Sword of Darkness (7 page)

In truth, he found the future world even colder
than this one. True, there were marvels to be had. But not even they could compare with the magic he commanded. In the end, even that had left him morose.

“How old are you, Blaise?”

The mandrake gave him a curious stare. Kerrigan didn’t blame him. Blaise had been in service to him for more than three hundred years, and in all that time, he’d never asked anything personal about him.

“I was born three years after Arthur.”

“Over six hundred years then?”

“Give or take. I long stopped counting such events, as they are meaningless to the likes of us.”

It was true. Kerrigan could barely recall his own age. There had been a time when living forever had seemed like a good idea. But as the centuries passed and he found nothing new to explore, it had all become just another day.

“Why am I so damned bored?”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Blaise answered him. “Simple. If you toss a stone at Magda, what does she do?”

“Nothing. She rubs the spot, curses, looks to see that it’s me, and then goes on about her work.”

“Does that ever change?”

“Nay.”

Blaise rolled to his side. “And if you insult Morgen?”

“She insults me back.”

“And if I were to open the window, what would be outside?”

“Gray clouds or black ones.” Kerrigan felt a
flash of irritation. “Where are you going with this?”

“Simple. Your problem is that nothing here ever changes. You don’t do anything different anymore. You just sit around this castle moping. It’s truly boring, my king. Face it, you’re in a rut.”

Kerrigan shot a blast of fire at him, but he deftly dodged it…as he always did.

Blaise made no comment.

Kerrigan sighed. “I used to enjoy being evil. It wears thin, doesn’t it?”

“Not really. Better than being good. At least here the people are far more entertaining. You never know when one of them is going to run at your back, trying to kill you…well, for me that’s true. They’re too damned scared of you to try it. Maybe that’s part of your problem, my king. You’ve made them too scared of you. But either way, good guys never fight dirty. You always know what to expect from them.”

There was truth to that. Even now, he wondered what mischief Morgen planned for both him and Seren. For there was no way that she didn’t have something in the works. Her mind was ever plotting new evils.

But whatever she had planned, it would turn out the same. He would attack and she would back down.

Kerrigan cocked his head as he heard a whisper of movement from his bedchamber.

Could it be Seren moving about? Nay, not likely. The spell he’d given her should have her asleep for hours.

Again he heard the faint noise.

He opened the door to his bedchamber with his thoughts, then flashed into the room.

Seren turned from the window with a gasp to face him.

Kerrigan had barely opened his mouth to castigate her when the shutters behind her shattered.

Before he could react, a talon came through, coiled around her, and snatched her from his room.

Seren wanted to fight the gargoyle who held her as the
vicious winds whipped around her, but she refused, since to do so would be extremely stupid. It was a long way to the ground, and she held no desire to become a splotch of color on the dismally gray landscape.

The gargoyle who held her was huge, at least ten feet tall and twenty feet in diameter, and as black as pitch, with gleaming silver eyes and horns. Truly it was a fearsome sight that she would have preferred to remain ignorant of.

Suddenly she heard the sound of more wings flapping.
Please, tell me it’s not more of these
. Twisting in the gargoyle’s hand as a great shadow fell over her, she saw a dragon nearing them.

It took a full heartbeat before she realized the knight in black armor astride the dragon was Kerrigan.

Fire blasted out of the dragon’s nostrils, shooting dangerously close to the gargoyle who held her.

“Release her!” Kerrigan’s angry voice shouted.

“Oh please don’t,” Seren shouted as panic consumed her. If the gargoyle did, she would surely die.

She watched as the dragon dipped below, then shot up to rise before them.

The gargoyle darted to the left, then went tumbling through the air. Seren groaned as his grip tightened on her. It was so tight now that she swore she felt her ribs starting to break. Fire blasted at them again. The heat of it burned her skin even as the gargoyle recoiled.

The next thing she knew, he let go of her.

She screamed as she fell haphazardly through the air, toward the rocky ground below.

Just as she was sure she’d die, something grabbed her and scooped her into cold arms. She glared at Kerrigan. “You bastard!” she shouted before she hit him on the arm, which only succeeded in hurting her hand since he was dressed in his black armor.

Kerrigan was aghast at her actions. “What is wrong with you, wench?”

“Me? What is wrong with you? Did you not see how close I came to dying? Why would you attack something that was holding me so far above the ground?”

“Because you were in danger.”

“I was in greater danger falling toward the earth than I was being held in his talon.”

“She has a point, my king,” Blaise said in an even tone as they glided effortlessly back toward the tower.

Seren gaped at the sound of the familiar voice coming out of the dragon’s mouth. Certainly. Why not? Why should that be impossible given everything else she had seen in this cursed place?

It only stood to reason that the dragon would be Blaise. The very sky could yet turn out to be Morgen. Why not?

Kerrigan kicked his spur into the side of the dragon, who dipped them sharply to the right in response to the painful prodding.

