Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (26 page)

“She only meant to keep Arthur safe, for the good of Britain. You would have done the same. After all
, you have pledged an oath to protect Arthur with your life, have you not?”

It bothered me that he was left to suffer, as if he had no imp
ortance in comparison to Arthur. I might have failed my family, but I didn’t regret it; he didn’t deserve that fate. Brendelon nodded, but his jaw was thrust out and the skin over his knuckles was tightly stretched as his hands squeezed into tight balls. “But now I am back and put him at risk.”

“But now we know their plan and we can counter it. Arthur is rallying the warband to ma
rch to Cadvic’s. I am certain Cadvic is planning to attack us from one side while the Saxons attack from another.”

“They will be no match for us,” he said pompously, “and we will warn Arthur to not touch the sword.” He shrugged his shoulders as though this were obvious.

“No, he must not know of the sword. The more he knows the more power it gives the black sword to lure him in,” Merlin said, looking at Brendelon intently.

“Gives the sword power?” he asked lowering an eyebrow.

“It opens a dark hole in his mind, where evil can take a foothold and there it will begin to fester until he cannot fight the lure of the power it promises.”

“Well
, perhaps I should find the sword,” he said slowly. “I could hide it again.”

“No Brendelon, you must not go near that sword.
I will find Vivian and together we will find a way to bring it back to Avalon. It is a serious matter and you must follow orders.”

He looked angry and frustrated but he remained quiet, and at that moment the doors swung open, with the sound of wet heavy armor rattling as they walked into the small hall.

              “It is done,” Bedivere said suddenly, throwing his hands up dramatically.

             
“Already?” Merlin asked.

             
“Aye, William’s servants were more than happy to assist,” he said giving Brendelon a dirty look, but it went unnoticed.

Kay and Lancelot stepped in beside, both covered in mud, sweat, and blood. “Now tell us what this about?” he demanded crossing his arms.

              Merlin sighed and gestured for them to sit down as he filled them in on what he had learned from the journal, carefully leaving out the main details of the sword.

             
“What?” Bedivere said, as an appalled look crossed his face.

             
“So all this time William knew how to free Bran?” Kay said angrily. 

             
“Please, Kay,” Merlin said trying to calm him, “Brendelon sacrificed himself to protect Arthur. William understood this.”

             
Brendelon pushed a hand through the side of his hair, turning his back to them, beginning to clench and unclench his fists, and taking deep breaths.

             
“What is our plan?” Lancelot asked Merlin, keeping a wary eye on Brendelon.

             
“Vivian was here—”

             
“Vivian?” Bedivere interrupted.

             
“Aye, she is the one who put the second spell on me,” Brendelon said bitterly.

             
Merlin sighed again. “Vivian and I will go after Morgaina; we will have a better chance at fighting against her magic; they are most likely on their way to Cadvic. Bran, I want you and Katarina to go Mordegrant’s and wait for us. It will put you closer to where the vortex opened. Arthur is traveling south towards us. You three,” he nodded to Kay, Bedivere, and Lancelot, “will meet him along the way and help him against Cadvic.”

             
Brendelon gripped the curl above his right ear as he continued to take deep breaths, pacing back and forth. “I feel that I would serve a better purpose going after the sword,” he muttered.

             
Merlin tightened his eyes. “Your purpose will be served best by staying with Mordegrant and keeping Katarina safe!” he said harshly. “It is not about you Brendelon; it is about the safety of your king.”

             
He looked upwards. “Let us go, Katarina,” he said darkly. “We are leaving now.”

“Now?”
Lancelot asked. “It is already nearing dusk.”

“Aye, at least wait to dry off,” Bedivere agreed.

Brendelon rolled his eyes, his jaw still tight, and his shoulders heaved as if he was controlling his breathing. “I do not want to be here any longer,” he huffed. The eyes of Lancelot, Bedivere, and Kay all exchanged similar glances but they desisted from saying more, and instead watched him storm out of the room.

