Page 348 of The Daughters of Avalon
It was Cael.
Alas, there was no time to consider her folly or faith.
In his Shadow Beast form, part serpent, part dragon, part raven, Mordecai faced Cael, his thick tail rising behind him, like a viper preparing to strike…
“Evil, conniving bitch!” screamed Marcella, reaching them at last, distracting everyone for the briefest instant—long enough for Rhiannon to leap at the Shadow Beast, taking him by the chain he wore about his neck.
The wolfhound pounced as well, sinking its teeth into Mordecai’s leg but failing to find purchase. In the meantime, Marcellaswung her sword, and Rhiannon summoned those words she remembered her sister speaking in the woodlot south of Whittlewood and Salcey…
I call the fifth to me!
Goddess, hear my plea!
Of smoke and mist you may be born.
But now I bind you here in mortal form.
“Now!” she screamed. “Do it now!” she demanded, and Cael wasted no time.
Advancing on Mordecai, he drew the ancient sword from its scabbard.
“I love you,” she cried, releasing the shadow beast perforce and raising her own sword, preparing to join Marcella. But it was too late for the paladin. Even as they watched, Morwen grew a speared tail, whipping Marcella with it. The wolfhound snarled and leapt once more into the fray, but Morwen wrappedMarcella up, wresting her close. Then, with a cruel smile, she said, “Shall I say I once loved you, as well?”
“Go to hell!” hissed Marcella, blood seeping from the corners of her mouth.
It happened so quickly. Morwen tossed her away, hard, so easily. The witch-paladin’s body landed with a sickening thud yards from where they stood. She didn’t rise again.
Morwen turned to Rhiannon then, her smile cool as the mist now roiling about them. The wolfhound whimpered as she thrust out a hand and tossed him away, as well, then with a slam of her hand, she compelled Rhiannon to her knees.
Too late, Rhiannon heard her sisters’ voices, searching.
Seren.
Rosalynde.
Elspeth.
Ignoring everyone, Morwen kept her attention on her second-eldest daughter. She raised a hand to her as though to strike, but she couldn’t do so without gloating. “You thought you would be Regnant; look at you now—piteous and powerless!”
“Mercy for my husband!” Rhiannon begged, haplessly. “Mercy for my sisters!”
Morwen scoffed, until she heard Seren’s voice.
“She might not be Regnant, but I am,” said her sister, and Morwen turned to find Seren holding back her soldiers, her hand lifted so no one could pass.
“You?”
“Aye,” said Seren, with a smirk. “Me.”
“I’ll deal with you in a moment,” she said, her countenance darkening. She returned her attention to Rhiannon, stabbing a finger into the air, and Rhiannon shrieked in pain.
Behind Morwen, the Shadow Beast lost its head. Finally, it crumpled to the ground, its body withering where it lay. As it had once before, the wisp of Mordecai’s soul returned to thegrisialhudhanging around his neck. Even as they watched, it was all that remained—a tangle of silver with a darkened crystal, and Rhiannon gave her husband a tremulous smile.
“Leave her!” said Cael.
Morwen turned to him slowly, and said, “Lest you forget, she is mine, Dragon Lord! Born of my blood!” Without even looking her way, she spun a hand at Seren, and Seren found herself cocooned by a fine web of mist, and then Rhiannon as well, fine tendrils of mist coiling about her neck and tightening very slowly, leaving Rhiannon struggling to breathe.
Sweet fates, she couldn’t even lift a hand to her throat to clear the way for a breath. Her face felt hot and engorged, her lips swollen and inflamed.
