Return to Caer Lon (26 page)

oOo

The mirror turned a lifeless black. Wolfryth jumped back with a yowl.

“No!”

The fire belched forth white
-
hot flames
,
crushed down by a fiery
,
yet
non
-
existent wind. A thin line appeared on the dark surface, almost as gleaming, and snaked up with the softest whisper; with every harried breath the sorcerer took, the line split in two, three, four, five-branch
ed
stars until it covered the entire once-silver area. Then the mirror cracked and f
e
ll into dust at the man’s feet

Wolfryth took another step back to avoid being touched by the ashes. The spell had rebounded once more. He didn’t understand. Only a minute before it had worked, distilling his own souvenir into the Seer’s troubled mind, and now…

He snatched a goblet of wine nearby and gulped it down. For the first time in years, he tasted fear.

Chapter 27

Elwyn
recognized the scenery.

He was standing in a field behind Haven castle, which sloped gently toward the seashore. They used to horserace each other along the small path to the water; he never won,
with
Derek and Sacha always competing for the lead.

The ocean’s scent tingled his nose. He breathed in deeply, eyes wide
open to savour the glorious day. Sacha was walking swiftly toward him on the beach. She wore breeches and a shirt
that was
too large for her. The wind had messed up her hair. Even in the distance, he noticed the signs of exhaustion on her face and her posture.

He started to walk in her direction and tripped. The ground bit harder than it should have. When Elwyn looked up, a second silhouette had appeared by Sacha’s side. The large red cape swirled around her without slowing her down. Elwyn tried to stand. A yank brought him down again. Light dimmed around him
. T
he sand under his hands gave way to a patchwork of stones. The sun was sinking behind his sister and Derek.

“Sacha… No, don’t come here!”

The young woman lifted her head and beamed at him, breaking into a run. He yelled again at the top of his lungs.

oOo

Sweat glided down his neck, the salty moist
ure
burning his skin.
God
,
he was tired.

Derek ran one hand below his collar and winced. How could his fingers feel so hot when his breath came out in cloudy rasps? When he forced his lungs to work, the air he took in was
painfully cool
. Breathing was painful.

He extended his arms to support himself on the walls, nearly losing his balance when his hands missed their goal, stepping sideways to reach the rock. He would have sworn the middle tunnel was small when they took it. Now, his fingers barely brushed the gleaming stone.

With a quick glance above his shoulder to make sure Sacha was oblivious to his misstep, the prince took in another gulp of air. Pressure
built
around his chest, far too quickly. His vision narrowed on some very bright point at the other end of the tunnel. He stepped forward, ignoring the riot in his stomach. Sacha’s light footstep in his back echoed like a thunderstorm in his head.

“Derek?”

The nausea attacked his throat when he turned his head to acknowledge her call. Derek forced himself to straighten up, praying he didn’t faint like he had in the forest. The shivers were the same torture in his back.

“Everything’s fine. Stay behind me.”

At least this time, everything had the clarity of crystal, instead of the fuzzy glaze he couldn’t resist in the morning. He made out each dimple and needle in the rock face when he touched it. He noticed the smallest irregularities under his feet when he walked. The freshness of the air on his face amazed him in this underground world. 

The light in front of them changed, a minute ago just a flicker and now a straight line,
broad
as his thumb, maybe
broader;
several inches wide, really.

“Derek we should go back and take the left branch
.
I-
"

Derek grabbed his companion’s hand to unclench her fingers from his shirt.

oOo

“Take it.”

The king had one knee on the ground, his formerly lustrous armour stained with dried blood and mud. The noon sun was spreading his formidable mark on the crushed grass. The battle had started before dawn, and it was lost already. The shriek of metal against metal continued to bristle in the air, but the moans of the wound
ed
buried it more and more.

“Sire, I can’t. This…”

“Take it
Caid
, and leave. You know what to do.”

Light mirrored on the blade the king was holding upright against his thigh, his tired hand still gripping the golden hilt. The king brushed dust from his face with the crook of his arms, grunting when the motion straightened his shoulder.
Caid
noticed his arm rested against his side with an angle. His duty was to obey, but to leave his king without a weapon, at the mercy of traitors to his crown, traitors of his blood…

“I want you to take my sword, and fulfill your duty. You swore on the Dragon’s Throne to obey.”

“My lord…”

King Derek grabbed the offered forearm and stood with difficulty.

“I love Morgan,
Caid
, God only knows how much. But your son betrayed his vows and for this I will confront him. But I cannot risk he gets this sword. He is unworthy of Caer Lon and of its secrets; please, go.”

The knight presented his hands, palms up. The blade bit into the leather of his gloves when the king handed it
to him
. It weighed more than he imagined. Both men
's
faces reflected on the two inches of polished steel
-
the face
s
of soldiers who
had
fought one too many battles; men who had given up a lot for their convictions and had now to sacrifice what remained.

The king landed a heavy hand on his captain’s shoulder.

“I am sorry,
Caid
. For Morgan. And for Eileen.”

The dreaded name yanked the man off his thoughts. He closed his hands on the sword, and bowed.

“I will honor my word, my king. No one but the rightful High King will find the sword, or fetch it again.”

oOo

Derek backed against the opposite wall. He resisted the urge to bend his knees and sit. If he let himself
down to
the ground now, he was not sure he would be able to ever get up again. Sacha put one arm around his back as he bent forward to breathe, b
rushing his shoulder. He panted,
“I… really... wish… you would… stop do
ing
that.”

