The Acquisition of Swords

By Timothy Ray

"In the hour of Britain's greatest need, we shall return," Merlin told his old pupil, the grizzled King Arthur's face full of sorrow. He had a meeting to get to with Morgana and the Lord of Camelot had a date with destiny that could not be missed.

Thousands of years have passed since the battle against Mordred's armies and the seasons of change have not been kind, as life on Earth struggles to recover from an apocalyptic event and the nuclear winter that followed.

The Phoenix, the woman responsible for bringing Mankind to the brink of extinction and thought to have perished in the rebellion a millennium before, has risen from her ashes and threatens the world once more. The drums of war have begun to beat, the hordes are moving south, and all that stands between the free races and oblivion is a quirky wizard and his unlikely band of heroes.

Merlin must move quickly if he hopes to unite the segregated races of the land against the Phoenix's armies, for if he fails, he'll be forced to watch helplessly as her flames burn them to ash one at a time. He needs a symbol, a weapon the Elven King can wield that will bring the races together under one banner, to bring forth the light and push back the oncoming darkness; Excalibur. He must find the hidden location of Nimue's lake and return the Sword of Kings to the land of men, all the while dodging the attacks of the Phoenix's assassins hellbent on stopping them, or all may be forever lost.

For only Excalibur can destroy the Book of the Dead and end the Phoenix’s reign once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Ray
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463499313

Timothy Ray

Timothy Ray (1978-) was born in Tucson, Arizona, where he resides to this day. His family is from eastern Arizona, from Safford to Morenci, and he enjoys camping on Mt. Graham during the summer months. He attended Desert View High School, where he was inspired by an English teacher to explore his creative writing skills and work on his first novel; the Acquisition of Swords. He joined the Writer's Group under Mrs. Wakamatsu, and finished the rough draft of his first book in 1995.

Book preview

Prologue

I

Two years earlier…

The thrill of the chase coursed through her veins. Her vision jostled with every bounding leap, her feet barely touching the forest floor long enough to leave an indent as she darted through the trees. If not for her elven night vision, she’d be forced to take this much slower, or risk running headfirst into the pale birch trees placed haphazardly around her. The ferns tried to slap against her thighs but by the time they rebounded, she was gone. The only sound other than her labored breathing was the swish of the underbrush she occasionally had to dodge around, the divets she left behind the only sign of her passing.

Deliberately taking a slow breath, she tried her best to stave off the passions that coursed through her entire body, the frenzied bloodlust barely held in check. The telepathic bond she shared with her companion was stronger than her sense of self, overriding every thought and making them one. Tuskar was flushing their prey in her direction and they were about to intersect.

She came to an abrupt halt, drew her bow and prepared to greet their quarry.

She could smell the fear, the sweat, the pure terror of their prey, and knew that it was driving Tuskar to run him down and tear him apart; their shared vision tainted with red. Feeling the ferocity of his passions made her worry whether she would be capable of stopping him from ripping into the fiend once the chase was ended, once their prey found out they were cornered and had no other way out. She wanted to rip into him as much as Tuskar did. Forcing herself to relax, she tried to exude some calm into the other’s mind, hoping it might ease up enough to keep the man’s throat intact; but her vision pulsed even brighter—it would be close.

Walking a man out was easier than carting a dead one over miles of dense forest. She could take his head as proof of death, she’d had to do that more than once. However, it was unsettling carrying a head around in a bloody sack, no matter how large a price had been put on it. Their eyes stared at you through your bag in silent accusation, you could feel it in your bones, and it was enough to give her the willies. She knew it was just dead meat rotting in a bundle of cloth, but her mind had yet to shed the bit of Humanity in her that could view it from such a cold perspective. Decapitation an unnerving prospect on any other given contract, but this one might be worth it.

She briefly considered just killing him and taking the loss, she wasn’t as hard up on coin as she usually was during a dry season. Some people just deserved to die, left for the crows to feast upon, rather than facing the courts and the slightest chance at freedom. In this particular case, that was not a chance she could stomach taking. It was true, for the sake of survival she had taken some questionable contracts over the years, hunted her targets with no clear reason the why or what for, but this wasn’t one of them.

This contract she’d have done for free. This monster liked little boys.

Tuskar could feel her anger and it increased the ferocity of his chase.

Shit, my bad. You need to calm down, she whispered through their bond, trying to soothe the passions of her wolf companion. They had known each other for a long time and never had their shared vision been filled with so much fury and unbridled rage. His presence was growing stronger by the second and she knew the end was fast approaching. She pulled her bow string tighter, aiming the arrow right where the man would exit the dense forest before her, ready to let it fly the instant he tried to get past her.

