And They Shall Be Nameless: The Wreck of Humanity

By Rebecca Cross and Rya Wolf

The Order of the Round Table was legendary, and its members were well known for doing the impossible. Jasin Támariz and Tatiana Richfield were no different. Their first impossible task had been accomplished – two women with unknown backgrounds had been accepted as Knights of the Round Table. They had more than earned it. Now it was time for the harder part – eliminating the one that would see it destroyed. The catalyst was already identified and Jase and Tash vowed they would find a way to make sure that catalyst could do nothing to influence the state of Camelot’s security in the world. They had put too much of themselves into making that a reality already, and they are certain they can handle the cost.

They know they cannot stay; that ultimatum was declared to them early to help them define their duty. In order to keep the continuum laws, they must return to their own time once the task is complete. Their advice is one simple key instruction, cryptic and nearly absurd in the scope of their duty: “Be careful to guard your hearts.” It turns out to be easier said than done and in the end they must learn that there are some things that just can’t be controlled, no matter how much blood, sweat, and tears are shed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Cross
• Release date: Nov 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310152054

Rebecca Cross

Rebecca often collaborates with author Rya Wolf under the moniker FarCrutch Productions. Find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest!REBECCA CROSS holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and takes great delight in the written word. She has been an avid reader since she was a child; as a writer, she has created castles full of fiction since the mid-1980s, has contributed several stories to fan magazines, dabbled with song lyrics and poetry, and has piles of half-finished short stories stuffed in cubbyholes and drawers around her house. She enjoys traveling, and when she’s not planning her next vacation adventure, she enjoys a quiet life in the country.

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Once Part I (The Quickening) was up and running, we felt we could go on without any armor or sword. But once again, we had to pester some people, who came to our aid with guns blazing.

To Leslie Douglas, our crusher of frustrating brick walls. Ever tried to start a car, only to find out it was already running? Yeah, Leslie was always the one who pointed that out. Frustration was cut in half with her patient guidance.

And to our incredible families, who proudly tell their friends that their sisters/wives/daughters have published that story they’ve been working on forever and then show their friends where they can buy their own copies. Our sales jumped with their able assistance. Thanks, guys.

Prologue

From Hell’s Heart

She couldn’t get the damned poem out of her head.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell…

Her senior English teacher, Mrs. Stoddard, would have been happy to see how much of it she remembered. Of course, Mrs. Stoddard wouldn’t have expected to see her sitting right in the middle of something like it, either. Mrs. Stoddard was pretty old school. Women didn’t fight in battles.

If only Mrs. Stoddard could see her now. How her eyes would bulge, and how those horn-rimmed glasses would slide right down her toadstool of a nose.

A battalion of horses stood wither to wither in the damp, chilled morning air, bits jingling, saddles creaking, snorts of equine anticipation with wisps of steam rising from nostrils. From the riders themselves, all was quiet. They were visualizing the carnage to come, plotting maneuvers, offering silent prayers to their own personal protectors. There was no testing of weapons, no last-minute checks. They were ready or they weren’t. She knew they were.

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

The chessboard was set.

The wail of a horn sounded from the mist-strewn trees, Charon’s blast from the mouth of Hades. She took a couple of seconds to relish the cold wave of fear that slid down her spine, then she set her jaw, sent up her own prayers, drew her sword, and touched her heels to her horse’s flanks, charging with her Companions into that mouth of Hell.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honour the charge they made,

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.

PART ONE

Of Wrenches and Spokes

♦ ♦ ♦

"Shall we?" he invited casually, indicating the stone circle with his naked sword.

Jase shook her head. No.

His teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. I gather you came here to ‘talk,’ he taunted. He held the sword before him and forced her backwards toward the stone circle. Well, go ahead and talk, my lily-livered warrior. Talk all you wish! Talk while you still have a tongue to wag, while you still have a throat to make sounds with! He lunged easily and sent her back the final few feet. But kindly do me the courtesy owed me while you ‘talk.’ He gestured to her scabbard with his blade. Draw, he commanded. Fight me, then beg me for mercy, and I might consider sparing you. ‘Tis how it should have been in the first place.

