Excalibur's Seven - Chapter 32: Chapter 32
You are reading Excalibur's Seven, Chapter 32: Chapter 32. Read more chapters of Excalibur's Seven.
THE IRON CLUTCHED MORGANA'S throat once more, darkening the vision around his eyes. He didn't have the voice to scream anymore, but his mouth hang open as he whimpered like a dog. His eyes were bloodshot, hands bloodied from scratching at the chain.
Finally, it let him go. He fell to the ground in a fit of coughs, and the guard before him raised his chin with the dirty toe of his boot. "Don't try to get out again."
Morgana could see the irritation at the other man's neck, but it wasn't nearly as bad as his own. He was starting to get dizzy even from where he sat, fighting to catch his breath.
A swift slap rang out across the cell, and Morgana's hand flew up to nurse his cheek. He looked up to see what the man was angry about now.
"Don't fall asleep, the Prince is coming for a visit."
The guard tossed a black stone his way before he left. Morgana let it sit on the floor beside him, ignoring his body's plea for healing. He couldn't become dependent on it, and he didn't want to keep getting better if they were just going to beat him down again. It was pointless.
As promised, the insufferable prince made his way to Morgana's cell, gripping a scepter, a long, wooden thing, a pointed green stone at its end. Stolen faery magic, he could tell. There was no way to get something like that anywhere else.
"Good morning," the prince greeted, voice as plain as butterless toast. Everything about him was plain. Perhaps Morgana would respect him more if he wasn't so awful. He could understand why Kit was the way he was, if this was who everyone expected him to act like, it made sense that he'd do anything to avoid it.
The cell door slammed behind Connor, and he took his time getting comfortable in the chair that sat before Morgana, brought in there earlier in the day just for this moment.
"You must be wondering why I'm here."
"I actually don't care why you're here, I would really prefer if you'd just fuck off," Morgana muttered. He would likely pass out at any other attempt of torture, so he didn't bother being careful.
Fortunately, or perhaps not so much, the prince didn't even flinch at his back talking. He simply composed himself again, and got back to his speech.
"Right. Well, I'm not going to. I have something you need to see. It's from your mother," he said.
Morgana perked up. "Astyr? She's been in touch?"
He didn't know why his living mother would be in touch with the Prince, but he trusted her judgment more than he even trusted Giselle's. She was the smartest woman he knew.
"You're going to want to get comfortable, this will be a lot to take in," Connor said. Morgana swore he saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but he couldn't see which one.
There was no other option, so Morgana settled in as he was told, sitting against the wall and looking up at Connor with confusion.
The prince rose to his feet, adjusting the scepter in his hands so the gem was pointed Morgana's direction. It suddenly made sense where they got a faery tool, but at the same time, Astyr wasn't rich enough or powerful enough to get her hands on a tool like that. What has she been up to?
He couldn't dwell on the thought, though, because Connor was touching the gem to his forehead and telling him to take a deep breath. And just like that, he was somewhere else.
A bed. He was laying in a bed, but it wasn't his. Next to him was a woman he didn't know, and two children wrapped in her arms. When he looked down at himself, he looked different. His skin had color, and he was a bit more muscular. His hair was wavy and brown, clothes closer to an autumn faery's.
He realized then he was watching through someone else's eyes.
His vision was struck with light as a door swung open, illuminating a human man in familiar royal armor. His hair was golden, eyes a chilling blue.
There was no hesitation as he pulled the woman from her bed, letting the children tumble to the floor.
"Where are you taking me?" she cried, but she knew where. Somehow, so did Morgana.
The children screamed as their mother was pulled from the room. Morgana felt a searing, heartbreaking pain in his chest that wasn't his own and he wanted it to go away, but it wouldn't.
He was somewhere else now, in the body of a human knight. He stood in a dark room, where a small wooden table sat in the center, illuminated by torches.
The same woman was stretched across the table, whimpering and crying out for her husband. She was strapped down with iron, surrounded by doctors and guards to keep her contained.
