Fire of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 4)

SEVEN

"This is a really bad idea," Morgan said for the umpteenth time as he and Freya rode through the dark forest, the only thing helping them to navigate being the light of the full moon that was now hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds and Freya's knowledge of the forest; which at that moment, Morgan couldn't really put all his faith in.

"But you were the one who said yourself that you wanted to come with me," the pale-blonde archer returned from where she rode in the front.

"And I wanted to," Morgan replied. "But now I'm starting to see once more the reason why I disagreed in the first place. So, once again Freya, this is a bad idea."

Freya decided not to dignify his statement with a response; not that a part of her wasn't really tempted to give him a suitable one though. Thing is, Morgan's almost blind admiration of the Knight had never sat well with the pale-blonde archer; and not just because she knew next to nothing about the mysterious swordsman.

In truth, Freya knew that before the Knight showed up, Morgan had seen her as his hero, always keen to help her ideas and see them succeed. But ever since the mysterious swordsman came onto the scene, he had transferred all that hero-worship to him; and even though she had tried many times over to keep it under wraps, a very big part of the pale-blonde archer was very jealous of that fact.

However, contrary to what might be expected, it wasn't that jealousy that was driving Freya at that moment. Thing is, she had no doubt that the Knight was up to something in regards to the chest that he had somehow spirited away from the battlefield; and although she had nothing to prove it, she knew deep within her heart that it was of great importance that she found it.

Just then, the twins arrived at the mouth of a very big cave; Freya dismounting from her horse and tying it to a tree at the side and Morgan following suit with his.

"And where in the world are we now, Freya?" Morgan asked as he and her looked into the cave.

"This is the Knight's hiding place," she replied, proceeding into the cave without hesitation. "Come on, our true destination lies inside."

It took Morgan a while to get his legs moving after his sister, the craziness of it all causing his body to cease up in a sea of confusion. He had been trying all through the journey to rationalise Freya's thoughts but unfortunately, he was always coming up short. True, he understood that Freya had never hidden her disdain for the Knight and the mystery behind his origin from the very beginning; he even accepted it after a while. But going as far as putting everything on the line just to prove what was at best a conspiracy theory was more than he could imagine his sister was capable of; but there she was doing exactly that. And that caused him confusion to no ends.

"Remind me again how you got to know of this place?" Morgan finally asked Freya as they walked.

"Old man Patrick told me," she replied, not even once stopping to look at the disbelieving expression on her brother’s face at her statement.

"What!" he screamed at her. "Old man Patrick? The creator, Freya, that man can't discern north from south even if it appeared right in front of him."

"Come on, Morgan, don't be ridiculous." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Besides, having a knowledge of locations has nothing to do with norths or souths." Morgan had no doubt that it absolutely did but Freya was obviously not ready to settle for that fact, especially not in her present state of mind. So, he let her be.

But no matter what was going on with her, the pale-blonde boy still loved his sister and he would never want anything bad to happen to her; especially if it was because of something as useless as her childish dislike for the Knight, which try as he could, he just couldn't fathom why. "Freya please, let's go back home," he pleaded with her and prayed in his heart that she would listen. "I mean, this may not even be the Knight's lair. We could be walking right into a warlord's den for all we know."

"Warlords don't live in dens, Morgan, they live in fortresses." Freya tutted at what she presumed was her brother’s silliness, sidestepping him to continue unhindered in her walk deeper into the cave.

However, Morgan wasn't prepared to leave Freya alone just yet and spurred on by a new resolve to give her a piece of his mind about her sudden knowledge of norths and souths and warlords and fortresses, he raced after her. But whatever response the pale-blonde boy had planned died in his throat as he came into the compartment where he met his sister.

The compartment was the biggest he'd ever seen in his life; perhaps even the biggest in the entirety of the Barren lands. The whole area shone with a golden light which almost looked like a gentle flame courtesy of about twelve candles that placed all around in a circular fashion. But even more than the appearance really was the feeling of serenity there; almost as if there was a divine presence within the enclosure.

"Where is this?" whispered Morgan to Freya, a little afraid that any increase in his voice would shatter the ethereal feeling around.

"The place that the Knight hid the chest," she replied; and that was enough to snap Morgan out of his reverie.

Looking down, he saw what looked like a stone table on which not one but four chests of identical appearance were. Freya was already going through them when he went to join her.

"They're all empty," she said to him when she saw him come. "Well, all of them except for the one he just brought today, which happens to be locked."

"Perhaps there's a logical explanation for all these, Freya," Morgan said to her, still unwilling to believe that the Knight could be anything but a hero. "Maybe he just likes collecting chests."

"Stealing them, you mean," she returned at him and continued her mission to find what she deemed would be more proof to show that the Knight was just as bad as evil he was claiming to fight. She tried to open the locked chest but couldn't get through; the box didn't even budge as she poked and prodded at it. "Morgan, help me with this," she finally said to him as she passed him the chest.

Being an exceptionally talented lock pick, it didn't take Morgan long to get into the chest. But just as they were about to open it, something suddenly whizzed past their heads, causing their eyes to follow to where a dagger laid buried to the hilt in a candle. Turning to where it came from, they saw the Knight standing at the compartment's entrance and looking very frightening dressed in his full armour and battle ready posture.

"Drop the chest," he said to them as he unsheathed his sword, "or I swear things will get particularly dicey for you."