Black Moon Draw(47)
She belonged to him and his kingdom, to rule at the side of her knight, the way the great warrior queen who died a thousand years had.
Yet he was in no position to claim her outright, not with his betrothed ensuring the cooperation of the Red Knight, ruler of one of the two remaining kingdoms he needed to subdue.
Her claim about his death at Brown Sun Lake rang clear in his mind.
Nowhere in the legend did it say he died before the end of the era.
Nowhere in the legend was there a battle-witch that did not go to battle, either.
The last of his line, he had no one to ask about these terribly timed mysteries and no ally whose word he would trust. He had relied on his battle-witches, master-at-arms, and instincts since beginning his journey to reclaim what was rightly his.
With his thoughts in rare turmoil and his battle-witch most helpful when passed out, he had only one place to turn: to the man who helped raised him and served loyally at his side.
The Shadow Knight dressed in jerky movements, replaced his weapons and boar’s head, and sought out his master-at-arms for an overdue discussion about the battle-witch he had found.
Chapter Thirteen
The battle-witch was running hard through the forest towards the clearing she glimpsed ahead. Branches snagged at her purple dress and whipped her exposed skin, leaving angry red lines across her cheeks and forearms. Her lungs burned and her legs were heavy, but she continued to fly at the quick pace, the warning scrolling across her hand driving her to hasten her step even more.
The medallion beating against her chest with each step was made as a sign of the love and trust of the Shadow Knight, embedding the magic of Black Moon Draw into it and entrusting her with the protection of his kingdom. She grasped it with one hand and felt her power swell.
She broke out of the dense forest and stopped to suck in a deep breath, eyes taking in the battlefield before her. The Shadow Knight’s armies were defeated, nearly everyone dead, while the Desert Knight of Brown Sun Lake stood at the center of the last battle.
The Shadow Knight knelt before him in defeat, his warrior’s body shaking from blood loss and his proud boar’s head bent in sorrow.
Her heart broke for him and guilt tore through her. It was, after all, her fault the battle had been lost. She’d tempted him in a way no other battle-witch ever had. On the night before certain triumph, they both surrendered to their desires for one another instead of making preparations the way they normally did. They whispered the vow of eternal bonding as they made love and exchanged names, the most sacred act between a man and woman in a world where a name gave someone else great power.
At dawn, he was gone, and the message of his death began scrolling across her palm. She initially did not understand how it was possible, since she had gifted him her purity. But soon, it became unimportant why her gift worked when it should not. What mattered: saving the man she loved from certain death.
As she watched, the Desert Knight raised his massive sword.
She ran, a scream tearing free from her throat.
The sword dropped, and with it, the head of the Shadow Knight.
The battle-witch didn’t stop running, even when the warriors of Brown Sun Lake rushed to intercept her, not when they fell beneath her power and lay writhing in agony from her magic.
She stopped over the body of her dead lover and husband, tears burning down her cheeks. The battle-witch whipped off the magic medallion and held it up for everyone to see. Summoning her magic for one last spell, she turned her gaze to the Desert Knight, who stood ready to take her head next.
She did not care what fate befell her. No part of her was willing to live without him. Instead of fleeing, she mustered the worst curse the realm had ever known.
Her eyes began to glow unnaturally and the magic coursed through her.
“By the blood and magic of Black Moon Draw, sealed by the Heart, you will know no peace until the heir of the Shadow Knight sheds the blood of all who wronged him and reclaims what is rightfully his! The last great battle-witch of my world will come to him in a thousand years with magic far greater than any you have ever witnessed,” she hissed at him. “You and every other man of this world will kneel before her and beg for mercy, and she will grant none!”
The Desert Knight appeared taken aback but then sneered at the words of the battle-witch, raised his sword once more, and took her life. He claimed the medallion as his own and hid it away, for if the battle-witch destined to return was unable to access the magic, she was not a threat to his heirs.
And with the final curse and death of the battle-witch of Black Moon Draw - the great warrior queen Naia who ruled for but seconds – thus ended the golden era of peace and began the era of fog, darkness, and war to last a thousand years.
The vision fades, and I open my eyes. It continues to play through my mind like a movie. I’m breathing hard and sweating, and my legs are wooden, heavy, and sore, as if I was the one running.
Thank god, I have no hangover. Judging by the sky visible outside the windows, it’s almost dawn. I stretch, mind racing. What part of that was really a dream and what part was something else?
I’ve never had a dream so vivid or real. It was short yet chock full of information that makes my head spin.
My hand goes to the medallion at my chest, and I take it off. It’s definitely the same one from the strange dream, though worn by time, faded, and . . . sad. Or maybe, I’m sad after experiencing the despair of the woman in my dream.