There was a very familiar staff in one man's hand, though the stone was red rather than green. The stone was placed between the woman's breasts, pressed down enough to hurt.
A chant was followed by the woman's haunting screams, as painful as a banshee's. He could see the light leaving her body and filling the red stone. The woman cried and seized until the magic was gone and her body went limp, already half-decayed and entirely dead by the time they were done with her.
It went black then. All that he could hear were thousands of screams, overwhelming his head until he felt like it would explode. He gained control of his limbs long enough to push the scepter away.
Morgana shot to his feet as the world came back to him. He kicked Connor down to the ground, tears heating up his eyes. Knights came running to the cell, but Connor held up a hand to stop them.
"What the hell was that?" he cried, pulling the prince to his feet by the collar of his tunic. He threw the scepter to the ground, tossing the prince against the bars of the cell. "Astyr would never show me something like that."
"She wouldn't show you the truth?" he asked, and Morgana faltered. "Morgana, you're the only one that will understand. Arthur used Camelot to steal faery magic and kill them by the dozen."
Morgana swallowed the lump in his throat, anger and grief and confusion all swirling through his mind.
"What are you..."
"They can't bring Camelot back, Morgana," Connor said. "If they do, more of your people will die."
He tossed the prince to the ground, looking back at the black stone on the ground and picking it up. He didn't take it yet. He had enough energy now, powered by sheer anger.
"Let me out," he demanded, but when he tried to grip the bars, iron burned his palm.
"I can't."
"I need to stop them, and I know where to look for them," he said.
"We can't let you do that."
Connor rose to his feet, but Morgana already had the prince's sword in his hand, pointing it at his throat. A guard tossed a sword to Connor through the bars, and he pressed the tip of the metal to Morgana's chest.
"You told me the truth, now I have to stop it and you're not letting me," said Morgana.
"They're coming here anyway. Either you help us stop them our way or we'll kill you," Connor threatened.
Morgana clenched his jaw, but he didn't move his sword.
"And if we kill you, the only people left alive that know the truth will be the ones your friends will never trust," he continued. "If you die, there will be no chance, don't make me kill you."
He swallowed. He hated this, but maybe he could get something out of it.
"If I'm going to be on your side," he grated, "you'll treat me as such. No more iron, no more prison cells, and a better outfit might be nice."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
Morgana's eyes were ice as they settled on him. "You'd be a fool to trust me. I don't need trust, but you need me enough that you can't afford to do anything else."
The prince was the first to drop his sword. Morgana kept his, but tucked it in his belt.
"Fine. Heal yourself and come with me. We expect them to be here soon."
Morgana did as he was told, inhaling the dust from the stone and doing his best to ignore the weight of what he was about to do.
The hall was full of chaos as swords clashed and men fell and blood stained the smooth floors. Eurion was no better off than her comrades, though the armor she wore kept her from obtaining such horrible injuries as everyone else had.
She tried not to get distracted by Chalice's eye. She didn't even know if it was still there, it was bleeding so bad. But even that didn't seem to stop the druid from using their strongest magic to maintain the circle around Kit and Lionel.
There was no way of knowing if this would work. She had no idea if Excalibur could just be put together like a puzzle, or if it needed to be melted down and remade completely. The latter wouldn't be an option this time, not when hoards of guards were fighting tooth and nail to get to Kit, and they were winning.
The prince was getting agitated, panicked, even, and Eurion felt the dread at her stomach. From the corner of her eye, she could see the shards glowing, like they knew what they were, but Kit didn't seem happy.
They should've been defeated a long time ago, it was only a matter of time before the knights succeeded. Eurion was soon overpowered, but the knights made no effort to kill her. They restrained her, knocking her to the ground and kneeling on her back to keep her down.
Chalice went next, brought to the ground and choked. Eurion felt a tear slip as the druid's face turned purple and their whole body went limp. Giselle was already down, a mess of blood and tulle on the floor, Morgana doing his best to keep her alive.
