The strip of winding shadow struck, arching into the air. Speed blurred all detail, but Merlin saw the flash of deadly fangs aiming for his leg. His power flared, but he throttled it at the last moment, remembering the danger of using magic here in Tenebrius’s private domain. Saving himself would expose Clary.
But she moved fast, driving her knife through its skull. Merlin jumped back to see her blade quivering in the stone floor, the serpent pinned like a specimen in a display case. Its tail twitched once, and was still. She backed away slowly, disgust twisting her features.
“How did I do that?” she asked hoarsely.
Merlin let out a shaking breath. Lucky for him that even if Vivian was dormant, she’d left some of her reflexes behind. But there was no time to talk about that now. Another rope of darkness skittered across the floor in a strange, sidewinding motion. Clary squeaked as it twisted toward her.
Without thinking, Merlin scorched it with a handful of flame. For an instant, the serpent glowed bright white edged in orange, its body stretching and drooping like molten glass, and then it collapsed to ash. Clary grabbed his arm, fear and gratitude plain in her tight grip. As the light faded from the ash, the room grew dark, and that was even worse. Merlin knew there would be more snakes hiding in the inky shadows. There always were.
“We need to leave,” he said softly. “I’ve used magic, and now Tenebrius will know we’re here.” He’d managed to stifle his power when it came to himself, but he hadn’t been able to hold back when she was at risk.
Clary swore under her breath, then freed her knife from the stone floor. “How do we get away without running into more wildlife?”
Merlin considered. Even if they survived the snakes on their way back to the main castle, the creature with the crow’s head was outside the door to these hidden rooms. Plus, they’d already tripped whatever magical alarm system the demon employed. A speedy getaway would be more valuable than a stealthy one.
With one hand, he drew an archway in the air. A thin line of luminous white followed his fingers as if he was sketching with light. The white thickened and seemed to crack apart, like the seal around a door. Brilliant blue rays escaped the gap like windblown banners, flaring wide. With a swipe of his hand, Merlin cleared the doorway, settling it back to black. Soon the dark orchard shimmered into view. The branches of the trees swayed in a silent wind he could not feel. It was just an image, the reality far away—and yet close enough to reach in two strides. With the egg of demonic essence under his arm and Clary’s hand in his, he stepped through the portal.
The horses whickered as they stepped out of nowhere, but stood obediently as Merlin stashed his prize in the saddlebags. Merlin and Clary donned the clothing and equipment they’d shed to enter the moat and within a minute, they’d mounted and set off at a brisk pace.
They rode in silence as if holding their breath. It was possible that Tenebrius wouldn’t notice the egg was missing for some time, the same way no one noticed a missing golf club until it was time to use it. All the same, Merlin expected spies, or magical trip wires or a perimeter alarm to sound as they left the orchard for the road. Nothing came.
“That was too easy,” Clary finally muttered.
He wanted to tell her not to jinx their good fortune. Instead, he tried for a reasonable explanation. “Perhaps the demon goop masks our presence.”
“What, like disguising our scent?”
“Perhaps.”
But he might have spoken too soon. He reined in, hearing a sound like the wind in a ship’s sails. It was moving across the sky toward them like low, rhythmic thunder. His chest tightened so hard it felt as if his heart had been forced to beat sideways. Without hesitation, he nudged his horse into the cover of the trees, grateful when Clary’s mount automatically followed. They hid just in time. The creature in the sky flew low, the skirts of its tail rustling against the tips of the trees. A smell like rotting carrion swamped them, making the horses stamp and quiver. Merlin’s own stomach did an uneasy roll.
“Tenebrius, in his hunting form,” Merlin whispered.
They said nothing more, watching the dark shape pass over them. He reached forward, patting his horse’s neck and whispering comfort into its flattened ears. The spell was small and simple, yet it was enough to keep their mounts from panic until the demon was gone. Even in the dark, they could see the great carrion bird had savage claws and a beak hooked like a scythe. But it moved on without pausing or so much as looking their way. It was searching for something or someone else.
He waited a few minutes, then a quarter hour, listening to the wingbeats pounding the air. They seemed to go north, then east. Once they faded, Merlin continued to listen, his ears almost physically straining to catch a last clue to the demon’s destination. If he hadn’t been on another mission, curiosity would have made him follow.
They waited a long time to ensure the coast was clear before they moved. Then Merlin turned his horse’s head toward the fairgrounds and set off at a gallop with Clary at his heels.
As with most trips, the road back seemed shorter. Even so, the sky was turning from the black of midnight to the indigo of earliest dawn when they crested the ridge that marked the halfway point of their journey. From there, the path they followed descended to a wider road that ran the length of the forest. Merlin almost relaxed, but then he saw a flash as steel caught the silvery gleam of starlight. Alarmed, he reined in, signaling Clary to do the same.
“What is it?” she asked in a barely audible voice.
“Fae.” Now that he knew they were there, he could see past the glamour that hid the army. Thousands of soldiers marched along the road below, their column stretching as far as he could see in either direction. Their armor did not match, but nonetheless it gleamed with careful polishing. White hair hung in long braids, and slender hands held bows that curved like wicked smiles. They moved silently, as only the fae could. Merlin sat straighter in his saddle, the awareness of danger awakening his own urge to fight. LaFaye must have ordered the hills of Faery emptied to gather this army.
Clary reached out to touch Merlin’s arm, and then she silently pointed. Merlin followed her gaze to a small figure on a gray mare. Merlin’s stomach burned with sudden hate. He knew that dark-haired woman from a hundred nightmares. It was Morgan LaFaye herself, freed from Nimueh’s prison. Beside her horse’s head was Tenebrius, striding in step with the others. He was dressed as usual in beautiful silken robes and seemed utterly relaxed as if he hadn’t just flown there in haste to greet them.
