The Prison Of Ice & Shadows (Prophecies Of Fate Book 2) Read online

  The Prison Of Ice & Shadows

  The Prophecies Of Fate Book Two

  T J Mayhew

  Contents

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  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon…

  The Cup Of Destiny - Excerpt

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  About the Author…

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  More details about this can be found at the back of the book.

  © 2017 by T J Mayhew

  The moral right of T J Mayhew to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Published 2017

  www.tjmayhewauthor.com

  Created with Vellum

  For Mum…

  My best friend and champion in all things.

  Prologue

  The pounding of boots on the cold hard-packed earth outside her homestead echoed her rapid heartbeat. Wide-eyed, she looked to her mother, crouching beside her in the dark; the older woman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears of terror as she stared helplessly back at her. Both knew they were at the mercy of Fate herself. Her mother raised a shaking finger to her lips and shook her head, forbidding the girl from making any noise.

  The girl nodded and sat back on her haunches, her breathing ragged and loud in her ears, silently praying that she and her family would make it through this accursed night. She tried to swallow but her mouth was so dry, it was impossible. The acrid smoke in the air burned the back of her throat and stung her eyes, filling all her senses. She could only imagine the horrors taking place outside; horrors she and her mother would soon be forced to witness if they were to escape.

  Her father had left them with a promise that he would return but the more the girl listened to the chaos around them, the less sure she was of her father’s survival… of anyone’s survival. Whatever force had invaded them seemed too powerful to hold back.

  Cries of terror and fury filled the night as villagers fought for their own and their family’s survival. Men cried out in rage, overcome by bloodlust, as they fought their enemies, while mothers cried out for the lives of their children as sons were ripped from their arms and their daughters’ throats slit before their eyes.

  The girl’s mother moved closer to her, careful not to make any noise and attract the attention of the invaders; she pulled her daughter into her arms, this simple gesture enough to make the girl feel safe and she felt herself relax even as her mother tightened her desperate hold on her. They watched, as the dancing orange flames from the torches outside grow brighter, taunting them both.

  She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping; she knew enough of this world to know what was happening. The invaders were setting fire to anything they could find: carts, hay, houses… anything that could be used as a hiding place, weapon or means of escape. Nothing was sacred anymore and the girl knew it was only a matter of time before their home was set alight; every second that passed brought that moment closer.

  She opened her eyes as her mother took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

  “Where are we going?” the girl whispered, shooting a glance at the door, fearful that someone would burst through at any moment.

  Her mother turned and faced her. “I am doing what I promised your father I would do: I’m getting us away from here.” She turned and tugged her daughter forwards but the girl refused to move, yanking her arm free from her mother’s grasp.

  “I will not leave without Father,” she stated adamantly, taking a step back. She knew she was being foolish, putting both herself and her mother in even greater danger, but she couldn’t desert her father. Not now.

  Her mother approached her, her dark eyes boring into her daughter’s. Cupping the girl’s face in her hands, she held her gaze. “Listen to me,” she implored, her voice desperate. “We are living in dark and dangerous times and now the danger has finally caught up with us as we knew it would. Your father is fighting for us and this village but he needs to know we are safe.” She stroked her daughter’s cheek and, in a softer voice, added, “Now, you need to be brave and we need to leave.” She looked deeply into her eyes. “Do you understand?”

  The girl swiped angrily at her tears, pushing them away, and nodded determinedly.

  Her mother took her hand once again and pulled her through the darkness towards the rear of the house, its simple layout making it easy to negotiate even in the dark.

  “Wait!” the girl hissed pulling free of her mother’s hold once again. She hurried over to her bedding, ignoring her mother’s disapproval, and slipped her hand beneath the furs. Pulling out a silver dagger, she grinned at her mother. “Father gave it to me,” she explained, retracing her steps.

  Her mother gazed down at her, smiling; the disapproval she had always felt when her husband had insisted on teaching their daughter how to use weapons vanished; all she felt, in that moment, was pride. Pride that her daughter stood before her now, weapon in hand, ready to protect them; for the first time she saw her husband in her daughter’s demeanour, in the steel of her eyes. At any other time, she would have pulled the girl into her arms and told her how much she loved her but that could wait for later, when they were safe.