The man was a mystery. Clearly he was against them now, but he never stopped caring about Giselle. She was his priority even after all this.
Selene was next, but not without a fight. She was the last thing between the knights and Kit, but even she wasn't enough, and it didn't take Eurion long to know they were done for.
Kit's face fell with defeat, eyes squeezing shut as a sword swung at his throat. Something stopped it, though, a wooden staff. It was Prince Connor.
"Don't kill him here," he said.
The prince and his son were restrained. Lionel's mouth was gagged, they must've caught on to his little lullaby, and Connor knelt down to scoop up their hard-earned shards.
"You're all fools," the older prince said, cutting through the painful silence. Eurion felt her heart sink as he held the shards. God knows what he planned to do with them, but there was no way it was good.
Kit's head buried into his hands.
"It didn't work, did it, little brother?" he mocked. "Do you know why that might be?"
The younger prince said nothing.
"It's because you're a bloody idiot," he cackled. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy?"
Eurion watched Kit's head raise, eyes red with tears of defeat and stuck to the ground in front of him.
"Of course you did. You had the Gods on your side, there was no way you were going to lose."
He took the scepter, and lifted up Kit's chin so he'd look at him.
"But you've never learned not to trust a faery," he spat. "You're too naive, brother. You wanted to believe you were this wonderful savior, that you did it, you saved the kingdom, but you failed to realize how odd it was that Queen Titania, the Mistress of Mischief, would just hand over her most valuable treasure."
Connor made his way over to Morgana, yanking him to his feet. "But you see--" His sword came swinging down, and the Unseelie let out a cry as his hand detached from his wrist, landing on the ground with a sick thud. "I offered her something. I made a deal. She had no reason to give you the real thing, because you didn't have anything to offer."
Morgana dropped to his knees, cradling his arm to his chest. Connor picked the hand up from the ground, dropping it into a bag hooked to his waist.
"You're a fool, Kristofer," Connor finished, bringing his scepter down to the ground, shattering the stone and revealing a glinting metal. It was the real shard, not the fake Titania had given them.
"And it is already your downfall."
Finally, it let him go. He fell to the ground in a fit of coughs, and the guard before him raised his chin with the dirty toe of his boot. "Don't try to get out again."
Morgana could see the irritation at the other man's neck, but it wasn't nearly as bad as his own. He was starting to get dizzy even from where he sat, fighting to catch his breath.
A swift slap rang out across the cell, and Morgana's hand flew up to nurse his cheek. He looked up to see what the man was angry about now.
"Don't fall asleep, the Prince is coming for a visit."
The guard tossed a black stone his way before he left. Morgana let it sit on the floor beside him, ignoring his body's plea for healing. He couldn't become dependent on it, and he didn't want to keep getting better if they were just going to beat him down again. It was pointless.
As promised, the insufferable prince made his way to Morgana's cell, gripping a scepter, a long, wooden thing, a pointed green stone at its end. Stolen faery magic, he could tell. There was no way to get something like that anywhere else.
"Good morning," the prince greeted, voice as plain as butterless toast. Everything about him was plain. Perhaps Morgana would respect him more if he wasn't so awful. He could understand why Kit was the way he was, if this was who everyone expected him to act like, it made sense that he'd do anything to avoid it.
The cell door slammed behind Connor, and he took his time getting comfortable in the chair that sat before Morgana, brought in there earlier in the day just for this moment.
"You must be wondering why I'm here."
"I actually don't care why you're here, I would really prefer if you'd just fuck off," Morgana muttered. He would likely pass out at any other attempt of torture, so he didn't bother being careful.
Fortunately, or perhaps not so much, the prince didn't even flinch at his back talking. He simply composed himself again, and got back to his speech.
"Right. Well, I'm not going to. I have something you need to see. It's from your mother," he said.
Morgana perked up. "Astyr? She's been in touch?"
