Sword of Darkness (2 page)

His words thrilled her. Who would have believed that such a handsome knight would defend a simple peasant maid? “You are truly a kind and noble knight, sir.”

But as he looked down at her, Seren would have sworn that his eyes flashed red before he spurred his horse to an even greater speed. The other two knights continued to give chase. They raced through town until they flew over the bridge that took them out into the countryside.

Seren cringed. “I’m not to leave the town,” she told the knight. “My master will have me beaten for leaving without his permission.”

“There is nothing I can do. Should we return, they will take you. Is that what you want?”

“Nay.”

“Then hold tight until we lose them.”

Seren did as he said. She turned to face him in the saddle and wrapped her arms about his waist and inhaled the scent of leather, man, and beast. His horse flew over the open meadow, racing toward the dense woods that lay before them.

All of a sudden, something exploded by their side.

“Accero, accero domini doyan,”
the knight said in his deep, resonant voice.

Seren gasped in terror as the gargoyle decorations on the horse’s bridle lifted themselves off and took flight. They screeched like banshees before they headed toward the men pursuing them.

“What is this?” she asked.

“You’re lost in a dream.” His voice was inside her head. “Sleep, little one. Sleep.” Seren blinked her eyes as exhaustion overtook her. She tried desperately to remain awake, but couldn’t.

Before she knew what was happening, darkness consumed her.

Kerrigan pulled the woman closer to him as he felt her go limp from his spell. She was completely soft and pliant in his arms. Satisfied that she couldn’t fight him, he slowed his horse so that he could turn around to see Gawain and Agravain fighting his gargoyles.

He let his malevolent laughter ring out. “She is ours,” he called to them.

Gawain launched a sorcerer’s fire blast in his di
rection. Kerrigan dissolved it before it came near him.

“You know what I want, Gawain. Tell Merlin to give it over or see this woman die.” With his orders issued, Kerrigan spoke the sacred words that took him away from the world of man, into the nether realm of Camelot.

In an eerie black mist, the visible world faded into darkness. The veil that separated the two realms mingled until he found himself once more on the black soil of Camelot.

Here Kerrigan was more than a knight. Here he was king and champion. Laughing in triumph, Kerrigan rode over the black drawbridge, into the outer, then inner bailey. As he reined his horse before the donjon, a misshapen grayling male came forward to take his horse.

Theirs was a cursed elfin race that had once been tall and graceful. But they had run amok of a Celtic god who had made their exterior as abhorrent as their hearts. Now they were damned to serve here at Morgen’s behest.

Giving no thought to the haggard creature, Kerrigan gripped the woman tightly in his arms before he slid to the ground with his precious bundle. She was the key he needed that would open up the world and make it his.

“Give him extra oats,” he told the fey grayling.

“Aye, my lord.”

Kerrigan shifted the woman’s slight weight before he headed toward the blackened doors of the once-famed castle. They parted of their own volition as he approached, allowing him to enter. With
every step he took, his heels and spurs clicked eerily against the stone floor.

As he walked through the hallway that was scented with nutmeg and mace, torches lit themselves to illuminate the way to the turret stairs. He was headed to a bedchamber on the uppermost floor. One that would guarantee this woman had no choice except to stay here until they killed her.

It was a room that was segregated in the northernmost tower where no one could hear her screams. Not that it would matter. There was none here, including he, who would ever render aid to another. It was merely a courtesy to the others that their ears wouldn’t be abused by her wretched cries and pleas for mercy.

Like the rest of the castle, the room was decorated in black and gray. The only color in this land was found in Morgen’s direct domain. The fey queen wanted nothing to detract from her beauty or her presence. So all color had been banished.

Kerrigan laid the woman down upon the black bed and pulled back the covers for her. She was pale and fragile against the darkness. Her long, straight hair was so fair as to be almost white.

To his surprise, she wasn’t a beautiful woman. In truth, her features leaned toward plain, except for her eyes. A clear, crystal green, they were large and almond-shaped like a cat’s. Her nose was of average shape and form, and her lips were full. Her body was undernourished and thin, with next to no feminine curves to cushion a man who might take her.

There was nothing remarkable about her. Noth
ing that marked her as the future mother of a Merlin.

She reminded him of a simple mouse.

And even unconscious, she still clung to the vibrant red cloth in her hands. He frowned at her actions, wondering why she bothered. He started to take it away from her, then paused for reasons unknown.

