Avalon - Chapter 88 - In Dreams

In Dreams

Owain nodded approvingly as the group of twenty men cast their stunning spells simultaneously before ten conjured a shield, and the other half remained poised, and ready to attack.

“Good,” he praised, having witnessed them complete the feat perfectly more than a dozen times now. “I know that this is repetitive, but it could well save your lives. When we are faced with the enemy, it will not be stunning spells you are throwing around. I am not deaf, I have heard your grumblings about it. Raise your hands if you were caught in the path of a spell today?”

Close to three hundred men did so, and Owain offered them a pointed look.

“Had they not been stunning spells, you’d be dead,” he pointed out, “but you are getting better. We’re not quite there yet, but we will be soon enough. Now, get some rest, you will need it.”

They were improving, and though some were displeased being under the command of Harry, only one had truly taken exception to it, much to his detriment.

It had been one of Rosier’s men who’d challenged him to a duel, and by the time it had been over, only a moment had gone by, but it was one the man would not forget.

Flashback

“We have a commander, and I will not follow Potter just because you all want to kiss his arse! What has he done to prove his worth to lead us all?”

“Fucking idiot, you must have been living under a rock all these years,” Robert Moody chuckled. “Potter has killed dragons, goblins, ogres, and trolls. He fought off an Irish invasion, defeated Cnut, and army of the dead raised by Eadwulf’s witches, and that’s only the things we know about. What have you done, you arse-part?”

The man who had spoken out found himself flushing in a mixture of anger and embarrassment, and he foolishly decided to take it out on the quiet Harry.

“Fight me,” he demanded. “Prove you’re as good as you say you are, mind, I haven’t been beaten in a fight for near on twenty years, and the last man to do so was my father.”

Harry released a deep breath as he drew his wand.

“Fine,” he agreed, taking up his position, much to the surprise of the man. “Nothing immediately fatal, and you are done when you are either bereft of your wand or unconscious, agree?”

Rosier’s man nodded as he stomped towards his own position, and Owain hastily conjured some protections to ensure no onlookers were harmed.

“On the count of three,” he instructed when he was done. “One…two…three!”

Although he had counted to the three, Rosier’s man had cast on two, to no avail.

His blistering hex was batted back towards him, and though he blocked it, the fast and accurate barrage of Harry that followed left him unconscious, without his wand, and upside down with blood leaking from his nose.

Those looking on were stunned into silence, and Owain could only shake his head, fighting the urge to smirk.

Only a damned fool would challenge Harry to a duel; something those gathered had now learned for themselves.

End Flashback

No other had questioned why Harry had been placed in charge of them. If anything, they had shown nothing but the utmost respect, and despite their misgivings they’d felt towards some of the odd training exercises they had been tasked with, they’d not questioned the reason why.

Owain had, but having read the odd book that Harry had given him to peruse, he understood it now.

Many of the creatures within the Monster book of Monsters were the things of nightmares, and Owain had no desire to encounter any of them.

Tales from across the world of such creatures had reached the shores of Britain, but none could ever be certain what to believe when it came to the yarns of travellers.

Often, they would embellish of exaggerate what they’d seen, and in Owain’s experience, if something was too fantastical or too good to be true, it more than likely was.

Not that he doubted Harry and the words of warning he’d given.

The book Owain possessed was from a thousand years into the future, and Harry would not have tasked Owain with training the men how to combat such beasts if they were merely figments of the imagination.

Still, he hoped it was cautionary to do so, and that they would not meet a chimera, a nundu, or any other monster he had read of in the book he could no longer take home.

Anwen had not been pleased when the book, which Owain thought was docile after having its spine tickled, had bitten his wife on the backside as she’d served him breakfast.

It had not helped that Owain had laughed, though he’d avoided going home for several hours as he and the book had been chased from the house.

“Stupid book,” he grumbled, frowning as it growled in response.

Nonetheless, it had proven to be a well of knowledge for him, even if what he’d learned from it had made him paranoid about what creatures lurked the shadows of the world.

Fortunately, most were found in sunnier climes, in lands he’d never even heard of, but that didn’t mean the goblins hadn’t.

If what Harry believed would come to pass did, the horrors that awaited the and their men on the battlefield were things they would not be able to comprehend until they were face to face with such things.

“How goes the training, Owain?” Arthur asked as he entered the gates of the keep.

The king was concerned more than any with what the goblins were doing, and made a point to check in with him and Harry regularly for any updates.

“Well enough,” Owain answered. “The men will be ready when they need to be. There are some truly gifted wizards amongst them.”

