Master of Swords (13 page)

Tightening his grip on the grail, he sent his mind questing for hers.

And slammed right up against a rock-hard barrier: the wards around Avalon. They seemed stronger than before. Evidently the witches had reinforced them recently. Fortunately, just holding the grail provided a certain boost, and anyway, he didn't need much of an opening for what he intended.

Even so, sweat broke out on his forehead and his temples began to pound as he pushed at the shield. Too much force, and they'd detect him, too little and he'd never get through.

Something gave. Yes! He had her now…

Lark had just
picked up her first forkful of eggs when the table in front of her faded away. Suddenly she was sitting beside a bed in a darkened room. A sweet-faced little boy, about eight or so, lay on his side in front of her, deeply asleep. Moonlight streaming in through a window made his pale, tousled hair seem to glow like a halo. A bedraggled stuffed bunny lay in his arms, one ear flopped against his smooth cheek.

Smiling, she looked up.

A face filled the window, twisted with horrific lust. Lark opened her mouth to shout a warning…

And found herself staring at a forkful of eggs. What the hell…oh, God.

A vision. She'd just had a vision. That meant…

“Gawain!” Throwing the fork across the room, she leaped to her feet, called her armor, and ran for the stairs. “Gawain!” she yelled as she took the steps two at a time. “Kel! Armor up, we've got trouble!”

The bedroom door flew open as she raced down the hall. Gawain stepped out, already in his armor with Kel in his hand. His handsome face looked grim, yet like the combat veteran he was, he held his big body loose-limbed and ready. “What's going on?”

“I had a vision,” Lark told him, stopping short to cast a spell. Her will brought a dimensional gate swirling into being in the hallway. Within its depths lay a deceptively serene view of a perfectly ordinary middle-class home in the center of a neatly-kept lawn.

Gawain threw the scene a narrow-eyed glance. “Edge?”

“No, somebody else. He's about to snatch a child. We've got to move now if we're going to save that boy.” The dimensional gate started to form.

“I don't want to get caught off-guard again,” Gawain snapped. “Kel…”

“I'll call Arthur.”

 

“
I don't think
so,” Tegid murmured under his breath, staring intently into the scrying pool, his tail lashing with excitement. This entire situation had real possibilities as something he could manipulate to his advantage. Merely getting Gawain killed would serve his purposes, since Kel would be left to die in the sword.

Sensing his nephew drawing power to call out to Arthur, he cast a spell of his own to block it. Kel's magic hit his barrier and bounced. Satisfied, Tegid smiled.

Oh, yes. This could work nicely.

 

Gawain shot a
look at Lark. Her face was pale, but her eyes glittered with fierce determination as she started to step through her gate. He grabbed her shoulder.

“We go first.” Lifting Kel and roaring his battle cry, he leaped through the gate. Lark ran after him.

On the other side of the gate, he scanned his surroundings. A small, neat yard populated by oaks and azaleas, a two-story house with white vinyl siding…

And a vampire in scarlet armor standing by one window. The sorcerer spun with a growl, flinging out his hands. His magical blast splashed off Kel's shields. A fireball flashed past as Lark returned fire. Gawain charged, swinging Kel up for a vicious overhead strike.

The sorcerer ran to meet him, howling a battle cry. “Geirrroooolf!”

“Why do you idiots call that alien's name?” Gawain parried the blow and swung at his foe's head. The vampire ducked, agile and blindingly quick. Dammit, this one was more competent than they usually were. “He's as dead as you're going to be.”

Fangs flashed white through the slits in the vamp's visor. “I don't think so.” He blasted a spell into Gawain's face, knocking him back a pace. Shaking off the pain, Gawain lifted the Dragon Sword.

Kel's return shot took the vampire full in the chest, slamming him into the side of the house.

Wood cracked like a rifle shot with the impact, but the sorcerer landed on his feet, undaunted.
Okay, so we'll just have to hit him harder next time,
Gawain thought grimly, starting toward his foe.

The vamp was a wiry little bastard inside that scarlet armor, but probably stronger than he looked. A lowered visor hid his face, eyes glittering from behind its snarling demon mask. At Gawain's approach, he retreated, a glowing ball of mystical force gathering around his hand. It stunk of death magic. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Gawain, knight of the Round Table.” The name alone had been known to shake opponents.

