Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) (19 page)

“And the great dragon was cast out,” I quote, “that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world. He was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.”

Jack nods. “And that’s when things got bad for us. Look.”

He points at a large stone embedded in the floor beneath the tapestry, on which hundreds of runes have been carved.

“Yeah, unless you want to see me grow old and die here,” I say, “you’re going to tell me what that says. ’Cause there’s no way I can decipher all of that.”

Without even reading, Jack starts to recite: “Four men to raise the stones their blood did shed, Four Fey their essence over the cairns did spread, Four of the Nephilim to Avalon’s protection
their lives vowed, And Danu, to seal the spell, her power over all bestowed. Finally, as a measure of precaution, a warning was cast. And a black sentinel over the prison now stands fast.To warn all of its ward’s great and terrible threat And remind—”

“Humanity its evil deeds to never forget,” Bri finishes, appearing behind us. “Yep, had to learn that by heart when I was ten.” She grabs our arms in hers and starts to steer us away, but I stop her.

“A black sentinel?” I ask Jack. “Is that what you were talking about earlier?”

Jack nods. “My interpretation is that it’s probably a warding stone. They used to be raised to keep people away from dangerous places. But, because they’re very rare, people have forgotten about them.” His voice drops. “There’s a story about this man who went digging around the base of one of them once, back in Wales. The next day, they found his remains. It looked like he’d been chewed up, then spat back out again.”

“OK,” I say, trying to get the disgusting picture of a half-eaten, half-digested man out of my mind, “so you’re saying there’s one of these stones next to this Carman woman’s tomb.”

“Yes,” Jack breathes. “And one of them’s on that island.”

Having grown up in a Catholic boarding school, I’ve always struggled not to use violence, and I’m glad to find nothing’s better than weapons practice to work out your pent-up frustrations.

Sweating profusely, I bring down my dagger in a cross slash followed by a thrust. One hundred! I drop the knife to the ground, my whole body shaking from the effort like a hairless monkey in the snow.

I plunk down onto the nearest bench, enjoying the early night’s breeze on my face; I don’t know how there can be wind down here when it never rains, nor why the temperature’s always warmer in Lake High than on the surface, but I’m not complaining.

Watching the knights practice on the opposite side of the stadium, I find myself wishing once again for the ban from using elementals to be lifted from me so I can try my hand at all those fancy manipulations too.

“Miss Pendragon, what do you think you’re doing?”

I barely manage to loll my head around to look at Lady Ysolt. She’s standing by my classmates as they unsuccessfully try their first earth elementals.

“I’ve finished my practice, ma’am,” I answer.

“No,” the tall woman says, “you’ve finished a set. Now go run ten laps around the field.”

“T-Ten?”

“Ten, Miss Pendragon!” Lady Ysolt shouts. “Hop to it!”

With a groan, I push myself up and start trotting along the edge of the field.

“Don’t drag your feet!” the teacher yells after me.

I’ve barely managed to make it halfway around when a stitch doubles me over. Wheezing, I stop and look over to the freshmen’s side of the field, but Lady Ysolt’s too busy helping an injured Elias to notice me.

“Down!”

Hands on knees, I look up in time to see a glob of water hurl my way seconds before it hits me. My feet lift off the ground, and I land hard on my backside, my breath whooshing out of me.

From the corner of my eye, I see people sprinting over.

“Oh, it’s Morgan.” I recognize Percy’s voice.

“Would it have made it better if it wasn’t?” says the other boy.

Two faces appear above mine, the light of the nearest torches giving them angelic halos. Percy looks sheepish—I take it he’s the one I have to thank for my current state. But it’s the other boy who catches my attention, his deep blue eyes nearly black in the shadows.

“Ohtheprettyboy,” I whisper in one breath.

Two pairs of eyes widen, then Percy guffaws. “Well, it sure seems her brain ain’t too addled.”

Lance helps me sit up, his hands surprisingly gentle. In my hazy mind, I wish I weren’t so sweaty.

“Anything hurt?” he asks, the first words he’s ever said to me.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

“You might have a broken nose,” Percy says. “You should have it checked out.”

I feel my face, and my hand comes back with blood on it. Lance helps me to my feet, catching me again as my legs give out. We both look up as a shadow crosses our vision. I feel Lance’s warm hands instantly leave my shoulders.

“What happened?” Jennifer asks, her voice like poison to my ears.

“Got carried away,” Percy says with a grin. “Ended up gettin’ Morgan instead.”

“She seems fine to me,” the blonde girl says, still not moving.

I really don’t know why she hates me. Is it because I’m Arthur’s half sister? Maybe I should tell her I’d be delighted to switch spots with her if she weren’t already engaged to him.

“Look,” I say, tired of being the brunt of her anger, “if you want a bloody nose so you can have an excuse to go to the infirmary, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

The words escape me before I have time to think. Everyone around me freezes, even Percy. Jennifer’s eyes are throwing daggers at me, but she ends up smiling at me instead. I’d rather take the daggers…

“Why thank you,” she says in a honeyed voice. “Today has been a rather grueling practice session, for everyone around. I’m sure they’ll be more than pleased to hear you’ve volunteered to help them by taking over the cleaning duties.”

Cleaning,
again
? I bite on my cheek to avoid throwing a stinging retort that’s bound to get me into worse trouble.

“But she needs to ’ave a look at,” Percy says, without much conviction.