  But right now they needed to get as far away from here as possible.

  Reaching out, she took her daughter’s hand and, together, they made their way to the door, stopping only to peer outside before racing out into the unknown.

  At the rear of the house a bank rose up towards a forest and the girl instinctively ran towards the trees, as she had done so many times before.

  She heard her mother’s ragged gasps for air behind her as she forged ahead, only stopping when she reached the shelter of the trees, her need to find her father consuming her. From this vantage point, she scoured the village below, her heart breaking. The fire still raged, destroying all in its path, destroying everything familiar t
o her, everything she had ever known; flames engulfed several buildings, dancing gleefully in the darkness, while men in black chainmail stalked the night, searching for fresh victims. Bodies lay strewn over the ground, young and old alike, a testament to the evil that had finally found them. Those that weren’t already dead were being rounded up like cattle and anyone trying to fight back was killed or beaten into submission.

  As she desperately searched the chaos for any sign of her father, a maniacal scream rent the air, cutting through the cacophony surrounding her like a knife. The girl’s attention was snapped back to the bank below her as a woman, dressed in black robes, materialised out of the darkness. Without breaking her stride she began slowly ascending the bank, a predator of the night finally cornering her prey.

  The girl stared in horror at her mother, still halfway down the bank, clawing desperately at the earth as she tried to reach her daughter and the safety of the trees. Fear had consumed her and she was gasping for air. As the woman closed in on her mother, the girl knew it was already too late. She despised herself for abandoning her mother in her hour of need.

  “You dare to escape us?” the woman demanded. She glared at the girl’s mother unwaveringly, her black hair whipping around her shoulders.

  The girl watched helplessly as the newcomer drew closer, suddenly aware of white lightning dancing around her fingertips; as she neared her mother, the woman closed her hands, extinguishing the light. Willing herself to move, but fear preventing her from doing so, the girl remained crouched in the shadows as she watched the scene unfold below her.

  Her mother turned and looked up defiantly at the woman looming over her. The two stared at each other for what seemed like an age before the newcomer smiled down at her prey coldly.

  “Your cowardice is priceless,” the woman murmured, a smile touching her lips.

  Hearing her mother referred to as a coward, the girl’s grip tightened on her dagger as she inched closer to the edge of the trees, preparing to take aim.

  Her mother caught sight of her and, sensing her intention, the older woman’s gaze hardened as she silently begged her to remain hidden. Her eyes flicked towards the trees, signalling her daughter to go deeper into the forest but she shook her head, determined not to leave her mother to the mercy of this heinous woman.

  Instead, she waited, biding her time, ready to throw at the first opportunity. Her father had always said that patience was the mark of a true hunter and warrior and she heard his voice, reminding her of that fact, as clearly as if he were with her now, hunting a rabbit.

  Seeing her daughter’s defiance, the older woman resumed her tortuous climb, only for her assailant to step in front of her, placing herself between mother and daughter. She knelt before her victim and grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing her to look her in the face.

  The girl watched, paralyzed by fear, unable to believe what she was witnessing. For the first time in her life her mother, usually so strong, looked utterly terrified; her eyes wide, her breathing shallow.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged, failing to hide her fear.

  The woman cackled. “First, I catch you trying to escape and then you ask me not to hurt you?” she murmured, studying her. “I have to admit, I admire your nerve.”

  Tears were falling freely now from her mother’s eyes. “Please… I don’t want any part of this… spare me…”

  The woman cast her captive to the ground, glaring down at her in disgust. “You’re all the same,” she sneered and, tilting her head to one side, added, “give me one good reason why I should spare you.”

  The girl watched as her mother glanced at her again before looking back to the woman.

  “I thought as much,” she sneered. She stood up and, before the girl could react, before she had a chance to throw her weapon, white light blazed from the woman’s palm, a bolt of light hitting her mother squarely in the forehead.

  The girl instinctively retreated back into the shadows, shielding her eyes from the sudden burst of light as her mother collapsed on the ground. She prayed the woman wouldn’t turn and catch sight of her; no sooner had the thought entered her head than she cursed herself for her own cowardice.

