The demons released their hold, and Trystan slumped to the ground. Gasping in pain, he lay partially on his side, his hands covering his wound. Trystan looked at his blood-soaked hands in disbelief. This couldn’t be the end. It wasn’t meant to be this way. He looked over to Marc. Struggling against the pain, he extended his hand in Marc’s direction. Even across the distance between them, Trystan could see the fear in his eyes.
“Don’t give up,” Trystan whispered, but he knew Marc couldn’t hear him.
Darkness closed in around him. The last thing he saw was Marc rushing toward him.
***
Marc gritted his teeth at the excruciating pain radiating from his shoulder as he pushed to his feet with one arm. More pain shot down his back into his leg, and Marc stumbled little, wincing and bearing through it. Disoriented, he lifted his gaze.
Blood drained from his face.
His heart stopped.
He willed his body to move—to run to his cymara—but he was too late.
Morgaine thrusted her blade into Trystan’s gut, twisting.
Trystan’s scream pierced the already deafening sounds of the fierce battle as the sorceress ripped the dagger from his flesh. Trystan collapsed to the ground. Pale blue eyes locked on his, glazed. Trystan reached toward him, lips barely moving. Then nothing.
“No!” Marc ignored the searing sting pulsing through his body and charged toward Trystan, desperate to reach him.
Morgaine blocked him.
“You want him? Give me Excalibur, and I’ll let you go to your dearly departed,” Morgaine growled.
“I will never let you have this sword, but I will use it to destroy you, Morgaine.”
Anger and revenge filled his heart, and he lunged at Morgaine with all his strength, striking at her with Excalibur. Morgaine taunted the Prince with the blood-covered dagger and struck back with her magic. Hot tears blurred Marc’s vision as he fought, but nothing he did slowed the sorceress, and Marc found himself quickly losing strength.
Emrys remained frozen, confined within the dark magic that surrounded him. The elves attacked the demon lord, moving in and out of the shadows. They shot arrow after arrow at him. Each one penetrated his outer skin creating a tiny surge of light, but nothing more. The arrows turned to ash and fell to the ground.
Nuadra rushed in on a shadow wolf, her bow aimed at Morgaine, but before she could release the arrow, a hellhound leapt toward her and knocked her from the wolf. She tumbled and rolled, landing on her back. The hellhound pinned her down with its clawed paws on her chest, the razor sharp nails slicing into her skin. Nuadra lifted her arm to protect her face. The demonic beast snapped its jaws around her arm, tearing skin and muscle from bone, ripping painful shrieks from the elf.
The shadow wolf clamped its teeth around the hound’s leg and slipped into shadow form, taking the hellhound with it before tearing its head from its body. Nuadra lay on the hard ground, unable to hold back tears, the searing pain left by the demon’s bite unbearable. The wolf reappeared as Teleri dropped down to her knees beside Nuadra.
Teleri held Nuadra’s golden gaze, heartache burning in her chest.
“You know… what must be done.” Nuadra clenched her teeth, wincing. “Please, Teleri. End the pain.”
Tears threatening, Teleri pulled her dagger from its sheath. She plunged the blade into Nuadra’s heart, taking her life before the demon’s curse consumed her. “A new life awaits. Peace be with you, my friend.”
Teleri picked up Nuadra’s bow and aimed an arrow at the demon lord.
***
Marc struggled against Morgaine. Excalibur’s power was diminishing. He didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was because Trystan was gone. Perhaps it was because he no longer felt the will to fight or live.
“Time to end this!” Morgaine screeched.
Morgaine summoned multiple orbs of lightning above her hands. When they’d grown large enough, she charged them with all her power and sent them flying straight at Marc.
Marc attempted to deflect her magic with his shield but it was too much. The force of all the orbs sent a shock of pain throughout his body and launched him backward, slamming him into a wall. Marc lost his grip on Excalibur, and the sword tumbled to the ground just steps away.
Marc lay on his side, his back to the wall. Despair and rage filled his heart. Without Trystan, he had nothing left for which to fight or live. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears.
What have I done? It wasn’t meant to end this way. He’d lost Trystan, and now Excalibur. He had been blinded by anger and revenge. He had sought only to destroy the evil they faced, instead of saving the kingdom—saving Trystan—from it.
And that is where he had gone wrong. He had not realized it before. The potent rage he had felt had drained Excalibur of its magic. Excalibur drew on the ancient magic of the guardians. Love strengthened everything for them. Perhaps it would work with the sword as well.
