar on the man’s face twisted horribly when he smirked. The leather bind retaining a mass of grey hair added to the general impression of savagery radiating from the visitor. Elwyn step
ped
back
. He
stumbled on his chair when he wanted to put the heavy piece of furniture between them. He gripped the back to regain his balance, resisting the urge to crouch behind it.

Confused images of that ugly face and pain flooded his mind. His body felt like it was shrinking to flee the memories of torture. The yellow stare weighted him, with the same impatient look a wolf gave to a rabbit venturing out of hiding.

He wished the giant
would say
something
,
yet he dreaded hear
ing
its voice. Who was he? Why had he attacked them? What did he want? He had to protect Fillin. Where was Fillin? The pretty blonde seemed to have left the
room;
at least she was safe…

The other took a couple of steps toward him and his questions vanished. Who cared about the how and why? His limbs betrayed him, already weakened by the effort of the day. For a moment, he felt his legs turning into cotton and feared he would collapse. Elwyn started to shake uncontrollably. He grasped the chair harder, praying his arms did not give way
,
too.

The man sneered again and flipped his hand negligently. The chair began to move sideways. Elwyn lost his footing for good, and fell on his knees with a yelp of pain. His torturer laughed. The sound rolled dangerously until a log in the fire split with another eruption of sparks. The terrifying laugh died
.
Elwyn’s anxiety climbed up one more notch, as images started invading his head once more.

oOo

Wolfryth entered the main room to find Fillin comfortably installed in front of their supper. He sat on his chair and helped himself to a large piece of turkey. The sorcerer gestured toward the wine, and the jug floated toward him to fill his cup. He gulped a mouthful of his food before turning to his daughter.

“Your magical pet needs to learn not to resist me.”

The blonde looked up from the chicken leg she was skinning.

“Please tell me you did not play with him again… I put so much effort in bringing him into a useful state...”

“I want that witch and her princeling here now! The Guild fails to explain what is delaying them. Derek killed four of their men tonight. I saw their pitiful attempt to capture them. Useless paw
n
s.”

Fillin glanced up before she continued taking gravy away from her meat, unimpressed by her father’s anger.

“Why don’t you simply bring them here, father?”

The yellow stare shone with impatience.

“They have to enter Caer Lon freely or the Source will remain hidden.”

Fillin bobbed her head, already bored by the overused explanation. A growl of thunder echoed her lack of interest. She tried to keep her voice clear of sarcasm when she asked
,
“Do you think Elwyn’s calling for help again will be enough?”

A flash of twisted pleasure bolted through Wolfryth’s face.

“Oh, this time it will be a different call… Anyway, you
r
little sessions with him are coming to an end. The
c
itraurantia’s effect is waning. ”

“That’s impossible!”

She pursed her lips right after her protest. No one could fight the ‘
magic
sleeper’ plant, and Elwyn was so weak he could not even manage a simple metamorphic spell… On the other hand, if he recovered his use of magic, he would be far more efficient at teaching her... Her pensive pout did not go unnoticed. The sorcerer put his cup back on the table.

“You will not visit him further, Fillin. As soon as our guests arrive, the warlock is going back to his cell.”

She changed the subject rather than insisting.

“Will you teach me tomorrow?”

Wolfryth laughed.

“Yes, my eager daughter, unless I have to prepare for the final step.”

Fillin accepted the answer more or less gracefully. The seer and Derek Pendragon had taken their time so far. Maybe she could hope they delayed further.

oOo

His tired arm trembled when he fetched the blade up to look at it. Its steel gleamed like thirty torches, blinding him momentarily. For a moment, he hesitated. More than a fine weapon, this was the symbol of Caer Lon, the symbol of the High King
's
powers. The High King was dead. His hand fell down his side, still gripping the topaz-adorned hilt. He had been asked to keep the
k
ingdoms safe. How could he? He was not a Pendragon, not by blood. His wife was. His wife had betrayed him. She had betrayed her brother and
k
ing, for powers beyond her reach. Eileen was gone too; the
p
eople would watch over her. Excalibur did not belong to him, neither did the High Throne. He wanted none.

The middle-aged man lifted his arm once more to clash the sword on the altar in front of him with enough force to break it, quickly turning his head when a chunk flew by his face. He felt blood pearling at the cut, running down his cheek. Or maybe was he crying over all that was lost? Reluctant, he glimpsed at the former weapon and gasped. The sword was intact. The stone barely held a scratch. How could the metal resist such a blow? This was impossible! He str
uck
again, with all his will, this time keeping his head straight despite the sparks which erupted around him. His second attempt failed, and the third. The hits reverberated up to his shoulder in throbbing drifts. The more he tried to break the magical blade, the harder it seemed to become.

Out of breath, he turned around the massive cut stone to find another angle. He couldn’t afford to let the Sword be found, and he had no desire to keep it. If he could not destroy it, he had to find a way to protect it. Something had to be done, something, anything. No one but the truthful king could use Excalibur and the powers it unleashed.

Caid
held the heavy Sword one last time, the
h
ilt high above his head, and closed his eyes. The Kingdoms had to be protected. He had promised. He stabbed the altar one last time.

oOo

Elwyn curled up in his bed, his arms around his knees; his head hurt. Now he was alone, yet the images kept spinning madly before his closed eyes without hi
s
being able to isolate one. He wished he could distinguish just one, so he
would
kn
o
w
that
he was still sane.

He recognized the magical mind
bonding
,
though he was too weak to push it away. The sorcerer had forced so many images in his head he was sure his screams were deafening. The visions had come before the magician. Did they come from him?

The torture had lasted for hours; then again, maybe just minutes. He didn’t know. He had lost any notion of time. It hurt. Images pierced his mind, again and again, driving him mad with pain and sorrow. He felt the pain in the fighter’s body. His heart broke with the man’s sorrow. The man of his visions was not the one fighting in the rain, though he was the same. The man in the rain looked like Derek. The man with the
s
word looked like Derek. It couldn’t be. They were one. They were numerous. Elwyn wanted to scream again, and yet he did not remember screaming at all.

The spiral of colors and shapes was endless, pulsing, drilling into his brain until he could hardly tell if he was human, or a living ball of nausea. Where was Sacha when he needed her?