She took off her hand immediately. Derek managed to crack a smile. His legs trembled under him but he held on.

“No, I meant… The visions…” he paused to straighten up
,
heaving out a breath “A warning would be… pleasant next time.”

“What did you see?”

Air found its way into his lungs, blissfully.

“You know what.
Caid
took… the High King’s sword
.
T
o hide it.”

Her hand found his arm again, urgent this time, instead of comforting.

“Derek, let’s backtrack to the crossing.”

Worry modulated her voice like dissonance in a melody. Her fingers trailed above his elbow, hooking around it and refusing to free him. A few days ago, she would have snort
ed
and make some sassy comment about stubbornness or idiocy, giving him the cold shoulder. Now, her body language simply caressed his ego, softly inviting him to reconsider his choice.

The emptiness in front of him scintillated, calling Derek’s attention away from the tempting lady by his side.

“I want to know where that light comes from. You stay here.”

Her grip on him hardened.

“Oh
,
no, this is out of question. Last time I let you go by yourself, the ceiling nearly fell on our heads
.
I’m coming with you.”

Derek shrugged and stepped forward. The tunnel curved into an opening, not wider than ten feet
squared
. The gentle slope changed drastically in the middle of the chamber to rise in a spiral around a massive boulder,
the flattened
sides
of which were reminiscent
of a roughly cut cube. And in the center of the cube probed one f
oo
t of unpolished metal, ended by a cross
:
a sword, encased within the rock, forgotten under the dust of centuries.

“Derek
,
wait!”

He wasn’t listening anymore. Sacha’s image blurred into some vaporous form
before brightness
swallowed
her
. Light radiated from walls and the ground alike to concentrate in the blade, pulsing like a human heart, its call irresistible. His own was answering every beat, recognizing the ancient rhythm.

The golden hilt of the sword was large enough to fit a giant’s hands, the pommel encrusted with topazes, diamonds and amethysts. The closer Derek came, the more the gemstones gleamed
.
T
he gold brightened
. T
he double
-
edged blade cleared until it retrieved its mortal silvery glint. After God knew how many years lost in a cave, the metal looked still sharp, deadly.

Derek stretched his left hand to touch it. Sacha gasped.

“Derek, oh my
God
!”

He looked down, not fully understanding why she cried. The bandage around his hand was soaked with blood. Red drops were plopping on the rock, and that was where the beat came from. Derek tried to escape her attempt to grab him and reach the sword, but she circled his waist with both arms and put all her weight in one desperate pull.

‘
Narijt drole Forra. Akilten emen Forra arkanic Drakor kiomlot.
’
 

The strange words bang in his head, the language foreign
,
and yet so familiar. One step was all it would take to
close his fist around
the hilt and pull. Derek shifted sideways, too strong for Sacha to stop but she refused to budge. His motion brought her down, her knees hitting the stone.

“Derek…”

Tears wet the emerald eyes pleading
with
him, delicate falling pearls which diluted the blood on the back of his hand. Suddenly, her face pressed against his palm
; he
recei
ved its contours. He brushed hair and tears away from it.

“You’re crying…”

The caress nearly overwhelmed him when relief illuminated her smile.

Sacha pushed on
to
her feet and forced him to pivot so
that
his back was
to
the altar, surprised
that
he obeyed without a protest. Her arm secured around his shoulders, an anchor in his chaos. Away from the aggressive light, the pulsing in his head reduced to a headache, the boil in his veins more bearable by the minute.

Derek squeezed her hand.

“I’m okay. Let’s get out of here.”

oOo

Fillin tossed a strand of blond hair above her shoulder before she turned another page. The only book her father had allowed her to study contained nothing but stupid spells to favor a good rest, cure a cough or keep rodents away from the pantry.

She clasped her tongue impatiently. She needed something
other
than old wives’ remedies for domestic problems! She wanted magic
that was
efficient against an enemy, a way to entrap the stupid girl and even take away her powers.

Fillin beamed to herself. Oh
,
yes
,
that would be so perfect… She was going to disrobe Elwyn’s beloved sister of her magic all by herself
,
and if it worked properly, Elwyn himself would be next. She nearly clapped her hands in pleasure. Yes, it was an excellent idea.

Ambushing the seer could not be that difficult, she had perused spells able to exterminate vermin for hours in that stupid book. This page, thinking of it, displayed how to cast some invisible glue board; it was
written
that
it worked like a spider web, really. Once the fly was caught, it couldn’t escape until the board was obviated. Her lopsided grin matched the dancing flame in her bronze eyes. Who cared if one little dragonfly never flew again…
?

No, the how and where were more of a challenge.

The blonde pushed on
to
her feet to glimpse the empty corridor. Her father was still shut down in the library, deeply involved into whatever magic he felt was more important than teaching his
"
impatient and immature
"
daughter. Fillin snorted. She flattered herself to be impervious to insults. She was eager to learn, not impatient. What her father called immaturity, she
called
inexperience. And she was a quick student. She had proven so many times.

She
also
had good hearing and an even better memory. Although the Great Wolfryth took care to close himself off to perform the Dark Arts, little did he know about how thin the panels were near the chimneys of adjacent rooms. Fillin chuckled. The spells to break into one’s mind would sure be useful one day, but far less than the one she had heard several weeks ago, when his father had stolen the secret of this despicable place
from
the priest of those druids.