Arthur nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Then I am hopeful that you will be successful, as will we in our own efforts.”

He had not taken it well being told that going into battle against magical creatures would be a terrible idea and only result in the death of hundreds of his men.

Muggles simply were not equipped to combat them, no matter how many there were to contend with.

Arthur understood, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t frustrated.

Still, it wasn’t as tough he wasn’t playing his part.

Arrow upon arrow was being crafted in the hopes that Arthur and his army could provide a much-needed assault on the goblins when the time came.

“Is Sir Harry not here?”

Owain shook his head.

“He is tending to our prisoners.”

“And how many has he managed to accumulate?”

“Around seventy,” Owain sighed.

Harry had insisted on returning to Winchester regularly but sporadically to apprehend more of the creatures, even if all he managed to achieve was to annoy Dark-Eye, who was seemingly perplexed by just how it was happening right under his nose.

Getting to the king of the goblins, however, would be a problem in itself.

Neither Harry nor Owain doubted that the cloak could be used, but Dark-Eye was a powerful creature, and apprehending him, or even getting close to killing him in such a way would come at a significant risk, and with no guarantee that the tact would even prove to be fruitful, both were reluctant to attempt it until they certain of themselves.

Even so, Owain expected that it would be on the battlefield that Dark-Eye met his end and given Harry’s determination to be the one to quash the goblin rebellion, it would likely be him to defeat him.

Not that Owain desired such glory, nor did Harry for that matter, but someone had to step up to face Dark-Eye, and there was no other that would do so before Harry could for all that the goblin had subjected Britain to.

Still, he got the feeling that nay meeting between the two was some way off yet.

For now, the goblins had been oddly subdued, but Owain did not doubt that they were plotting something, and whatever that might be, their army would need to be ready to meet it head on.

That was why he and Harry were investing so much time into training and preparing them, putting them through their paces so that when the time came, there was no doubt that they could do what was needed to put an end to the ambitions of the goblins.

(Break)

As had become his habit throughout his life, he often sought solace in the stars when the path ahead seemed unclear, or he was simply lost for what to do when it came to certain unexpected developments.

Even when they had not been so forthcoming, Myrddin had never turned his back on them, and as he sat beside the isolated lake somewhere in the middle of Britain, he looked towards them now, hoping for even the slightest glimmer of hope that all would be well.

As ever, they twinkled brightly, calming him as they danced across the sky, but his thoughts remained turbulent despite the peace here.

The goblins…Arthur…Potter…The Crow…The Storm-bringer…

Three of them were one and the same, but somehow different.

Myrddin knew he and the Storm-bringer were destined to cross paths, to likely fall foul of one another, and yet, he now found himself allied with the man in a bid to defeat the threat posed by the goblins.

Had their fates changed, or was this merely a temporary coming together for the good of all men?

The more he pondered it, the more uncertain Myrddin became.

What he did know, however, was that until the goblins were no longer rebelling, he and Potter had common cause to unite.

“You seem rather troubled.”

Myrddin released a deep sigh as his gaze shifted towards the woman he’d become acquainted with several decades ago. The Lady of the Lake was as ethereal and youthful as ever, speaking to the magic that likely created her, but certainly sustained her.

Myrddin had fallen for her charms as a much younger man, had listened to her words as she’d spoken of all he would do, but it had all turned to ash in his mouth at the mention of another who would come, one Myrddin would never truly understand, one that would make or break the kingdom that Myrddin built.

“How can I not be with all that lies ahead?” he asked. “I have lost Arthur’s confidence, find myself an ally of an enemy, and we face a threat that I am not entirely certain can be overcome.”

There was a part of Myrddin that wished to be angry with the woman for her part in his plight, but he’d learned that feeling such a way would achieve nothing.

He was even partly convinced that she was much like him; just another piece of a puzzle yet to be completed.

The Lady hummed.

“This is how you truly see it, Myrddin Emrys?”

“Is that not what it is?”

“Perhaps,” she answered ominously, “but this is your path to traverse. All that is around you and ahead of you is what you make of it and is shaped by the choices you make. I told you when we first met so many years ago that I am merely here to ensure all is where it should be. What comes of my actions is dependent on your own and how you wish to interpret the world and those in it.”

Myrddin frowned.

“The stars showed me the path that would see me make a king of Arthur.”

“And you did.”

“They also showed me that another would come along, that he would be a foe.”

The Lady nodded.

“Was it your own choices that made it so, or those of Harry Potter?”