“See!” Seren snapped at him. “There you go again. Has it never occurred to you to be kind to the very thing that is keeping you from falling to the ground?”

“Blaise would never drop us.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the fall wouldn’t kill my king,” the dragon said calmly. “It would only make him angry and then he would nail my scaly hide to his wall as a trophy.”

Kerrigan gave her a smug look.

Still she was far from appeased. “As if that would make it right. Have you no conscience?”

“Nay, Seren.”

“No decency?”

“I think she missed the part where you are pure evil, my king.”

“Nothing is pure evil,” Seren argued. “There is goodness in all.”

“Did she not meet Morgen?” Kerrigan asked the dragon.

“Aye. I think the woman is daft. Mayhap delusional as well.”

Seren actually growled at him. “You are impossible. Both of you.”

Kerrigan took her angry words in stride, which surprised her, really, since he didn’t seem to have much patience with others. “And why were you not abed after I left you?”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “Let us see…because I wanted to escape?”

“And you see where that led you,” he said in a flat, even tone. “Had you stayed abed, you’d be safe now.”

She wanted to choke him. She really, truly did.

As they neared the dark tower where she had been torn from the window, Blaise pulled to a stop and hovered there in the middle of the air as his great wings flapped thunderously loud.

Kerrigan looked up from Seren to see what had alarmed the dragon.

His features hardened as he saw the entire Stone Legion flying toward them. There were at least two hundred gargoyles in formation. To most, it would be a fearsome sight. To Kerrigan, it just pissed him off.

“I think Morgen wants the girl,” Blaise said simply.

“Morgen!” Kerrigan shouted into the wind. “Call them back or lose them all.”

He was answered by a smug, disembodied voice. “Give me the Penmerlin’s mother.”

“Why?”

“Because I want her.”

“As do I.”

A shriek echoed. “Give her over, Kerrigan. Now!”

“Nay.”

“Are you sure about that, my liege?” the dragon asked in a low tone.

“Positive.”

Seren was extremely grateful that Kerrigan wouldn’t surrender her and yet at the same time, she thought him rather daft for that decision. And her belief in his foolishness only increased with Morgen’s next words.

“Take his sword and scabbard and he is naught but a mortal man to be killed,” Morgen ordered the gargoyles. “The one to bring his head to me will be my new right hand.”

Blaise let loose a blast of fire. “We are really screwed, my king,” he said afterward. “Any ideas?”

Kerrigan jerked the reins to turn the dragon about. “Pull out of Camelot.”

Seren covered her eyes as the gargoyles encircled them.

The next thing she knew, the dark gray sky was blue with bright, blinding sunlight all around them. The light was harsh against her eyes as they flew through the open air. But at least they appeared to be alone. She couldn’t see a single trace of the gargoyle army they had left behind.

They approached a lonely castle set on a small island that appeared to be surrounded by the bluest water she’d ever seen. It looked strangely tranquil, especially given the near disaster they had just escaped.

Blaise landed them on the tallest tower before he took the form of a man again. Dressed now in a green tunic and brown breeches, he looked out
over the water as if he half expected the gargoyles to rejoin them, too. “They’ll be coming for us.”

Kerrigan shook his head. “Unless you’ve spoken to her to inform her otherwise, Morgen knows nothing of this place.”

Blaise looked less than convinced. “Are you certain?”

He nodded. “I have kept it from her.” Then he passed a droll look to the mandrake. “For good reason.”

“And the Lords of Avalon?” Blaise asked.

“They won’t venture here. They fear this castle and the curse placed upon it.”

Seren arched a brow at his confident words. Should she find comfort in that or just more terror? “Where is here?” Seren asked Kerrigan.

It was Blaise who answered her. “We are at Joyous Gard.”

Seren gaped at the name of the famous castle. “The home of Lancelot du Lac?”

Kerrigan snorted.

“It used to be, my lady,” Blaise said quietly. “But now Lancelot lies entombed in the chapel of this hall. Quite dead and harmless.”

Kerrigan gave the mandrake a withering stare. “And now
I
own it.”

She wouldn’t argue with that, mostly because she couldn’t ever seem to win an argument with Kerrigan no matter how hard she tried. “What curse is here?”

Blaise crossed his arms over his chest as he stepped closer to her. “Before Lancelot died, he
denounced all the knights of the Round Table for their treachery. Should any of them dare to step foot into his home, misfortune and illness will plague them until they die…which generally isn’t too long after they leave here.”

“That’s his curse,” Kerrigan added. “Death to any of Arthur’s people who venture here.”

She was offended that Lancelot would do such a thing. “He’s the one who turned on them. How dare he.”

“Nay,” Blaise said quietly. “Lancelot never betrayed Arthur, nor did Guinevere. They loved each other, true enough. But neither one would have ever dared to cuckold Arthur, for they loved him even more than they loved each other. It was a simple lie that brought down the great King Arthur, and his willingness to believe it.”

Seren swallowed at his dire words. “What say you?”

