Avalon Rising (24 page)

“Merlin,” I breathe. I think of his hateful words, his taunts. “You were so cruel.”

He sighs, and immediately, I’ve lost him to the void inside his mind. “I can’t ask for your forgiveness for the monster I’ve become. Truthfully, I’ll never deserve any pardon.” A pause, and then, “Vivienne, do you know why you are so special?”

His words are strange, but more importantly, they’re irrelevant now, too.

“I hold the coordinates to Avalon. How long have you known?”

“I always suspected, but I was never certain. There was much the Lady of the Lake and I never saw eye to eye on, and there was no way for me to confirm it, certainly. It was only when Morgan suspected, caught wind of it that day she tried to take you captive, that I guessed. But there’s more to you than simply that.”

Outside, rogues grow wild with the realization that Galahad has locked his ship to theirs. I think of Lena waiting in the Black Knight’s cabin and wonder if they’ve caught her yet. I feel the weight of her firelance on my back, and I’ll only have eight shots. “Merlin, what must I do now?”

He strains, as though to hold his form here is too much. “Azur will call me back soon, and his world needs help just as much as Camelot. You’re on the right path, Vivienne. Whatever it takes, lead the knights to Avalon. Only you can pull back the concealment that keeps it safe. Only you. Otherwise, the future of Camelot will be lost, and there will be no other way to get it back.” Sweat beads across his forehead from sheer exhaustion.

And suddenly, there’s a banging sound at the Black Knight’s door. I turn and look through the doorways at Lena’s pale face and parted lips. “Vivienne!”

With utter desperation, I turn back to my mentor. “Merlin, help me take control of this aeroship!”

He smiles sadly as he fades into a ghost again. “I’m sorry.”

And then Merlin is gone.

Lena calls for me, but I do not move; I forget the thunderous slams at the door. Splinters of wood fly all around me from the cannons on Galahad’s ship, catching in my hair, scratching my cheeks, forcing my eyes shut as they prick at my lids. But all of this feels like a dream.

“Vivienne!” Lena screams again, like her own blood is too hot and burning her alive.

It stuns me from the haze Merlin left me in, and I turn fast to see her watching me from the edge of the door, just as the Black Knight and his rogues burst inside from above deck. Instantly, her crossbow’s only bolt flies into the chest of the closest rogue, and Lena casts the empty weapon aside.

In front of me is a lever, and it shines like copper in twilight, and I don’t know what it’ll do, but I grab it with both hands and yank it forward. The aeroship sputters, and the pistons slow and pull back, leaving a clear path for Lena to run through just as the Black Knight’s mechanical eye, black and twisted and clicked forward, falls upon us.

“Run, Lena!” I scream.

And she does. She has more weapons in her hands, and as the Black Knight points at us, Lena spins on her heels to fire her fusionah at the rogues sent after her. The bearings are disastrously potent—they strike the chests of a few unlucky rogues with shards of metal that burrow deep, bloody holes into their bones instead of the clean deaths the bearings of Camelot offer.

The Black Knight follows. Lena fires at him, but she must be missing her target because still he walks slowly for us. Calm, deadly calm. Too angry even to crack an expression.

Once Lena makes it to my side, she slams the door shut, the Black Knight still in his private quarters. I push all my weight onto the lever to restart the pistons, crying out as I move it back into place. The aeroship springs to life again. The pistons churn against one another, and the propeller restarts. As it happens, the rogues unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire cry out as they’re crushed. My eyes shut, but that only makes it worse, because then I can hear the crunching of their bones. “Oh God.”

Lena presses the door slightly ajar, and together we peer into the passageway leading to the Black Knight’s cabin. He stands there, watching, unmoving. He hasn’t attempted to cross the churning pistons; he stayed behind, and he’s unaffected by the deaths of his men. I don’t know what he might do, but before I can wonder out loud to Lena, he leaves his cabin.

Lena and I edge the door shut. I consider the means of torture to come if we’re caught.

“We need to lock ourselves in here.” I run to the control room’s door and lean against it. “Give me the sword!”

Lena tosses it to me, and I catch the hilt. The door has a heavy iron ring built into it, and the latch is strong, and I slam the blade between both to keep it from budging open. But as I do so I have to laugh through my exhaustion—this won’t stop a demigod. It’ll only buy me a minute, at best.