His frown deepened as he pondered the question.

Potter had always been cautious and even critical of Myrddin from the very first moment they’d become acquainted, but it was the man’s actions that had spurred Myrddin into acting against him in turn.

He vividly remembered the night on the ship as both had been attempting to rescue Guinevere.

It had been Myrddin who’d tried to seize an advantage against Harry Potter, but hadn’t that been for the best? If his efforts had been successful…

He broke off from that trail of thoughts.

Had he been successful, then there was no telling if Guthrum’s army of dead could’ve been defeated, or even if they were, what the world around them would be like now.

Had what Myrddin done been premature, or would he find himself here now regardless?

Not that it would serve to dwell on such things.

The goblins would still be rebelling, of that he was sure, but anything else he might conjure in his mind would be nothing but speculation. For now, he and Potter were working for a common cause, and Myrddin could not hope to predict what would come after.

The stars had once been so certain, so clear, and yet, they were now quite murky, not forthcoming, and silent whenever he consulted them.

Perhaps the Lady before him was right, that it was and would be his choices that would shape what was to come.

Or perhaps it would be the choices of Potter that truly mattered.

“What did you give him?” he asked, hoping that anything that may have been bestowed upon the man would give him a clue of what his true intentions were. “You gave Arthur Excalibur, and Guinevere the necklace to protect her from me. What did Potter receive?”

He could almost feel the Lady’s eye staring directly into his soul, and she offered him a smile in response.

“What did I gift you, Myrddin Emrys?”

“Nothing.”

“And I gave the very same to Harry Potter. Neither you nor he needed anything from me. You are two great wizards in your own ways, neither perfect, driven by different things, but two exceptional beings as far as humans go. Harry Potter is supposed to be here, just as you are, Myrddin Emrys. What either of you do in this world will be felt for centuries to come. Whether you destroy one another along the way is a matter of fate.”

“So, it is not truly our choices that will determine what comes. It has already been decided.”

The Lady closed her eyes briefly before opening them again.

“I stand by all I have said,” she replied before vanishing into the depths.

Once more, Myrddin felt no wiser for her words. If anything, he took a semblance of comfort from them, but as always when it came to his dealings with the Lady of the Lake, he found himself with many more questions than had been answered in the moments that had passed.

Even so, it was the comfort he chose to focus on, and though he remained uncertain of what was to come where Harry Potter was concerned, for now, they were united against a more pressing threat, and Myrddin would do all he could to ensure the continued betterment of Britain; something that would be deeply uncertain if the goblins were to be triumphant in their own efforts to take the country for themselves.

(Break)

He peered into the cell and watched the older goblin he had captured. Although he was not a part of Dark-Eye’s close-knit group, he was something of an oddity amongst his kind.

It had not escaped Harry’s notice that most of the goblins they would meet on the battlefield were young, had bought into Dark-Eye’s ideals, and followed him with loyalty to a fault.

The one he watched now was not so old that he couldn’t fight, but he was only one in thousands Harry had seen.

With a curious frown, he entered the cell, and the goblin eyed him in equal fascination.

“You know, even us who live below the ground have heard of you, Harry Potter, and not all of us are so arrogant or foolish to believe you are not a threat to us. Dark-Eye is young, ignorant, stubborn, but rose to power quicker than any other. He is powerful and equally dangerous. I have seen it for myself.”

“Is that why you chose to follow him?”

The goblin laughed, an unpleasant sound that would set the hairs on the back of the neck standing.

“For what good the knowledge will do, he is my nephew. I follow him out of duty, and for that, he has spared my life.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“But so many of your age were not so fortunate.”

“They were not. He killed hundreds on his climb to the top, even his own father who spoke out against his ambitions. He will allow nothing to stand in his way, but he did not account for you, Harry Potter. He believes that wizards are weak, that human nature, human bodies, and even your magic is inferior. You, however, have already proven that is not true.”

“He won’t win.”

The goblin met Harry’s gaze.

“You truly believe that, don’t you?”

“I know it,” Harry replied. “I have fought monsters, worse than you can imagine. I have defied the odds more times than you can count, and your nephew, as powerful as he may be, is nothing compared to the demons I have slayed, the monsters that haunted my dreams. I killed them all, every last one, and your nephew will become just one more name on a very long list.”

By the time he’d finished speaking, and the goblin were only a few inches apart, and the creature shuddered.

“Perhaps you are right,” he whispered, “but how can you expect to overcome such odds?”

Harry took a step back as a loud scream in the distance reverberated off the walls.

