Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (27 page)

I shoved his lifeless body off, screaming in hysteria at what I had just done. I doubled over and bawled uncontrollably shaking, as my stomach rocked back and forth, making me ill.
I killed him
. I killed him, and I was flooded with guilt and sickness but yet, at the same time, waves of relief crashed through me. It was twisted and the contradicting emotions took a toll on my traumatized body. I kept my face buried in the dirt and cried harder than I had ever cried in my life because it was all I could do, and there I lay hunched, falling into an unconscious abyss. 

It was only blackness, as if all colors and shades seized to exist, overtaken by dark shadows that destroyed all the spectrums of light. My body and mind were numb, taken by the oblivion that surrounded me. Completely unaware that I was even trapped in the dark hole until I felt a pressure placed against my shoulder, and suddenly the meaningless void dropped me, sending my mind hurtling back down from the depths of space into my body, warning me to run.

I screamed as I twisted to make my escape.

“Katarina!” the deep voice yelled.

             
Suddenly my eyes snapped open, peering into beautiful green emeralds. In what could only be defined as madness, I leapt forward, wrapping my arms around his neck, never feeling so relieved in my life, yet sobbing hysterically as I tried to mold my body into his so I wouldn’t have to feel anymore. It was mortifying, but now I was safe. I felt his body go rigid at the touch, but he didn’t pull away, and I was too disconcerted to even have consideration for his comfort. I kept my head pressed hard against his chest, heaving as tears of fear trembled throughout my body.

“I kille
d him,” I sobbed into his chest. “I killed him.”

             
Slowly, he lifted one hand to my back and gave me an awkward pat, but I stayed glued to his chest, feeling too exhausted to move. A few moments later I felt his other hand reach up to my back, his body relaxed slightly.

“Did he… do anything to you?” he rasped. I shook my head no, as another fit of sobs took me, thinking about how close he had come to doing so. I wan
ted to stay in his arms forever; his body felt like a security blanket, but my reasoning kicked in. I didn’t want him to be more uncomfortable than he already was, so I slowly took a step back ready to slide my arms off his neck to allow space between us, but instead of pulling away as I expected him to, he squeezed me tighter to his body.

“It will be okay,” he whispered
, and I felt myself sink into him, as though I were a piece that fit his jagged puzzle perfectly. Exhausted emotionally and physically, I closed my eyes, finally feeling safe.

             
We stayed like that for what felt like hours; my face buried into his chest and his head resting on mine, rubbing his hands along my back to comfort my uncontrollable weeping. After some time, I felt him swoop my legs up and begin to carry me, but I couldn’t open my eyes, I stayed with my arms clutched around his neck, face into his chest.

             
He placed me down next to the river, where the embers of the fire were barely burning. I sat on my knees, feeling helpless and hopeless, as tears continued to stream down my cheeks. His eyes peered into mine; they were different. I couldn’t tell if they were filled with sorrow or just pity but either way, they were vulnerable.

             
He pulled my hands towards the small stream, washing the blood off of them, ripping the bottom part of his shirt to use as a rag to wipe the blood and tears off of my face and neck; I had no energy to help so I sat there like a mannequin. Every once in a while, he would wince and his face would twist up, emeralds turning to coal but then they would cool, and he would look back at me with sorrow.

He pulled the linen shirt off his chest, revealing abs that I had only seen in underwear magazine ads, suddenly breathing life into my dying
conscious; it was difficult to pull my eyes away. He sat up on his knees, before reaching down for the hem of my dress and slowly lifted it over my head.

             
His eyes flickered over my body only covered with the light, thin undergarment Elaine had given me and the emerald necklace. I normally would have felt self-conscious, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was because of how I felt about him or if I was just simply too drained to muster up enough emotion to care.

             
He lifted his hand up to the necklace, holding it for a moment almost lured by it, but then he glanced up to my eyes and dropped it, letting it hang by its chain as he pulled his shirt over my head covering me. He then wrapped a wool blanket around me and dunked the dress into the water, trying to get the blood off of it then set it next to the fire. I felt detached from my body, almost as if I was I was only observing this moment, not living in it. I became lifeless; a doll only left to watch but no longer able to feel, but then he came back and swooped me up effortlessly, bringing me closer to the fire and set me down. He put his arm around me and pulled me in close and the warmth of his touch began to melt the glaciers in my numb body; life gushed through my veins, pumping back into my heart and I could feel; I felt safe and comforted; I never wanted to move.