He didn't know why his living mother would be in touch with the Prince, but he trusted her judgment more than he even trusted Giselle's. She was the smartest woman he knew.
"You're going to want to get comfortable, this will be a lot to take in," Connor said. Morgana swore he saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but he couldn't see which one.
There was no other option, so Morgana settled in as he was told, sitting against the wall and looking up at Connor with confusion.
The prince rose to his feet, adjusting the scepter in his hands so the gem was pointed Morgana's direction. It suddenly made sense where they got a faery tool, but at the same time, Astyr wasn't rich enough or powerful enough to get her hands on a tool like that. What has she been up to?
He couldn't dwell on the thought, though, because Connor was touching the gem to his forehead and telling him to take a deep breath. And just like that, he was somewhere else.
A bed. He was laying in a bed, but it wasn't his. Next to him was a woman he didn't know, and two children wrapped in her arms. When he looked down at himself, he looked different. His skin had color, and he was a bit more muscular. His hair was wavy and brown, clothes closer to an autumn faery's.
He realized then he was watching through someone else's eyes.
His vision was struck with light as a door swung open, illuminating a human man in familiar royal armor. His hair was golden, eyes a chilling blue.
There was no hesitation as he pulled the woman from her bed, letting the children tumble to the floor.
"Where are you taking me?" she cried, but she knew where. Somehow, so did Morgana.
The children screamed as their mother was pulled from the room. Morgana felt a searing, heartbreaking pain in his chest that wasn't his own and he wanted it to go away, but it wouldn't.
He was somewhere else now, in the body of a human knight. He stood in a dark room, where a small wooden table sat in the center, illuminated by torches.
The same woman was stretched across the table, whimpering and crying out for her husband. She was strapped down with iron, surrounded by doctors and guards to keep her contained.
There was a very familiar staff in one man's hand, though the stone was red rather than green. The stone was placed between the woman's breasts, pressed down enough to hurt.
A chant was followed by the woman's haunting screams, as painful as a banshee's. He could see the light leaving her body and filling the red stone. The woman cried and seized until the magic was gone and her body went limp, already half-decayed and entirely dead by the time they were done with her.
It went black then. All that he could hear were thousands of screams, overwhelming his head until he felt like it would explode. He gained control of his limbs long enough to push the scepter away.
Morgana shot to his feet as the world came back to him. He kicked Connor down to the ground, tears heating up his eyes. Knights came running to the cell, but Connor held up a hand to stop them.
"What the hell was that?" he cried, pulling the prince to his feet by the collar of his tunic. He threw the scepter to the ground, tossing the prince against the bars of the cell. "Astyr would never show me something like that."
"She wouldn't show you the truth?" he asked, and Morgana faltered. "Morgana, you're the only one that will understand. Arthur used Camelot to steal faery magic and kill them by the dozen."
Morgana swallowed the lump in his throat, anger and grief and confusion all swirling through his mind.
"What are you..."
"They can't bring Camelot back, Morgana," Connor said. "If they do, more of your people will die."
He tossed the prince to the ground, looking back at the black stone on the ground and picking it up. He didn't take it yet. He had enough energy now, powered by sheer anger.
"Let me out," he demanded, but when he tried to grip the bars, iron burned his palm.
"I can't."
"I need to stop them, and I know where to look for them," he said.
"We can't let you do that."
Connor rose to his feet, but Morgana already had the prince's sword in his hand, pointing it at his throat. A guard tossed a sword to Connor through the bars, and he pressed the tip of the metal to Morgana's chest.
"You told me the truth, now I have to stop it and you're not letting me," said Morgana.
"They're coming here anyway. Either you help us stop them our way or we'll kill you," Connor threatened.
Morgana clenched his jaw, but he didn't move his sword.
"And if we kill you, the only people left alive that know the truth will be the ones your friends will never trust," he continued. "If you die, there will be no chance, don't make me kill you."
He swallowed. He hated this, but maybe he could get something out of it.
