Authors: Alessa Ellefson
But just as it looks like Percy’s going to win, Dub spins away and Percy’s sword ricochets off one of the standing stones in a shower of sparks.
“Where is he?” I ask, twisting in Arthur’s arm to keep my eyes on the battle scene.
And then I see the dark mass of Dub’s poisonous mists back at the foot of the altar, the Shade’s hand closing around the sword. I strain in Arthur’s arms as pain lances down my body, and I scream.
“Morgan?”
Arthur’s voice barely breaks through the haze of pain and I scarcely feel the ground beneath me as he lowers me back down.
Bright flashes burst behind my eyelids, showing me a strange, distorted scene:
Tendrils of darkness part before me to show a bony wrist with bits of decaying flesh still stuck to it, and, behind the shadows, a red-faced Percy as he swings his sword down.
My vision blurs as Dub wrenches me up to meet Percy’s blow. The knight’s blade comes down on me with the force of a train, shattering upon impact, then I see Dub’s other hand shoot forward, through Percy’s elemental shield before sinking into his chest.
The knight’s face turns to one of shock then pain.
“Nooooooooo!”
My cry sounds distant, even to my ears, and though I can feel hot tears streaming down my face my vision remains clear.
Percy’s hands, scrabbling at first around Dub’s arm, fall limp at his side as the venom creeps up his body, covering his neck and face. Then his eyes roll back into his head before turning inky black, dark tears slowly trickling down his sunken cheeks.
Dub finally pulls his hand back out, his pale fingers wrapped around a black lump, and Percy’s body clatters to the ground like a discarded toy.
I feel myself heave as I realize the mass in Dub’s skeletal hand is Percy’s heart, filled with the Shade’s poison. Then, like a frothing river, anger surges forth, funneling all my hatred for the one who keeps taking those I love away from me.
A lightning bolt strikes the earth, followed by the deafening
clap
of thunder, and I find myself back in my own body, staring in the distance at the smoldering sword still wedged inside the altar, two figures lying at its base.
“Percy!” I scream, scrabbling at Arthur’s chest to get him off me.
Fury spurring me on, I run towards the Shade. I see Dub’s form struggle to get back up, the shadows that always surround him gone. Without them, he looks like a walking cadaver, another of those filthy draugar Mordred likes to conjure back from Hell.
I dive fists-first into him, energy dancing around my knuckles in writhing snakes of flame.
We land into a rolling mass of limbs, mud squishing beneath us, and I manage to shoot a couple of blasts of fire at Dub before his cold hands find their way back around my neck, squeezing unmercifully. I kick out from under him, my feet trying to find purchase on the slippery ground.
Two tiny creatures suddenly whizz by, screeching like fat insects. They dart around Dub’s face, occasionally swooping in to bite off chunks of his face. But Dub doesn’t seem to mind—granted, considering how much of his body’s already decomposed, a few more missing pieces don’t make much of a difference.
“You’ll…pay…for…father…,” I utter around a thickening tongue.
Dub’s hands shake with silent laughter and he bends closer to me. His putrid mouth cracks open. “I couldn’t have done it alone,” he breathes into my ear. “If it weren’t for the Pendragon…”
I exhale sharply, my lungs no longer willing to work, and it has nothing to do with Dub slowly squeezing the life out of me. Did I hear him correctly? Did he mention Arthur’s family name?
As my vision darkens, I remember my father’s report, its last pages torn out. Arthur did say that Irene and Luther conspired to get rid of my father, didn’t he? Is that the secret those missing sheets of paper hid?
In the confused fog that is my mind, I manage to recognize Arthur’s face behind that of Dub’s before his sword thrusts through the Shade’s back and out the other side, its point stopping just inches from my own body.
Dub rears up with a roar, letting go of me, and throws Arthur off. The Shade then looks down at the weapon, still sticking out of its bony chest like a twenty-fifth rib. Then, slowly, it pushes the sword back out. As the blade clatters to the ground, the poisonous vapors close Dub’s wound again, as if it never were.
Then, very slowly, Dub turns around to face Arthur. I bite back a shout as Arthur gets into a low crouch, twin daggers ready in his hands. David against Goliath. Except this time, the rocks have no effect on the monster…. A monster I can’t let Arthur face alone.