Moment of truth.

She let go of the bond, knowing that she needed to focus on what came next and could no longer afford to split her attention. Pausing briefly, she glanced at the full moon shining brightly upon her, looked to the top of the trees to gauge wind speed, and trained an eye on her incoming prey. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the white strands glistening in the moonlight, the pink diamond tattoos over her eyes gleaming with sweat. Her albino eyes searched for her target; thin white eyebrows drawing together as the man finally burst into the clearing.

He wore a brown jerkin stained with darker patches of dirt and sweat. His pants were slightly baggy, like they weren’t meant to be worn on the thin frame of gangly arms and legs flailing to a stop before her. His face was contorted with terror; his movements frenzied. He had seen her as well and even though he knew what was coming at him from the rear, his fear of her had stopped him in his tracks. Apparently, he’d rather be torn apart than face her—what kind of rep was she getting that would induce that kind of terror?

She’d have to look into that; it might be useful in the future.

Please! I know—, he began, but was unable to finish as Tuskar leapt out of the brush and drove him to the ground. She heard something break and even though she tried, she couldn’t stop herself from smirking with pleasure. Tuskar was doing his best not to end it, to sink his teeth into the man’s throat and silence the screams of anguish; she almost let him.

Letting up the tension on her bow, she strode forward and hovered over the mounds of wrestling flesh. Judging by the pleas piercing the air before her, she doubted there’d be cause to draw again, but you never could be certain. She wore mismatched pieces of leather armor, purchased at various times throughout the years; each in a different state of wear from overuse. The armor represented the different cultures of the land and her long black cloak moved fluidly with her movement as she loomed over their mark with satisfaction; the chase was over.

Tuskar, she commanded, silently ordering him to stand down.

Reluctantly, her wolf companion relented, switching from attack to guard stance. His paws were forcing the man down, but his fangs reluctantly retracted—waiting for her to change her mind and let him finish what he started.

Please, I’ll never do it again, I swear. Let me go, I’ll disappear. No one will ever hear from me again, the man begged, blood from a jagged wound on the man’s right ear running into his fearful eyes as he glanced up at her in terror.

She could smell the putrid release of bodily fluids and didn’t fancy having to smell that all the way back to town. Yet, she wasn’t about to strip him naked and give him a bath either. Let him rot in his own shit and piss for all I care.

You don’t have to do this, he plead, white spittle spraying the soil before him. Please!

She sheathed her bow and reached for the knife at her waist, is that what the children said to you when you attacked them? Is it? she thundered, barely in control of her emotions as she knelt by the struggling man slobbering at her feet. She could end it right there and no one would blame her. It took literally everything she had not to follow through, to just slide the knife into the base of his neck and end his reign of horror. It was tempting, but it would let him off too easily; he deserved far worse than a quick death with only her eyes upon him as he breathed his last.

She had a job to do and it was best to get it done, collect her reward, and move on. The faster she turned him over, the quicker she could put this behind her and get back on the road. This had been a time costly detour. One that she was glad to have taken, but it had put her behind schedule nonetheless. She hadn’t wanted to pause on her trek east, but when she saw the poster and the crime listed below—there was nothing else she could do; it had to be done and no one else seemed willing enough to do it. Yes, it was a nasty one, but she’d had others in her past that were far worse; if only slightly. In any event, her past wouldn’t have allowed her to walk away, regardless.

Now that the job was done, her adrenaline began to dissolve, her heartbeat slowed to her normal range, and the rage eased into the calmness of a still lake, as the familiar routine of trussing up her prey and marching him home took over. Sighing, she slid her knife back in its holder, then reached for the pouch attached to her belt and pulled free a set of shackles. She would retrieve rope from her pack after securing her bounty, she wasn’t taking a chance that he’d try to rabbit again; she might not be able to call Tuskar off a second time.

Kylee, please don’t do this. They’ll kill me, he begged. I’ll do whatever you want, give you anything, just don’t take me back there!

Wow, he does know my name.

She tried to hide her hatred and disgust; the look in his eyes told her that she was failing at it. There is nothing that you can offer that has holds any interest to me, no bargain to be struck. You’re a monster, and don’t deserve an ounce of mercy. You have earned far more than a quick drop at the end of the rope for what you’ve done. I have half a mind to tie you to a tree and slice open a thigh. Not enough to kill you, at least not right away, but just enough to draw the predators in closer, like ringing a dinner bell. That way, you’re alive when they start eating you.