“You trusting fool,” he snarled at her. He couldn’t imagine ever reaching out his hand to someone for help.

And what had it gotten her? Nothing but her own doom.

A shadow slithered into the room from the keyhole of the door. “Mistress Morgen wants word with you, my lord.”

“Tell her I will come in my own good time.” It never boded well to keep her waiting. Morgen possessed a nasty temperament that was matched only by his own. But then Kerrigan refused to let anyone, even Morgen, command him.

Besides, there was nothing more the fey queen could do to him. He was already damned by his own actions, and no one, not even she, could kill him.

The sharoc, or shadow fey, continued to hover beside him as if it were trying to rush him.

“Leave me,” Kerrigan snarled.

The sharoc retreated immediately.

Again alone with the unknown woman, Kerrigan found himself studying her curiously. She was unlike the women who lived here in Camelot. Granted they, due to their magic, were all beauti
ful to behold, but none of them possessed the spark that seemed to glow from within her.

Her skin appeared somehow softer, more appealing. Inviting.

You are being a fool. She is nothing but an insignificant mortal.

Aye. And she most certainly wasn’t worth his time.

“Anir!” he called for his gargoyle servant.

The beast flew through the open window and hovered over the bed where the woman rested. Anir’s stark yellow eyes glowed against his dark gray, stonelike skin. “Aye, my lord?”

“Guard her and let me know the instant she wakes.”

The gargoyle nodded, then came to rest on the foot of the bed. He crouched there in a small, watchful pose, then hardened back into his true form of stone.

Kerrigan paused as he took one last look at the woman who beguiled him. He still didn’t understand her appeal. Not that it mattered. The time she had left to live was extremely finite. Even if those at Avalon gave over the table he sought, she would still be killed.

She was to be the mother of a Merlin. That alone carried with it a death sentence.

“What do you mean she got away?”

Gawain cringed at Merlin’s question. He looked to Agravain for some reprieve, but none was forthcoming.

“Lord Smooth,” Agravain said snidely, “told
her she was going to be the mother of the next Merlin, so she panicked and ran.”

Merlin pressed her hand to her head as if she had a fierce ache above her brow. A tall, slender woman, Merlin was the epitome of beauty. She had long, golden hair that flowed around her lithe body, which was covered by a white gown trimmed in gold. Truly, there was no woman more fair.

Or more angry than she was at present.

She glared at them as a book appeared before her and hovered there, suspended by nothing. The pages of the book turned to a passage. “Let me see if I have this right.”

She read from the book.
“Gawain, the noble and chivalrous knight of Arthur, a king’s champion. His prowess with women was unsurpassed.”
She looked up from the book to pin Gawain with a most unhappy glare. “This is you, is it not?”

Gawain chafed under her angry scrutiny. The pages of the book then turned to another passage so that he could read from it. “And according to that book, Merlin, you’re an old, bald man.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as the book burst into flames. “Have you a wish to die?”

“I can’t. I’m immortal.”

Agravain sucked his breath in sharply between his teeth. “Caution, brother. The last man to anger Merlin now sits locked in a cage underneath our precious home.”

That was true. Merlin had vowed to never forgive Sir Thomas Malory for what he’d told of them.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Gawain said, trying to calm them all down. “Believe me, you are no angrier over this than I am. How did the Kerrigan know to be there?”

Merlin sighed. “His powers have grown much over the centuries. If we do not stop him soon, they will be stronger than even mine.”

Gawain exchanged a nervous look with his brother. No one needed to tell them what would happen should that occur. The Kerrigan held no heart, no compassion. He was the male counterpart to Morgen, and he was her champion. If he grew stronger than Merlin, there would be no stopping them from taking over the world and enslaving them all.

Gawain narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I shall have Percival research him. Maybe there is something written that can expose a weakness—”

“Nay,” Merlin said. “Morgen is more intelligent than that. Unlike us, she seems to be able to keep her minions out of written legends.”

Agravain snorted. “Not our fault Thom got drunk and started talking. I still think we should have killed him.”

“It wasn’t the talking that was bad,” Gawain said snidely. “It was the writing.”

Merlin stiffened. “Thank you for that reminder.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” they said in unison.

“So what do we do now?” Agravain asked Merlin.

