Excalibur's Seven - Chapter 29: Chapter 29

A ROUGH HAND PULLED Morgana to his aching feet, yanking him from his unconscious state with a violent force. His head was screaming, every limb absent of control but throbbing with incessant pain. He hardly felt the fist that drove across his face, cutting open his lip and filling his mouth with the unmistakable taste of metal.
"Wake up, you dirty pixie," the man spat.
Morgana gave him no sign that he was awake. He couldn't if he wanted to, he was using up strength just to stay conscious.
The guard tossed him against the wall, holding him up by an arm to the chest, but he didn't do anything else to him. "Breathe in," he growled.
Morgana could hardly process what was happening, until a plume of powder exploded beneath his long nose and he couldn't help but inhale, letting the remedy fill his senses. If he had any reasoning left in his tired mind, he wouldn't have accepted it, letting himself stay as useless to them as he could be. But his body's need for survival didn't let him refuse, and he could already feel the strength returning to him.
His foot shoved the man away on instinct, but that was all he managed before hunching over and falling back against the stone wall of the dungeon.
"See, you know it takes a minute to work," the guard bellowed. "Don't try to fight back, you're outnumbered and we know you're no Selene O'Leary."
"I wasn't planning on it," he chuckled, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. "And it's Lady Selene."
"Not anymore," he growled, grabbing Morgana's arm again. "Enough talk. You're coming with us."
The Unseelie was too weak to fight back as he was dragged from his cell, up the stairs of the dungeon, and back to the well-lit halls of the castle. Morgana kept track of their path as they took him into the throne room, tossing him onto the ground before the King.
Putting up a fight would not be so simple this time.
A dozen men surrounded him, holding chains and swords made of a material he didn't see often but knew full well to fear. He could feel the buzz of the iron from where he sat, on his knees before His Royal Majesty, a stoic bastard staring him down with a chill he could hardly master himself.
"You've had a change of hairstyle since I saw you last," said the King with a lazy gesture towards the faerie.
Morgana's hand flew up to his hair, holding a handful of long waves, once white as snow and now the color of a raven's wings. It was almost completely black now, but the hair hanging down in his face kept its pale tone. He feared it might go fully black if he lost himself again.
Wylan chuckled at his distress. "Not what you wanted? Shame."
"Is there a reason you called me up here?" Morgana gritted. He had his suspicions, but if King Wylan had any plans for him, he just wanted to get them over with.
"Of course," the King replied, pushing himself to his feet. "We need information."
"You realize you're asking a faery to tell you the truth."
"You can't lie."
"Yes, but I'm sure you're aware that I am not compelled to honesty, either." He side eyed the swords and chains in the guards' hands. "And torture is pointless. I won't tell you anything."
"Maybe not. But your friends will come back for you. And when we do, we'll have what we want."
Morgana kept a leveled gaze. "I'm sure they've concluded that I'm already dead. It would be pointless to come back for me."
"Would it? You still have something they need."
He gulped, fist clenching against the marble. The shard was still lodged beneath his armband, buzzing against his skin. It must've been what kept him alive.
There was nothing he could say.
"Why did you wake me? I was nearly dead, I wouldn't have been a problem for you. You just made me strong again, why?" he asked, jaw clenched.
The King rose to his feet. "Because I think you'll be useful."
"'Useful?'" he scoffed. "What, are you going to hypnotize me? Brainwash me? Turn me into your mage?"
Wylan chuckled. "Oh, something like that. None of the mages from the trials impressed me, but you? Somehow you didn't die after all you've been through. I think you're more powerful than you're letting on, and I want you on my team."
"Are you sure you want to make a deal with a faery?"
The guards circled him closer as Wylan approached, kneeling down before Morgana and taking a lock of his hair in his hand.
"Oh, my boy, I already have."
Kit sat up from his sleep with a long, drawn out groan, taking two fingers to his temple to massage away a pain much like that of a mild hangover.
He'd just had a strange dream, of his son and the maid and of Morgana rotting away in the dungeons of the castle. It was a powerful dream, he knew that much, but it was starting to slip away already, just an inch from his grasp, running faster every time he tried to chase the memory with his mind.
"Thank God you're awake," Selene said, pulling his attention to her and away from his previous mental dilemma.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Selene turned her head towards Giselle, who was keeping Lionel entertained with a hand game. But there was something wrong with the boy. His hair was several shades lighter, and his skin was almost translucent, the way that a faerie's skin was, like it was laced with magic.
"It's no secret he's Gifted," Chalice cut in, eyes observing the little one. "But this isn't something I've ever seen on a human before."
"Giselle says he's not got an once of faerie blood in him," Selene added. "This is a different kind of magic altogether."
Kit crawled closer to his son. "Perhaps his mother was a sorceress of some kind. She left a note for me, she must've known we were coming. Something about this doesn't make sense, but I feel like she might be more important than we thought."
