Page 119 of The Daughters of Avalon
Run!Rhiannon shouted again.Run, Rose, run!
This time, Rosalynde bolted, but Wilhelm—a giant bulwark of a man, perhaps thinking himself invincible—stood fast, unsheathing his sword. The blade left its scabbard as the shadow—large as a flying horse—swooped into the glade, diving toward Rose.
She tripped as Wilhelm stepped into the Shadow’s path, but he didn’t have any chance to raise the sword. He cried out in pain and surprise as the weapon flew from his hand.
Rosalynde screamed.
Chapter
Eighteen
Run, Rose, run!
What happened next happened so swiftly Rosalynde could scarce anticipate it. There was no place to hide. Nowhere to run. No time to think. Her immediate concern for thegrimoire,she seized the book and scrambled to her feet, searching desperately for somewhere to hide, only to realize with a sinking heart that she couldn’t leave Wilhelm.
Her heart pounding fearfully, she turned to find the Shadow Beast had pinned him to the ground, its black wings pummeling. The creature cast back an enormous deformed head, opening its bloody beak, to give a terrifying shriek, and then returned to pecking at Wilhelm’s head, as he thrashed the air before him. Inexplicably, though the beast drew blood, Wilhelm’s fists could not find purchase, and in the end, he screamed piteously, lifting both hands to defend his face.
Rosalynde swallowed her fear.
Sweet, sweet Goddess.She had never witnessed anything of this sort—nor even dreamt about it in her night terrors. Neither did she remember any such beast from the drawings in the Book of Secrets—its ebony form pulsing, the edges of its body indistinct and billowy, like smoke. It was impossible to say whatshape it held, because, like a murder of crows soaring altogether, its form swelled and ebbed, changing and reforming—first in the shape of a monstrous raven, then a man, then a serpent, curling around Wilhelm’s body and choking his breath, so he could no longer scream.
Rosalynde stood frozen, uncertain what to do. But she couldn’t do nothing, and she couldn’t leave an innocent man to die only because he’d tried to protect her.
Water.
Desperate to help, she held out a trembling palm. Never taking her eyes off the twisting beast, she filled her palm with water, and, dropping thegrimoire, she closed her other hand about her palm, forming a small lump of ice. She hurled it, hoping if naught else to get the beast’s attention, but to Rosalynde’s horror, it passed through the Shadow Beast, smacking Wilhelm on the temple and the thrashing warrior went frighteningly still.
So did the beast.
Its head spun unnaturally, its giant beady eyes fixing on Rosalynde. Slowly, deliberately, it released its prey, uncoiling itself from around Wilhelm’s body, and with another ungodly screech, it flew at Rose.
Rose screamed, and to her horror, it was only belatedly that she remembered it wasn’t her the monster wanted. It was thegrimoire, and rather than pursue her when she had already abandoned the Book, it fell upon the sacred volume,eddying about the Book of Secrets, like a tempest, lifting the tome from the ground with a long-speared tail.
Finding her courage where only seconds ago she’d been as shivery as the Beast itself, she turned, and dove after the book—the only solid form in the midst of the shadow. Locking her arms about the book, she held on for dear life.
She was vaguely aware that Wilhelm revived. With a ferocious growl, he reclaimed his sword, pouncing after them, the look on his face as fierce as a bear. Shouting obscenities, he swung wildly at the Shadow, narrowly missing Rosalynde’s shoulder, as the gleaming blade slid through the creature without purchase.
It was going to take hergrimoire! There was naught she could do to stop it. Sweet fates—Mother Goddess!
Trying to shake her free, the beast whipped Rosalynde about like a sheet in the wind, howling as it raged, lifting both Rosalynde and thegrimoireskyward, with scarcely any effort. It was only then she spied the necklace it wore, dangling like a carrot—a shining bauble bound to a chain, with a glowing crystal. Fear urged her not to release thegrimoire, but something else, a voice ageless as time, compelled her else-wise.
Let go, Rose.Seize the reliquary.
Nay. If she did so, she would lose the book forever—if she released it, the beast would fly away. She would fail. She would fail. The book would be gone. Morwen would win.
No, no, no, no…
Wilhelm continued to swing his sword, snarling furiously as the sword missed time and again. Tiring of his efforts, the Beast’s viper-like tail cut through the air, catching Wilhelm beneath the knees and spilling him again to the bracken.
Sweet, sweet fates.Rosalynde felt the book slipping now, and she curled her fingers more tightly around the vellum, whispering rites to hold it fast.
Let go.
Nay,she thought…nay…nay… but so often intuition was a gift from the Goddess—a gift too many failed to heed.
Let go.
Now.