             
“I am sorry, Katarina,” he finally whispered.

             
I buried my face deeper into his chest, feeling hot tears well up again. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. My whole body convulsed at the thought of that man.

             
“I know you must hate me…” he said weakly.

             
“No,” I sobbed into his chest.

             
He sighed. “Well, you should. I should never have left you.”

             
I couldn’t imagine not having him ever hold me again; I belonged there in his arms. My whole heart reached out of my body, entangling itself to him. “Just don’t leave me again,” I whispered, fearful to lose this moment. He didn’t respond but he kept his grip on me tight. “I… I’m glad I killed him,” I confessed into his chest, afraid to look at him, “and that makes me feel sick inside.” My body went into another fit of tears.

             
He squeezed me, placing his cheek against the top of my head. “I wish I could have killed that bastard myself,” he said darkly. I shook my head, but deep down I selfishly wished he would have been the one to kill him as well. “I… I remember all of it,” he said softly.

             
I pulled back, wiping the tears from my eyes, staring at him confused. “What?”

             
His eyes were unsure, but he quickly averted them away. “I told you that I did not remember my mother and father that well… but I… I remember all of it.” He shrugged his shoulders.

             
The fire he stared into lit up his beautiful green eyes, as I stared intrigued that he was opening his heart up to me, this time without the assistance of alcohol.

             
“They were all wrong by thinking I feared nothing.” He moved his arm off my shoulders and began picking at the damp grass on the ground. “I was afraid every day of my life. You said home is where you belong, where you feel safe, but this was no home. I never belonged, and I was never safe. My father beat me more than not, and my mother made certain I knew how rotten and terrible I was every chance she could.” He sighed and shook his head softly. “When I was young, I—I wanted her to... I do not know, I suppose love me or comfort me,” he shrugged, “
want
to hold on to me.” He stopped a moment, looking off, chewing his thumbnail. “You know things that mothers are supposed to do.” He looked down at the ground, resting his elbows on his propped up knees. “But she just let me go.” He shrugged again, his words were sad, but his tone was comforting almost like a lullaby. “I was thankful when Merlin took me, but it still h—” He looked to the stars as though they would give him the words. “Well, I was still fearful that one day my father would come for me, but then Merlin told me he had been killed. Guilt consumed me, partly because I had been the reason he left, but mostly because I was
relieved
he died because for the first time in my life I was not afraid.” He looked meekly at me, with a pitiful downward tug at his lips. I flung myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding him, feeling my heart break for a little child, suddenly understanding just how terrible it really had been.

             
He gently pulled away. “I do not want you to feel pity for me,” he said, with eyes slightly hardening. “I—I am just telling you this because I want you to know that what you are feeling is not… uncommon.” He looked away uncomfortably, wrapping his arms around his knees. “And also to not let your fear become your hate.” He glanced at me. “Or your night will become your day and before you know it you are trapped in darkness.”

“Come on!” he whispered loudly, sweeping his arm forward for his friend to follow.

The large knight carefully glanced over his shoulder, seeming unsure. “We are supposed to go to the chapel to repent for the killings,” he said slowly.

The raven-haired boy smirked. “Repenting is only for those who feel guilty or did wrong. I am neither.”

“He says we should repent and forgive…” he started again.

His friend snorted. “In the three years we have been battling, I have never repented for the deaths I caused. The Saxons deserved what came to them. If it was not their blood, it would have been ours!”

The red-haired giant shifted his weight, the chapel was awfully boring
, and his friend was right, it was kill or be killed, that was just the way of war; he could not be faulted for that.

The raven-haired youth
smiled wickedly. “I know the place of an enchanted forest,” he enticed, glancing around suspiciously. “Come on, the chapel is insipid. I do not want to be confined,” he sulked dramatically as he waved his friend forward. “They are all distracted; nobody will even know we have gone.”

The hazel eyes danced. “E
nchanted you say? I would think there will be many beautiful ladies in an enchanted forest...” He smiled wolfishly at the thought.

“To be ce
rtain!” his friend said smiling. “Although I do not think they have much taste for trolls…”

He frowned before punching him hard in the arm
. “We will see, pretty boy.” Then he took one last look behind him before glancing at the grinning face of his wicked raven-haired friend. He knew he was up to no good; he was always up to trouble, but the adventure was too enthralling to pass up, much more interesting than repenting. “Well, what are you waiting for!” he boomed. “Show me this enchanted forest that you speak of!”

