Powerful Magic (26 page)

          
Megan made another soft sound, a cry of distress as if she somehow sensed his thoughts.
 
Silently, Kenric cursed.
 
Damnation
.
 
He had promised to help her, given her his protection.

          
The dark magic stifled the light, blotted it out, making breathing difficult.

          
Soon it would impossible to fight.
 
Though fighting would be a waste of time against dark power such as this.

          
 
Only Magic could do prevail, against one such as this.
 
His sword contained magic, magic he could use without invoking any of the Faerie magic that tainted his soul and threatened to overwhelm him.
 

          
He would use the sword only.
 
The sword and its own magic would have to be enough.

          
The sky grew blacker; the chill more biting.
 
Even from the back of his war horse, he could see that Megan shivered.
 
Though Kenric did not believe in such things, if this was a portent, it was an ominous one.
 

          
The dark man stared at him, one corner of his mouth twisting into a mocking smile.
 
"Are you so ready to die, brother of Rhiannon, reluctant mage?"

          
"Rhiannon?"
 
Ah, he hadn't been wrong then.
 
His sister and this man were known to each other.
 

          
Myrddin laughed.
 
"Aye, I know her well.
 
And for you I have searched long and hard."

          
Many men boasted before battle; Kenric surmised that for some it was a way to hide their fear.
 
Too, some thought to goad their opponent, hoping that anger would overtake caution and provoke recklessness.
 

          
This man, with his dead eyes and hate-filled expression, did not merely boast.
 
Kenric sensed he meant every word.

          
Four against one.
 
Not impossible.
 
He had faced down such odds once before and won.
 

          
"Nay, one against one."
 
Myrddin told him.
 
Then Kenric knew that the other had somehow read his thoughts.

          
"You and I.
 
And our powers."
 
His smile chilled Kenric's blood.

          
"I have no powers.
 
Choose a weapon."
 
If Myrddin would not fight with swords, perhaps he might be willing to do close combat, with a dagger or a knife.

          
"I have chosen it."
 
Myrddin laughed, his eyes glittering.
 
He made a small gesture with his hands, somehow obscene, and lightening flashed over the plains.
 
"Magic."

          
Magic
.
 
He had only to call upon his faerie heritage for help.

          
With every ounce of his being, Kenric resisted.
 
He had disavowed magic.
 
He would not, could not, abandon every principal he had spent his life trying to hone.

          
He was human, a man.
 
If the magic lay inside him, inherent, so be it.
 
He would not call upon it, would not let

it consume him, turn him into some kind of monster.

          
Fear wide and trust widened Megan's amber eyes.
 
She trusted him.
 
Kenric forced himself to look away from her.
 
He turned to face the wizard.
 
With a smooth motion, he raised his heavy sword, feeling it hum with power.

          
"Fight, damn you."
 
Gritting his teeth, Kenric issued the challenge.

          
The wind began to shriek and howl, buffeting him like a leaf clinging to a tree branch.

          
"The battle commences."
 
Myrddin's twisted smile left no doubt that he meant it.
 
"Now."

          
Kern and his other two men retreated, backing their mounts until they were a godly distance away.
 
Near Megan.
 

          
Interpreting Kenric's warning look correctly, Kern grinned.
 
"We will not touch her."
 
He promised.
 
"Yet."

          
Kenric hesitated, knowing that to hesitate could be death in a normal battle.
 
But this... this was anything but normal.
 
Myrddin's refusal to arm himself stumped him.
 
He'd never struck down an unarmed man before.
 
He wasn't about to start now.

          
"The prize," with a dark smile, Myrddin tossed out the words casually, as if the outcome were of no importance, "is not the horse, though I am sure Kern will relieve you of the beast regardless.
 
Nay, the prize is the woman."

          
Like he'd planned it for effect, lightening crashed,

illuminating the gathering darkness.
 
Thunder boomed, reminding Kenric of his sword's ancient name.
 
Somehow, Myrddin knew of Kenric's vow to protect Megan.
 
This was why he had chosen to name as a prize the one thing that would make Kenric fight.
 
No matter what else he was, Kenric was a man of honor.

          
Forsaking all else, he still had that.
 