I can feel them even now, lurking in the shadows, waiting to see what I do with you, she told him wistfully, her eyes floating over the surrounding forest in adoration. But—a woman has to eat, she sighed heavily, shutting down any further thoughts on the subject and returning to the task at hand.

Tuskar growled and she glanced at him while slapping the shackles on the man’s wrist. And wolves, she amended with a smile, as she dragged her prisoner to his feet. Though, I wouldn’t wish this rancid pile of rotting flesh on anyone, especially you, my beloved.

The pleading and begging ceased instantly as he realized there was no way out, that she would not entertain for a second the thought of letting him go; his time on the run was over. She watched as his eyes hardened, changing swiftly from fear to hate; the predator within rearing its ugly head at last. You’re not a woman, he managed, spitting blood from a split lip and trying to rub bits of soil out of his eyes with his shoulder.

Oh yeah? she ventured, nudging him in the direction of her horse waiting patiently within the tree line, having finally caught up to them at last. It was the one perk of having the ability to speak with her animal companions, her horse and followed after them and now she wouldn’t have to walk back to town. What am I then, other than too old for your sexual perversions?

An unnatural witch birthed from the pits of hell. You’re an elven whore that writhes about the forest floor while savage beasts ravage you from behind. I know your demon spawn of a wolf has been at you, but has your horse mounted you as well? he spat. He was trying to piss her off, hoping she’d kill him rather than return him to the parents of the children he had molested.

She chuckled and shook her head; letting it slide. "You have heard of me, she smirked, giving him a hard kick in the ass and throwing him forward. Either of those choices would be far preferable than the likes of you, your perversion is beyond even the animal kingdom’s ability to stomach."

He made as if to lunge in her direction, but Tuskar was quickly at her side, snarling and making it clear what would happen should he try anything. The fiend paused, briefly considered doing it anyway, then thought better of it as he turned away in defeat.

Let’s get this over with, she snarled, the humor gone as her mind drifted back to the man’s crimes, turning her stomach in disgust. This was one job she was glad to have taken, it was good for the soul to end the reign of someone so evil; it would be the highlight of her week. In fact, maybe she should just leave him on the front door of his last victim, let his parents handle things, then she would know for a fact that justice would be served.

She forced her eyes in another direction and tried to divert her thoughts away from it, no matter how tempting it was. In the end, it wasn’t her place to make that decision. She had taken the contract and given her word to the town magistrate; now it was time to collect and move on.

Where’s my horse? he asked, as she drew rope out of one of her saddlebags, her hand lovingly rubbing the tan mare’s hide in appreciation of her arrival. Her horse didn’t even look in her captive’s direction as he spoke, as if unaware of the newcomer’s presence. She had been trained well.

Oh please, she chuckled again, tying the rope around the man’s shackles tightly and meeting his fierce gaze. Walk or get dragged, I don’t care which. Either way, this is the last walk you’ll ever make. I’d make the best of it if I were you, your days of freedom are over.

II

Did you have to cut him? the burly man with a beard asked from across the table. He was in his thirties, broad shouldered, and had a gut to show how well he was fed. His tone was incredulous, his face pained, and slowly his fingers tensed on the wooden table-top, as if unsure of whether to clench or twitch.

She had spoken to him a few days earlier, having secured the contract before heading out. At the time, he had been overeager for her to find the man, insisting that it be taken care of by any means necessary. She had taken him at his word, so she found his current state a bit humorous, causing her to grin mischievously. He was not concerned with the man’s health, just her interpretation of the words any means necessary.

Men.

Shrugging, she said dismissively, Tuskar was hungry. Her companion was lounging on the floor next to her and barely stirred at the mention of his name. His ears twitched, but that was going to be the limit of his interaction with their employer. She maintained her smile as she motioned for him to hand over the bag he was holding under the table.

Bringing it out, he bounced it for a few seconds, her eyes tracking its weight and knowing in an instant it was the agreed upon price. He then tossed it in her direction and she caught it deftly with her right hand, her fingers tightening on the leather fabric and feeling the shape of the coins held within. Dropping her hand just as quickly, the bag was gone from sight once more; the contract complete.

Still, the magistrate muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and forcing her to chuckle once more; not endearing her to the man in the slightest.

Men are so touchy.

I cauterized the wound. He will live long enough for you to hang him, she snickered. In my opinion, he’s in no way suffered enough. He should be drawn and quartered, then disemboweled for the masses to see. It’ll give the victim’s families the closure they seek, and dissuade any other monsters hiding in your mist against similar actions in the future.