I woke up with a start; the strange feeling was with me again. I had wondered where she had gone, and now there she was right before me. Her features were undistinguished, but I knew it was her from the blue marking on her forehead and the chilling feeling that slid down my insides. I glanced around for Brendelon, but he was gone. He had left me again. She seemed to tower over me like an evening shadow. Her white skin stood out against the dark night, almost translucent. She pulled her lips back over her teeth baring a snarl, the teeth almost like fangs. She coiled back like a snake and then she sprang her arm forward, raking her long dagger-like finger nails across my chest before I could move back. She smiled wickedly. I looked down at the warm blood oozing from the wounds, staining the beautiful blue satin dress into a dark crimson. I clutched my chest, but it burned. I doubled over and gripped at the foyer of the pain, wanting to claw my skin off just to stop it, but it went deeper, running through my veins, paralyzing my body. I fell to my knees, glancing upward. She was standing above me with eyes half-open, and the most malicious smile I had ever seen. The predator ready to slaughter the prey; dark, calculating, iniquitous eyes watched me.

I could feel the crawl of my skin begging my muscles to flee but there was nothing, and all I could see were evil eyes. Every bit of my instinct told me to move
, but I was frozen, immobile except for my mind. Yes, my mind, and I remembered Arthur’s words: the promise of good over evil. My heart and mind were stronger than this.

Lord, please save me
… the sinister eyes tightened…
save me, save me…
I felt a clamp on my mouth; a force wanting me to stop. I wouldn’t let her win.
Please Lord, you are my refuge and salvation. Please, save me
. It was desperate, but I meant it; I trusted it. The dark shadow hissed and lashed wildly, but I squeezed my eyes shut and kept my mouth moving.

I felt the arms squeeze me tight, ready to constrict the life out of me. It wasn’t surprising. I took a final breath, anticipating the arms to spl
inter my rib cage into my lungs, but they didn’t. I waited, afraid to open my eyes, afraid that she was surely going to torture me, praying it would just be quick and painless but still the arms stayed firmly around me, not squeezing, not letting go.

             
“It is okay,” whispered a raspy voice; lovely but pained. “I am with you.” The same words from the picture of the cross, but the voice sounded like my dark knight, but no, he was gone, and I was forlorn. With
her
. Maybe she had already eradicated me, could it be that painless? Was I on my way to the other world; dreaming of a dark angel? I subconsciously relaxed my body into the unyielding arms as this thought soothed me, and in the next moment my muscles finally obliged with my mind and my eyes fluttered open. I was in the forest, and the sun was rising taking away all of the eeriness that encompassed it, and he was holding me.

             
“Where is she?” I panicked, trying desperately to move to my feet. Had he seen her?

             
He stayed on his knees, looking up at me as I scrambled to my feet and glanced around. He held his hands up. “Nobody is here, Katarina,” he said calmly.

             
“Yes, she was just here.” I darted my eyes around the forest. She would come back for me. She would come for him.

             
“Please, Katarina. It was just a dream.” His face was sad, defeated, filled with guilt. He stood slowly.

             
I clutched the front of my bloodied dress, but it wasn’t there; I was still wearing his shirt.

             
“It felt so real,” I whispered.

             
“Your mind is playing tricks on you because you are scared.”

             
But I shook my head. No, that wasn’t it. I felt safe with him. She was here. She is what scared me. 

             
He looked up to illuminating sky, then back down to me as if dreading making eye contact with me. “She was not here, Katarina. She used black magic...”

             
I gasped. “You mean black magic works on me?” I asked in a much smaller voice than I had intended.

             
He sighed, eyes filling with pity again. “She probably… manipulated your emotions… because of… you know…” He shifted his weight uncomfortably, but I knew exactly what he meant; she could use black magic on me now because I was a murderer. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, but I fought them off. He bit his lip and looked away.

             
He clutched his self-made curl. “This is my fault,” he said throwing his hand down frustrated. “I warned you… I am no good; I am selfish and cruel and look where it got you! I should never have let you come with me!” he yelled, sweeping his hand forward in disgust.

             
I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t work on me,” I said, determined. “I was praying, and she disappeared.” Yes, that was right; she hissed and left me alone. “She wasn’t able to hurt me…” I said putting a hand to my scratch free chest.

He shook his head.
“They did hurt you! Look at your bruised face! I am taking you to Caerleon then I will find how to get you home, where you will be safe from all this wickedness.”

             
“No,” I said, scrunching my eyebrows. “Merlin said to go to Mordegrant’s. I’m staying with you! You said you wouldn’t leave me again!”