He'd clung to it, even as a mercenary warrior, choosing battles that he felt were justified.
 
His honor.
 

          
And honor demanded he save Megan.
 
By whatever means at his disposal.

          
If Myrddin had been waiting for Kenric to agree to his terms, he waited no longer.
 
Pointing his index finger, he muttered a few words.
 
The first blast of energy nearly jolted Kenric from the war horse's back.
 

          
Lancelot trumpeted, staggered, then fell to his knees.
 
Kenric had no choice but to dismount.

          
"Don't hurt the horse."
 
Kern shouted.
 
“I claim it as mine once you’ve finished him off.”

          
“Agreed.”
 
Myrddin laughed, his face alight with an unholy glee.
 
"Prepare to die, Kenric of Blackstone."

          
From her place on the rock Kenric saw that Megan watched, her eyes still huge, still hopeful.
 
Trusting.
 
Believing in him.

          
Kenric cursed.
 
He had no choice.
 
Just this once
.
 
He would use his inherent magic just this one time
.

          
He readied himself, gathering his strength and his energy like a tattered cloak around him.
 
For the first time he wished he had paid more attention to his sister's numerous attempts to teach him when he'd been small.
 

          
Focus
.
 
Ah, better.
 
He felt it building inside of him.
 
           
Lancelot - no - the war horse staggered to his feet, shaking his massive head.

          
The wind buffeted them, seeming to try to knock him from his mount.
 
Around them the air became heavy with the promise of rain and...
smoke
.
 

          
Fire
.
 

          
He felt it crackling around him, licking at his clothes.

Consuming him, as he'd always known it would.
 

          
From a far off distance he heard Megan scream.
 

          
There was no heat.
 
No stench of burning leather and flesh.

          
Illusion
.

          
The instant he thought it, knew it for a certainty, the fire vanished.
 

          
Desperately, he began again the process of gathering his energy, of focusing the way Rhiannon had tried to teach him as a young boy, so long ago.
 
But he was rusty and long out of practice.
 
The second he felt the raw power of the stirrings of it begin to build in him, he knew he would not be able to control it.
 

          
Lightening crackled, the air sizzling with black energy.
 
Summoning his own powers, Myrddin had no intention of allowing

him time to do anything.

          
Again Kenric concentrated, focused.
 
He could do this.
 
He would do this. For Megan's sake, he had no choice.

          
All it once it filled him.
 
His power...arriving so

suddenly that Kenric felt out of control.
 
His entire body vibrated as it coursed in him, through him, with him.

          
Focus, focus
.
 
He lifted his hands, gathering it like a shield around him.
 
He could feel his sword, no longer separate, thrumming in tempo with the place inside him.

          
Desperately he tried to control it, fighting the uneven pressure as it threatened to overwhelm that which was human, making him but an instrument, a vessel for its passage.

          
Nay
- he would not give in to it.
 
The violent tremors of his internal battle shifted his focus inward, so that he no longer saw the mercenaries backing away, their grizzled faces blanched with terror.
 
Nor Myrddin, his eyes mere slits as he summoned up his own dark power to counter the danger.

          
None of them knew, not even Kenric himself had realized the breadth, the scope, the sheer might of the power within him.
 
As he had feared, despite using all of his strength, his iron clad will, he could not dominate it.

          
With one last shuddering effort at resistance, he released control.
 

          
Violently, it consumed him, erupting outward as he screamed out one last warning before falling, senseless to the ground.
 

          
When he awoke, all was quiet. No breeze chilled his

overheated skin.
 
The landscape once again looked pastoral; bright sunlight, azure sky, the sheer simplicity of a peaceful

spring day.
 

          
As it had been before.

          
Off in the distance, he heard the rumble of far away thunder.
 

          
Kern and his ragged band of followers were gone.
 
As was Myrddin, the evil one, whose name Kenric felt like he should know.
 

          
Behind him, the war horse heaved a sigh.
 
Kenric's heartbeat steadied.
 
He wiped the sweat from his brow and, with one final glance around him, sheathed his sword.

          
All was as it should be.
 
And magic - if that blast of raw energy could be called such a thing - was no more.