Tweet of the Day: A Girl Who Reads…
Entre la espada y la pared.
I dodged left then right. The gargantuan troll, a construct of Earth and hate, pounded the ground with rocky fists. Excalibur scored hits but the thing shrugged the damage, after all, stone does not bleed.
But it shatters!
I ducked under a log size arm and pressed an open palm against its moss covered surface. I sent a pulse into the rock. Cracks spread from the impact point, then the thing exploded. I felt a sharp blow to the head. The world faded into darkness. A dull pain became sharper as the morning light streamed into my eyes. Cobin’s face, one of Morgana’s goblin servants , came into focus.
“Be still, lady. Rock hit you hard on the head. If not for maille coif it would have broken instead,” he said as he dabbed on my forehead a greasy ointment with a minty smell.
Morgana entered the little hut and sat at the edge of the cot, “How is our patient, Cobin?” asked Morgana.
I jumped in before Cobin could answer, “I’m fine.” Which was mostly true. The pain embed and turned into dull throbbing as if fingers probed my temple from inside my skull.
She nodded to Cobin who returned the gesture and retreated.
“Cobin knows his cures. Balms and ointments are a goblin specialty,” she said. “But I have wonder.”
“What is it?”
“Why are you here, exactly?”
“What do you mean?”
“You excel at your training and have mastered Excalibur ability to amplify your powers at alarming rate, today’s mishap not withstanding. But once you are done what do you plan to do with it?”
“I plan to end this nightmare.”
“Why? Why not? This is insane, this is! This is no impromptu rebellion, Lady Morgana. For a long time some of my kind have planned to rebel, to come out hiding and claim their so called rightful place. Instead of staying hidden in peace, they would have us rule through war.”
She glanced at the sword, safely ensconced in a beautiful scabbard with a diamond pattern of interlaced blues, silver and golds.
“Yet you would answer force with force. You would go against your kind to protect those that oppress you.”
“We were not oppressed. The world had forgotten us and we lived in peace. A child’s mistake shattered that peace and now we are choosing sides, the very thing that we avoided for so long. And innocents pay the price. We have a Prince for God’s sake. Last time I checked I didn’t vote for him,” I said.
“And once you are ready, what will you do?”
“Stop it, all of it, if I can.”
“Do you know how?”
I exhaled loudly, “No. Not a clue. Well except for running the ruddy Prince Bastard through. That might work.”
Morgana tapped her forehead, “Remember the troll. Many roads lead to the same place, but the shortest one is not always the best.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you can not do this alone, child. And that road, all roads in Britain lead to one place.”
“Do not know your own history? If the King wants to take the Queen, he must knock down peons, knights and bishops and seize the other side of the board. Where else but there.”
“Makes sense. But why should I go there?”
“Because someone must protect the castle. You can not stop history any more that you stop an onrushing river, but can channel it and at times even harness it,” she said.
“This is not a game Morgana,” I said. I knew she was more than human, more than magi, perhaps there was more to the descriptor of le Fay, as known as the Sidhe or Aos Sí. They could capricious in the extreme.
“What is a game if not war without too much blood, yet both have an excess of sweat and tears. Play the game right and it will be the other that bleeds for your tears,” she said. She patted the bed and left the cottage without a glance back. Then of all the questions she asked and all the answers she gave, I never asked why she was helping me.