Chapter 20
Bael had already stepped off the path by the time Ursula turned around, sword in her hand. It felt right in her fingers, as if it were a piece of her she’d never known she was missing. Slowly, she walked along the path of fog, the word Darkling rolling around in her skull like a curse. She swallowed hard. Was it true?
Her body was trembling when she reached solid ground. Bael’s words echoed in her mind. The Darkling has many names—Abaddon, Bast, Fenriz, Moloch, even Lucifer. If the Darkling is allowed to return, chaos will claim the world.
And yet this sword felt so right in her hands. Trembling, she stared at the ground, hardly aware of the world around her, until she felt Bael’s warm hand on her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Didn’t you hear what she said? I’m the Darkling.”
“She’s wrong.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“I wouldn’t have claimed you if you were the Darkling.” Bael eyed the sword. “She’s beautiful.”
She offered him the pommel. “Do you want to hold it?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Go for it.”
Bael took the sword, stepping away from her. He sliced it through the air, but the movement seemed strangely awkward for Bael, the strike veering off course. He tried it again, the blade wavering as he swung it.
Ursula frowned. “What are you doing?”
Bael shook his head with frustration. “I thought this sword was supposed to be perfection, but it’s not. It’s heavy and poorly weighted. Feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. How are you going to fight with it?”
“What are you talking about?” Ursula thrust out her hand. “Give it to me.”
Bael passed it to her and she took a few practice strokes. The blade carved through the air like a peregrine falcon, the blade nearly an extension of her body.
Bael’s brow furrowed. “Apparently it’s meant for you.”
“And you still don’t believe I’m the Darkling.”
“No.” He snatched his jacket off the ground, then his sword. Already, the rising sun was staining the sky a deep crimson. “We should get moving. Let the rays of the rising sun warm our backs. I’ve already gathered some food for us.”
Ursula gripped Excalibur. By Bael’s side, she began to walk up the path toward the gorge, her mind drifting back to the memories of that frantic escape through the woods. She felt certain she’d seen the Lady of the Lake’s memory—how she had come to live as a phantom in the lake. She just had no idea whom Viviane had been running from, or why she’d been willing to give her own life to keep the sword from him.
When they reached the gorge, the rising sun tinged the mist with deep shades of marigold and coral. This time, as they crossed the bridge, no mist wraiths assailed them. Through the boulder field, and past the Black Knight’s courtyard, Ursula nibbled on pistachios and apples. Bael kept a brisk pace, pausing only to pay his respects to King Arthur again.
When they stepped from the forest, the sun had risen higher in the sky, and Castle Dahut came into view. Ursula’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. If it had been practically a ruin before, it certainly was one now. Where the keep had stood a day before was only a thick column of smoke twisting into the sky.
Bael unsheathed his sword. “We get the apples with our magic. Then we leave.”
“And how, exactly, do we get our apples?”
“I know where they’re being kept.”
Ursula smiled. “Your little tour last night was fruitful.” She bit her lip. “So to speak. Anyway, when we get the apples, how will we call the boatman?”
“We don’t. He would betray us immediately. Can you travel by Emerazel’s sigil?”
Ursula nodded. “As long as we find those apples and I can get my magic back.”
“Good. Stay low, run fast. The dragon is bound to be around here, waiting for you.”
Without another word, Bael charged forward, running as fast as a storm wind across the grass. Ursula sprinted after him, trying to keep up, but she was no match for his speed. As she ran, she strained her ears for anything that sounded like beating wings, or claws on stone. A hundred feet ahead, Bael reached the moat’s edge. He was waiting for Ursula by an enormous pile of rocks.
“You need to run faster,” he said.
She pumped her arms faster, sword swinging as she ran. Her lungs burned. At last she reached the stones, nearly slamming into Bael from the velocity of her sprint. For a moment, she caught her breath, until Bael nodded at the pile of fallen stones and rubble. It had once been the drawbridge, and now the rubble filled the moat, forming a path. Bael led the way, and she clambered over the stones, taking in the ruins of Castle Dahut.
The passage through the wall remained mostly intact, and their footfalls echoed off its arched ceiling. But she sucked in a breath as they crossed into what remained of the courtyard. The grass was littered with stone fragments—and among the rubble, bodies lay bleeding into the earth, their blue dresses stained red. Nimue’s handmaidens. Nausea welled in Ursula’s gut, but she tried not to let the carnage distract her.
Smoke curled into the air, and an inferno blazed in what remained of the keep. Bael picked his way through the rubble, his sword ready, and Ursula moved behind him. As they moved deeper into the courtyard, she realized with a sickening jolt that many of the bodies had been mutilated, their dresses torn, their skin carved with claw marks. Battle fury ripped through her nerve endings, and she gripped her sword tighter. She wanted to drive this blade right into that dragon’s heart. Maybe she was the Darkling, and if she was, the first thing she’d do would be to hack the entire dragon army to pieces. Excalibur seemed to hum in her hands, glowing with a pale light.