Jase shook her head again. I said no.

"Draw!" he repeated, the mocking sneer no longer on his face.

Jase felt desperation rising within her. I won’t fight you, Lance! she cried. Why can’t you understand that?

"Right now I understand nothing but this! he snarled back, waving the sword at her. Draw, damn you!"

It was no use. Jase gathered the remnants of her courage around her and raised her chin in defiance. "Read my lips, you arrogant bastard. I won’t fight you."

Lancelot’s face twisted in fury as the last string of hesitation within him snapped. Then die, he said coldly, and he was upon her.

♦ ♦ ♦

Chapter 1

1A Struggle for Reason

‘Tis strange – but true; for truth is always strange;

stranger than fiction.

– Lord Byron

You’re just having a nightmare. All you have to do is wake up.

When Jase was a child, she’d had a nightmare one night that had shaken her to the bones and made her scream hysterically until her mother had come to calm her. She’d been staring at a wall of flames, which had parted like a curtain to admit a demon of monstrous proportions that reached for her, all teeth and claws and hunger, and she hadn’t been able to run, scream, or move. Her mother had told her the simple way out: just wake up. Sometimes it worked.

Not today, though.

There was no fire; there were no teeth or claws. But there was a demon coming toward her just the same, and once again she was unable to move or cry out. As he neared, sword raised, every nerve she possessed screamed for her to defend herself.

The muscles in her legs unlocked and she backpedaled just far enough to free her own blade and hold it above her as Lancelot’s sword came down upon it, striking sparks. The force behind the blow knocked Jase flat on her back, and the force of the landing loosened any remaining shackles that chained her to her wall of numb fear. The adrenaline that flooded her body made her roll quickly to the side, just avoiding Lancelot’s descending sword, and she leapt to her feet as his blade buried itself in the earth where she’d lain a second before.

Damn, he was quick. He was quick, he was furious, and he was intent on killing her. And he could do it, for he was a true warrior. She blocked his blows, staggering after the force of each one. His movements became less conscious and more automatic as his battle blood heated. She could see he wasn’t even aware of where he was anymore.

What was she doing here? She couldn’t beat him! She was going to die in the worst way if she couldn’t escape!

Defend yourself, Merlin had said. Well, she was trying, but for God’s sake, it was like a field mouse defending itself from an angry bobcat. She gasped as the tip of his sword swiped across her upper arm, leaving a fiery red path. She glanced at the blood, quickly shut her eyes tight before panic assailed her, and hurriedly enclosed her already aching body in her metal skin. Her chest had been protected by the armor only a moment when Lancelot’s sword slammed against it, jarring her to her very core. He didn’t seem to notice that her body was now protected by armor. He didn’t seem to know anything; he just kept swinging his weapon with deadly force, intent on destroying the enemy that stood before him.

The minutes passed slowly, and sometime in that supposed eon it had begun to snow. Lancelot hadn’t let up at all, but seemed as strong as ever, flogging the weaker combatant mercilessly. Jase was barely able to defend herself from the constant onslaught, just managing to lift her sword crosswise to parry his blows. Her concentration wavered as Lancelot rained a barrage of cuts upon her and she reeled back drunkenly, stumbling in her desperate attempts to stay out of his deadly reach. She managed to stay on her feet, but continued to fall away from his advance as she felt the final vestiges of her strength leaking away.

Lancelot pressed his pursuit like an automaton never tiring, never slowing. He took the advantage of her lowered defenses and moved in for the final thrust, gripping his sword in both hands and sending it hurtling down toward her breast bone. Jase frantically tried to pull herself away from the descending blade, but she wasn’t quick enough. Instead of hitting its intended target, the tempered steel plunged through the armor covering her right thigh like it was made of cardboard. The pain was so excruciating that the small woman couldn’t even scream; all she could do was try to keep her breath within her as the burning stroke slid deep into flesh and muscle, grinding to a halt against bone and metal.

