The Thorn Prison (Avallon Academy Book 2) Read online

  THE THORN PRISON

  by

  Penny BroJacquie

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Thorn Prison (Avallon Academy, #2)

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  PENNY BROJACQUIE’S BOOKS

  Acknowledgments

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THE THORN PRISON

  Copyright ©2020 Penny BroJacquie

  All Rights Reserved

  Editing: Learning To Fly

  Cover Art: Cosmic Cream

  Developmental Advice: The Plot Genie

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  To my mother, Roula Triantafyllou

  PROLOGUE

  *

  Two months earlier

  After a short flight through a tunnel of swirling purple and red lights surrounded by loud lightning strikes, we landed on a green hill looking over Afall Island.

  Merlin had transported all of us there; me, Arthur, Dindrane, Mordred, Claudas, Ector, Galehaut, and Guimora. But something seemed wrong. I could not figure out what that was at first but then it came to me.

  “Something is wrong,” I said loudly to make sure that Merlin, who was walking fast up the hill, would be able to hear me.

  “What is?” Merlin answered without slowing his pace.

  “The lights in the vortex, they were purple and red. They are usually blue and green,” I said.

  “That happens when someone steals time,” said Arthur. He was standing by my side during the meeting and now he was walking behind me as if he was safeguarding me.

  “Who is stealing time?” I asked.

  “You are!” Mordred jumped right in front of me and blocked my way.

  “This is nonsense!” I shouted at him when what I really wanted to do was spit in his face. His beef with me was beyond any reasonable understanding.

  “Mordred,” Merlin stopped walking and turned around. “Leave the girl alone. It could not be her doing.”

  “How can you be so sure, Merlin?” You did not even know that all this time a sect of criminal operated on the grounds of the Academy under your nose, killing one student after the other, stealing time for the Old Wizard knows what reasons.” Mordred’s face was red, and his breath was fast. To say the guy was furious was an understatement.

  “Mordred,” a gruff voice said from behind me. It was Galehaute who had now approached me and, Jeez, he was so tall and big – I had not realized that when I had seen him seated in Merlin’s study. “Stop bullying the frosh.” He waved his long copper cane with the amber bead on the handle as if it was a baseball bat.

  “She has been trouble even before she got here.” Mordred ignored Galehaute's warning and moved aggressively to me. “I would have had her locked up should Merlin not insisted that she should enroll the Academy.” He turned to Merlin. “You were wrong. Again. You have lost your liability. You cannot be Grand Wizard anymore.”

  “Please stop!” It was Guimora's turn to join my defense team. In a group of old-fashioned dressed people, she stood out with her boho chic outfit and the enormous dreamcatcher earrings that widened her round face. “This is not the time. This is not the place. Galehaute is right. Stop bullying the girl. We must first find out who is stealing time and who is responsible for the murders of our people. I hope that Merin will explain what went wrong afterward.”

  A loud thunder cracked above our heads and red mist surrounded us, before purple lightning bolts stroke around us.

  “They are stealing time again,” Merlin said, darkness in his eyes. As he started spinning his umbrella, six dark figures appeared in the mist. Before Merlin finished his spell, six human beings, men or women I could not tell, jumped out of the red mist like bloodthirsty hyenas.

  In the blink of an eye Arthur, Dindrane, Claudas, Ector, and Guimora pulled out their daggers and joined Gautenaute who was already battling using his copper cane. I stood there watching them in awe and horror, unable to help them, frightened as a rabbit surrounded by a group of foxes.

  More red and purple lightning bolts followed by streams of red mist surrounded us, before another four black-clad entities popped out. This time, I noticed something; they were all wearing golden rings with red gems.

  Merlin, Mordred, and Guimora had now joined the battle.

  I stood there frozen. Why did I freeze? I had been in a short of a battle once, with some success, I could say. However, the battle that was happening in front of me would require the skills of Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, and Jackie Chan combined.

  Arthur moved to defend himself from a black-clad entity’s sword attacks. He stayed still until his opponent bent and then, with a quick move, he managed a thrust at the entity’s chest. One of the bad guys down.

  With his dagger still flashing in his hand, Arthur lost his balance and fell. A Black Sword Rider jumped over him pointing him with a sword. He needed help. But what could I do to help him?

  A memory flashed in my mind. “You’re wearing the Malkvien ring and you are holding my hand which has the Claitleeff ring on. The creature which you just killed has left behind the Bariah ring. When the Carnwennan’s edge penetrated the Bariah’s body, you connected to the power of three supreme ancient cults,” Arthur had once told me.

  Back then, I thought that it was something Arthur had come up with as part of my training. What if I was not right and that was not some random Mumbo Jumbo but an actual riddle, if not prophesy?

  I instinctively raised my hand and pointed to the golden ring with the red stone in the pile of ashes; it was all that was left of Arthur’s victim. The ring moved and fast as lighting, it found its place on my finger. Time froze.

  A glowing white light erupted from my ring straight to Arthur’s one, passed through his body, and ended to the edge of his Carnwennan. Our bodies got possessed by an enormous otherworldly power and a loud cry escaped my throat. Arthur’s cry covered mine as we got linked with light blue lightning bolts.

