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“Sure, sure.” She supposed the fact that she could understand the dog wasn’t the weirdest part of her time in Avalon. Hell, it wasn’t even the weirdest part of her day. Might as well accept it for what it was and start following him through the trees.
Humming a tune to herself, she watched the birds and insects flitting around her. It was weird to think they were all dreamed into existence. But she knew nothing about real deities and what they were capable of—she wasn’t sure why she was at all surprised.
She was starting to get used to her life of hiking in circles, thinking about her choices. Avalon had given her elemental power, at least as far as she could tell. Mordred and Grinn were probably still steamrolling forward into an inevitable clash. And after that? Whoever was left standing would be the target of the elementals.
At least before the elementals turned on each other.
Either way, it was going to be a messy, bloody, deadly clusterfuck.
Avalon was the dream of gods.
And they had chosen her to help save it from itself.
Now I just need to figure out how.
No pressure.
Mordred stood with his knights—his remaining knights, as Lancelot’s absence was still palpable—around a table that had been set up in his war tent. It bore a map of Avalon, this one smaller and paper rather than the large metal one in his keep.
“There were no fires, save for those that came from chimneys,” Bors said as he shook his head. “There was no sign of the demon.”
Mordred let out a breath. That made little sense. Grinn was known to ignite anything that grew close to him simply by his presence alone. He would set a forest ablaze simply by traveling through it. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Gawain confirmed.
Mordred tapped the tip of his pointer finger claw on the table as he studied the map. Avalon was mostly covered in forests and wildlands. “And the lava field to the north?” The section of molten runoff from the center mountain was the only area that was rocky enough for Grinn to cause no damage.
“Tristan and I saw no signs of him there.” Percival’s expression was grim as he watched Mordred. “We spoke to Ignir. He has no love for Grinn. He has not seen him, and we have no reason to disbelieve his word.”
Mordred snorted. “I am surprised the dragon did not burn you to a crisp for daring to speak with him.”
“We spoke to him from a distance.” Tristan smiled faintly, though it did not last long.
Mordred continued to tap his claw against the table with a repetitive tick, tick, tick. It helped him think. For even if his thoughts were at a standstill, the noise somehow urged them forward.
Where could the demon have gone?
Where could he hide if it was not the lava fields?
It hit him then. Shutting his eyes, he groaned.
“What is it?” The tone of the Knight in Gold was both curious and filled with dread.
“He has gone into the caves.” Mordred straightened his back, rolling his shoulders. The muscles were none too pleased about it. “He is inside the volcano.” Reaching down, he picked up the little iron figurine of the demon and placed it in the center of the map.
The mountain that dominated the center of Avalon was a mostly dormant volcano—the lava that flowed ambiently into the ocean to the north was the only expression of its true nature. It had not erupted, as far as Mordred was aware, in the history of the island. Or at least for as long as it had held sentient creatures.
“If he has gone below ground, we will never be able to find him.” Percival grimaced. “There are too many entrances and exits—and there are only so many of us. Even if we cut off every known exit, the odds that he would wriggle his way out of a new crevice is far too likely.”
Fate was closing in around Mordred. This was too convenient. Perhaps the island was finally fixing its error from so long ago. “We cannot surround the mountain. Nor can we storm in to find him. You are right—he would simply flee. No, we will need to draw him out. We will need to bait a trap.” Mordred very much hated when he was right.
He hated it very, very much.
“And what in the literal hell could we use to bait him?” Percival snorted. “There is nothing he wishes for more than the destruction of all of Avalon. There is nothing we have to bargain with.”
“You are nearly correct.” Mordred smirked. “There is one thing he wishes for more than the death of us all.”
“Oh?” Galahad arched an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