I gave them an apologetic look before scurrying off after him, afraid if I delayed any longer he would surely leave me behind. 

“Did she hurt you?” The rigid voice was blanketed in feigned softness, but he knew who it belonged to.

“She is just a woman,” he grumbled, looking down to the red claw marks deep in his arm, not ev
en bother to turn and face her. “She cannot hurt me.”

“I was not talking about your arm…”

He sighed dramatically, irritated she had seen the spectacle his mother created and even more annoyed she was trying to uncover feelings he had worked so hard to bury. “I am in no mood for more family gatherings,” he said curtly, as he stepped forward to leave the room.

“I am not a Pendragon,” she hissed angrily.

The way she abhorrently spat out the name was enough to stop him in his tracks. He turned to face her, slightly intrigued. No, she certainly was not a Pendragon, but there was something familiar about her. Beautiful, cold, and manipulative—like his mother, and right then he despised her very existence.

“Do you not have a husband to pester?” he asked condescendingly. He cared nothing for the answer, but she was quite a bit older than he, somewhere just over twenty summers, well past her time to have taken a husband, and just old enough that a question like that would chafe the arrogant expression off her face. 

But to his disappointment, she grinned instead and hoisted her tiny body up onto the small table, crossing her legs, as she peered at him seductively. “A wife is only as powerful as her husband,” she said, as she wiggled her shoulders enough to let the fur wrap fall to her waist and though he had already decided he hated her, his heart picked up at the sight of her womanly curves. “Same reason my mother married your uncle.” She tried to hide it, but her face twisted, and her eyes flashed with disdain. “But there will be no man powerful enough for my desire.” She swept her wild hair to the side and for the first time he saw the blue mark on her forehead.

“Is that why you took the mark?” he asked in repulsion.

She hopped off the table, taking a step toward him. “I took it because magic is power,” she hissed, “I will never know the weakness I felt as a child again, and that is worth all the cost, certainly you understand that.” 

He could understand it, but it changed nothing.
Arthur might have embraced her—wanting nothing more than to have the older sister he had been deprived of, and she had even played the loving part, but he saw the truth; he saw the familiar darkness in her eyes, one he knew all too well. She was not Arthur’s friend; she could not be trusted, and that was reason enough to kill her.

She pressed herself closely against him, and though he had not even reached his full height yet, she did not even touch his shoulder. She smiled and gently ran her fingertips up his arm and down his chest, looking up at him through thick lashes. She was an enemy, and he detested her, but despite the hideous marking on her forehead, the sin of his youth wanted her, and he had never been one to think before he acted.

We rode on for hours, until the dark night blanketed the sky. I could hear wolves howling in the distance as they yipped over what sounded like a fresh meal. He stopped his horse and leaned over to grab my reins
, but he didn’t speak; he was still angry. The clouds had covered the moon and although my vision was still adjusting, it wasn’t difficult to see the coals burning in his eyes.

I climbed down from the tired beast and sat beside him. The night was cooler than the last
, but I missed the warmth; the coolness came at a price of eeriness, and I didn’t find it worth the cost. He started pulling off the heavy armor, dropping it to the ground with a heavy careless clank, only leaving the metal forearm plates over the dirtied white linen shirt and the sword nestled in its sheath that slung from the belt around his dark wool pants, tucked into the black boots. He grabbed small pieces of wood from nearby and started a fire.

“Why are you so upset?” I finally asked.

“Perhaps because I am forced to act as the messenger boy while that bastard Cadvic tried to use me to kill my own cousin!” he snarled sarcastically, poking the flame with a large stick. “I should have his head!”

Okay, so silent treatment was probably the better option. Suddenly he stood up, dropping the stick he held in his hand.

“She is here,” he whispered, eyes staring into the darkness behind me.

“W
—wwhat?” I stammered, immediately terrified, turning to look but seeing nothing.

