The Iron Gate Page 6

  6

  Magic Protectors

  809 B.C.E. The Dales, Cumbria

  Long glinting teeth just missed Morgana’s arm as she spun out of the Hound’s reach, narrowing her eyes at the beast. It paused and snarled at her, curling back its lips and pressing its ears flat back on its head. Above Morgana’s head pulsed a small orb of light which allowed her to see the long, lean Hound crouching for another lunge, its translucent fur almost glowing in the magical light, exposing the sharp angles of its body. Morgana could almost count the ribs of the beast as she slowly drew out her new dagger with her right hand. It felt strange in her hand; the wooden handle fastened to the dark gray metal unworn and unfamiliar. Holding her left hand forward, Morgana allowed the silvery sparks of her magic to gather in her hand, forming a small orb and braced herself for the Hound’s attack.

  It lunged, its body shooting forward towards her. Morgana released the sparkling orb with a soft huff. It collided with the Hound’s upper chest, knocking it back in a flash of light. Tumbling to the ground, a sharp cry of pain escaped the Hound. Rushing forward, Morgana brought her dagger down at the beast’s neck, driving the iron blade into the flesh. The cry of pain turned to a gurgle as the body began to dissolve.

  “Morgana!” A male voice shouted behind her. “Another Hound to your right!”

  She jumped back up and turned quickly to the right, gathering another orb of magic in her hand just as another Hound burst into the light surrounding her. Far in the distance, a horn sounded, echoing through the valley before it was joined by a long howl. Her green eyes locked on the Sídhe Hound, Morgana pushed her arm forward and released the cracking orb of magic into the air. The Hound tumbled to the ground, a gaping wound of silver blood on its side.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Morgana saw Arto jump forward towards the Hound. Light flashed off of shining metal as a long blade swung down on the neck of the beast. There was a flash of magic as the Hound’s form vanished. Without a word, Morgana turned away from the figure and scanned the area for any more enemies. After a moment of hesitation, she raised her hand towards the light orb floating above their heads. It's light intensified, spreading out further to reveal the grassy slopes of the dale with the occasional rocks.

  “Looks like that’s all of them here,” Arto said.

  Looking over her shoulder, Morgana gave a small nod to the tall teenager standing behind her. His brown hair was messier than usual from the fight with a sheen of sweat shining on his face.

  “Indeed, Arto,” Morgana agreed before glancing around again. “But I heard a horn and at least one other Hound.”

  “Then we should backtrack to Merlin,” her brother replied.

  “You should return to the village.” Morgana took a few steps towards the nearest hill where she thought the horn might have come from.

  “Honestly, Sister, I’m sixteen.” Arto trekked after her, crunching down the brittle autumn grasses with each step.

  “Merlin would want you safe,” Morgana reminded him, not mentioning that she was far more concerned than Merlin would be. She glanced down at the muddy ground with distaste, noting already the large patches of mud on her dress. “We’re going back to the village.”

  Arto huffed again but said nothing else. However, he did not stop following his sister up the slope of the hill. Morgana dimmed the light quickly when another burst of a horn rang down the dale. Ahead of them, on the crest of the hill, another light appeared alongside two Riders on their tall shimmering steeds. For a moment no one moved, taking in the other side cautiously.

  Morgana’s eyes quickly scanned the golden armor worn by both of the tall and lean figures. It was elegant, but nothing suggested they were high ranking. One of them had longer horns with his long white hair twisted around them in an elaborate style, marking him as the older of the two Sídhe Riders. Each of them had a drawn sword clenched in their hands with the light glinting off the golden protectors that the Sídhe wore over their long claw-like fingernails.

  The sharp violet eyes of the elder Rider narrowed on Morgana, assessing her as she had him. “The Traitor,” he hissed slowly, his dark tone rumbling through the darkness along with the musical hint that all Sídhe voices had. “The Queen will reward us for your demise.”

  Giving the Rider a dark look, Morgana gathered more magical power in her hand and allowed the light to brighten, illuminating the sloped field of battle. “You are not the first Rider to say that,” Morgana replied with a slow smile. “And you won’t be the last.”

  Next to her, Arto chuckled, and she heard the slide of metal as her brother pulled out Cathanáil. In the corner of her eyes, Morgana watched Arto step up next to her, holding the sword out in front of him. She risked a glance towards Arto to check on him, but her brother was watching the Riders calmly, waiting for their move. Tiny white sparks of magic jumped over the blade as Arto’s right hand began to glow. She couldn’t help the slight smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  There was a moment of silence, and then the Riders spurred on their steeds. As the horses crashed down the hill towards them, Morgana focused on the Rider rushing towards her. Taking a quick breath, Morgana felt the tingle of magic up her arm and silently commanded it into another orb. She threw her hand forward, sending the silver orb flying through the air. The horse reared up and the Rider fell from the beast’s back just as the silver orb crashed into its chest. Magic sparked over the horse’s torso like tiny lightning bolts as the creature began to dissolve like mist into the chilled air.