“It’s true,” Kerrigan said from behind her. “Morgen and Mordred concocted the lie based on a truth and let it fester inside Arthur until it infected him and he destroyed the fellowship of the Table. And now Lancelot lies yonder, a victim of jealousy and rumor. It’s amazing how much power a simple false phrase repeated can have.”

Seren considered that. It was true. Harsh words were never softened by time, and hurtful rumors lingered long after the fact. But what a shame that something so innocuous could destroy such a glorious world.

Such a glorious king.

“Could I see Lancelot’s grave?”

Kerrigan’s eyes sparked as if her question surprised him. “Could it be that my lady has a degree of morbidity?”

“Nay, I would just like to see the resting place of a man so revered and slandered.”

To her amazement, Kerrigan held his hand out to her. Seren took it, then instantly found herself in a darkened room with no sign of Blaise.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“As you requested, the chapel.”

“Why is it so cold here?”

“We are far below the castle’s foundation, which some say is embedded in a wall of ice. No one ever ventures here.”

As Seren stepped into the small room, three torches and a fire in a wall hearth were lit. Shadows danced wickedly against the stone walls. Her own shadow mingled with Kerrigan’s, joining them into one large shape that reminded her of some evil beast.

But as the light brightened to show her the sarcophagus of a handsome knight, she gasped.

Seren approached it reverently so that she could better observe the sharp angles of the knight’s face. The carving was so intricate that she could see the individual strands of his hair, the veins in his neck and hands. See each link of his armor. See the leather of the gloves he had tucked into his girdle. His eyes were closed, but part of her half expected them to open the way the gargoyle had done in her room.

Whoever had made the carving had been a master artisan. Her heart hammering, she ran her hand over the inscription at his feet:

HIC JACET SEPULTUS INCLYTUS LAUNCELOT DU LAC

“Here lies interred the renowned Lancelot du Lac,” she whispered. Her gaze returned to his handsome stone face. It was hard to believe that this was the man she’d heard so many stories about. That he had once fought beside Arthur.

A chill went through her. Those stories were real. There really had been a Camelot, a Guinevere, and a great king…

“Did you know him?” she asked Kerrigan.

“Nay. He died long before I was born. I came to Camelot three hundred years after it had fallen to Morgen.”

“And Arthur. Is he dead, too?” she asked, looking back at Kerrigan.

His gaze turned dull. “No one knows for sure. He was taken to Avalon, where he rested for a time. Some say he rests there still, and others say that he left after he heard of the deaths of Lancelot and Guinevere. Many of them believe that he died of a broken heart.”

Seren didn’t know what to think of all this. It wasn’t every day that someone learned a beloved fantasy was reality. “And now I am caught in their struggle. ’Tis unbelievable.”

“Nay, not really. Unbelievable is that a worthless thief found a sword and used it to become a king.”

“Is that what you were?”

Kerrigan nodded, even though he wasn’t sure why he spoke to her in such a manner. It wasn’t like him to speak of the past, but then all in Camelot knew what he’d been…where he’d come from. It wasn’t as if he hid it. And for some reason, Seren was easy to talk to.

“I was only seeking an escape from the soldiers who were sent to arrest me. One moment I was scared of being taken by them and in the next, I had more power than I had ever dreamed of.”

She looked up at him. “What is to become of you now that you have betrayed Morgen?”

The concern in her tone surprised him. No one had ever given a damn in the past what happened to him, and he doubted that she truly did. Indeed, her lot would most likely improve if Morgen killed him. “I honestly don’t know. It wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Most likely I should have thought it through better before I acted.”

Seren considered that. Aye, most likely. From Morgen’s orders to the gargoyles, it was obvious she wanted him dead. But that made her wonder another question. “Why does Morgen want me taken from you?”

“To corrupt you, most like. As she corrupts everyone who comes to her.”

Seren was stronger than that. Nothing would ever corrupt her. She would never be so weak. “So what do we do now?”

His eyes were completely blank as he watched her. “I don’t know, Seren. If I were wise, I’d return
you to Morgen.” He placed a surprisingly gentle hand to her face.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to return her, but she already knew the answer. He wouldn’t, and in truth, she was grateful for that fact. She didn’t know how Morgen might try to corrupt her, but it could be most painful, and pain was something she would like to avoid if possible.

Kerrigan hesitated as he felt the softness of her skin in his palm. Her green eyes were large and bright. They tugged at the very thing inside him that he’d spurned centuries past. How could this little ragamuffin mouse entice him so?

He brushed her lips with his thumb, wanting to taste them again. But to what purpose?

He’d openly defied Morgen. If he returned to Camelot, he’d have to placate her…

If he could.

But he didn’t want to think of that now.

He just wanted to feel the warmth of this woman. Dipping his head low, he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he rubbed his roughened cheek against her smooth one just so he could feel the softness of her and inhale the sweet scent of her skin.

“Tell me, Seren,” he whispered in her ear. “If you were with a man you loved, what would you do now?”