“She is in the opening, calling for me,” he growled
, gripping his sword but keeping it in the sheath, “and she has my sword.”

“I don’t see or hear anything.” I panicked, turning in circles as I looked around, ignoring the fact he just called the sword his again.

“Stay here, Katarina,” he demanded, giving me a foreboding look.

             
“What?” I asked, mortified. He couldn’t be serious about leaving me alone in this dark wilderness with hungry wolves howling on one side and a sorceress on the other.

             
Then I saw the fidgets: the hand to the curl, rubbing the back of his neck, then the clenching and unclenching of his fists, weight shifting, and Kay’s words rang in my head;
he’s going to run.

             
“You’re going to run,” I whispered, understanding this was why Kay, Bedivere, and Lancelot exchanged looks because they knew he would run too.

             
He looked at me desperately. “Just stay here. I will come back.”

             
“No, please don’t leave me!” I begged frantically, but the begging almost seemed to push him away further.

             
“I will not be long. You are safer here than with me,” he tried to speak patiently, most likely to calm me, but I could see his anxiety climbing, fidgets increasing.

             
“Please just wait for the others,” I whined. “You don’t have to fight her alone!”

             
“Just stay here!” he finally exploded. “You—you … you are a punitive debt weighing me down!” he boomed, throwing his hand out exasperated. “Stop trying to hold me back!” His voice was a roar now; the words hurt and the tone was terrifying, but it was nothing compared to the chilling thought of being alone in the forest.

             
“No, please!” I begged pathetically, clutching my hands together in front of me.

             
But he didn’t respond because in one swift motion he pulled himself up on his horse, not looking back, and in the blink of an eye he was gone, path veiled by the dark lurking forest.

I was abandoned.

The realization sent a terrible tremble that ran through every bone from the top of neck to my toes. He actually left me! I glanced to the sound of the ravenous wolves still howling mercilessly to their pack. I breathed deeply to calm myself, trying to think of anything but being some wicked creatures’ midnight snack, but worse than the petrifying fear was the apprehension that took control of my stomach at the thought of never seeing him again. Morgaina was not to be reckoned with and the thought of him not returning started digging a deep hole in the center of me, sucking everything in like a gluttonous black hole.

I doubled over, sinking to the ground, trembling. The howling faded into an empty silence, and the chill nipped at my face. I wrapped my arms around my legs and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on happier things
, but all I saw was his beautiful face and it only reminded me of the danger he was embarking on. I focused on my breathing, taking deep concentrated breaths and counting the seconds in between but then I heard a loud snort, jolting me from my morose thoughts. I looked up at my mare; she was suddenly uneasy as she took cautious steps backwards and neighed frantically and then I heard it too: loud thumping in the distance. I jumped to my feet and held my breath to listen.

Horse hooves.

             
The pounding was eerie; the trot was indomitable and unfriendly. My senses screamed at me to flee but my body went numb; tensed and frozen. I watched like a deer in the headlights as the large black shadowy snout rounded a corner, fashioning white smoke across the cold dark canvas.

It reared up at the same moment a loud crack of thunder pierced through my ears, jolting me backwards. I lost my footing on the weak stones and
gravity took my body backwards. Before I knew it I was tumbling down the sloped hillside, stopped by a loud whack and instant darkness.

I opened my eyes, rubbing the back of my head, feeling the large bump begin to form. I felt around me in the dark, trying to figure out where I had landed but it was too hard to see. Suddenly
, everything inside me squeezed sickeningly as a shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t need to see because I could hear it; I could
feel
the presence coming closer. It had to be her
.
She wasn’t waiting for him; she was after
me
, using dark demons to hunt me down. I scrambled to my feet, quivering. The moon took pity on me as it peeked out from the curtain of clouds, lighting a pathway and I didn’t think twice; I found my balance and I ran.