Merlin sighed. “We wait to see what Kerrigan does. We can’t give over the table to him…at
least not without a wheelbarrow and a bucket. And even if we do, I am sure he will kill Seren and end her bloodline for us.” Merlin took up pacing the hall. “Somehow we must find a way to get Seren out of Camelot.”

Gawain looked up to the seal of the Pendragon that hung on the wall above them. A brightly colored fresco, it held the image of a dragon with a lion sleeping at its feet. Fire curled around the beast that stood with its wings spread wide. The dragon was alert and ready to defend its power and territory.

Behind that seal, lying asleep in a tomb, wasn’t the king of legend.

It was one of his true sons that he’d sired with Queen Guinevere.

“Should we wake Draig for this?”

“Nay,” Merlin said. “His time to rise isn’t now. Summon the others. Whatever we do, we cannot allow evil to win. If they do…”

Everything good would die and the world would seriously reek.

Kerrigan entered Morgen’s room with his arms folded
over his chest. Her receiving room was open and light, decorated in pale yellows and gold. Her blond hair was striking against her darker skin. She looked like an angel, but Kerrigan knew from experience that those looks were definitely deceiving.

Her gown was a vivid, unnatural red that moved like blood on her body. She was dancing in the room with her Adoni. Unlike the graylings, they were tall, fair of form, and agile. Humans oft called them elves, but they should never be confused with their Germanic cousins. The Adoni were a separate, vicious race that preyed on mankind whenever they could. It was what endeared them so to Morgen.

She paused in her dancing as she saw him. “So you’ve come to me finally.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why did you send for me?”

“I want you to keep a very close eye on our guest.
If I know that bitchtress Merlin, and I do, she will set loose her dogs to come here and liberate her.”

He scoffed at the witch. “I don’t make such mistakes. Neither Merlin nor her bastard minions will ever be able to breach these walls.”

Morgen smiled at that as she crossed the room to stand beside him. She reached out to brush his hair back from his face. Her touch was as icy as her heart. “Why do you never come to my bed anymore, Kerrigan?”

He cut a glare to the handsome Adoni male who watched them with jealousy and interest. “I find your bed too crowded for my tastes.”

She laughed coldly at that. “There was a time when you didn’t mind crowds. But you are very daring, my evil heart. I’m not sure why I allow you to speak to me thus.”

“Then kill me, Morgen,” he said without fear or passion. Honestly, he couldn’t care less at this point.

She sighed at that as she continued to toy with his hair. “We both know I can’t so long as you carry the sword Caliburn and its scabbard.” She gave him a pretty, seductive pout. “You have been with me all these centuries past, Kerrigan. Always serving my needs. Always killing and torturing others for my whims. You remind me so much of my son.”

Hardly. Mordred was a weakling milksop compared to Kerrigan, and they both knew it. True, Mordred had been cruel, but he was nowhere near as inventive or zealous as Kerrigan. “But I am not Mordred.”

Her eyes sparked at the reminder of her son who lay in stasis, awaiting the time when he
would awaken again to torture the world of man. “Nay, you are not.” She pulled his head down to hers so that she could kiss him.

Kerrigan didn’t respond. He’d long ago grown tired of her cold, demanding touch.

She pulled away from his lips with a curse, then shoved him back. “Begone from me.”

He inclined his head to her and for once, obeyed.

Seren rubbed her eyes as she felt herself waking up. What a terrible dream she’d had. First she’d thought the guild had turned her down, then she’d been chased by strange knights who had battled gargoyles.

“I shall have to tell…” Her voice trailed off as she opened her eyes and saw the eerie room. She lay on a bed that was completely black. The covers, the wood, even the curtains. The windows were open to show her a dark, overcast sky that held gray clouds and no trace of sunshine.

“Where am I?” She sat up slowly, trying to remember how she could have come to such a place.

A sudden movement drew her attention to the foot of her bed. She shrieked as she saw the gargoyle statue come alive. Its eerie yellow eyes focused on her as its forked, stone tail whipped around it.

“Fear not, human,” it said in a deep, ragged voice. “I won’t eat your heart from you. At least not yet.”

“I’m dreaming.”

“Nay,” it said in a sinister tone as it eyed her with malice. “No dreams here, bobbin. Only nightmares.”

The gargoyle launched itself into the air to fly about as it watched her. “Kerrigan, Kerrigan,” it called. “My Lord Darkness, ’tis time for you to return.”