You can’t escape, the knight snarled as he tried to advance the blade further. When it didn’t budge he leaned over her. I’m not about to let you go so easily. You are mine.

Something about the way he said those words made Jase’s chest heave coldly inside her armor. She had to get away from him, now, no matter what it cost! With the last bit of strength she had left, she brought her sword up and swung the flat of it at Lancelot’s head. Under normal circumstances, it would have connected with the force of a baseball bat, but Lancelot somehow pulled back at the last minute and she only landed a glancing blow. Nevertheless, the impact staggered him for a few seconds, and those few seconds bought Jase enough time to drop her sword and clumsily scuttle backwards like a wounded crab, dragging her injured leg with Lancelot’s sword still jammed within it. She grabbed at the crossbar on the hilt and tried to dislodge it, but it was tightly wedged within her armor and she was too weak from fatigue and pain to pull it forth.

Lancelot had recovered from her strike at his head and, picking up her discarded sword, stood over her, threatening. Jase tried to back away further but the snow had begun to stick to the ground and it made the grass slick. Her good foot skidded and she fell flat on her back. An exclamation of pain slipped from her lips and she instinctively shoved the visor of her helm back to breathe in what could possibly be her last lungful of fresh air.

The move saved her life. Lancelot had raised the sword above her head, preparing for the final downstroke, but as she pushed her visor up, the sight of her face pushed through the red haze of his demonic battle madness and brought him up short. There was no fear there, and no cowardice; there were no pleading tears on the woman’s face, only pain and grim resignation. The Avalonian blade wavered above him, hesitated. Jase raised her eyes to the knight’s visored helm and in that instant, he saw that despite fiery agony and physical exhaustion, her defiance still ruled supreme. There was no way this woman was going to yield to him, even in death. In that instant, something within him seemed to loosen its grip and he blinked as if awakened from a deep sleep. Slowly he brought the sword down, looked at it as if he’d never seen it before, and let it fall from his hand.

Jase never saw him drop it. She’d never seen him bring the sword down from its overhead position. As she’d looked up at the towering frame of the victorious knight, her wound and fatigue had consumed what was left of her conscious state of mind, pushing her into unresisting yet defiant oblivion.

Lancelot alone was the champion of Camelot. She’d never denied him that honor even in her victory. She knew she was nothing but an insignificant pale shadow next to him, even if he was a good-for-nothing bastard. She gave in to the exhaustion that had been trying to claim her for the past hour and lost consciousness at Lancelot’s feet, her blood slowly staining the whiteness of the new-fallen snow.

♦ ♦ ♦

Milord?

Somewhere beneath the heavy fur throws that covered the huge bed, a form stirred, then lay still. The chamberlain sighed and hesitantly laid a hand on the form. Milord...wake up.

He jumped back quickly as the furs were suddenly thrown back and the point of a long, tapered sword whipped forth and wavered within inches from the hollow of his throat. The king’s eyes were hard and alert, and every muscle taut like a panther ready to spring. The chamberlain held himself absolutely still, not even daring himself to swallow. This had happened many times before; he knew the drill perfectly well.

Arthur blinked as he recognized the chamberlain and relaxed his stance, putting the sword back at the head of the bed. Once the sword was in place, he turned back to the man, who hadn’t moved a bit, and his expression changed to one of rueful patience.

Lucan, one day you are going to lose your head, he warned distinctly. Or at least an ear.

The chamberlain let out his breath and bowed slightly. My apologies for disturbing your sleep, milord, but there is someone here who wishes to speak to you.

Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for a robe. The messengers have returned?

Lucan hesitated and Arthur, seeing him falter, paused himself and looked at him steadily. Well? What is it?

She – she is not a messenger, sire, Lucan said slowly.