Jennifer tosses a handkerchief at my feet. “You can stick that up your nose. Now you can’t say I’m not looking out for you.”

“All that because you have an inferiority complex,” I snap. “You shouldn’t take it out on me, though. You and I are very similar, you see, both of us pretending at being knights.”

Jennifer’s nostrils flare. “At least
I
know how to use elementals,” she remarks before stomping back to the dorms with Lance.

Shaking his head, Percy picks the tissue up and hands it to me. “Mighty foolish of ya,” he says before trotting away.

I look around me, miserable, as I see people eye me before discarding their training gear. I have a feeling this is going to be a very, very long night.

On the other side of the arena, I see Bri and Jack hurry over to me, followed, to my surprise, by Keva.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Keva asks. She tuts. “Such a shame, your one lovely attribute.”

“We heard you got disciplined by Jennifer again?” Jack says.

News sure travels fast around here. I nod. “Looks like she’s making a habit of it.”

“You want to be careful,” he says. “She’s not someone you want on your bad side.”

“Do you need some help?” Bri asks.

My face lights up at the idea; that would sure make things go faster.

“You’ll get in trouble if you do,” Jack says.

Bri’s about to retort when Keva interrupts her, “And you don’t need any unwanted attention, especially not after what happened to your brother.”

Jack elbows Keva in the ribs.

“Ouch! I’m only telling the truth. You don’t have to give me a bruise for it.”

I use the back of my sleeve to wipe the blood off my face. “It’s OK, guys. I’ll manage. But if you could save me some food, I’d appreciate that.”

The three of them wave farewell, and I’m faced with a deserted field. “Twice in two weeks, Morgan,” I say to myself. “Let’s not make this a daily occurrence.”

By bedtime, I feel like an old pair of distended, holey socks. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, too tired to even close my eyes.

“I’m turning the lights off,” Keva says before climbing into her bed.

The imprint of the incandescent lightbulb still shines before my eyes despite the darkness. I hear Keva toss and turn in her bed.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Keva doesn’t answer at first, then sighs. “What is it?”

“Did your parents come here too?”

“Just my dad,” she answers. “My mom wasn’t allowed to leave her family till she got married. They’re very traditional. Why d’you ask?”

There’s more rustling, and I have the distinct impression Keva’s rolled onto her side to look at me.

“Is it ’cause you wanna know more about yours?” she asks, oozing with curiosity. “You really don’t know anything about your father?”

“Does your dad ever talk about what it was like here?” I ask in return, skirting the uncomfortable topic.

“No,” she says, sounding morose. “There was an incident here when he was a page. Then things changed for the worse. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

I continue to stare at the ceiling, wondering whether my father ever met hers. If they’d perhaps been friends, or even roommates, like us.

“Didn’t you mention something about school records?” I finally ask her.

“You’re not gonna find anything about your dad in there,” Keva says, bored.

Her words destroy my last hope like a house of cards. “Why not?”

“Got destroyed in a fire, the first and only in the school’s history. It was set by the then president of KORT too. He went crazy.”

A name springs to my mind. “Would that be…Duke Gorlois?” I ask.

“Well, well, well,” Keva says sarcastically, “look who’s getting her history lessons down? Yeah, it was him. Now go to sleep.”

I try to fall asleep, I really do, but now that the subject’s been opened, I’m wide-awake, and I need to get at least some of my questions answered.

“Can I ask you another question?”

I can feel Keva’s murderous intent from across the room. “
What?
” she snarls.

“Who was this duke? What happened to him?”

“Nobody knows,” Keva says. “Now leave me alone.”

“Really?” I ask. “Not even an idea?”

“You’re not going to stop unless I tell you, huh?” she asks, sounding defeated

I grin despite myself. “Nope.”

“Duke Gorlois was the president of KORT about, oh, twenty years ago,” she says. “He was great with his studies, especially in his tactical courses, and was renowned for capturing a lot of Fey. Kinda like Arthur, if you want.

“But then something happened. Nobody really knows what exactly, but it happened on one of his hunts. When he came back, he seemed fine at first, but he started acting all erratic. Unfortunately, we’d lost the Sangraal centuries before, so we couldn’t heal him, and he was sent to the nuthouse. But then this one night, he set fire to the school and used the confusion to steal the most powerful weapon we owned. When the Board found out about it, they exiled him from this place for ever.”

“What was it?” I ask.

“A sword,” she replies wistfully, “that makes anyone who holds it practically undefeatable. Excalibur…”

Keva lingers on that name, as if able to taste its power.

“So where is it now?” I ask.

Keva sounds bored. “Who knows? He and the sword both disappeared, and they were never seen again. Father Tristan went to find him. And that turned out to be the biggest mistake of his life.”

“Because he went crazy too?” I ask, recalling Bri’s story.

“Not that.” Keva chuckles. “He’d been engaged to Ysolt before leaving to find Gorlois, but he was gone for so long, everyone thought he was dead.”

“And when he came back, she was married to Sir Boris,” I say, struck by the sadness of the story. It’s no wonder Father Tristan always sounds so cross.

“At least the forest didn’t spit him back out a hundred years later like it sometimes does,” Keva says. I can tell she’s enjoying telling me this—maybe she’s trying to scare me, a very plausible explanation. “You know, there’s supposedly one of them in the asylum now. They say he’s, like, three hundred years old and has turned into an albino from living inside all the time.”