The sorcerer made a mocking half-bow. “Clayton Roth, your killer.”

Gawain bared his teeth. “You've got an active fantasy life, Clayton.”

Roth laughed and lifted his sword. “Oh, my fantasies would terrify you.” His gaze flicked to Lark, who was circling around behind him like a cat creeping up on a canary. “And what's your name, Magic Barbie? Morgana Le Fay, perhaps?”

“How'd you guess?” Her eyes were cool and fearless behind her visor, and her sword was steady in her hand.

“You wish. You don't have that much power.” He shot a spell at her head. It splashed off her shields in a showy burst of sparks.

Lark didn't even hesitate as she retaliated, lobbing blast after blast at him until he was forced to take cover behind a tree.

Good for you,
Gawain thought. The girl might be green and lacking in self-confidence, but she was no coward.

Where's Arthur?
he asked Kel in their link while Lark and Roth fired at each other.
I thought you called for backup.

I did. Something blocked me.

Roth?

More juice than that. Almost felt like a dragon, but that makes no sense. I have no idea what's going on.

Oh, great. Just great.
With a growl of frustration, Gawain charged in. Roth retreated, shooting a trio of fireballs at him. Gawain ignored them as they pelted Kel's shields, looking for an opening in the vampire's guard.
What's he done to the child's family?
Somebody should have run outside to investigate by now, considering the noise they were making.

He's got them under a sleep spell. Want me to break it, tell the parents to grab the kid and run? It's going to take some effort. Roth has a lot of juice.

Which means he's been killing a lot of kids. Go ahead and—

Suddenly a voice purred in his ear. “Remember me?”

Pain exploded in Gawain's throat as his feet flew out from under him. His back slammed into the ground so hard he saw stars.

“Gawain!” Lark cried out.

Unable to answer, unable even to breathe, he gagged helplessly.
You took a neck blow
, Kel snapped.
Your gorget is dented.

Magic rolled over his skin as he struggled for breath. Air rushed into his lungs as the obstruction abruptly vanished. The dragon had magically repaired his dented throat guard.

Coughing, Gawain rolled to his feet to find Lark and Roth exchanging a furious barrage, circling each other as they hurled blast after blast. Each glowing fireball lit up the night, throwing dancing shadows across the lawn. The night breeze carried the carnal stench of Roth's spells warring with the sweeter scent of Lark's.

Magic boiled from the tip of his own sword, only to splash off something approaching fast from Gawain's left. It looked like a spell shield, yet it seemed to surround empty air.
What the hell?

Invisibility spell
, Kel said.
It's Edge.

So that was the voice he'd heard.
Where the hell did he come from?
Gawain retreated, bringing up his sword.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lark swing toward him, obviously realizing they had a new player. She staggered as a blast from their unseen attacker slammed into her shields.

Another blast lit up Kel's shields.
Break that damned invisiblity spell!

Working on it,
Kel retorted grimly.

Gawain sensed more than saw an attack coming, tried to parry. Missed. The invisible blade rang on his armored ribs. He jumped back, staggered, managed to catch himself.

Kel, I need to see this asshole!

I know, dammit!

 

“
Who the hell
is that?” Lark tried to get closer as Gawain circled his new foe.

“Edge!” He staggered and shook his head hard, as if his invisible foe had landed a blow.

“Oh, hell.” She started composing a spell to make their latest enemy visible, then froze with a jolt of unease.

What had happened to Roth?

She glanced around. No suit of scarlet armor. She instantly realized where he'd gone. “Shit!”

Gawain was going to have to fend for himself. Changing direction, Lark charged toward the boy's house and vaulted through the open window where the vampire had been standing.

A figure in scarlet armor bent over the child, about to snatch him from his bed.

With a snarl, Lark lobbed a fireball into the molester's helm, slapping him head first into the wall beyond the bed. Even as she went after him, sword lifted, he rolled to his feet.

“Stay out of this, Magic Barbie,” Roth snarled. “That kid is mine. I chose him, and I'm taking him. And you don't have the power to do anything but get gutted.”

