Sword of Darkness (3 page)

And he wanted more. He craved it with a ferocity that stunned him.

Seren watched him carefully, half afraid that he would rape her after all.

He didn’t. But there was something painful in his eyes. Something so deeply tormented that it made her chest ache for him, and she didn’t understand why.

He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry, little mouse?”

She nodded.

“I shall have food prepared for you.” He paused at the door and looked back at her.

“Aye,” he said quietly as he swept her from head to toe with his gaze. “That’s much better. I could never abide a woman in rags.”

It wasn’t until after he left that she realized her tattered dress was no longer on her body. Instead she wore a shimmering gown of pale blue samite with a gold girdle and soft leather shoes that matched it.

Seren’s legs went weak. It was all she could do to keep standing. Surely this was all a vivid dream. How could it be real?

“Wake up, Seren.” But it wasn’t a dream. Somehow this place was real.

The black knight was real. And something inside her warned that if she didn’t find a way to escape this place, she would be doomed and damned here forever.

“So you’re the Penmerlin’s mother.”

Seren turned away from the window where she’d been watching an angry black sea crash upon the castle’s stones far below, to see an old crone entering her room. The crone was dressed in black, which seemed to be the color du jour here in the castle, with her gray hair pulled back into a gnarled braid. “I am no one’s mother.”

“But you will be, God willing.”

There was something in the old woman’s hopeful tone that gave Seren pause. A slither of instinct that begged her to listen to it.

The old woman drew close to her and looked about nervously as if afraid someone might be able to overhear them. When she spoke, her tone was barely more than a whisper. “There isn’t much time, child. You have to leave here before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“To save you. Right now the Kerrigan is focused on using you to barter with Merlin, but once that
fails, he will take your head and drink your blood.”

That was something Seren would most definitely like to avoid. “Then how do I escape this place?”

The old woman sighed as if the answer troubled her greatly. “Unfortunately, you have only one choice.”

Seren waited expectantly, but the woman appeared to lose her train of thought as she trudged about the room, examining the stones. “And that is?” she prompted.

The crone stopped and looked at her. “The Kerrigan.”

Seren frowned at the unfamiliar name the crone kept using. “The Kerrigan?”

“The black knight who captured you and brought you here. You have to seduce him so that he will drop his guard and let you escape this damned place.”

How easy the crone made it sound to drag a man to her bed, but it wasn’t easy and she knew it. Not to mention the small matter that she was a virgin who rather liked her innocent state. The last thing she wanted was to barter her maidenhead to a professed demon in exchange for a freedom she was certain would be only temporary. If she were to run, the black knight would most likely come after her, and then what would she have to barter with?

“I can’t do that. I know nothing of seducing men.”

“You have no choice, child,” the crone insisted in that low, commanding tone. “There are only two people who can come and go freely in and out
of this realm. Morgen, who, no offense, will never help you, and the Kerrigan.”

Still, she refused to believe it. “There has to be another way to escape.”

“There isn’t. Trust me, men are susceptible to their lust. He is already attracted to you. Use his lust to gain your freedom.”

Seren rebelled at that idea. “’Tis wrong to use people in such a manner.”

The old woman snorted. “It is wrong to kill them as well, and they will kill you. Do you not understand me, chit? The Kerrigan is evil to the marrow of his bones.”

“He has been kind to me.”

She scoffed at that. “He knows nothing of kindness. Trust me. I have seen him cut the throat of his own men for nothing more than looking askance at him. He feels for no one, and it is by his own hand you will be slain when the time comes for it.”

Seren’s heart pounded at her dire prediction. “And why should I trust you?”

“Because I am the only hope you have. I have been here since the time when Arthur was king. I was here when this mighty castle fell to Morgen and I was here when they brought the Kerrigan in. Barely more than a boy, he had a good soul in the beginning and they destroyed it, piece by piece, until he learned to be one of them. And they will destroy yours, too. Mark my words. I tried to warn him as I am warning you, and he failed to listen. He allowed Morgen to seduce him to her cause, and now he is eternally damned.” Her gaze was
sad and frail until she looked back at Seren. “Please, don’t be so foolish. I beg you.”

Seren nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to lose her soul or her life. Honestly, she was attached to both with equal amounts of fervor. “Very well then. What do I do?”