Lena and I face the glass window. She lifts her skirt to her knees, revealing thigh-high black boots with a heavy heel. With one kick, that heel slams through the glass, and the window shatters into the sky. She uses the butt of her fusionah to slice away any sharp remnants, and together we stare at the stretched silk wing of
MUERTE
and the diabolically hooked wing of Galahad’s aeroship. The wings’ masts connecting both are slim, but they’re flattened and rough, and someone could certainly cross them in the most ideal of circumstances. Winds blow around us, and it’ll be nearly impossible to switch aeroships as we fly so close to the heavens.

Nonetheless, Lena grabs my hand. “Come on!” “Wait.” I release Lena’s rope—heavy on my shoulder as it is thick—as Lena stands guard with her fusionah aimed at the door. We have little time, but I have to steal a minute.

I drop into a crouch and usher Caldor down my arm, copper talons that much colder with the glacial airs surrounding us.

“What are you doing?” Lena cries, her melodious voice mixed with the wind’s song.

“I have to send word.” And this might be the only chance I get—I cannot use mirrors anymore, and Azur must know I’ve left Camelot. He must know about Rufus and Marcus and the Black Knight and the aeroships that arrived. He must know how I found myself here. Seizing a piece of parchment from the table, I recall the events until now in as little script as I can manage and set the folded message inside the belly of the bird. I spill the rest of the
jaseemat
into its valve. God help me—there is no more after this. “To Jerusalem, Caldor.”

The mechanical falcon chirps, its valve shuts, and I cast it out the window. Caldor swoops and swerves on the mighty winds, steering away from the rainfall of iron seeking Galahad’s aeroship and
MUERTE
just the same. I watch it fly, just like a real falcon, its source of life the last of the sorcerer’s alchemic dust.

I can’t help but think that it’s as it should be, and that if Caldor runs out of steam before it reaches Azur Barad, at least the falcon went down with the same alchemic life it was born with.

Galahad’s aeroship has its talons tight into
MUERTE
’s wing. I stare into the blowing wind at my destination and plan for its impossible fruition. Aboard, knights aim heavy cannons at the Spanish rogues. My heart leaps with joy at the sight of Percy alive, though a little worse for wear, his ragged, brown hair in his eyes and a thick beard across his jaw. He relays Galahad’s orders to the others with his usual zeal, and I know for sure that none of them will rest until the Black Knight is defeated. I’m certainly not in this alone.

My plan is to aim the grappling hook at the railing of the aeroship so it can guide Lena and me as we walk from our wing to theirs. With one unexpected gust of violent wind, we could fall to our deaths. Rope is more than a simple luxury.

I tighten the excess around my wrist three times for safety’s sake. And then I step onto the window’s ledge and set my back flush against the ship’s body. I shouldn’t look down—I know this. But as I grip the wood behind me, I feel the wind cast its power, and though the sail’s mast is roughly-surfaced, my boots lose their grip. Before I know it, I’m looking down at the swirls of clouds spinning below me like an autumn breeze might conjure leaves to dance. I exhale loudly at the sight—oh God, there’s no land beneath me, and even more terrifying are the churning propellers that might chop me into bits on my fall through the clouds. My hand slams over my eyes, against the tears gathering on my lashes.

Then, “Vivienne!” comes from the other aeroship. I open my eyes to Percy leaning over the railing. His usually stoic face is wrought with panic at seeing me. “Cease fire! Galahad! Cease fire! Prisoners aboard!” He drops to his knees at his post. “God’s sake, Viv! Get back inside!”

Stubbornly, I shake my head and lift the grappling hook. I’ll need to step out onto the wing’s mast, and this will be the biggest risk of all. The aeroships spin wildly in the sky, and the Black Knight’s rogues are trying to free themselves from Galahad’s grasp. But I stand directly under them, and they haven’t spotted me. Yet.

I lower myself into a crouch, ignoring the hair across my eyes, the cold so sharp against my skin, the cannons and the endless taunts of death. The line is tight around the hook, and I swing it several times to gain momentum, careful to keep the points from catching onto
MUERTE
’s sails, and then with a strong step and a loud cry, I cast it, and it lands straight on the wooden railing of Galahad’s aeroship, only feet from Percy’s reach. He runs to it and ensures the hold is tight just as I’ve thrown the excess line back to Lena. She catches it and ties it around the iron ring of the door, looping it into the lock.