The three of them watched as Giselle giggled with the boy for what felt like several minutes, until they were interrupted by Eurion entering through the door. Kit hardly noticed she was gone in his disoriented state.
In her hands were several bags, and she tossed one to each of her companions. Kit opened it to find a warm meal sitting inside it, and he didn't realize how hungry he we until he was shoving warm bread into his mouth like he'd been starved.
"So what's our next move?" Eurion asked over a sip from a flask, followed by a heavy cringe as she sat on the floor next to him.
"We have to figure out what Sera's note meant," said Kit. "I don't want to leave this village until we know for sure where that other shard is, but the longer we stay here the longer Morgana is rotting away and the King has time to plan."
"What if he already has a plan? I mean, surely he knows we're coming back. We have to." Selene gave him a worried look.
Kit tried to put on a brave face. "We have the Gods on our side. I don't know how we're going to make it, but we have to. Bringing back Excalibur is our destiny."
"Who said it was our destiny?" the Lady argued. "No one ever said it would happen, all we know is that Excalibur is the only way we have a chance."
The prince clenched his jaw. "Look, I'm just as scared as you. I have no idea how we're gonna make this, but I don't think we have any other choice but to try. Morgana is all alone, nearly dead, I don't think I could bear it if he died because of me."
Selene swallowed. "He's only one person, Kit. He knew the risks of this, we all did."
"One person is one too many. My job is to save every innocent soul in the kingdom. Not some of them, but all of them. If one person dies, I know I failed," he insisted.
Selene opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. The cold look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, though. She probably thought he was still trying to prove himself to everyone, the one thing she never hesitated to criticize him for. And maybe she was right, but Kit knew this wasn't just about his own honor. It was about his people.
At least, that's what he told himself.
Once his stomach was full, he slid back to his feet, slugging over to the door of the woman's home.
"Where are you going?" asked Selene.
"I'm getting some fresh air." He said nothing more as he stepped out into the dark of the evening.
The breeze was cool, but the air was warm. It felt so much like Morgana's home, and his mind wandered back to the day he shared his strength with the faerie. He couldn't describe what it was like in that moment. Though the Unseelie was taking his strength and he should've been drained, he felt more alive than he ever did before.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shoo away the memory of Morgana's face, eyes closed in relief, head tipped back, lips barely parted and his Adam's apple bobbing beneath the pale skin of his throat. It was a lovely memory at first, but then, just as he'd feared, it shifted. Morgana was on the floor of the dungeon now, nearly dead, using up the last bit of his strength to call out to him.
An idea sparked in his mind. He had no clue how Sídhe magic worked, but it was worth a shot.
He reached out. He thought of Morgana, not just who he was on the outside, but him. He thought of his soul, tried to search for the tether that bound them. He stretched his mind, tried so hard to get a hold of his being.
"Morgana, please, take my strength," he begged, quiet enough only he could hear, as if there was anyone nearby.
Nothing happened. He tried, and he tried harder, but the thought crept closer to the forefront of his mind, the one he didn't want to think of most of all.
That feeling he felt, that something was coming back to him, he knew that feeling. Like he'd found something he'd been looking for. When Morgana called out to him, he said his full name, and he knew the feeling that came with it.
"Why'd you give it back?" he whimpered, falling against the wall next to him, resting his forehead on his arm. "Morgana, you bastard. You should've kept it, I could've helped you."
Maybe it was stupid to try.
"Take it," he continued. "You can have it, Morgana. Kristofer. I'm giving you my name to do whatever you want. You can curse my bloodline, you can make me dance until my bones break and I'm nothing but rotting flesh to you, I don't care. Just fucking take it back."
He felt nothing, and he let out a shuddering cry. It felt wrong to have his name back. He realized just how unfamiliar it was. He'd taken it back before, but he didn't notice how wrong it felt until now, until he had it back and there was no way he could save Morgana like this.
"Kit," Selene said, charging outside and cutting off the sob about to leave his chest.
He lifted up his head at the urgency in her voice. She saw his red eyes, surely about to ask what was wrong, but he stepped past her and into the house.
Lionel's eyes were glowing when his gaze landed on the prince, a jarring, shimmering silver. There was something so familiar about the young boy's aura that he couldn't quite put a finger on. What did this mean? Why was it happening now?
An image crossed his mind, of a small slip of paper and the nearly illegible penmanship scrawled across it.
You'll find it right in front of you.
He felt a sense of déjà vu, and suddenly he could recall the message of the dream he'd just had.
All at once, everyone understood what it meant. Kit could see the realization in everyone's eyes, reflecting the look in his own, but he was the first to say it out loud.
"It's Lionel," he breathed. "Lionel is the final shard of Excalibur."