“Be nice to him. Seduce him so that you can take the star amulet from around his neck. It bears the sign of a dragon. Take it from him and run for the bailey, toward the drawbridge. If you cross the drawbridge with it, you will arrive in the world of man at the same place and time where he whisked you away from it.”

“And if I leave without the amulet?”

“You will be lost forever in the Val Sans Retour.”

Seren’s eyes widened. The Valley of No Return. “That is the valley where Morgen banishes her lovers who cease to please her,” she breathed.

“You know of it?”

She nodded. Over the years, she had heard many bards and minstrels tell tales of Morgen le Fey and her evil Val Sans Retour. It was said to be the most horrible place in existence. Worse than even hell itself.

If that was a real place, it made her wonder what else might be true.

“Do you have a name?” she asked the old woman.

“Magda.”

“Tell me, Magda, how many of the stories I know of Arthur and Camelot are true and how many are false?”

Magda patted her hand comfortingly. “There’s
not enough time for all that, child. But know this. Camelot has fallen into evil hands, and the evil that lives here wants nothing more than to make the world a copy of it. In this
terre derrière le voile
there are two great powers. Morgen, who is queen of the fey people, and the Kerrigan, who is king of Camelot. On the side of good are the Lords of Avalon. They are the knights who survived the fall of Camelot. With the help of the Penmerlin’s successor, they retreated after the battle of Camlann to Avalon, where they continue to fight for all that is good. We must get you to them so that they can protect you. You are far too important in this battle to stay here.”

“But why was I chosen? I am only a peasant.”

“Why is the sky above us…well, here it is always gray or black, never blue, and I actually know why. However, the fact is this, you were chosen by Damé Fortune to be an instrument of good. Accept your fate, child.” Her eyes flared with a life that belied her years as she held her hands up in fists to illustrate her impassioned words. “Embrace it.”

Magda patted her on her arm as she lowered her voice to scarce more than a whisper. “There are thirteen Merlins who are important to Avalon. But the most important of all is the Penmerlin—the one who rules them all. The Penmerlin is the most powerful instrument for good. For two hundred years, the Penmerlin watches over and guides the Lords of Avalon. Then he or she is allowed to retire and to live out his or her life in peace and comfort. The child you are to bear will be the next Penmerlin. Because of her dark magic, Morgen knows
this, and it is why she will ultimately kill you after Kerrigan gets what he wants. If you die, there will be no replacement, and when the current Merlin’s reign ends, the Lords of Avalon will be without leadership.”

Her eyes narrowed on Seren. “You hold in your hands the future of all that is good and decent. You and your child are the only ones who stand between Morgen and the Kerrigan, and the world of man.”

Seren still didn’t understand why she was chosen for this. She wasn’t up to such a challenge. She was only a young woman of insignificant birth. “I only want to have my own loom. My own shop. I don’t want to live in a fabled place and be broodmare to some man I have yet to meet.”

Magda gave her a sympathetic pat. “Life is seldom what we want it to be, child. But think of it this way. The mother of the Penmerlin lives in a place of honor at Avalon. Your husband won’t be a peasant or merchant, he will be a noble knight who adores you. You will have a life of unimaginable riches and happiness. You’ll never again know want or hunger.”

It was too good to be true. Seren looked down at her work-worn hands. There were places on her fingers that were broken open from using the comb on her loom. Her nails were ragged and unkempt, her skin raw and chafed. There had seldom been a night in her life when she hadn’t collapsed on her small pallet on the floor from sheer exhaustion, her hands throbbing and bleeding, her back and shoulders aching.

Even with her eyes open, she could clearly see
Mistress Maude sitting at her table that was laden with succulent food. Seren and the other apprentices ate modest meals. They had never been allowed to partake of guild banquets.

To eat until they were full…

“Aye,” Magda said in her ear. “I can see the lust for it in your eyes. Seduce the Kerrigan and you will have all that and more. Think of the softness of the gown you wear now. Imagine an entire wardrobe of them.”

Seren ran her hand over the delicate fabric that didn’t chafe or scratch. It settled against her skin like the coolness of water. “It is not for a peasant to reach for better. Our lot—”

“You were born for greater things, child. Accept it.”

But that was easier said than done. How could she accept something that completely contradicted everything she’d ever been told?