I fling myself back against the aeroship, my forehead against the rough wood. The wind rises beneath me, tasting like salt in water or blood spilling over the sides of both these great and terrible vessels.

“Ready!” Lena calls.

I open my eyes as she rushes to my side. We look across the winds at Percy, and I can’t believe I have the strength to speak. “We’re two, and we’re coming across!” I call to him.

Galahad arrives, the gallant knight much older now than the twenty-five years he should be. Dark circles line his eyes like shadows, and blood tinges his lip. He spots me, and his voice is commanding when he shouts, “Vivienne, stay there!”

Again, I shake my head. Cries from above deck shout for the sorceress of Camelot, for the girl with the coordinates. For me. I scan Galahad’s aeroship at the infantry so much sparser than it was in the spring. Marcus isn’t with them. So he did go to retrieve the signet for the Black Knight. He put me above defeating the demigod. He put me above the Holy Grail.

I cannot think about that now. With both hands around the line, I guide myself upright and step away from the body of
MUERTE
. My feet are trembling, and I’m holding my breath, and Lena calls to me to be careful, but I have to ignore everything: debris from the shards of splintered wood, the burning stench of the cannons. I have to cross. I focus on the width of the sail’s mast and follow it step by step, reaching the halfway point to the iron talons of Galahad’s ship. I haven’t taken a full breath in nearly a minute, and I’m shaking like mad and holding tightly enough to the line that I’m sure it’s burned into my palms. I don’t realize I’m crying until I look up at Percy’s terrified eyes, one of his hands tight around the embedded grappling hook, the other outreached for me.

“A little further, just a little further! Come on, Viv!”

Behind him, Galahad shouts at his knights, “Ready to release them! On my command!” He holds his hand upright, and the other knights wait, but then Galahad’s eyes flicker behind me, steadying on Lena, I’m sure. Lena, who hasn’t stepped onto the mast yet. No, not when it might jostle the line and send one or both of us flying into the sky beneath.

My feet are at the edge of the sail, where the wood starts to bend from my weight. I press my toe to it for an idea of its strength, and a gust of wind forces me back another step.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, and now I know I’ve gone too far. I should have gone north instead of searching for Marcus and Owen. I should have stayed in the clock tower instead of finding myself in these damned skies, forcing my own people to save me instead of defeating a man of magic.

“Oh God!” I cry, my fists tight around the line, my teeth chattering from cold and fright.

Percy and Galahad won’t give up. Percy leans further toward me, his hand so close to mine. “You can do this, Viv! A little further! Don’t look down!”

But I cannot move.

“Ready to release!” Galahad shouts, a somber look back at Lena.

“No!” I shout. I cannot leave Lena to die.

A whipping sound slices past my ear, and I jump. A bearing hits one of the iron talons. I scream. Someone shot at me. I know who.

From my periphery, I see Galahad and Percy fire relentlessly at the aeroship I’m escaping from. But I’m a wounded sheep in the middle of a field, and they’re about to send in the dogs to finish me off. I want to scream at Percy to give up, to defeat the Black Knight, to let me go.

But then an arm goes around my waist, holding me upright.

“Hold on, Vivienne!” Lena says. Merlin’s sword is against her back. The line is tight in her grasp, and she lifts her own fusionah at the rogues above deck trying to knock us off the mast.

Her aim is ruthless. Two fall over the railing, streams of blood trailing in the air from their chests.

I could nearly forget we’re between two aeroships in the middle of a war in the skies. I glance over my shoulder at Galahad organizing a defense while Percy waits to catch my eye. “Come on!” he shouts.

Rogues are making their way toward us on the wing, and the footing I’ve found is more stable than Lena’s. I draw Merlin’s sword from her back and step in front of her protectively, though it might not do anything in the slightest.

“Go, Lena.” I’ll guard her as she crosses, as she’s more liable to fall sooner than me. Only a few steps …

Lena finds herself in Percy’s range. He grabs her wrist and pulls her to the aeroship’s side. As the devil-eyed rogues make their way closer, I take a careful step backward.

Suddenly, the Black Knight appears on deck with his long, elegant firelance. I feel time slowing as he lifts his weapon to his green eye and squints, aiming. I feel the air whipping around me.
Fires.
I drop to the mast in time to miss the shot that strikes Galahad’s aeroship instead. My scream overwhelms the blast.