"If I'm going to be on your side," he grated, "you'll treat me as such. No more iron, no more prison cells, and a better outfit might be nice."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
Morgana's eyes were ice as they settled on him. "You'd be a fool to trust me. I don't need trust, but you need me enough that you can't afford to do anything else."
The prince was the first to drop his sword. Morgana kept his, but tucked it in his belt.
"Fine. Heal yourself and come with me. We expect them to be here soon."
Morgana did as he was told, inhaling the dust from the stone and doing his best to ignore the weight of what he was about to do.
The hall was full of chaos as swords clashed and men fell and blood stained the smooth floors. Eurion was no better off than her comrades, though the armor she wore kept her from obtaining such horrible injuries as everyone else had.
She tried not to get distracted by Chalice's eye. She didn't even know if it was still there, it was bleeding so bad. But even that didn't seem to stop the druid from using their strongest magic to maintain the circle around Kit and Lionel.
There was no way of knowing if this would work. She had no idea if Excalibur could just be put together like a puzzle, or if it needed to be melted down and remade completely. The latter wouldn't be an option this time, not when hoards of guards were fighting tooth and nail to get to Kit, and they were winning.
The prince was getting agitated, panicked, even, and Eurion felt the dread at her stomach. From the corner of her eye, she could see the shards glowing, like they knew what they were, but Kit didn't seem happy.
They should've been defeated a long time ago, it was only a matter of time before the knights succeeded. Eurion was soon overpowered, but the knights made no effort to kill her. They restrained her, knocking her to the ground and kneeling on her back to keep her down.
Chalice went next, brought to the ground and choked. Eurion felt a tear slip as the druid's face turned purple and their whole body went limp. Giselle was already down, a mess of blood and tulle on the floor, Morgana doing his best to keep her alive.
The man was a mystery. Clearly he was against them now, but he never stopped caring about Giselle. She was his priority even after all this.
Selene was next, but not without a fight. She was the last thing between the knights and Kit, but even she wasn't enough, and it didn't take Eurion long to know they were done for.
Kit's face fell with defeat, eyes squeezing shut as a sword swung at his throat. Something stopped it, though, a wooden staff. It was Prince Connor.
"Don't kill him here," he said.
The prince and his son were restrained. Lionel's mouth was gagged, they must've caught on to his little lullaby, and Connor knelt down to scoop up their hard-earned shards.
"You're all fools," the older prince said, cutting through the painful silence. Eurion felt her heart sink as he held the shards. God knows what he planned to do with them, but there was no way it was good.
Kit's head buried into his hands.
"It didn't work, did it, little brother?" he mocked. "Do you know why that might be?"
The younger prince said nothing.
"It's because you're a bloody idiot," he cackled. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy?"
Eurion watched Kit's head raise, eyes red with tears of defeat and stuck to the ground in front of him.
"Of course you did. You had the Gods on your side, there was no way you were going to lose."
He took the scepter, and lifted up Kit's chin so he'd look at him.
"But you've never learned not to trust a faery," he spat. "You're too naive, brother. You wanted to believe you were this wonderful savior, that you did it, you saved the kingdom, but you failed to realize how odd it was that Queen Titania, the Mistress of Mischief, would just hand over her most valuable treasure."
Connor made his way over to Morgana, yanking him to his feet. "But you see--" His sword came swinging down, and the Unseelie let out a cry as his hand detached from his wrist, landing on the ground with a sick thud. "I offered her something. I made a deal. She had no reason to give you the real thing, because you didn't have anything to offer."
Morgana dropped to his knees, cradling his arm to his chest. Connor picked the hand up from the ground, dropping it into a bag hooked to his waist.
"You're a fool, Kristofer," Connor finished, bringing his scepter down to the ground, shattering the stone and revealing a glinting metal. It was the real shard, not the fake Titania had given them.
"And it is already your downfall."
End of Excalibur's Seven Chapter 32. Continue reading Chapter 33 or return to Excalibur's Seven book page.