“Because unlike most, I am willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure victory,” he replied. “Already, I have taken dozens of you, and with each passing day, I learn more and more about your nephew. The moment we meet will come, but he will not enjoy it as much as he believes. I told you I slayed the monsters I have met, but whilst doing so, I have become something much worse.”

The goblin trembled as the magic of the Hallows pulsed throughout the room, and another scream sounded.

Harry said nothing else and left the cell, waving his wand once more to elicit another bout of screams.

It was all smoke and mirrors for the most part. The screams were not real.

If anything, the goblins were in the safest place for them, well, for those he wished to live through the ongoing conflict. Here, they were fed and kept out of the heat of battle.

Azkaban may not be the most accommodating of places, but it was much better than what was to come for the others of their kind.

Nonetheless, Harry did not forget that they were still his enemies, and he had not lied to the older goblin.

Along the way, he had become something of a monster himself, just not with the same ambitions as his enemies.

He wished for nothing but peace, a life he’d always been denied, and little else.

For that, however, Harry had known for many years now that he would have to do things most others would be unwilling to, that he would have to carefully toe the line of his own morals from time to time.

Nonetheless, ultimately, he didn’t believe that he was a terrible person. For the most part, he was good, trying to navigate a world that had never been such to him.

(Break)

He frowned deeply as he ran his finger along the faintest trace of magic he’d been able to find, but it faded to nothingness immediately, leaving him as frustrated as ever when it came to the man that so ardently opposed them.

Seventy-three.

That was how many of his own had been taken by Harry Potter, and despite his best efforts to ensure it did not happen anymore, it did, time and again.

The goblins had been instructed to not roam the city alone, nor wander off from the groups they had been assigned. Each night before they slept, their quarters were meticulously searched, and every nook and cranny of the wall surrounding Winchester was guarded.

Protections had been put in place to prevent apparation, portkeys, and any other form of transport Dark-Eye could imagine, and yet, somehow, Potter had thwarted his efforts at every turn.

It angered him greatly, and each night, he too watched and waited for any sign of how the man was able to continue taking the goblins like a common thief helping himself to another’s possessions.

Cursing under his breath, he shook his head as he returned to his own quarters, still flummoxed, and no closer to figuring out just how Harry Potter could navigate the vast protections in place.

“Anything?” Burgock asked.

“Nothing,” Dark-Eye muttered irritably, throwing a few logs onto the fire to warm the room. “We are missing something.”

“I expect there are many things we are missing when it comes to Harry Potter,” Burgock mused aloud. “He is quite the enigma.”

Dark-Eye hummed as he gripped the pommel of his sword tightly.

There was indeed something quite enigmatic about his foe, something most other humans lacked, yet something that eluded him despite how long he’d pondered the man.

“Ah, perhaps Blackfang will have news.”

Dark-Eye nodded as he took his seat, and only a moment later, the door opened to admit his tired companion.

For days now he’d been travelling the length and breadth of Britain, visiting every dingy, filthy establishment he could find in order to learn more about Harry Potter.

With merely a grunt, he took a seat and poured himself a generous cup of his preferred brew, smacking his lips together in satisfaction as he swallowed most of it in a single gulp.

“Well?” Dark-Eye pressed.

Blackfang released a deep sigh.

“It seems that asking questions only results in more coming. Very few know much of the man besides what we are already aware of. He is a known Dragonslayer, vanquisher of the dead, and defeater of the Danes. What is most curious is that after he defeated the King Guthrum, Potter vanished for the better part of seven years. Nothing was seen nor heard of him. It is as though the man no longer existed, and most even forgot him for some time.”

“Seven years,” Dark-Eye murmured. “Where could he have been?”

“Likely at Hogwarts,” Blackfang said with a knowing smile. “According to one man I met who was a student of the school, Potter lives in the forest there with a wife and more recently, a son.”

Dark-Eye laned back in his chair.

“His wife we know of, but a son…how very interesting.”

It was certainly something that could be used to his advantage, though accessing Hogwarts would be exceedingly difficult. The castle was quite famous for the protections surrounding it, and Dark-Eye would not underestimate the likes of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and certainly not Slytherin.

Even so, despite the murmurings of Godric’s Hollow in Wales, it was the only other lead he had, and he was loath to attempt an attack on the western village.

His scouts had reported a most troubling magic that would be unforgiving to any who attempted to enter with the intention of harming the inhabitants.

What that magic was, Dark-Eye was not certain, but from the description he’d received, he’d quickly deduced that it was somehow connected to Harry Potter.