Arthur tossed his robe back on the chair. For God’s sake, man. Tell the wench I do not need her services tonight.

No, milord, she is not one of those, Lucan amended hastily. It is the lady Tatiana. She wishes to speak with you and she is most insistent.

Arthur groaned inwardly. He’d been sound asleep, but by Christ, he’d never be able to get back to sleep now. Lucan, he said wearily, please tell the lady that I will meet with her first thing in the morning.

Lucan twisted his hands nervously. Begging your pardon, sire, but I believe it would be a good idea if you met with her now.

Arthur tried not to show too much irritation and failed. Well, I do not. Good night, Lucan.

Milord, Lucan said again, a note of desperation rising in his voice, you must see her. Please.

Arthur looked up at his chamberlain, who still twisted his hands helplessly. All right, he said finally, what is so important that it cannot wait until tomorrow?

Lucan looked flustered. Well, you see, even though she is a woman...

Yes? Arthur pressed patiently. What had the minx done now?

Well, er, Lucan floundered, she...well, you know as well as I do that she can pretty much hold her own with your knights...

Arthur tried not to smile and failed. Lucan, he said quietly, are you trying to tell me that the woman threatened you?

Lucan looked sheepish. Well, milord, she is in a wee bit of a snit, if I do say so, and I do intend to keep what’s left of my arse, and, er, other prominent parts of my anatomy.

Arthur’s shoulders shook as he laughed silently. Oh, hell, far be it from me to turn down a lady in distress. He raised an eyebrow at Lucan. Or a chamberlain in distress, either. We can’t have you losing your arse or your stones, now, can we? He rose and put on the robe, thinking that he just may tan the woman’s backside for waking him out of a pleasant sleep. That idea intrigued the hell out of him. He chuckled then and gestured to Lucan. Lead on, my friend.

In the outer chamber, Tash was pacing restlessly, muttering under her breath. As Arthur entered the room, tying the ends of the robe together, she immediately came to him, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Your pardon for this intrusion, milord –

It is indeed an intrusion, Arthur interrupted blackly. Have you any idea what time it is? What can be so important that you bring me out of the first decent night’s sleep I’ve had in ages? His eyes danced. Or have you come to keep me company?

This was not the way she thought he’d react. Her mad worry, combined with her consternation at waking the king and embarrassment at his insinuation of her appearance, made her lose her temper. Without thinking, she began to upbraid him, causing Lucan to hurriedly walk out the room without a by-your-leave.

Well, to hell with diplomatic relations, then! You listen to me now, king or not, and tired or not! How could you let something like this happen – you, the God-almighty lord of Camelot! You ought to be shot! Or horse-whipped! Or –

Startled at first by the woman’s accusations, then tolerantly amused as he listened, Arthur crossed his arms and sat down, letting her rave on. He could see she was in a snit, as Lucan had said, and so he let her frustration run its course. Over the months of playing chess together, they had developed a rudimentary friendship, and he supposed he should consider it a plus that she felt comfortable enough to come see him in the middle of the night. He also noticed that she wasn’t wearing a robe, and he let his eyes roam over her with sly secrecy, tuning her voice out in the process.

Are you even listening to me? Tash snapped. And what the devil are you staring at?

Arthur snapped back into the present situation, realizing he actually hadn’t heard a word she’d said after her opening insults. He tried to look interested, thinking this would suffice as an answer to her question.

It did, but not the way he had hoped. Tash glanced at her attire and realized for the first time that she’d forgotten her robe, and might as well have walked in naked, as the linen chemise was almost as transparent as a length of gauze. Her face flamed red in anger and embarrassment and she immediately crossed the room to where a large purple tapestry hung on the wall. Pulling it up from the floor, she clumsily wrapped herself in its voluminous folds, doing her best to ignore the humor on Arthur’s face. Now, she continued, clasping at the shreds of her dignity, where was I?