Lark was way too pissed to be intimidated. Drawing on the Mageverse's distant psychic blaze, she hurled a blast at him. An explosion of light detonated in her face with his return shot, barreling into her shield like a truck. To her horror, the barrier began to bow inward, almost as if the spell were eating its way through. Desperately, she fought to reinforce it, drawing more power and feeding it into the shield. Roth's attack kept coming, and the shield's glow intensified, first a violent red, then blinding blue, then at last an aching white that made her skull pound with the effort she was expending. Finally, just when she thought it was going to punch right through, the attack faded away sullenly. Lark slumped in relief as her headache faded to a warning throb.

The sorcerer's grin flashed behind the slotted holes of his visor. “Like I said, I've stored up a lot of death magic, bitch. I don't mind adding yours to my stores. Be more available for fun and games with little Timmy over there.”

“Bastard!” Furious, Lark swung her sword at his head with every bit of strength she had.

He parried the blow easily and shrugged. “Have it your way, Magic Barbie.”

His return strike was so fast she barely had time to parry. Roth powered through her block as if it weren't there. The point of his weapon bit into the enchanted plate covering her shoulder, lodging deep in flesh and muscle. Pain knifed into her arm. Crying out, Lark almost dropped her sword.

Before she could scramble away, Roth punched her in the face, sending her reeling into the wall.

Through the stars flashing across her vision, she caught sight of his descending sword. Somehow she managed to block it and fire another blast. The sorcerer didn't even seem to notice as he struck for her ribs. Her parry was too slow. His blade cut into her cuirass and bit between her ribs. Lark wrenched free, sucking in a breath of agony as she scuttled to her left, trying to find room to defend herself.

Oh God,
she realized in sick fear as blood rolled down her side,
he's going to kill me.

And once she was dead, the boy wouldn't have a prayer. She thought of John and Tristan. They'd be so disappointed in her.

Roth smirked behind his visor. Just past his shoulder, Lark could see the boy lying on his bed, deep in the grip of the vampire's sleep spell. His white-blond hair gleamed in the moonlight over the round, sweet face she'd seen in her vision. He still held that stuffed rabbit.

Roth intended to rape and murder him.

No. Goddamn it, no.
Rage splintered her fear, hot and empowering.
I may die, but Roth is not touching that child.

Lark drove her blade at his chest, every ounce of her strength behind it. The sorcerer only laughed and parried without any visible effort at all. “Little slow there, Magic Barbie. Blood loss getting to you?”

It seemed she could hear Tristan's voice in her head.
You're not going to beat him with steel. It has to be magic.
Burning sweat rolled into her eyes as Lark summoned another blast and fired it at him. Again, it splashed off his shields.

Dammit, what was he, Superman?
Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion, but he kept right on coming.

His sword arced at her head. She brought up her blade but the weapon bit into her forearm through her gauntlet. Agony ripped a strangled cry from her lips as she retreated. Her back hit solid wood. A bureau. Plastic clattered and fell. She sidestepped and kept retreating, sending a toy skittering away from her booted foot.

“Give it up, Magic Barbie.” Roth rotated his blade and grinned as he stalked her. “You just don't have it, and your friend's out getting his ass kicked. You're going to die, and I'm still going to take the kid.”

Diera's voice flashed through her mind.
The next time you're in combat, remember the power is there. You just have to let yourself use it.

But just how the hell did she do that? She was giving it everything she had as it was!

Roth swung his sword at her again, and she jumped back, simultaneously reaching for the Mageverse, dragging the power in like a swimmer taking a deep breath. It responded as it always had—but she knew even as the magic poured into her mind that it wasn't enough. Reaching for more, Lark parried his attack.

Or tried to.

Between her wounded arm and his sheer strength, his sword powered through her guard and bit into her thigh.

How many wounds was that? She could feel the blood rolling from them, cool and sticky inside her armor. Her hand was growing so slick on the hilt of her sword, it was all she could do to hang onto it.

Roth smirked at her. “That hurt, didn't it, bitch?” He inhaled. “Smell that blood. Yum. You're not my type, but maybe I'll feed on you after I get you down anyway. Be a shame to let it go to waste.”