             
He groaned, grasping his hair as he looked down. “I never promised you that, Katarina. I cannot be selfish anymore.”

             
“You aren’t selfish,” I whispered.

             
“Yes, I am. You want to know the truth,” He looked up at me with the black eyes. “I did not hide the sword to protect Arthur. In fact, I had no idea that it would even hurt him. I hid the sword because
I
wanted it!” He let out a short disgusted laugh. “It was meant to be given to him, but I… I did not want him to have it. I felt…” he shrugged his shoulders, “… bound to it, I suppose.” He looked at me with shameful eyes. “He already has Excalibur; he has
everything!
It did not seem fair.” He shook his head, looking revolted. “So I buried it in the walls of William’s well, forcing him to swear he would never reveal it or I would come back and kill him.”

He looked
down. “Then when I saw Morgaina, I did not want her to have it either so I refused to tell her, not knowing she would put me in that damned picture.” He snorted in disgust. “I even remembered it at the council meeting, and I put them at risk just because my plan was to come and keep it for myself.” His eyes were black, brooding, and filled with guilt. “And the worst part is even though I know the damage it could cause, I
still
want it.”

“Well
, it’s a good thing you were being selfish, otherwise you would have given it to Arthur and it would have killed him.”

             
He looked up at me irritated. “Do you always try to find the good in everything?”

             
“Do you always try to find the bad?” I countered, equally annoyed.

             
“There is far more bad in this world than there is good. Do yourself a service and start to realize that.”

             
“That’s just more of a reason to look for the good when you can,” I retorted.

             
He shook his head and let out a strong breath. “I killed people for it,” he confessed, body almost completely turned away from me, and he made no effort to face me. “Four innocent people…” he muttered. Theol wasn’t lying.

“K—killed?” I stuttered out as the words hit me like a ton of bricks
, and for a moment I felt myself to be in the presence of some uncanny stranger; I took a step back without even thinking, “Why?”

He turned further from me
, and this time I didn’t mind the distance. “She promised me I would win if I did this for her and even though the king would have the sword, the victor would have all the power.” He gripped his hair tightly. “And I… I felt consumed, the same as I do now, so I did it.” He dropped his hands and looked upwards to the rising morning sky.

“She… she compelled you…” I whispered, knowing it was more for
myself than for him, desperately looking for anything to not feel the way I felt.

             
“It matters not,” he shot out disgustedly. “It only works on what is already there. I did what I did, and there is no excuse for it.”

             
“Why would she want you to do…
that
?” I choked out, unable to say the words.

             
He sat down and buried his head between his legs covering his face with his arms. “It is part of a Pentagram, a way for sorcerers to do dark magic, four souls of the elements of the earth, and she said the fifth would come. I knew better, but all I saw was the sword.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on his arms, looking forward but not towards me.

             
“What is the fifth?”

             
He clutched his hair again. “The spirit.”

             
“
Yourself
?” but then I understood. “Love.” I pointed at him. “The spirit is what is capable of love, and if you kill what you love, you destroy part of your spirit.”

             
He nodded shamefully.

             
“So it isn’t complete then.”

             
“No, and it never will be which is why she has bonds on me now; she kept her end, and I did not keep mine,” he mumbled.

Elenora was right. He made a deal with the devil for the sword.

              “And that is why none of this makes sense,” he mumbled into the ground. “Why would she try to take it back if she wanted me to give it to Arthur?” He finally lifted his gaze back to mine, and I felt myself soften for him once again as I looked as his guilt-ridden face and vulnerable pained emeralds.

Emeralds.

I glanced down at my chest, clear of scratches but still burning.  

              “She wants the emerald!”

             
“What?” he asked, lowering a perfect brow, looking at me as though I had lost my mind.

             
“The emerald. That is what transported us back,” I said grasping onto it, as the image of him flashed through my mind. “I remember you picking it up, and that’s when the vortex opened! That’s why the vortex was different! And Theol, he looked right at it at Arthur’s castle; they know I have it! He came to take it!” I practically shouted, looking up to him. “It must be linked somehow.”

             
“The bracelet only freed me,” he whispered in revelation as he moved to his feet. “She had the emerald in her hand. She meant to give it to me.” He blinked rapidly as though memories were coming back to him. “That is why she met me in the field.”

             
“And then she made sure the emerald was with you in the frame,” I said, pointing at him. “She wanted you to have it… but why?”