A wispy smoke appeared beside her bed.

Dropping her cloth, Seren scooted to the opposite side of the bed and watched as the smoke took the form of a man with glowing red eyes. The smoke solidified into the knight who had rescued her. The cinders of his eyes flared to flames, then turned as dark and cold as coal.

As soon as he appeared, the gargoyle flew from the window and vanished into the eerie sky.

She whispered a prayer as she crossed herself. “What are you?”

The edges of his lips twisted up ever so slightly. “Evil incarnate.”

She didn’t want to believe that. And yet, how could she not? “But you helped me to escape the others.”

His gaze was cold, blank. “Nay, I helped myself.”

“I don’t understand. Why am I here? Why is this happening to me?”

He watched her without mercy or compassion. “Why should it happen to someone else? What is so special about you that you should be immune to the callous machinations of Damé Fortune?”

She swallowed at his harsh tone. “I never said I should be immune to anything. I want only to know why this is happening. Where am I?”

“You are in Camelot.”

She looked around at the cold, sinister walls
that bore no resemblance to the place of legend. Camelot was said to be a jewel, a warm place with gold walls and brilliant tapestries. There was none of that here. “Camelot?”

“Aye,” he said. “Can you not see the beauty of it? The magic? Here is where Arthur united a kingdom and saw his whole world crumble before his own nephew brutally killed him at Camlann.”

She knew the famed legend well, but she’d never imagined Camelot looking like this. “Are you one of his knights of the Round Table?”

He laughed coldly at that. “Do I look like such? Nay, woman, I am their scourge. You ran from your blessed knights of the Round Table in town when they would have saved you.”

“Saved me from what?”

“Me.”

Seren bolted from the bed and ran for the door. Before she could reach it, the knight was before her, blocking her way. “There is no way out of here, little mouse.”

“Please,” she begged, terrified of what was happening to her. “Please, let me go. I am just a peasant. I am nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. I want only to go home and become a journeywoman.”

A faraway look came into his cold eyes. “And I, too, was once just a peasant. A liar and a thief, I spent my entire youth running from those who would beat me. Now I am king of Camelot. The wheel of fate is ever on the move. Today you are a
simple apprentice without prospects, but in the days to come your destiny was to marry and breed with one of Arthur’s famed knights.”

But that didn’t make sense to her. It wasn’t possible. “I don’t understand. I cannot marry a knight. I am a peasant.”

His eyes flashed red as he skimmed his evil gaze over her body.

Kerrigan felt himself growing hard as he watched her standing so courageously before him. She was terrified, he could smell it, and yet she continued to fight even though she knew it was hopeless.

She wasn’t anything special and yet…

His body reacted to her nearness in a way it had never reacted to anyone before. He found himself curious over why Damé Fortune had chosen this meek little mouse to birth one of the greatest powers on earth. What a strange vessel to nurture and breed a Merlin.

“Have you ever taken a man into your body, little mouse?”

Her face flushed instantly as she sputtered.

“So you are a virgin.”

His little mouse straightened her spine as she stared defiantly at him. “And I intend to stay one until the day I marry.”

One corner of his mouth turned up at her challenge. “You could hardly stop me if I decided to take you.”

And still she gave him no fear, only an unfounded courage met his taunts. “There is no satis
faction in stealing someone’s property, my lord. True value only lies when you earn it or the owner gives it to you of her own free will.”

Her bold words gave him pause as he considered them. “I know nothing of gifts.”

“Then that is a shame. Perhaps if you were to ask instead of take, then you might have knowledge of them.”

She was a quick little mouse. Surprisingly intelligent, point of fact, and he found himself intrigued by her argument. “Would you give me your virginity if I asked it?”

“Nay!”

“Then what is the point of asking when the only way to have something is to take it?”

“Then take it if you must,” she said bravely, her eyes flashing a vivid shade of green. “but know that by doing so, you are stealing away the only thing I have that is truly mine alone to give. I hope it gives you great satisfaction to leave me with absolutely nothing.” She lifted her chin as if readying herself to take his blow.

Take her.

The voice in his head was overwhelming, and normally when it issued a command, he followed it regardless of consequence, and yet he couldn’t quite muster the desire to do so now. There was a rare fire in her green eyes that burned away the coldness inside him.

It was her dignity, he realized.