It looked like someone had punched the man in a gut as she spoke of cauterizing the wound, making her smirk wider. Even monsters gained sympathy when it came to imagined pain. Well, thank you for your assistance and I’ll take note of your suggestion, but it’s for a jury of his peers to decide his fate. Be reassured, he’ll pay for what he’s done, but something tells me he already wishes he was dead and that any further punishment will be seen as a mercy.

Her eyes sparkled as she nodded her head, watching the man almost stumble out of his bench and exit the tavern with a few quick strides. She reached down and stroked Tuskar’s back, her fingers sliding through the fur and the love she felt flowing through their connection and into the dozing wolf’s mind. Curious, he looked up at her briefly, returning the affection shared, then settled back down.

She should feel disturbed by what she’d done, but she couldn’t find it within herself to feel sorry for the man. He could live without his manhood; he deserved far worse for the atrocities he’d committed. Besides being a punishment she deemed appropriate for his crimes, it also served as a warning to anyone that heard of what she’d done; they now knew exactly what would happen should such a monster cross her path again.

With a smile, she motioned for a barmaid and settled back in the booth to await service, letting the job go without further consideration. She ordered a plate of tartelettes, a jug of ale, and an additional bowl of ribs for her companion. She had acclimated to different dishes over the years, and though meat could be a bit pricey, she deserved a good meal after the week she had.

The young barmaid left with a cautious glance at the wolf lying beside her, but Tuskar didn’t bother to acknowledge her presence. She had been here a few times and slowly people were growing accustomed to seeing them together. The initial resistance had been challenging, but she had been doing this long enough to know how to navigate the waters without creating a stir. He had not once provoked any unwanted attention and had eventually been dismissed from the populace’s minds as a threat.

Having tuned out the bustle of the tavern around her, she hadn’t noticed that one of the bar’s numerous customers had taken the liberty to approach her until he came to a stop and hovered over her table. She had purposely situated herself in a secluded corner of the room, and most of the humans were happy, and smart enough, to let her have her privacy undisturbed.

Guess the rumor of the pedophile’s fate hasn’t spread this far yet.

She glanced through him like he wasn’t even there, pulling her knife and setting it on the table in case it was needed. It was her passive way of showing she wasn’t up for further company, but the man apparently thought he was special and couldn’t take a hint.

May I join you? he asked politely; throwing her off. The common folk of the area were known to be brusque with her kind; determined to be short and to the point. Elves were tolerated but not always welcomed in these parts.

He was young, clean shaven, with short brown hair and moustache. His stance and frame of body suggested he did a good deal of physical training, as his muscles seemed well-toned and quite firm. Had she had any interest in such things, she might have found that attractive, but after the day she was having she was simply not in the mood.

He was wearing a brown jerkin, pants, and was adorned in a matching cloak. He looked like he was accustomed to wearing armor and she wondered why there wasn’t a sword belted to his side. He was either a guest at the inn or a local that lived close by. No one went anywhere without a weapon; not in times like these.

She shot him a glare, then looked away dismissively, no.

You are Kylee though, right? he asked, fidgeting. He seemed a little nervous and she shook her head in exasperation.

What gave it away? Was it the hair or the wolf? she snarked back, her ponytail whipping about as she jerked her head his way. She was starting to get irritated, her fingers flexing over the hilt of her dagger, doing their best not to take it up and use it. She wanted some time to process and put things behind her, not get involved in anything else so quickly.

She had earned a reprieve.

He looked at her uneasily but was still determined to have his say. Tuskar growled at her side and she knew that he was sensing her irritation as well. The man was unfazed by the wolf’s attention, surprisingly enough. Maybe it wasn’t her that was making him nervous after all.

Curious.

What? she blurted suddenly, temporarily losing her cool. He made as if to sit and she let out a burst of unconcealed anger. Fine, sit, but if you don’t make it quick, I’ll eat the ribs and let my companion gnaw on you instead.

Another figure came up behind the young man and when a hand landed on his shoulder, the youth jumped. Despite her anger, she couldn’t help but giggle; the man looked like he nearly pissed his pants.

I’ve had enough of that particular smell as well.

The newcomer was of average height, though it was hard to tell for sure because most of his figure was obscured by a dark brown cloak. A cowl hid the man’s facial features and very little was revealed other than the gloved right hand patting the youth’s shoulder. The brother you seek has already returned home, young man. He has been hiding from your neighbor, who found him with his daughter a fortnight past. Best to get back to him and prepare yourselves for the farmer’s wrath, his anger will not be so easily subdued as my young companion’s here, the man told the boy, whose eyes had grown so wide by the end of the man’s speech that they could have been popped out of his head if hit on the back hard enough.