I believe it was ‘God-almighty lord of Camelot,’ he supplied helpfully. She let her breath out hard through her nose and looked down at her feet; Arthur watched the rich color rising in her face for a few seconds and swallowed his amusement. Maybe you should try telling me what your chief concern is instead of throwing a lot of hard words at me.

Yeah, and look what good I’m getting out of it, Tash shot back. I get more help from a houseplant than I’m getting from you.

Are you finished? Arthur asked, beginning to tire of the game. If not, you may go back out the door you came in.

Tash tried to pace again, but the tapestry impeded her. Smiling faintly, Arthur held up a hand to keep her in her place and disappeared into his chamber, reappearing a moment later with a long wrapper, which he tossed at her. She didn’t hesitate to put it on.

Now, he continued, tell me why I should be shot. Or horse-whipped. Or…whatever else you deem necessary.

True to her fashion, Tash let the frustration gates down. Jase is gone. She picked up her stuff three days ago and checked out. No one knows where she is, or what she’s doing. I’ve asked everyone and they all look at me like I’ve grown another head. And then I found out that Lancelot’s taken off, too, and it doesn’t take an idiot to put two and two together to find out where he’s headed.

Well –

"And I find out you knew all about it, yet Merlin or you or anyone else in this benighted heap won’t allow me to go out and look for her. Ladies need protection and horseshit like that. Right, like I won’t kick anyone’s ass into next week if I have to."

Arthur was having a hard time following her vernacular. Maybe he was just too tired. Curse Merlin and his mouth.

So since he won’t tell me anything, I’m left with no choice but come here in the middle of the damn night and bother you. Tell me why. Are you afraid I’ll put you and the rest of your knights to shame again? What’s the deal?

The deal is that I refuse to discuss this with you until you can remain calm, Arthur said quietly, his eyes beginning to narrow. I have contempt for insults I do not deserve.

Tash rubbed her hands across her eyes. Okay. I’m not yelling. I’m ready to discuss this with you like an adult. She took a deep breath, and then her voice suddenly rose to the previous level she’d been using. No, sorry, can’t. I know this isn’t a big deal for you, but dammit, you have no idea – Let me go look for her, right now!

Arthur sighed. So much for restoring calm. Tatiana, why get so unsettled over something that doesn’t concern you?

She stared at him. "Doesn’t con – You think this doesn’t concern me? She could fall off a cliff!"

And since you claim you could, ah, ‘kick an arse into next week,’ do you not think she can do the same? Perhaps into next month?

"You are missing the point, milord."

All right, cease. I’m teasing you, is all.

Well, I’m not in the mood to be teased! Tash yelled, losing whatever control she had left. Goddammit, I know you’re the king and all, but I’ve had it! It’s been three days! Three whole days! There was no note, no message, nothing! Don’t you get the impression that something is wrong? I even had a dream that she – She stopped abruptly, mouth open for a few seconds; then she threw her hands in the air. Oh, what’s the use? I’m not getting anywhere. Sorry to have disturbed your sleep.

What dream? Arthur asked, leaning forward.

Nothing. She shook her head. Just never mind. We’ll talk in the morning, maybe. Forget I came in here.

Too late for that, he said, and there was a note in his voice that told Tash she’d better let it out and fast.

I had a...a dream about this whole thing, she admitted sullenly, not caring how dumb it sounded.

Arthur sat back in his chair. Tell me.

Tash gestured impatiently. I saw Stonehenge, covered with snow, and two knights fighting one another. Each one struck home on the other, and when the bodies fell, the armor fell apart to reveal absolutely nothing. They were empty. But those two suits belonged to Lancelot and Jase. She crossed her arms across her chest. I know I sound ridiculous. But when you’ve dreamed as many times as I have in the past few years and your dreams keep coming true, then you know to follow them. And I know in my heart that something’s wrong.

Arthur steepled his fingers together in thought. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

If they’re going to kill each other...yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. She leaned forward. He’s pounded on her already, did you know that? Another shrug. Yeah, I know that wouldn’t concern you, but what about anything else? What makes you think he’ll refrain from killing her?