I force myself to get back up, using the altar for support, the stone’s fine-grained surface sharp against the palms of my hands.
“Stand back, Morgan,” Arthur says.
“No,” I say, breathing heavily. “I won’t…let him take…anyone else…from me.”
I try not to look at Percy’s inert body lying but a few feet away—he who was always so full of life, bouncing all over the place like a pinball, and always had a kind word to say to me.
I swallow around the lump forming in my throat as Dub’s shoulders shake in silent laughter, black fog gathering about the hem of his cowl, curling around his skinny body like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey.
Before the poisonous mists can cover him up entirely, however, Dub attacks, sending jets of darkness at Arthur.
Arthur throws an elemental shield up and the fumes dissipate upon impact. But the sylph shield flickers uncertainly for a moment, and when Dub attacks again, the green glow disintegrates upon contact.
Arthur dives to the side, and the jet of blackness blasts one of the remaining boulders to pieces instead.
Two pinpricks of light then blaze across my vision, urging me to move.
“Help him,” I wheeze.
The two pixies freeze in the air an inch before my nose, their wings frantically beating the air. One of them looks to have sustained injuries, its whole right side blackened, and it seems to be straining to stay airborne.
“Please,” I whisper.
The healthy pixie stands at attention before whizzing through the air towards Arthur. A split second later, the second one follows, though at a more sluggish pace.
I hear a sigh behind me and, turning around, find Blanchefleur lying face down on the muddy ground, her body covered in black bruises, unmoving.
No. Not her too! Fear twisting my guts, I struggle over to the fallen Fey’s side and, with a great heave, manage to roll her over onto her back.
“Blanchefleur,” I wheeze, feebly slapping her cheek.
She moans in response. Her eyelids flicker but stay closed.
“Blanchefleur, I need you,” I say, more forcefully. “Percy’s gone and I can’t fight….” My breath catches in my throat as my mind replays Percy’s death, every detail excruciatingly clear. Tears spring forth, blurring my vision. “I can’t let that happen again,” I rasp. “Not to Arthur.”
But Blanchefleur remains unresponsive. I hunch over her, my hands on her shoulders, my body raked by sobs.
“Please,” I say, my tears leaking unchecked upon Blanchefleur’s face. “Please…”
There’s a shout and I turn swiftly around to find Dub’s managed to corner a now weaponless Arthur by the altar. The two pixies are darting in and out of its shadows, but the Shade blasts them away with another of his bolts of putrid energy.
For a brief moment, the mists part enough for me to see the triumphant smile stretching Dub’s putrefying lips, before they hide his features from sight again.
“Arthur!” I yell, as Dub shoots his poison across the altar.
Arthur conjures another shield of air before him, but the sylph can’t withstand the assault and Dub’s blast of power breaks through.
I see a flash of red as the remaining pixie tries to intercept Dub’s attack, but the tiny creature’s light winks out of existence,
and the deadly fog catches Arthur in the chest, piercing through him in multiple spots like the tentacles of a kraken.
My heart stops for a split second and a long, ear-splitting cry arises in the dawn air, before I realize I’m the one screaming. My body reacts of its own accord, as if someone’s turned off a switch inside my head, and I grab Blanchefleur’s sword before staggering up to my feet, the crystal blade flaring at my touch.
I see the tendrils of smoke lift Arthur in the air, bringing him closer to Dub as the Dark Sidhe ambles its way over to the altar. Slowly, the spikes of shadow lower Arthur onto the block of stone and the Shade’s hand reaches up to grasp Arthur by the neck, as he did with me.
Hatred spurring me on, I race across the clearing as fast as my legs will carry me, Dub’s shadow growing larger and larger until he fills my vision. I swing Blanchefleur’s sword up, cutting through the black mists like through a thick veil, and let out a shout of surprise as the crystal blade bounces off him.
My feet slip from underneath me, Blanchefleur’s sword falling from my limp grasp, and I hit the ground hard.
“Arthur?” I call out, scrambling over to the altar where I can see him hovering, the dark tendrils of smoke still stuck inside his body, sucking him dry.
I scream as a poisonous wave hits me, spearing me to the altar next to Arthur. My eyelids start to close, my vision of Arthur’s prostrated body growing dim as the last of my energy gets burned away.