The stricken youth bowed quickly and with a wary glance at the newcomer, fled from the tavern and out of sight.

She thought the gentleman would turn and walk away now that his message had been passed along, but he stood there patiently waiting for a response instead. She shook her head with frustration. You have my thanks, stranger. That is definitely not something I would have wanted to get mixed up in, but if it’s all the same to you I would prefer to eat my dinner in peace.

The barmaid had arrived, her long flowing red hair glimmered in the torchlight as she set the pork and dumplings down, the aroma of hot food making her stomach wrench in hunger. The mug of ale was placed beside it and she handed over a couple of gold coins, winking to let her know that no change was needed. The woman smiled, setting the plate of ribs in front of the bristling wolf, then slowly backed away and was gone.

She turned to her food and completely ignored the man hovering nearby.

Tuskar, she murmured under her breath. Her companion sat up and growled at the stranger in warning. Surprisingly, not only did the man refuse to flinch, he actually extended his hand and held it out to the snarling wolf. She watched in wonder as Tuskar’s snarl began to slip and after a few seconds, his tongue unexpectedly slipped out and licked the stranger’s hand.

Okay, what the hell? she stammered, her hand reaching for her dagger.

There is no need for that, Ranger. I am not here to fight. I have a proposal, one that you will find most intriguing. I promise you, if you hear me out, if you come with me, you will find the man who butchered your mother and brother by the time our quest is done. Isn’t that why you are here? Isn’t that what drives you? the newcomer asked, sliding his hand away from the wolf to the table and seating himself across from her.

Her eyes had widened and for a moment, she sympathized with the youth lighting out of there like his ass was on fire. How could this man possibly know—?

Wizard, her mind whispered in warning.

I’ve been watching you for some time, Kylee of the forest, my little Bow of Vengeance, he answered, as if plucking the question straight from her thoughts. Oh, but that is exactly what I did. Now, why not put a spoon of those dumplings in your mouth and hear me out? It’d be more satisfying than sitting there with your mouth open like a loon staring at the moon for the first time.

Her mouth snapped shut. She felt a tremor in her hand as it unwillingly reached for a spoon and dipped it in her steaming bowl of food. Her eyes didn’t leave the shadows of the cowl, searching for some sign of the devil sent to torment her. Who else would know that which she had never spoken to any other the whole of her life? The only person who knew what had happened was the same man she had hunted for the last fifteen years. Any explanation she could come up with was cut short with logic, and she was too dumbfounded to do anything but listen to what the man had to say.

The barmaid had returned, curious to see who was brave enough to join the ranger in her corner of the room. Not many had been known to do so, and most were locals, so the woman’s level of curiosity instantly told her that this man was not from around these parts.

I’ll take some ale and a plate of those ribs, the man said before the barmaid could ask. He had gestured to the wolf beside the table, who had completely devoured the meat and was busy gnawing at one of the larger bones. He seems to like it well enough, so that works for me.

I don’t understand, who are you? she asked in confusion, as the barmaid slipped dismissively into the background. Some locals were fighting across the room, their booming voices drowning out the rest of the tavern with their drunken ramblings, but it was all distant in her mind; her sole focus the figure before her.

The cowl shifted to the side, as if listening to some distant voice only he could hear, then turned back to face her straight on. She could feel the weight of invisible eyes interrogating her soul and had never felt so frightened in her life. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms, and a sliver of fear slithered through her, begging her to flee.

Leaning forward, the newcomer spoke, I am curious, what was the point of emasculating a man that is sure to be hung with the rising sun? Was the added pain and humiliation really necessary?

Was there no limit to what this man knew? Had he been following her on her last excursion? Or for a time longer than that? He said that he had been keeping an eye on her, but for how long and why? Surely, she would have noticed, or Tuskar would have. It was a rare thing that any ever got the drop on them, and it made her uneasy to even consider the possibility. But then, Tuskar was acting oddly, almost friendly to the man. He had never licked anyone other than her as far as she knew. And if Tuskar trusted him, shouldn’t she? Or was there magic at work that fooled her companion and threatened to encapsulate her as well?

Focus, Kylee, the soft voice commanded, and her mind simmered down instantly.

She cleared her throat and used a napkin to wipe lingering sauce from the corners of her mouth. Are you aware of the crimes he committed? The pain that he caused? Whatever he suffered by my hands is nothing compared to what his victims will go through for the rest of their lives. Besides, I couldn’t take a chance that he might be freed and allowed to harm another child again. If it’s not attached, he can no longer use it.