  Recovering her senses, the girl scrambled to the edge of her hiding place and took aim, ready to avenge her mother’s death the only way she knew how. Without a second thought, she released her meagre weapon, watching as it sliced through the air towards her target.

  But it was too late.

  There was a loud crack and the woman disappeared into the darkness once more.

  The dagger sailed through the air in vain and landed in the grass just behind where the woman had been standing, only moments before.

  Too shocked to understand what had happened, and too heartbroken and guilt-ridden at the sight of her mother’s prone body, the girl acted instinctively: she left her hiding place and ran. Skidding to a halt beside her mother she dropped to her knees and cradled her in her arms, ignoring the tears that now stung her eyes.

  Hooking her hands under her mother’s arms, she dragged her lifeless body up the bank to the relative safety of the forest. There, she sat, cradling her mother’s lifeless body, sobbing silently, as the only place she had ever called home was destroyed.

  And, later that night, as the flames died, a cold, unforgiving hatred took root in her heart.

  1

  The man’s eyes burned with hatred.

  “I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands, boy…”

  Fear gripped Cai as the man ran towards him, his eyes burning with murderous intent… He felt Excalibur break through the warrior’s chainmail as it sank deep into the man’s gut…

  He could do nothing as the man sank to his knees, his face split by a bloody, maniacal grin as the world around them suddenly exploded in a blinding white light...

  Jerking awake, Cai Pendragon scrambled to his knees, frantically scanning the camp for any signs of danger, Excalibur ready, held firm in his hand. Realising his men were still sleeping after long hours in the saddle, he exhaled a long, controlled breath, attempting to slow his racing heart as he realised… nothing was amiss.

  Gazing around the camp, he slowly loosened his grip on Excalibur and sat down on his bed as he tried to calm down and relax.

  It had been three days now; three days since he had received Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake; three days since Morgan le Fay’s attack…

  Three days since he had killed a man…

  The same dream had haunted him every night since: he would relive the same fight and the exact moment when he had plunged Excalibur into the man’s stomach, the moment he had taken his life…

  Cai felt sickened by the memory as he sheathed the sword, laying it on his bed beside him. He stared down at his hands, now empty.

  The hands of a killer…

  His gaze shifted to where Logan slept, blissfully unaware of Cai’s dark thoughts. When they had returned to camp, after their battle, Cai had done his best to play down his feelings of guilt and disgust to Logan and the rest of his men. After all, the man had fought for Mordred; he would have killed Cai without a second thought if he had been given half a chance.

  But Cai couldn’t stop wondering if the man had had a family, people who cared about him, people who he had cared about…

  “You’re awake, my Lord.”

  Merlin’s gentle voice cut into Cai’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He scowled at the older man. “What do you want?” he demanded groggily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt; lack of sleep and guilt were finally starting to get to him.

  “I need to talk to you, my Lord.”

  Cai watched him warily. “You do?” Fear gripped him; had Merlin read his thoughts again? He had form, after all; the last thing Cai wanted was for Merlin to know what was going on in his mind right now.

  Merlin glanced around the camp; there was occasional movement as guards patrolled the perimeter but, apart from that,
all was still. “Could we perhaps talk nearer the fire?” he asked. “I’m afraid my old bones seek warmth, this night.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted to Logan, clearly checking he was still asleep.

  Cai couldn’t help smirking at the irony of Merlin’s words; no matter what he said to the contrary, he was far from old. He glanced over at Logan, understanding perfectly well what Merlin wasn’t saying, and scoffed as he rose to his feet. “He won’t wake up now,” he assured him. “Trust me, he’s dead to the world.” He cringed at the unfortunate choice of words, shuddering at memories that were still raw…

  “Come with me, Cai,” Merlin instructed, before turning and making his way towards the fire.

  Left with no choice, Cai followed Merlin to the centre of camp where the fire was still smouldering. Merlin flicked his wrist and the fire blazed brightly in the darkness, before settling down to a steady flame. “Much better,” he murmured, before turning to Cai.

  Cai looked at him expectantly, grateful for the warmth gradually seeping into him; waking up in the middle of the night always chilled him to his bones. “What did you want to talk about?”