  Ignoring the urge to turn and see how Arto was managing as the other Rider charged him, Morgana pulled her iron dagger and rushed up the hill. Up ahead, the Rider climbed quickly to his feet, recovering his long golden sword from where it had fallen. Morgana panted as she struggled against the chill sinking into her bones. Exhaustion was creeping over her, and she found herself wishing she’d used less magic against the Hounds.

  The Sídhe Rider smirked as he raised the blade in front of him in one hand and magic began to swirl around his other. Eyes darting, Morgana quickly took in the gathering magic and lunged forward. Her sudden movement surprised the Rider causing him to jerk back just before the iron dagger clinked against his armor. The magical orb he’d created shot off into the distance, leaving a glittering trail of gold sparks behind it, but Morgana refused to be distracted from her target.

  Scratching of metal against metal filled the air, sending shudders up Morgana’s arms. She pulled back her arm as the Rider shifted his posture and swung the sword towards her. Gasping in alarm, Morgana stumbled back, her foot slipping on the thick mud of the slope. The sword barely missed her. Throwing her weight forward, Morgana caught herself with one hand as she hit the ground. The iron dagger fell from her hand as Morgana pulled sharply on the connection to the Earth, letting it power charge up her spine and into her hand.

  Swinging his blade, the Rider brought it down towards Morgana just as a blast of magic escaped her hand and slammed into his torso. A panicked scream escaped the Sídhe Rider as he fell back against the moist earth of the hill. Standing up, Morgana watched for a moment as he tried to use his magic to save himself or at the least destroy her. His violet eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open just as his body began to dissolve. A moment later nothing remained save an imprint in the mud of the hill.

  The sound of metal crashing into metal made Morgana’s eyes widen as she remembered Arto. Spinning, she spotted Arto battling the remaining Rider with his sword. The steed was gone, and the Rider was lower on the hill with Arto using the added height given to him by the slope against the Sídhe. Cathanáil slammed into the Rider’s long golden sword, nearly knocking the Rider to his knees. Growling at Arto, the Rider removed one hand from the hilt of his sword as magic began to swirl around him. Morgana bent over, grabbing her dagger and a fistful of mud from the ground.

  Arto huffed, bringing Cathanáil down against the golden sword. With only one hand, the Rider wasn’t able to defend against Ar
to’s strong swing. Arm forced down, the Rider started to bring a magical orb towards Arto, but her brother thrust Cathanáil forward. Morgana flinched at the scraping sound of metal against metal as Cathanáil pierced the Sídhe’s armor and slid into the Rider’s chest. Arto was still for a moment, waiting as the Sídhe’s magic and body dissolved like mist in front of him. When Cathanáil was freed, Arto lowered the sword and took in a deep breath.

  “Are you alright?” Morgana stepped closer to her brother with a small smile of relief.

  “Yes,” Arto agreed before he looked up towards the crest of the hill. “But I want to check something.” Before his sister could stop him, the teenager rushed up the slope to the crest of the hill. Once he reached the top, Arto created a small white orb of magic that cast light over the hill. “Look at these tracks,” Arto called from other the crest of the hill.

  Dusting off her shoulder, Morgana tossed back her hair and started to climb up the rest of the way. Her right knee ached, and she grit her teeth together to keep in a cry when her leg caught on a rock, nearly tripping her. Finally, she reached Arto and glanced down at the remarkably clear tracks from the Rider’s horses in the mud.

  “We could track them back to the tunnel entrance,” Arto suggested with determined eyes. “If we find the entrance we could mount a better defense.”

  “The locals already said it was to the northwest,” Morgana reminded him, her eyes darting between the tracks and her brother.

  “That’s just a general direction.” Arto shook his head stubbornly. “Come on, Morgana, if we can find the entrance soon it lessens the opportunities that the Sídhe have to hurt these people.”

  Shoulders slumping in defeat, Morgana nodded and ignored the triumphant smile that lit up her brother’s face. Instead, she took in a slow deep breath, focusing on finding the small spark warming her chest and tugged at it. The light above them began to glow more brightly, better illuminating the tracks. Arto led the way, keeping Cathanáil out and at the ready, glancing back at Morgana as she slowly followed him, mindful of her footing. They followed the gentle slope of the hills until the slight hints of daylight on the horizon warned that dawn was coming just as they entered another small valley.

  “We need to be careful,” Morgana hissed to Arto. “Any remaining Riders will be on their way back to their tunnels.”

  Her brother nodded his understanding, and his pace remained steady. Staying quiet, Morgana ignored the tug of the mud in her shoes and mentally cursed their luck of being called to the area during the rainy season. It was no trouble to follow the deep tracks up the valley, but Morgana and Arto paused as they found more tracks leading away from the Riders they had already destroyed.

  “Hard to say how many more there are,” Arto said.

  Nodding in agreement, Morgana started moving forward again, her eyes tracing the sides of the valley for either the entrance of the Sídhe or a place to hide until dawn. Then her light illuminated the space behind three large trees and a boulder, revealing a tall opening in the side of the hill. Morgana took a sharp breath and swallowed painfully at the sight of the smooth round opening. She was unable to contain the shiver that rushed through her body at the sight of the gaping hole in the hillside.