So, you didn’t trust that justice would be served? the man countered in a dry voice. You took it upon yourself to be judge and executioner?

Justice? What justice? There is no such thing for monsters like that! They crawl out of their caves or out from under their bridges like the trolls they are and do what they will with no remorse or conscience, only their sadistic urges controlling their actions and the fates of their victims. Nothing can ever make up for the harm they cause, not by my hand, and not at the hands of the mob, she thundered back, slapping the table and turning a few heads with her biting words. I’ve seen far worse allowed to continue living and felt it my duty to at least extract the slightest bit of vengeance for those who cannot do it themselves.

Not to mention you liked it, the robed figure responded, and she could sense a smile upon the cloaked features of her inquisitor.

Liked it? How could I like doing something like that? I’ll never be able to cleanse my hands of the filth they touched, nor forever wipe the blood free of my dagger! How dare you suggest I get enjoyment out of such a vile act! she threw back, food forgotten, her eyes shining with hate.

The more she denied the man’s words, the more it whispered in the back of her mind that he was right. On some deeper level, she had liked it—liked cutting his flesh, of judging the man and executing a far worse sentence than what a brief fall and tug would do.

The man nodded in understanding and held his hands up, peace Ranger, I only wanted to test your resolve. To see if you indeed have the fortitude for what lies ahead. As I said, what I offer is not only for my benefit but yours as well. Though, I don’t know exactly who it is you seek, I have been given to know that if you come with me, you will find him.

She shook her head, trying to clear the rage that had overwhelmed her and focus on what the man was saying. Given to know by who?

Hands suddenly rose and drew back his cowl, revealing the hardened face of a middle-aged man with dark features, a moustache and goatee, and pale green eyes that swallowed her soul whole. My name is Merlin, perhaps you have heard of me?

He had stated it like it was a fact, that she should indeed know him the instant his name was muttered, but the more she studied him, the more she searched her mind for some recognition of who the man was, the more frustrated she became. It was a useless endeavor. Throughout all her travels, she had no recollection of ever hearing the name before; there was no point in pretending otherwise. She smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

The look of disappointment was clear in the other’s face and she almost cracked up laughing. The only thing that stopped her was the fresh grief that had been drudged up from the back recesses of her heart by the mention of her fallen mother and brother, her anger rippling just beneath the surface, fighting to get free.

Well, this is going to be more difficult than I thought, the man said, playing with his fingers and watching her intently. The barmaid had returned, and he lifted the mug of ale, downing half its contents in a few short gulps. Damn. I miss Guinness.

She ignored the comment, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Let’s get back to how you know about my past, of who I might be looking for?

Merlin sat back and looked at her, as if considering what to say, and her patience was growing thinner by the second. He obviously had thought he’d already said enough to convince her and seemed perturbed that it would take more than a name to put her questions to bed.

What he hadn’t counted on was her solitary nature or lack of education as a child, which if he’d been watching her closely as he said, he should’ve already known better. Overall, the world of an outsider wasn’t something that bothered her much, as she had no aspirations for civilized life outside the forests she roamed and the bounties she collected. He was the one who had chosen to interrupt her meal, so she could give two shits how difficult the explanation had to be. The only thing she could be sure of—she was going to get one before the night was out or more flesh would be cut before the dawn.

It’s hard to know where to begin, and we don’t have the time to get into it all right now. I have visions of what might come to pass, of future events that have yet to arrive. It was a gift I was born with and it helps me navigate through life, by giving a better understanding of the consequences of every choice I make. I come to a fork in the road, do I go left, or right? If I went right, I might run into a troupe of renegades that think me easy prey to rob. Whereas, if I went left there would be nothing but empty roads, but it might take me in the opposite direction then I was intending to go. What if I got off the road at the right moment and let that troupe past? What happens if I fight them? All of it, laid out before me so that I can make an informed decision on what I do next, he finished, taking another drink from his mug.

His other hand reached out and fingered a rib. Now, it’s not a perfect system, because while I may make the right decision, it doesn’t change them from making another to counter my actions. Maybe one of them decides to take a leak while I’m hiding in the brush, or a bird suddenly changes course and alerts them to my location. Any number of things may happen without a moment’s notice. My point is, the future is not set. Time is fluid, open to be changed by those with the knowledge enough to influence future events and can alter its path entirely with just a singular decision to go left instead of right.

Sounds like a bunch of crap to me, she muttered, watching as he tore into one of his ribs. I’d be stupid not to believe in magic, I’m an elf after all, but fortune tellers belong in those roving groups of bandits, along with the palm readers and belly dancers.