“Ursula!” a voice pierced the quiet.
Ursula whirled to find Niniane lying in the rubble, her dressed spattered with blood and mud, dark curls wild around her head. She looked like a broken doll among the carnage.
Her heart slamming against her ribs, Ursula ran to Niniane. When she reached her, she dropped Excalibur on the grass and fell to her knees.
“You came back.” The girl’s voice was barely a whisper, and a trickle of blood ran from her lips.
Ursula pulled the girl’s head into her lap. “I needed the sword to fight the dragons. I got it. Can you sit up?”
Niniane swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I came to assist the queen, but I was too late.”
Ursula took the girl’s hand in hers. “We need to take you to help. Where’s the infirmary?”
Niniane pointed at a burnt-out husk of a tower on the opposite side of the courtyard. Completely destroyed.
“What about your parents?” asked Ursula.
Niniane’s eyes began to close.
Bael stood over them, looking down at the girl. “We need to get the apples.”
Anger sparked. “We need to help her, not worry about the apples.”
“With my magic, I can heal her.”
Niniane’s eyes opened, her gaze unfocused. “They moved the apples to the chapel.”
Without another word, Bael ran across the courtyard.
Niniane blinked. “Is he your lover?”
“Who? Bael? No, not really.”
“Then maybe he’ll be mine,” she rasped. “He’s very handsome.”
“Don’t try to talk, Niniane. Just wait until Bael returns.”
Already, Niniane’s eyes were closing. “The dragon looked like fire—” She let out a long, raspy breath, and another trickle of blood escaped her lips.
“Niniane.” Ursula squeezed the girl’s hand. “Niniane.” But the girl didn’t move, and her chest had stopped rising and falling. Ursula stroked the girl’s curls. “Wake up, Niniane.” Gently, she lay Niniane’s head on the ground, then straddled her skinny body, pushing on her chest to try to jump-start her heart. Niniane’s head lolled, but Ursula tried to keep her focus, counting and pressing harder, desperate to revive her.
After what seemed an eternity, Bael’s firm hand clasped Ursula’s shoulder. “It’s too late,” he said softly. The scent of sandalwood enveloped her with a comforting, familiar darkness.
Ursula leaned back, a tear streaking her face. Rising, she wiped it off on the back of her hand.
“We need to leave,” said Bael firmly. He thrust a shiny, red apple at her. It was warm, almost hot. “Take it. We need your magic to return to New York. I’ll draw the sigil.”
She bit into the apple, and the flesh of the fruit burned her lips, tasting of ash and creosote. As she swallowed each bite she could feel Emerazel’s fire course through her, filling her veins with magic. When her body blazed once more with hellfire, she looked at Bael, his body exuding pure power. He stood in the center of a sigil scratched into the earth, and he gripped a dark bottle. “Calvados. I found it in the rectory. Priests always have the good stuff around somewhere.”
He began to pour the brandy onto the sigil.
“Wait. You forgot a line.” She traced it in the dirt with her fingertip, then turned to pick up Excalibur from the blood-soaked ground. Just as her fingers tightened around the hilt, a terrifying, inhuman scream ripped through the air. The dragon was returning. Hot, fiery battle rage surged through Ursula’s body, and she lifted her sword. “I could fight it.”
Bael shook his head. “There’s nothing to defend here anymore. The castle is destroyed. And what’s more, you don’t know how to use this sword yet.”
“I’m good with a sword.”
“Even if you were brilliant with it, you’ve got no armor.”
The dragon’s blood-chilling scream tore through the air, closer this time. Battle fury and a need for vengeance burned through Ursula’s body like an inferno, so hot and powerful her body shook, and the sword seemed to hum in her hand. She needed blood—dragon’s blood.
“Ursula!” said Bael sharply. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not a good idea. There’s nothing left to fight for here.”
Another shriek from the dragon ripped through the air, so close now she thought she could feel the flames from its mouth. The thick black smoke billowing above the keep whooshed to the side as an enormous form passed through it. Ursula couldn’t burn anymore—but Bael could. He was right. Best to get out of here.
She took a step closer to Bael, into the sigil, her body pressing against his.
“Now.” Bael pulled her closer to him.
There was a thunderous slam, and the earth shook. The air simmered and the dragon appeared in the courtyard. At the sight of his yellow, reptilian eyes, his shimmering blood-red body, fear slammed into Ursula like a fist. Her breath left her lungs.
“Now,” Bael whispered into her ear.
The dragon crouched, ready to attack, and Ursula summoned her fire magic. Her pulse racing, she recited the sigil spell as quickly as she could. At the final word, the dragon lunged, but before its teeth could close around them, an inferno of fire blazed around Ursula and Bael.