She is capable of taking care of herself, Tatiana.

No. Not without me.

When Arthur didn’t answer, but continued studying her, Tash tried another tactic. She moved closer to him, imploring. Look, I am asking you...I am begging you...do not force me to stay here and worry. Please let me look for her.

Arthur rubbed a hand across his mouth and made a decision. If you can control yourself until morning, I will send Percival and Gawaine to look for Jasin and Lancelot.

She looked up and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Why not now? she pleaded. Why can’t they go right now?

His fierce features softened completely and he restrained himself from rising from his chair to meet her halfway. Because, he said gently, you need rest so you can ride out with them if you desire.

Tash tilted her head back and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. Arthur stood up as nonchalantly as he could, trying not to show the impact she’d just made on him. With her head back like that, his eyes quickly and eagerly took the opportunity to devour her before she looked back at him. His eyes appraised the bottom of her delicately cleft chin, followed the smooth column of her throat and stopped at the hollow at its base, where the gold chain and emerald pendant lay against her skin. He had an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms right there and invade the jewel’s nesting place with his tongue.

Damn it! He turned away quickly before she caught him staring like a lovesick squire and studied the tapestry over the fireplace with feigned interest. An awkward silence began to stretch between them.

Thank you, Tash said, breaking the silence, and he looked back over his shoulder at her. May I go now?

Did he detect a note of uneasiness in her voice, or was it his overwrought imagination? Whatever the case, he noticed he was standing in front of the door, impeding her departure. Yes, he said, moving aside. I will send someone for you soon after sunrise. Tash gave him a small, grateful smile and disappeared down the corridor as silently as a cat.

Unable to go back to sleep, Arthur gazed into the fire, wondering if he should have Lucan send for a wench after all. He shook his head slightly in resolve. No. No, he didn’t. His heart wouldn’t be in it, for his interest now lay elsewhere. There was something about Tatiana that made him smile whenever he thought about her. She also made something steal through him that made him feel like the world had righted itself, something peaceful and...secure. He frowned sharply at that. He, Arthur, warlord of Britain, coddling a warm and fuzzy feeling? God, what a contradiction in terms! She was turning his world upside down!

He realized that tonight was the first time they’d been alone in a room together, and it actually scared him to think that he could have taken her easily. Only honor had held him back. Only honor and...and love.

Love.

Christ.

The impact of the obvious answer to this entire mystery made him rub his eyes wearily and tilt his head back hard on the settee. Splendor of God, he was in love with her. It was the only logical explanation, one he’d denied since he had first seen her. He’d never believed in love at first sight. He’d never believed women to be anything more than satisfaction for a man’s bottled lusts. It had taken this one outspoken, outgoing, beautiful and bold woman to refuse his advances, to prove that his past beliefs were naught but pipe dreams. All she had to do was turn those eyes in his direction or smile at him in a certain way and he was utterly lost.

He returned to his bed and fell into a meditative doze, where Tash’s face drifted in and out of his consciousness until there was nothing but darkness, and warmth, and her.

Chapter 2

The Winner Takes It All

Maybe this world is another planet’s hell.

– Aldous Huxley

Darkness enveloped Jase like a cloak, but it did not keep her warm. She didn’t care. Her battle was done, her trump card had been played, and she had lost. It seemed that she had handed over whatever spark of her existence was left to someone or something else, for she heard her name being called like a lost echo on the wind.

[Jasin. Come, Jasin. I am here for you. Come to me.]

The far-away voice was hypnotic, beckoning…and uncomfortably familiar. Within the dark recesses of her mind, Jase rose up to follow the summons. Stonehenge was gone. Instead, she found herself in a gloomy, dank forest, where sickly moss climbed up trunks of trees and dead leaves curled underfoot, partially obscured by odd black and purple whorls of sand. Before her, as out of place as a scarlet poppy in a sea of wheat, was a man.