Wouldn’t the protections around Hogwarts be the same if the man lived there?

It was impossible to tell without sending scouts to investigate, but doing so would undoubtedly be detected.

Still, knowing Potter’s wife and son were there was certainly motivation to attempt it at the very least.

“What is known about his wife?”

“Almost nothing,” Blackfang answered irritably. “She has often been at Potter’s side during battles, as we saw for ourselves when she set the thestrals on our forces, but few know or speak of her.”

“Then she is of no consequence,” Dark-Eye said dismissively, “but if we were to find a way of reaching Potter’s son, he would be forced to withdraw from the war. Perhaps we could even have him hand us victory without further bloodshed.”

“It is risky,” Burgock broke in, his tone laced with concern. “If you were to take his child there is no telling how he would react. His fury is quite the sight to behold, and from what little I have heard, we have seen nothing of it yet.”

Dark-Eye chuckled.

“An angry foe is a foolish foe. His anger can be used against him. It will cloud his judgement, addle his mind, and he will make foolish decisions.”

His companions did not seem so convinced, but Dark-Eye was certain it was something that could be used to their advantage.

“And what of our prisoners?” Blackfang asked. “Do we know where he is keeping them?”

“No,” Burgock answered. “Despite my best efforts, I have been unable to locate them. Seventy-three goblins cannot be so easy to hide!”

“Eighty-four,” Gutrot announced grimly from the doorway. “Potter has just struck again.”

Dark-Eye slammed his fist on the table before hurrying from the room, and once more, the odd, unnatural coldness Potter left in his wake permeated the air, and once more, he’d left the same blasted mark formed from the weapons he’d taken from those now missing.

“DEATH!” the white-eyed raven cawed before it took flight, and the king of the goblins growled as he hurled a bolt of lightning after it, cursing gutturally in his own tongue.

“I want scouts sent to Hogwarts!” he instructed. “I want every stone in Britain turned until Potter is found, and I want him brought to me in chains! GO!”

Dozens of those gathered hurried to carry out his command, and Dark-Eye took a moment to steady his breathing.

“Do you think it wise to send so many?” Blackfang asked.

“It is serving us no purpose remaining where we are and doing nothing!”

“Then perhaps we should consider retreating back…”

Gutrot crumpled to the ground from the blow Dark-Eye landed on his jaw, and he fell silent knowing he’d already asked too much of his king.

“We will not retreat!” Dark-Eye hissed. “I want him found. No, do it!”

The trio followed the others in preparing to depart, and Dark-Eye destroyed the mocking tribute Potter left behind.

“He is just a man!” he seethed. “A bag of flesh, bone, and blood that cannot compare to the true power of the goblins!”

And yet, he was proving to be quite the nemesis; something Dark-Eye could not deny any longer.

(Break)

The voices were muffled yet somewhat familiar, and the faces blurred. She could just make out the silhouette of each person present, but the thick mist obscured the surroundings.

In the distance she could hear tormented screams, hissing in words she believed she could understand, but as she pondered them, they lost their meaning.

Morgana shuddered as the coldness washed over, and a plethora of spells were exchanged between what seemed two groups of men, the much of one was bound to a single man.

His laughter filled the air, colder than the magic invading her senses, making her feel uneasy in his presence. It rang out over the din of the violence, more potent than the smell of blood and darkness that filled the air.

Whatever this monster was fought with reckless abandon, the magic he wielded match by those bound to him.

In only a matter of moments, all fell silent, and she was left with only the residual coldness.

“You see all but you see nothing,” a voice whispered.

The gentle clinking of chains followed, and a lone figured emerged from the fog, and yet, his features remained indiscernible. Morgana, however, could feel his smile.

“He chose well, but it will never be enough. None of them could hope to match me. I will find them all, and one by one, they will perish, just like them,” he finished, pointing to a large pile of pale corpses still attached to the chains he was dragging in his wake.

By now, the man was only a few feet away from her, and a large raven landed on his shoulder. It’s eyes were red, but very briefly, they flashed green.

“He makes for a fine pet,” the man whispered, using a long, pale finger to stroke the preening bird. “Time to wake up, Fairy Witch. Perhaps one day our stars will align.”

He reached out to touch her, a grin tugging at his lips, and Morgana stepped backwards, only to fall into the abyss surrounding her.

She woke with a gasp, and her chest heaved from the effort of trying to steady her laboured breathing.

Immediately, she felt herself wrapped in Harry’s arms, and she felt all the better for it.