Suddenly, a strange warmth flows into my body and I hear the distinct ring of iron on stone as Arthur pulls the broadsword from the altar.
“No,” I hear the Shade utter.
But Arthur swings his arm around, cutting through the ropes of poisonous mists keeping us down. The sword explodes
in a burst of light, dissipating Dub’s shadows, then its sharp edge swings back around to strike Dub in the side, cutting through him like a scythe. Dub’s mouth opens and closes, his rotten teeth clacking together in surprise, before his body falls apart on the ground.
“Is he…dead?” Arthur asks weakly.
“I-I think so,” I say, too afraid to approach the Shade’s remains.
“Good,” Arthur says, collapsing off the altar and onto the ground.
“Arthur!” I exclaim, dropping to his side.
Arthur lifts his hand towards me and I grab hold of it.
“Told you…you needed…keeping an eye on…,” Arthur murmurs, grimacing in pain.
His body convulses, and I see the black stains left on his chest by Dub’s mists expand outward like fire through dry brush.
“Dub’s not going to get you,” I say, putting my hands over his blackening torso. “I’m not going to let him win!”
The corners of Arthur’s lips lift. “You’re OK,” he says, frowning in pain, “that’s all that matters.”
“Like hell it does!” I exclaim. “You’re not leaving me here all alone,
especially
not when you’ve still got things to explain.”
But despite my best efforts, the poison keeps spreading, extending now past Arthur’s shoulder and up to his neck.
“Seems like déjà-vu,” Arthur says, his chuckling turning into a wheezing cough.
“Meaning I have to save your ass again,” I retort.
Yet even as I utter those words, I know I can’t heal him. Whatever power the Sangraal awoke in me is gone, stolen away by the Shade. I press my hands harder upon Arthur’s chest, angry at him for butting in once again when he should be safe and sound down in Lake High, angry at Dub for killing off everyone I cared
for, angry at myself for not being able to work my powers properly so I can save everyone….
“Misssstressss.”
I glance up to find the banshee helping Blanchefleur over.
“You don’t have enough energy left to heal on your own,” Blanchefleur says, as the banshee drops her next to me. The black bruises left upon her skin by Dub fading away.
I glare at her through bitter tears. “You don’t think I know that?” I ask.
“That’s what we’ve been trying to teach you,” she says, ignoring my biting tone. “You need to link up to the Aether.”
“If I knew how to do that, I’d have done it already!” I snap, jerking away from her consoling hand.
With a sigh, Blanchefleur seizes my hand and places it back upon Arthur. I bite down on my lip to stop it from trembling. I can barely feel his ribcage rise and fall anymore.
“I will therefore lend you mine,” Blanchefleur says.
I allow myself a flicker of hope as a warm tingling sensation washes through me, soft yet strong. I close my eyes to calm myself down, imagining the energy pouring into Arthur’s body, his skin returning to normal, the poison leaving him like Dub’s shadows dissipated under the broadsword’s flare.
I feel Arthur take a shuddering breath, his heartbeat stabilizing at last.
“Morgan?”
I crack my eyes open at the thin whisper and choke back a laugh threatening to spill out of me. In the hazy light of day, I see Arthur smiling up at me, his face mark-free.
“Looks like I’m sticking around, huh?” he says.
I help him sit up and he winces as he tries to push himself back up.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, scrutinizing him from head to toe for any remaining trace of Dub’s poison, but not finding any.
“I’m fine,” Arthur starts, then his breath comes out in a hiss as he catches sight of Percy, Blanchefleur kneeling quietly at the fallen knight’s side, her face blank.
“It’s OK,” he says at last. “I’m OK.”
But I know him enough now to know when he’s lying. My fists lay on my knees, as useless as I feel. If I hadn’t been so incompetent, if I had trained better, none of this would have happened.
“Sweet mother of sin!” Blanchefleur exclaims, shocking us out of our dark thoughts.
“Are you talking about Eve?” I ask, looking around nervously. Then, remembering what I’d once read, I add in a small voice, “Or Lilith?”
Blanchefleur thrusts the broadsword towards me and I gulp as the blade nearly slices my nose off.
“Do you even know what you have here?” she asks, unable to mask her awe.
Arthur sucks in his breath, then clumsily grabs the sword back from her. Again, I’m filled with a strange warmth as he lays it on his lap then runs his fingers down its long blade.