Well, maybe not so out of place. His clothes were as shadowy and foreboding as the scenery. A tattered black robe fell to his feet and curled there like thick smoke, and he held a staff of some kind of gnarled dark wood. What made him stick out in this cesspool was that he was beautiful. It shouldn’t have seemed out of the ordinary, what with all the beautiful men she’d seen since this adventure began, but he had the same effect as a breath of fresh air in a dungeon that had been closed for centuries. His hair swirled like the surrounding mist, thick and curly and as black as her own, his features looked as if they were chiseled from marble, and his white, even smile was downright dazzling.

[Welcome, milady,] he said, bowing his head slightly. His voice had an odd, resonant tone to it, like an old recording played inside a metal trashcan.

Jase stared at him dazedly and then slowly glanced over her shoulder, noticing her body lying in the snow, cold and stiff. So this is it? she asked. Her voice sounded flat, steamrolled.

[Oh, no. There’s so much more to be done. Look at me, Jasin. Be part of me.]

It was then that Jase noticed his eyes were a queer yellow color, and as Jase watched, it seemed that they grew bigger, drawing her into the yellowness. Instinctively she recoiled from him, somehow knowing she should not look at him or go near him.

No, she managed to say, struggling to make the words form. Go away.

The man smiled again, comfortingly, and Jase felt a twinge of doubt pierce her. How could someone so fabulously handsome be evil? He held out one of his hands. [Do not fear me,] he soothed. [I am no demon. I am merely a guide. Someone must help you cross over. Look behind you, Jasin. You are no longer part of this world. Come with me and I will heighten your pleasure beyond your wildest imaginings.]

Instead of feeling wide-eyed with wonder and delight, as she had been taught to feel when Heaven was just footsteps away, Jase felt a surge of disgust. Yeah, I bet you will, she said bluntly, her words starting to gain dimension. No thanks.

The man’s smile dimmed slightly. [Perhaps you misunderstand me, my lady. This is not a decision for you to make. There is only one path, and I have chosen it for you. Come with me.]

Jase’s stomach heaved and she struggled to keep from vomiting. She started to back away, stumbling over tree roots as she moved. Get away from me, she ground out harshly, now certain the man was a severe mental case.

His smile was definitely changed now, almost feral, and there was a decided glint of insanity in his strange golden eyes. He took a step toward Jase and she immediately broke away and fled, leaping over the prone body – was it really hers? – and running through the skeletal black trees as fast as she could. She heard his laughter closing in behind her and she redoubled her efforts.

It was no use. Despite the trees and leaves, the ground she ran on was sand, thick, deep, and endless. It seemed like he was right beside her, no matter how fast she ran. [Such excitement over a simple request,] she heard him say. [Really, Jasin, would it not be easier to give yourself over to me?]

Out of the corner of her eye, Jase saw him watching her from the bushes, his eyes fixed on her and flickering like a cat’s in the headlights of a car. He wasn’t running, he wasn’t even walking, but he was moving with her nonetheless. Every now and then the moon would filter through the dead branches and he seemed to turn into something else, something dark and reptilian and terrifying. It spooked the hell out of her, knowing that whatever was following her wasn’t human after all.

Go away! she panted. I’m not going with you!

[I like to watch you run,] he whispered. [It excites me.]

Her foot caught in something and she fell spectacularly onto the hot black sand, exhausted, trying to get her breath back. She couldn’t run anymore and she couldn’t get away. The man was over her in an instant.

Who are you? she gasped. What do you want?

He reached for her, and Jase watched in horror as his beautiful hands became huge reptilian digits. She stared up at what was once a man and was now a Dragon, blacker than nothingness. It scooped her up in one clawed appendage and held her high over a yawning, fiery pit that had formed beneath her. She tried to scream, but no sound emerged. The Dragon’s mouth opened and a long, forked tongue seared against her forehead.