Gypsies, Merlin corrected, continuing to eat and talking around his mouth full of meat.

She dismissed his comment with a flick of her hand, whatever. So, you did a little research, maybe traced me back to my Uncle’s farm. Heard what had happened and decided to seek out the poor little white-haired elf in order to fulfill some nasty desire for cruelty. The question I ask myself is, do I carve you like I did the monster I just locked up, or let Tuskar do it for me?

I don’t fear your companion. He recognizes what I am, even if you don’t, Merlin replied with a sly grin. Or haven’t you noticed, he’s passed out and no longer paying any attention to our conversation? Looks like he less concerned with me than you are.

She heard the steady breath of the wolf at her side and rolled her eyes. Of course he fell asleep. Great defender you’re was turning out to be.

Don’t fault him for it, he’s had a long couple of days. Didn’t take you long to find your prey, you’re better than I hoped you’d be, he cut in and for some reason, that pissed her off even more.

My mind is my sanctuary old man, stay the fuck out of it. Instead of feeling calmer by his words, she was only growing more irritated by the second, and his intrusions into her thoughts weren’t helping one bit. Enough of your games. Just spit it out so that I can tell you to go to hell and get back to what I was doing, she snarled.

He laughed, you’ve got spirit, you’re going to need it. I’m not asking you to believe me. You either will or won’t. Only time will prove the truth of things. I have need of an extra set of hands and happened to know you were in the area. There are things happening in the north that I need to see, verify with my own eyes what the future is telling me is on the horizon. Simple protection detail. You help scout ahead and lend your bow to my cause, and I will pay you appropriately for your time.

Now he was speaking a language she recognized. You’d be better off finding a knight for a job like that, I’m not a bodyguard, and I work alone.

He shook his head, I need another pair of eyes, that’s all. I am more than capable of handling myself.

She looked him over, at his soft hands, his smooth and scar-less skin, and doubted that very much. She sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. Where is it that you are planning to go?

The Deadlands, he replied in a low voice.

The temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees and a chill ran down her spine.

Shit.

Chapter 1

Dark Tidings

I

A flash of daylight snapped Tristan out of the realm of daydreams and back to reality. He had been lost in thought, feet automatically following the trail before him, not realizing that he had gotten that close to the forest’s edge. He threw up his right hand to block the searing rays, but it only made it worse. The light became focused into daggers and pierced the space between his outstretched fingers; spearing his mind. He closed them quickly, the orange afterglow floating across his vision, as he slowly let his eyes adjust to his surroundings.

Son of a—, he gasped, his foot catching on an extended root—pitching him forward. He struggled to regain his footing, right hand shooting out to brace for impact. Pain flared from his wrist as he struck a nearby tree, saving him from a face full of dirt. Breathing quickly, his heart thundering against his chest, he allowed himself a moment of relaxation; a chance to reorient and regain his senses. After a brief respite, he inhaled slowly, steadied himself, and started forward once more.

He had traveled the worn path many times over the years while hunting with his brother and his subconscious altered course as needed while he recovered. He ducked as a familiar branch came at his head, grateful that he remembered it was there; there was no need to make things worse than they already were. A blow to the head right now might just knock him out for the count.

He enjoyed the quiet that accompanied his older brother’s excursions, but that’s was about the extent of it. His father had been taking John hunting since he was a little boy, the father and son excursions bringing the two closer together. He knew that he should’ve been jealous over the bonding time they were having, but the truth of the matter was, he wasn’t; hunting was just not his thing. And the only reason their old man wasn’t out here in his place was that his health had declined to the point where it made it hard to get out of bed, much less go hunting with his oldest son. His father had insisted that John go and as his brother had grown accustomed to having an audience, Tristan had been drafted to accompany him.

He went through the motions, acted like he was interested for his brother’s sake, but his heart wasn’t in it. Everything that was involved, from quietly stalking through the forest following game trails, to hiding in the brush waiting for a defenseless and innocent animal to cross their path, down to the killing and then cleaning of the animal’s carcass, it just wasn’t who he was. He didn’t get anything out of it but sheer boredom and cramped sore muscles that would take days to work back out. The physicality of it all just didn’t appeal to him. Rarely, if ever, had he used the bow that he had strapped to his back on one of these hunts. And while he would have preferred to be sitting in his chambers with a decent book in his lap, he had to grudgingly admit that as much as he disliked being forced out here, it was still preferable to the chaos that surrounded the palace lately.

He had needed a break.