  Even at her current distance, she could see the smooth edges of the round opening with dark stone lining the tunnel that she knew stretched deep underground. Through the tunnel, the escaping Riders could escape back to their realm or travel to a distant corner of the Isles. Memories of her childhood in the clutches of the Sídhe washed over her, making her stomach turn painfully. She’d only been saved by virtue of being a mage and Queen Scáthbás’ eagerness to turn her into a weapon against her homeland.

  “Morgana,” Arto called gently, reaching towards her cautiously. “We’ve found it, time to find some cover and wait for dawn.”

  “I know… it’s just-”

  Her words were cut off by the neigh of a horse behind them and the frantic beating of hoofs against the ground. There was the slide of metal as Cathanáil was pulled out of its sheath by Arto. The sight of the tunnel made Morgana slow, her distraction leaving her fumbling for her dagger. Behind her, there was a crash and a shout of anger from Arto.

  A scream of fear that turned into a sob made Morgana spin around in horror. Running towards the tunnel entrance was the Rider, now without his horse, but dragging a small child behind him who was bound with a golden rope. Eyes widening in alarm, Morgana gathered magic in her hand as she measured the rate of the Sídhe Riders’ paces and the distance to the tunnel entrance. She exhaled softly before shoving her magic forward, but the orb vanished and instead stretched out into a long rope of light. It snapped through the chilly night air, illuminating the space around it before colliding with the back of the Rider.

  Crying out in pain, the Rider fell forward, dropping the golden cord. In the corner of her eye, Morgana saw the young girl squirm away from the Rider and stumble down the hill. Snapping her hand, Morgana brought the shimmering river of magic down against the Rider again with a crack. Magic sparked against the Rider’s armor, and his body began to dissolve before Morgana’s eyes. Weakly the Rider pulled himself forward towards the tunnel entrance, but his body faded into mist long before he reached it.

  Fingers clenched in a fist, Morgana couldn’t stop her hands from shaking in rage. Behind her, she heard Arto trying to calm down the small child that they’d just rescued. Morgana turned to look towards Arto who was holding the small girl against him in a protective one-armed hug. Raising his eyes towards Morgana, he gave her a forced smile as the last traces of silver blood vanished from the long blade. He inspected Cathanáil for a moment before sheathing the sword.

  “That wasn’t so bad now was it,” Arto told her, his grin widening. “Now aren’t you glad that we came now and didn’t wait for day.”

  “I suppose so.” Morgana’s eyes dropped to the little shivering girl before going back to Arto. “But you should have hidden, this was a bad position to be battling the Sídhe in, and you are too important,” Morgana added angrily, ignoring her inability to keep her body from shaking in rage.

  For a moment the young man looked ready to snap in return, but he took a slow breath after closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he met his sister’s eyes calmly. His grin was gone with a serious expression replacing it. “I know that I’m important, Morgana,” Arto replied in an even voice. “But I will not have everyone else rush into danger in my place. I have an obligation to fight as well. I may be more than a mage, but I am still a mage.”

  Without another word, Arto marched towards the tunnel entrance and glared at it. He raised his hands slowly and breathed deeply. Stepping back, Morgana glanced over at the little girl who was shivering and clearly resisting the urge to run to Arto. Morgana sighed softly and walked over to the little girl. She felt the small child grab at the fabric of her dress as she crossed her arms over her chest and waited. Arto’s hands moved apart slowly, white lightning sparking between them dangerously. Strange shadows danced through the dark valley as the light crackled and sparked in his hands.

  Morgana straightened up as the grip on her dress tightened and lowered her hand to place it on the small girl’s head. “It’s alright,” Morgana promised tensely. “This is good magic.”

  The lightning in her brother’s hand was beginning to spin out of his hands erratically as he slowly turned his palms towards the entrance. Magical lightning burst forth, striking the ground around the entrance with sharp cracks and booms. Rumbling filled the valley as the ground began to twist around the entrance, warping the round dark hole out of its smooth shape. Arto groaned as the tunnel’s edges began to glow gold, growing brighter and brighter. The white lightning cracked as it collided with the golden glow, sparks of magic flying violently away from the entrance. Then the golden glow slowly faded, flickering out suddenly as another bolt of white magic hit the dark stone. The rumbling grew louder, and suddenly a section of stone fell away inside the tunnel, follo
wed by another and another. The small girl cried with alarm, tucking herself behind Morgana as the tunnel collapsed and the earth surrounding it began to cover the rumble.

  Watching patiently, Morgana chuckled as the grass rolled over the debris and a small flower poked out of the ground. “Well done,” she complimented as the little girl stepped away from her and Arto lowered his hands.

  Her brother leaned forward, supporting himself against his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Rushing out from behind Morgana, the little girl ran up to Arto and leaned over to peer at him. Arto chuckled softly when the girl asked him something in too quiet a voice for Morgana to hear. Arto picked up the little girl and started to walk back the way they had come out of the valley, not looking at Morgana as he passed her. Sighing, Morgana’s shoulders slumped, and she glanced back towards the remains of the tunnel. She could remember the Sídhean Realm so clearly and the face of her former mistress, Queen Scáthbás, pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. Shaking her head, Morgana turned and started after Arto, her body aching too much for speed.