I sprinted as fast as I could, unsure of where I was going; only knowing I had to get away from the phantom prowling behind me. The murky forest was endless and every turn looked the same. I panted, desperately trying to breathe. The cold air burned the back of my throat and I could feel my legs give out
, but I pushed forward, too afraid to stop or look behind. I could sense her creeping closer, close enough to cause the tiny hairs on the back of my head to stand. I found every bit of my strength and moved faster. Black shadowy trees zipped by; my lungs blazed to the point where death seemed like a less painful option, but I wouldn’t let her win. I veered right…

Dead end.

No, God no.
I had turned the wrong way. Huge trees had been knocked to the ground, splintered in half and blocking the path to progress forward. I panted frantically as I wheeled around. I wasn’t sure how close she was; I wasn’t sure if I should backtrack or try to hide, but I didn’t have time to make the decision because I was already found.

But, it wasn’t her. It was a man. One of her minions I assum
ed. He was dressed in all black. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but as he stepped closer the moonlight revealed his face.
Theol!

He was working with Morgaina. Of course he was; he was Cadvic’s brother. I gulped, remembering Brendelon’s fury and the unmistakable feeling that I was the reason for it. But where was she? I felt her presence that I knew. And if she was here, where was Brendelon?

              “S—stay back,” I warned, the breath still catching in my throat.

             
He laughed low in his throat, tilting his head to the side. “You are a beautiful girl…” he said slowly, it made my skin crawl. “I have never seen a girl quite like you.”

             
“Brendelon will kill you if you touch me,” I threatened again.

             
He looked around mockingly. “But you are all alone…” He continued closer to me.

             
I stepped back until my back was against the broken tree. My brain told my body to take flight, but my muscles froze as my stomach continued to flop down, pushing acid up, knowing there was danger. He placed his long knife on the stump of a tree nearby, holding his hands up, but I didn’t trust him.

             
“I just want to speak with you,” he said slowly. “I need something from you…”

             
“J—just stay back,” I stuttered. “You can speak to me from where you’re at.”

             
But before I could blink, he lurched towards me, shoving my body painfully into the tree behind me. He grabbed my arms trying to pin them to my sides and pressed his disgusting face to mine. I flailed wildly, but he continued to press his body against me, moving his lips across mine. I screamed in his mouth. He only laughed in return, throwing me to the ground with his weight.

             
Panic set in, as he took one hand to my throat and squeezed menacingly. He worked his legs to get in between mine pushing my dress upward, and suddenly I felt a surge of adrenaline realizing what he meant to do to me. I bit down as hard as I could on his lips, clamping down until I could feel my bottom teeth with my top, until warm blood gushed onto my chin.

             
He screamed, smashing me in the side of the head as he lifted his weight off me for a brief moment; releasing his grip around my throat as he grasped his pierced lip with both hands. I took advantage of my brief moment and slashed my fingers nails down his face, digging my fingers into his eye sockets, shuddering as I felt things I should never feel. He hollered in pain and came down with another hard blow against the side of my head, but my extended arm took the brunt of it. I reared my knee up, hitting him directly in the spine, and pushed my fingers harder into the socket. He howled grasping his face, screaming unmentionable things, giving me just enough time to squirm out from under him. I desperately tried to crawl forward making my way to my feet, but my body wouldn’t function. I kept stumbling, not moving fast enough, and right as I finally got to my wobbly legs, his hand grasped my ankle flinging my body forward, as my face landed hard onto the ground. He hollered curses and threats at me, screaming he would take my life as he yanked me back towards him. Then I saw it: a shiny blade in the moonlight. I reached out, grasping it just as he flipped me on my back, and in one swift motion I used all the momentum I could and swung my arm, slicing the silver blade across his white throat, watching as a red waterfall cascaded down his chest and onto me. His eyes widened as his hands flew to his lacerated neck, gurgling for breaths but finding none until finally he fell forward in a small convulsion before it was silent once more.