He remembered a time once when he had held such. But those days were past him. His dignity,
like his humanity, had been stripped from him, layer by layer, until it left him a hollow, angry shell.

Before he could think better of it, he lifted his hand up to touch her soft, delicate cheek. Her skin was warm, soothing. Sweet.

He lowered his gaze down to her small breasts that would barely fill his palm, then lower to the rest of her body. She was a scrawny woman in need of food and care. He could snap her neck with barely more than a thought.

Even if she tried to fight him, she would have no strength for it. And still he was amazingly curious over her.

“What is your name, girl?”

She hesitated before she answered. “Seren.”

Seren. In his language that had meant star. “And what would you give me, Seren, to preserve your virginity?”

“I don’t understand.”

He let his hand fall from her face while he watched her curiously as she shivered from his nearness. “You speak of gifts that are so valuable. Show me one that is more special than the gratification I can have with your body, and I shall sate my desire with another.”

She cast her gaze around the room as if seeking something to give him. Her eyes widened as her gaze fell to the bed where her red cloth rested. “All I have is my scarlet cloth.”

He sneered at that. “I have no need of fabric.”

He saw the panic on her face, and for once he felt no satisfaction from having caused it.

“I have nothing else,” she said.

“Then give me a kiss.”

Her eyes widened as if he shocked her. “A kiss?”

“Aye,” he said, enjoying this strange game of teasing her without malice. “Let me see the benefit of having something that is freely given and not taken. Kiss me, Seren, and let me judge the value of your gift.”

Seren swallowed at his words, petrified and yet oddly intrigued. There was something about the knight that appealed to her even though he scared her beyond reason.

Why would he be pacified by a single kiss?

“I have never kissed a man before.”

He scowled at her. “You’ve never kissed. Never tasted a man’s body? How old are you?”

“A score and four.”

He tsked. “A woman full-grown. How is it you have remained so chaste in a world of hungry men?”

“By choice, my lord. By
my
choice.”

He snorted at that. “And now I give you another choice, little mouse. A kiss or your body. So what’s it to be?”

Seren shivered as she wondered if a kiss would truly sate this powerful man. “And what if I don’t kiss you correctly? Will my actions be for naught?”

His gaze was blank, cold. “You ask a liar for the truth? Are you that trusting or that foolish?”

“Then how do I know you won’t take my body after my kiss?”

“You don’t.”

Seren breathed deeply at his dispassionate words. At least he was being honest. But then she had no real choice in this situation. No matter how much she hated the thought of it, she was at his utter mercy and they both knew it. “Then I shall trust you to be a man of your word. I pray you, don’t disappoint me, my lord. I have had quite enough of disappointments this day.”

Before Kerrigan could ask her anything more, she laid a chaste kiss to his lips. His body fired at the innocence he tasted, at the knowledge that no other man had ever tread upon this mouth before him.

His heart pounding, he nudged her lips apart with his and swept his tongue deep inside her sweet, decadent mouth to taste the first innocent kiss he’d ever known. It washed over him in waves of desire, making his groin hard and aching. Aye, she was much more than she’d seemed at first. An odd surprise of innocent hunger.

Seren moaned at the taste of her dark knight. His skin was cold as ice, as his tongue danced through her mouth, licking and teasing her. She’d never experienced anything like it before.

He pulled her roughly into his arms and held her close as he deepened his kiss even more. She felt him bulging against her hip and knew exactly how much he wanted to take her.

He left her mouth to trail his kisses over her cheek, then down to her neck where he buried his cold lips against her throat. Her breasts tightened as desire pooled itself to the center of her body. Chills swept the full length of her body.

She’d never known desire before, but she felt the heat of it stinging her now. A foreign, frightening part of her wouldn’t even mind if he pressed her for more…

“Aye, Seren,” he breathed against her ear in a ragged tone that sent chills the length of her body. “A kiss freely given is most sweet indeed.”

Seren felt his hand against her back lift the hem of her gown. She went ramrod stiff in fear of what he was about to do.

Kerrigan’s body was molten. All he could think of was tasting more of her virgin flesh. Of spreading her creamy thighs wide and driving himself deep inside her wet heat over and over again until he was fully spent.

But she had trusted him.

No one had ever given him trust before. No one.

And she had kissed him of her own free will.

His body screaming out in protest, he let loose her dress and forced himself to step away from her. Even so, his cold lips still burned from the taste of hers.