[I am Thaddeus,] it said in a deep, rasping voice, [and I want you.]

Rearing back, it chucked her like a rock into the pit, enveloping her once again in her dead, dreamless cloak of obscurity. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to unconsciousness was the deep throaty laughter of the bestial horror she had thought was a man.

Thaddeus...

♦ ♦ ♦

The snowfall turned into a full-scale blizzard, raging for days. The storm dumped more snow on the ground than the Companions could remember seeing in their lives, and most of them were from the northern sectors of the country. But it didn’t stop a small troupe from a five-day search, regardless of the deep drifts and the frigid winds.

Wrapped heavily in furred cloaks weighed down by additional layers of snow, a man came in from the southern battlements. He shook the white powder from his shoulders and pulled off the cloaks one by one, each one only slightly drier than the one before. As they were dropped on the floor, a page patiently picked them up and staggered from the room as he tried to balance their weight with his own.

Arthur pushed his hands through his damp rusty hair, making it stand on end, and pulled a chair close to the fireplace to dry off. When the rescue party had left, Tash had gone with them as promised, and he had gone about his business without as much as a frown. When they didn’t show up that night with the missing persons in tow, a twinge of uneasiness settled itself in his craw and began to kindle; when they returned five days later, late in the afternoon, the look on Tash’s face told him that their search had proven futile, and his uneasiness flared into downright concern. When questioned, she hadn’t said a word to him; she just shook her head and went straight to her room. After a brief discussion with the leader of the party, he went directly to her room, but her chambermaid had told him that she was sleeping. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. He knew that the two women had a bond with their chambermaid that made her cover for them now and again. Who was he to mess with budding friendships? Still, the silence unnerved him. What had happened to his captain of horse and the lady Jasin? Were they still alive?

Footsteps behind him made him look over his shoulder, and he saw Cai lumbering toward him carrying a tray with two goblets full of hot mead. He smiled in spite of himself. Cai, my brother, you should be a teller of fortunes, he said good-naturedly. How did you know that what I needed right now was a hot drink?

Cai sank into the other chair across from Arthur. Well, I know you needed a drink, hot or otherwise, because you’re worrying yourself to death again.

Arthur downed a mouthful of the mead. I am not.

Cai snorted. Bullocks. You are simply awash with anxiety. Lancelot and Jasin are smart enough to hole up someplace and wait this storm out.

Aye, I know that. Arthur hoped his voice was as imperturbable as he wanted it to sound.

It wasn’t. Heh. That’s why you sat out on the battlements for over an hour. Cai held up the jug of mead. Warmed up yet?

Hmph. Arthur held out his goblet and slunk down further in his chair, sulking like a child. Know everything, don’t you.

Cai smiled as he refilled the goblet. Yes. Now let’s talk. Like brothers.

‘Bout what? Arthur’s face was nearly buried in the bowl of the goblet, making his voice sound hollow.

About your lady. Tatiana.

Arthur tried to look disinterested. What of her?

Cai screwed up his face. God’s bones, Arthur, one of the reasons they made you king is because you can be such a lousy liar.

Arthur hesitated and then relented. It was a relief to finally talk to someone about this. Is it so obvious? he asked quietly.

Of a sort. Most of the others think you are in hot pursuit of a maid – again – but I know that is not the case. Am I right?

Arthur considered. Aye, well, I must admit a small situation has changed.

More so, Cai amended, chuckling. You, dear brother, are suffering from the first stages of – dare I say it? – being in love.

If possible, Arthur shrunk down further in the chair. Stuff that one in your britches.

Cai grinned. They’re bulging already. Their old adolescent joke made them both laugh. Come, Cai cajoled, tell me about it.

Arthur lifted one shoulder indifferently. What is there to tell?

Cai sat back. "Deny it, then; I shall do the telling. She’s been here almost a year. Nearly everyone in this castle has made one attempt or another to court her – as would I, I admit, if I weren’t married already,