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“If they wish to declare war against us, we shall pay them back in kind. Do not seek violence where there is none. But deal with it when there is.” Mordred stared down at the map.
“And what do we do with the elementals we fight?” Bors, the Knight in Nickel, asked the next logical question. “Are we to break the laws of Avalon and kill them, or…?” He trailed off. He need not finish his thought.
Mordred understood precisely where the statement led. “No. We shall keep the laws of Avalon.” He grimaced in disgust. “Save for the demon Grinn. He shall die at my hands. Should I be held accountable at a tribunal, so be it. As for the rest?” He hated to say the words. He hated to even think them. But he had no choice. “You know what awaits them.”
Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, he stalked through the hallways of his home, making his way down the winding stone staircases to the tomb where the shattered fragments of the Iron Crystal still remained where they had fallen. The rest of the crystals that had dripped from its surface had gone dark, the magic seeping into the air and dissipating.
Shutting his eyes, he held his hands out in front of him. It took all his focus to pull the shattered Crystal back together, forcing his will upon it, melding it back to one piece. It rumbled and shook as the pieces rejoined, the chains creaking under the load as it rose back up to its original position.
The tiny crystals that had surrounded it bled back into its creator. He did not leave a single speck of metal behind as he completed his second “masterpiece.”
What a joke of a legacy it was.
Was this truly all he would leave behind? A trail of corpses and prisons? Dead elementals and imprisoned warlords? No wonder the world despised him. He wondered what Arthur would think of his grand work—and then quickly decided he was better off not knowing.
His thoughts were dark enough as it was.
When his work was done, exhaustion knocked him down to one knee. It had been a grueling day. He was eager for sleep, though he wondered if it would grace him this night with its presence, or if he would be doomed to stare listlessly into the flames while his thoughts tormented him.
Looking up at that which he had created, he felt no pride in its jagged beauty. It was improved over the original. Perhaps this time it would be more stable in its making, and those put within it would not bleed out in the way they had before.
Or perhaps he would die before he ever put it to use.
He did not know which outcome he preferred.
Now, it was time to rest. For tomorrow, the hunt for the demon would begin.
To be continued…
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