A knock sounded on the door. Magda jumped away from her as the black portal opened to show her the sight of a misshapen gray creature dressed in a robe that matched its skin tone. It glared at Magda, who quickly scooted away, then shifted its cold gaze back to her.

“The master bids you to join him in the hall.”

Seren glanced to Magda, who patted her own neck to remind Seren of the amulet. Taking a deep breath for courage, Seren nodded, then headed for the creature.

It led her down a dismally black corridor. She gasped as she realized that the torches only lit as they approached them. The instant they walked
past, the light was extinguished. Amazed by it, Seren stopped to examine one. It was a peculiar sconce. It looked as if a black human hand held the small torch. Her heart hammering, she reached out to touch it.

The hand moved.

Seren screamed in startled alarm, jumping away from it. The creature laughed at her, then pushed her closer to the sconce.

“Go on, bobbin, let it feel you again.”

She screamed once more, trying to pull back.

“Drystan!” the powerful voice echoed like thunder in the hallway.

The creature let her go immediately.

She turned to see Kerrigan taking long, quick strides toward them.

He grabbed the creature and backhanded him so hard that the creature rebounded off the wall. “You do not scare her,” he growled.

He moved to strike it again, but Seren caught his hand to stop the blow. “Please, it was only a jest. No harm was done to me.”

The anger on his handsome face dissipated. The creature, whose lips were now bloodied, looked up at her with a disbelieving frown.

Kerrigan glared at the creature as his eyes glowed red. “Out of my sight, worm.”

It scurried away from them and ran until it vanished around the bend in the corridor.

Seren was appalled by the Kerrigan’s behavior. “Why did you attack him?”

Rage filled every part of his body. “You do not understand the rules here.”

“Nay, not if they include punishing people for small matters. Your reaction was overly harsh and unnecessary for his slight offense.”

He scoffed at her. “And if you allow him to get away with that, he will become bolder and more harmful. Trust me, I know. Unless it is immediately quelled, malice only grows.”

“I didn’t feel his malice.”

“Then you are a fool.”

She stiffened at his insult. “So you keep telling me. Fine then, I shall take my foolish self back to my room where it cannot offend you any further.” She started away from him.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I have lost my appetite.”

She continued down the hallway, without looking back. As she neared the bend that would return her to her room, Kerrigan appeared before her. “You need to eat.”

She stamped down the fear she felt at his unholy powers. It would do her no good to break off into a fit of terror. Her mother had raised her to be strong in the face of any challenge—though to be honest, she doubted if her mother had ever conceived of a challenge such as this. “If I refuse, will you beat me, too?”

He looked confounded by her. “Why are you so angry over how I treated a grayling? He would just as soon eat your heart as look at you. The only thing they respect is someone more powerful and more sinister than they.”

“Might should never make right.”

He looked even more baffled. “What?”

“’Tis something a bard said about the king of Camelot. The purpose of this castle was to be a protection against evil. The goal of the knights of the Round Table was to protect those who couldn’t protect—”

“There are no knights here, Seren. Only demons.”

His words gave her pause. “Does that include you?”

“Aye, it does.”

“Then I am sorry for you, my lord. Everyone should know kindness and compassion.”

Her words seemed to anger him again. “Bah, go, return to your room. I couldn’t care less whether or not you starve.” He stepped around her and headed away.

“My lord?”

He paused to look back at her.

“Have you a name, sir?”

He glanced away before he answered. “Nay, I do not. I am only known by the fey title that they give to all who command demons. You may call me Kerrigan.”

Kerrigan. It was a strong name and seemed somehow suited to the role it was chosen for. However, it wasn’t the name she wanted. “But the name you had before you came here? What was it?”

His eyes blazed red fire at her. “They called me boy, bastard, or maggot. I now only answer to those with the blade of my sword.”

Her heart clenched at his words. How horrible for him to not even have something so simple as a
name to call his own. “I am sorry for that, my lord. No man should be without a name.”

He cocked his head as he studied her curiously. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, little mouse?”

“Should I be?”

“Everyone else is.” His tone was cold and matter-of-fact.

“But should
I
be afraid of you?”

Kerrigan reached out to brush his hand through the softness of her hair. Aye, she should be terrified of him. He held no regard for anyone or anything. Life, whether his own or someone else’s, held no meaning or value whatsoever where he was concerned.