Morgana’s dreams had often been strange growing up, and even prophetic in some cases, but none had ever felt so real as the ones she experienced now.

Before, she would get a glimpse or a clue of what was to come, but this was more of a running commentary, an in-depth glance of what the future held.

“Another dream?”

She swallowed deeply as she nodded before shaking her head.

“I’m not so sure they’re dreams, Harry,” she whispered.

“Could it not be the pregnancy giving you nightmares?”

“No, I don’t think it is that. Oh, I do not doubt that it is this one that is making them so vivid, but they don’t feel like dreams. They feel like something that is going to come, and I do not like what I have seen.”

“What did you see?”

Morgana released a deep breath before explaining the latest of many dreams that had plagued her, and when she was done, Harry eyed her curiously for a moment.

“A man with chains.”

“There were people or things attached to them. At first, they were alive, and then dead, but he didn’t care. He just dragged them along with him.”

“And he laughed.”

Morgana nodded and her husband frowned.

“I have seen that figure for myself, not as me, but when I was seeing a dream through Tom’s eyes.”

“Do you not think it must mean something?”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded, “but until we know for certain, there is no use getting hung up on it. I will do some digging and see if there is any mention of anything in the library.”

Morgana nodded appreciatively as she settled into Harry’s arms.

“She going to be trouble.”

“Who?”

“Your daughter.”

“Then she will be just like her mother.”

Morgana snorted amusedly.

“If there is any of us that has a proclivity for finding themselves in trouble, it is you, Harry Potter.”

“Ah, but it is only because you met me that you do not find yourself in so much of it,” Harry countered. “Where would you be now if we hadn’t met?”

Morgana shook her head.

“Nowhere good,” she admitted. “I would want Myrddin to suffer for what he did to me, and I know now the best way to do that would be to destroy everything he has built.”

“Arthur?”

“Among other things,” Morgana answered.

“Then I am grateful we did meet,” Harry chuckled. “I can only imagine how much havoc you could wreak on the world if you chose to.”

“And now I have a husband to do that on my behalf.”

“I don’t cause havoc.”

Morgana quirked an eyebrow at the man.

“Yes, you do, but for all of the right reasons, Harry. Had it been me, I would’ve been the very worst of nightmares for Myrddin. You choose to be the very worst nightmare of the monsters that roam these lands. As much as it frustrates and frightens me, I wouldn’t have you any other way. It’s like I say, I quite like that side of you. It’s why I married you really.”

“Is that so?” Harry snorted. “Well, should I expect to be divorced when I decide I want only peace?”

Morgana hummed thoughtfully before shaking her head.

“No, oddly enough, it is that I am looking forward to most. As much as I love you for your righteousness and willingness to do what is needed to keep those that cannot defend themselves safe, I would like my husband to myself one day soon.”

“You will,” Harry assured her and Morgana held him tightly to her.

It was all she wanted, but as an ethereal fox coalesced before them, interrupting a rare moment of peace, she knew that today would not be that day.

“Goblins, Harry. Many have left Winchester and are scattered around the country. They’re not attacking, but they’re searching for something.”

“For me, I bet,” Harry sighed as he stood and placed a kiss on Morgana’s cheek.

“So, you’re going to go after them?” she asked amusedly.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to them,” he chuckled humourlessly. “I knew this would happen.”

“So, you’re a seer now?”

“No, but I have become quite good at predicting what my enemies will do next. Dark-Eye is frustrated, and soon, he will wish to speak with me.”

“And you will go.”

“I will,” Harry declared as he dressed with a wave of his wand. “There is always something that can be learned by talking. The goblins I captured already have told me much more than they intended to and shown me more than they would like. I’m getting the measure of what makes Dark-Eye tick, but before he knows it, it will be too late. Oh, he is dangerous but he is overreaching. He will see that soon enough for himself.”

With that, he left, and Morgana leaned back into her pillows.

Most would deem her husband to be without his senses, that he’d taken leave of them long ago, but she knew better. If there was anything Harry knew, it was the ways of war, more so than any other.

Even so, he was playing a dangerous game with the goblins.

From what Morgana had learned of Dark-Eye, he was not one to provoke lightly, and her husband had done nothing but since the creatures had commandeered Winchester.

Perhaps it had been a mistake on their pat to do so, much as it was for their exulted king to send small parties across Britain to seek out her husband.

There would be more blood this night, and Dark-Eye would be the one left considerably more frustrated by the time the sun came up in a matter of hours.