The queen turned to say something to the demon, and Merlin caught a glimpse of her face. The pale oval was indistinct at that distance, and yet he knew it was the same as they’d seen in the laptop, exotic and beautiful as a poisonous bloom. Merlin clenched his fists on his horse’s reins, making the beast toss its head.
“Where are they going?” Clary asked.
“I don’t know,” Merlin replied, wishing again he had the leisure to spy on Tenebrius and the queen. “But if I don’t get to safety with this egg, it won’t matter.”
It would have been so easy to draw another portal, or send a message through a spell, but Merlin knew LaFaye would sense another enchanter’s magic this close. He’d take that risk for himself, but Clary was no match for the Queen of Faery or for Tenebrius. He would have to rely on other skills. Merlin turned his horse’s head and retraced his steps, leading them away from the marching fae at a brisk pace. As if there weren’t enough reasons to hurry, soon dawn would deprive them of the cover of darkness.
He glanced at Clary’s worried face. “Change of plan,” he said. “We can’t get back to Arthur. This army blocks our path.”
“I guessed that much,” she said, and he saw how tired she looked. “Where can we go?”
There was only one place he knew of in the forest with strong walls, decent beds and no monsters. “The castle at Camelot.”
Her look was pure confusion. “Camelot?”
“You were expecting a five-star hotel?”
“Wasn’t Camelot in England?”
“The castle is here, too.” It was not the same place where the Knights of the Round Table had lived so long ago, but an almost-identical twin created by the magical realm for reasons deeper than anyone knew. It was solid enough, every detail preserved without decay down to the raisins in the larder and the oats in the barn. The main difference was that none of people who had lived and worked in the real place dwelled in this twin. To Merlin, the joyless silence made going there like visiting a grave. Tonight, however, that grave was their refuge.
The path he took led them through the deepest part of the forest, where the track disappeared in places and in others led them to bogs, or bramble patches or streams too treacherous to ford. Merlin, however, knew the land and found a route despite its tricks. All the same, dawn was breaking by the time the castle came into view. It stood on a rise overlooking the surrounding land, the round, pointed towers and crenelated walls gleaming in the rosy light. He heard Clary’s indrawn breath and saw delight wash the fatigue from her face.
“It looks like something from a storybook. Which tower is yours?”
Her words struck dagger-sharp. “It’s not here anymore. It hasn’t been since Arthur banished me after the war.” Arthur’s wrath had been worse than any punishment, but Merlin had deserved it after what he had done to the fae.
She stared in disbelief. “But you’re not banished anymore.”
“It is true that I am welcome at Arthur’s court again,” Merlin agreed. “It seems the forest still has reservations.” He spurred his horse forward, putting an end to the discussion.
They passed over the drawbridge and between the towers that guarded the entrance, the hooves of their mounts ringing off the walls. The sound crawled over Merlin’s skin as if an invisible pen were writing out his sins in a tattoo. It was too quiet here, just like in Uther’s castle of death.
They found the stables and tended the horses before anything else. Caring for one’s mount was the first lesson any warrior learned, and they’d ridden the poor beasts hard. Besides, if magic failed they were the only means of escape. He had to be sure they were there for Clary.
She got as far as removing her animal’s saddle before she sank onto an old three-legged stool and leaned against the side of the stall, her face white with fatigue. She watched Merlin work, her eyes slightly glazed. “I should be helping you,” she said, voice thick with guilt.
Merlin had been watching her fade, and smiled at her words. “Rest and don’t worry about it. I’ll look after both horses.”
She lifted her head, blinking owlishly. “You need to be doing stuff. Magical stuff. I should be doing this.”
Clary was tired to the point of being useless, but she wouldn’t thank him for pointing that out. “Physical work is good for thinking.”
That much was true, and he liked the warmth and smell and gentle sounds the horses made. Merlin was reluctant to end the peaceful interlude, knowing it would be the last. Finally, though, he retrieved the egg from the saddlebags. “Let’s go inside.” He put an arm around Clary and led her toward the keep.
“To a nice, soft bed?”
He nodded. That was where she was going—to Guinevere’s old chamber. It was hung with green silk and the bed was piled high with down pillows. Plus, Arthur had built his queen a bathing chamber lined with a mosaic of tiny marble tiles. Clary could sleep there safely and in as much luxury as the forest could provide. They entered the door of the keep, and Clary halted for a moment to stare openmouthed. The grand entrance was hung with colorful banners. Weapons and shields hung on the walls, evoking all the pomp and grandeur of Arthur’s court. To one side was a sweeping stone staircase, the banister carved in the likeness of a sinuous dragon with its head as the newel post. He observed her wonderment with a twinge of pride. The old place hadn’t lost its sparkle.
He helped her up the stairs to the chamber he sought. “Rest,” he said, giving her a gentle kiss as he sat her down on the bed.
Clary looked up at him, cracking an enormous yawn. “I can’t just sleep. What’s happening with Arthur? What’s that army doing? Don’t you have a big spell to prepare?”
All that was true, but she’d pushed herself to the point of exhaustion. He kissed her again, this time on the forehead. “A warrior sleeps while she can, because she doesn’t know when the next opportunity will be.”
“And what are you going to do?” she asked, stifling another yawn she obviously resented.
“Nothing much. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
It was a lie, but she was already settling back onto the bed, too exhausted to notice. He left the room before she could argue, carrying the egg back to the main floor, and then down another staircase into the bowels of the earth. Few people knew that Camelot had a dungeon, much less how to reach it, but Merlin did. He’d put it there, after all.
This was where the battle would be won or lost, and he had a great deal of work to do before everything came to an end.