Fugitive (sequel to Becoming Atlantian)

Fugitive - Chapter 17

At her nod, his eyes narrowed briefly. And then, his eyes were twinkling. "Well, this is an interesting development. What have you been up to?"

A loud cry echoed down the hall way before Aubrey could respond. Shaking his head, the stone carved face looked towards the origin of the sound.

"I think my curiosity can wait." Barnaby's voice floated through my head. "Go. He needs you. I don't think he can take much more."

Aubrey sucked in a breath as another agonised should floated down the hallway. The sound weaker than the one previously.

"Is that -- Tiberius?" Aubrey asked shakily, her eyes squeezing closed when the stone man nodded his head. "Can you lead the way?"

She felt the tingle of comfort radiating from beneath her palm before his voice floated through her mind once more. "Follow me."

As she reopened her eyes, his form was already racing along the wall before her. Without hesitation, Aubrey sprinted after him. Her steps were loud as they slapped against the floor. Yet all Aubrey could hear was the thundering of her own pulse within her ears and the pained scream reverberating off of the walls.

With one last turn, Barnaby's beaten form paused beside a golden door. It was the door which had started Aubrey's journey as an Atlantian. Standing taller than her by several feet, it was mesmerising to look at. The metal shimmered and twinkled even though there were no torches to light the hall. And most notably, there was no door handle.

Turning over her palm, Aubrey stared at the swirling design on her palm, the one that marked her as an Atlantian, and sighed. "Please work."

Carefully, she placed her palm against the metal. It was cool beneath her touch. And then, her entire body stiffened as a rush of energy shot through her palm, up her arm, and down her spine. Finally, she felt it returning back to the building through the soles of her feet. The metal beneath her palm heated gently.

Then, as if understanding her need for stealth, the door swung open silently on its hinges, her palm unsticking from metal as it moved away from her. Aubrey shook her head. How had she been so oblivious to the magic which suffused every part of Atlantis?

The Matriarch was the simple answer. The former leader of the Atlantians had coveted her position and power more than anything else – right up until her death. Aubrey supposed she had the right to. Her abilities had been strong and all encompassing. She could still feel the way her magic had taken hold of her the first time she had met the Matriarch. The way it had stolen over her mind and emotions so powerfully she had been unable to breathe had been equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Perhaps it hadn't all be her magic. Perhaps, some of it had been borrowed from Atlantis itself.

Any further pondering was halted by Tiberius's pained scream.

Unsheathing Excalibur, Aubrey allowed one steadying breath before she was stepping through the now open doorway into the room beyond. None of Matriarch's lackeys noted her entrance. Their backs were to the door; a group of a dozen hooded men standing in a half circle around a shuddering mound at their feet.

Aubrey's breath hitched at the sight. Tiberius had always seemed strong. Undefeatable. Her dreams about his suffering paled in comparison to the horrific reality.

All too quickly, she was striding forwards with purpose. Distracted by their games, they sensed her presence only a moment before the razor sharp edge of the blade was resting against the neck of one of their hooded forms.

"I'm going to ask you really nicely," Aubrey spoke evenly, her eyes boring into the backs of their heads. "Let my friend go or I'll have to start playing nasty. Trust me, you won't like that."

The form beneath her blade stilled but the others turned towards her. Their faces were half hidden by the shadows of their hoods but their smirks and derision were clear to see.

"We're not afraid of you." One snarled, his top lip curling upwards.

Aubrey smiled in response. "You really should be." Because I am.

The thought was unwelcome as Aubrey drew in a deep breath, and then, as she exhaled, she opened herself up to the magic surrounding her. It was more potent than it had been on Earth. In Atlantis, it was in the air, in the ground beneath her feet, and even within herself. She was just the conduit for the power as it rushed up to meet her need. It flooded through her every vein, took over each and every cell. Her skin turned pearlescent, swirling and shimmering from the pure energy contained within.

And then, when it felt as if she could take no more, Excalibur thrummed within her hands. On her next exhale, she channelled the energy into the sword. Runes formed on the metal, glowing brightly on the blade before pure white fire sprung forth from the metal. The heat was intense, causing the man beneath the sword to leap away with a yelp.

Aubrey took a step closer before her lips pulled up in to a strained smile. And then, with a slash, she struck at the closest of the hooded men as he withdrew his sword from the hilt strapped upon his hip. Yet, before he could do anything more than adjust his grip on the hilt, Excalibur had already cut cleanly through the fabric of his robes and scorched across the skin beneath. Another hooded figure rushed towards her but, without ceasing her movements, she allowed the momentum of the sword to continue and drew blood.

The blows were glancing. Her intent only to cause fear but not kill; a swift death would be too merciful. Magic clearly agreed. Each man she had struck groaned in pain, those sounds swiftly turning into screams as their swords clattered to the ground. Clutching one hand in the other, their eyes were wide as they stared down at their palms. Each Atlantian had a mark upon their palm. It was a yin and yang symbol which marked their responsibility to maintain balance.

Yet, as they watched on, magic ravaged the mark, striking it through with a thick black line. The symbol below it flared for a second before fading, its lines becoming indistinct. It looked like Merlin's mark.

"What trickery is this, witch?" A large man spat, his features as mean as his attitude. He took a menacing step forwards, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he loomed over Aubrey's much smaller frame.

Unwilling to let him make use of those large hands, without hesitation, Aubrey let Excalibur do the talking. In a quick swing, the blade sliced through his sleeve, drawing a scorched line of blood as he did so.

"Enough." A man at the rear pulled back his hood as he watched another of his conspirators collapse to the floor, his link to Atlantis irreparably severed. His face was pale and sweating as he took in the fierce woman before him. He eyed her skin shimmering with magic before taking in his fellows sprawled on the floor. "Impossible. This should be impossible. Only one person has the ability to do this."

Her fingers reflexively tightened around the hilt of the sword. There was a warm thrum as Excalibur' sentient magic slid into her thoughts before one word was whispered through her mind. "Matriarch."

Ignoring how right the title felt, Aubrey raised her flaming sword and stared at the remaining men before her. "Yield."

They exchanged glances before looking at the man at the rear – their leader. His lips curled into a snarl of dislike before he wiped all expression from his face. And then, ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees before her. Then, he bowed forwards so that his nose brushed against the floor, his hands outstretched before him. A tense silence filled the room as the others frowned before following his lead.

Tiberius groaned at her feet and rolled over onto his back, his purple swollen eyes cracking open for just a moment. Aubrey's breath whooshed out and her shoulders relaxed when his dry cracked lips lifted into a feeble smile.

Turning back to the men lying prone before her, Aubrey turned the tip of the fiery sword towards their bowed heads. "You will be detained in the dungeons until further notice. If you make any sudden moves or put up any protest, you will receive the same treatment as your fellows."

There was a brief pause before finally a voice muttered so quietly she was certain she had misheard them. "We are at your mercy, Matriarch."