Enjoying the serenity of the world around him, he inhaled deeply and listened to the soft wind flowing through the trees. The sound of water trickling down a nearby stream had a soothing effect on his soul. Given enough time, he might have gotten his headache to abate, but unfortunately his relief was short-lived as John’s impatient voice thundered from a short distance ahead, shattering the inner calm he had been trying to reach. Birds stopped their song at the intrusion and he was ripped from his drifting thoughts like a babe from a womb. His older brother wanted to get home and he was holding him up.

He chanced a glance in his brother’s direction and found that his eyes had already begun adjusting to the lighter surroundings. As he emerged from the trees and stepped into the warm dying light of dusk he began to wonder just how long he’d been spacing out? Where had the day gone?

The setting sun tinted the surrounding countryside in dark orange, warning that its presence was at an end. The encroaching shadows fought the weakening light for ground, spreading its dark tendrils greedily upon the Earth’s surface. Yet, there was still enough light to see the glower on his brother’s face, making him wince. John waited on the incline ahead, his imposing figure towering over the younger sibling; impatience self-evident in the older boy’s stance.

In contrast, the two couldn’t be more different.

They had some facial features that marked them as brothers, but that was where the similarities ended. John had taken after their father. His hardened face had been stripped of its youth by the duties and responsibilities of a first-born Prince of Lancaster. Shoulder-length brown hair flowed freely in the soft afternoon breeze. His brow was prominent, lips stern, and he bore a square chin. The cheekbones were pronounced before the piercing coffee-colored eyes. He wore a black vest, brown jerkin, and dark green shorts that barely hid his soiled knees. He was over six-feet tall, broad shouldered, and the well-toned muscular arms glistened in the fading light. It was a ragged appearance, but the elder’s stance exuded pride and confidence.

A deer was draped over one shoulder, having already been cleaned before their journey home. The dead creature’s glassy eyes stared at him in silent accusation; forcing the youth to lower his gaze in remorse.

He felt tiny in his older brother’s presence, his average height and scrawniness handed down from his mother’s side rather than his father’s. His brown hair was cut short on top with a long ponytail hanging down his back. His own brown eyes were a window into his soul; another of the many things he had inherited from his mother. He had her slender face and jawline as well as her quiet disposition. He wore similar attire as his brother; but it was filled with a withdrawn intellect and not carried off as efficiently; the innocence within withering under his brother’s glare.

They both wore quivers with sheaved bows, and John fingered the shaft of an arrow absent-mindedly as they faced off in silence. After a slight pause his brother growled, then turned to the path they’d been following. I thought you’d be in a hurry to get back to your books, five steps ahead rather than a mile behind.

Hey, you’re the one that asked me to come along, he threw back with a grin.

Well, had I known you wanted to stay out here, I would have brought along the tent, his brother teased, knowing full well the truth was the opposite.

He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. If I had known you were going to make me walk this much, I would’ve come down with an unknown plague and locked my door!

Walking builds character, John returned with a laugh. And you can use the exercise.

I got your exercise right here, he snarked, flashing a middle finger at his brother’s back with a smile.

John turned just as Tristan’s hand was lowering. What was that?

Nothing, he chuckled, daring his brother to suggest otherwise.

That’s what I thought, John tossed back. Then he shook his head and began his steady march down the path once more; not looking to see if Tristan was following after. The path snaked around the occasional boulder but would soon straighten as it joined the eastern road leading to the fortress of Lancaster; their home.

There was no point in arguing; his brother would not be slowed. He was determined to keep a brisk pace, as if this were a forced infantry march rather than a pleasurable hunting trip. He could try and explain that he wasn’t ready to reenter the chaos that was the palace, but to what end? John would readily drag him back into the turmoil, even if it meant throwing him over the other shoulder and carrying him next to the bloodied deer carcass.

He shuddered at the thought.

Movement caught his eye and he brought himself to a halt. He turned his head and tried to spy the source of the distraction, eyes searching their barely lit surroundings with concern. He looked along the path to the adjacent boulders on both sides, but he couldn’t pinpoint anything out of the ordinary. The only sound he could distinguish over the receding footfalls of his brother was the rustling of tall grass in the wind. Yet, he felt eyes on him, watching from the encroaching darkness; a shiver ran up his spine.

Let’s go! I’m hungry and dinner will be cold by the time we get there! John’s voice floated back, snapping him out of it.

He looked for a second more, then shook his head and continued forward. He still felt like he was being watched, but he tried to shrug it off by forcing a smirk and diverting his thoughts. He trotted until he caught up with his brother. You know that’s not going to happen. Father always makes the stewards wait to prepare dinner until you get back, even if it takes all night. Now if it were me—, he began.

Oh, spare me the second-born tripe,