  Everything around was eerily calm and quiet. Everybody, Wizards and Black Sword Riders were still like the statues of that ancient Greek temple frieze depicting the War of Titans. I thought that only Arthur and I could move. I was about to discover that we were not the only ones.

  A loud sound of sloshing water drew my attention to the lake. The ripples on the lake surface became waves as a human figure surfaced from a vortex. Wet long black hair covered the soaked white robe that hugged her body, a long sword flashed in her hand.

  "I am giving this sword to a passing good man of his hands and of his deeds, and without villainy or treachery and without treason," she said as she raised the sword in
the air. “Its name is Excalibur and it has a price. I am giving you this sword to kill the man who murdered the noble knight who was my lover. I seek revenge for my lover's death through this sword, alas be aware. This sword bears a curse. The holder of Excalibur is destined to slay his own brother. Thus, I decided that this sword now belongs to you.”

  Before I knew it the sword with the weird name landed in my hands.

  “I am no man,” I yelled.

  “You have no brother,” the lady said before she submerged again into the water and the surface of the lake was still again.

  Nothing had changed around us. Time was standing still; bad guys and good guys were frozen in a battle choreography. I looked at Arthur.

  “Do not look at me. I have a brother,” he said as he slashed with his dagger the Black Sword Rider that was standing above him.

  Was it ethical? Exterminating your opponent when in a time frost? In my eyes, those entities were not human at all, they were demons. And most probably, I was right.

  With Excalibur in my hand, I followed Arthur’s lead and one after another, all the attackers became dust and ashes ashore the lake. Merlin would later tell me that one of them was Balin, the Knight with the Two Swords, a gifted mage who accidentally killed his own brother and crazed by emotional pain and guilt had converted to a Black Sword Rider. One of his victims in the last three days at the Avallon Academy was Felix, the lover of Nimue, the water fae that enchanted the lake around the Afall Island and ensured the Avallon Academy was invisible to the rest of the world.

  All six attackers had been eliminated; the Chief of Wands, the Secretary of Forbidden Magic, and the Head of Spell Casters included.

  Merlin approached me and stretched his hand. I grabbed and shook it, accepting his congratulations. He did not mean to congratulate me, though. He retracted his hand and pointed to the sword I was holding.

  “Can I have this?” he said pointing to the Excalibur that was still flashing in my hands.

  “Oh, sure,” I said and handed him the sword. As soon as Merlin’s fingers touched its silver cross-shaped handle, the flashing stopped.

  “Excalibur,” Merlin said looking at the sword’s blade, “the finest sword that there was, which sliced through iron as through wood, as the old poem said. This sword is cursed. It would be safer for everyone if I kept it locked in my spellbound safe.” Then he turned to Arthur, “Do you miss it?”

  “Is it yours?” I asked without being able to hide my surprise.

  “It was mine for a while,” Arthur said and lowered his face.

  “What happened? How did it end up in Nimue’s possession?”

  “It’s a long story,” Arthur said.

  “Merlin, what is this all about? How did the lady in the lake end up with Excalibur? Why did she not give it back to Arthur? Why did she choose me?” I insisted.

  “Arthur,” Merlin said, “pulled this sword from an anvil sitting atop a stone that appeared in a churchyard on Christmas Eve. The act could not be performed by anyone except the Supreme Sorcerer, as the prophecy said. ‘Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise Supreme Sorcerer born.’ Many mages tried and failed in the challenge. Then, teenage Arthur succeeded effortlessly by accident and then repeated it publicly.”

  I was astonished. Was Arthur really the Supreme Sorcerer? Was this the reason he could live in that swanky apartment? And why didn’t he have the sword in his possession anymore?

  “Did you willingly give it back to Nimue?” I asked him.

  “As Merlin said this sword is cursed. When I realized he was right about the calamities Excalibur brings to its wearer, I threw it into the enchanted lake. It was not a decision I took lightly. A hand emerged from the lake to catch it. Nimue’s hand.”

  “Why do you both insist that is cursed?”

  “Look at its blade,” Merlin said. “The phrase ‘Take me up’ is engraved on one side; ‘Cast me away’ is engraved on the opposite side. Arthur did as the sword commanded.”

  “Am I supposed to cast it away too?”

  “When the time comes, you will,” he said as he carefully slid his finger on the blade up to the scabbard. “Excalibur's scabbard also has powers of its own. This is the greater treasure. Any wounds received while wearing the scabbard would not bleed at all, thus preventing the death of the wearer. Excalibur was stolen once from Arthur; after that, he did not feel worthy of being his keeper.”

  Arthur nodded confirming that what Merlin said was accurate; his blush gave away his embarrassment.

  “Enough with confessions. Let’s join the others,” Merlin requested as he started walking away. “And you, young lady,” he turned back to me without slowing his pace, “you are free to go back to your room. You have been cleared of suspicion and free from Arthur’s surveillance.”

  My heart raced as I gave Arthur a black look. “I thought you were my mentor and protector, not my warden.”

  He winked. “For Merlin, it is the latter; for me, it has always been the former.”

  CHAPTER 1

  *

  This day was dragging, and I could not do anything about it. I glanced over at the clock on the top of the marble tower and heaved a sigh. There were six more hours until my flight back home. Under peculiar circumstances, I would had been able to make the boring parts of my day speed up as if I did not experience them at all. But if I did that, there was a good chance I would get caught.

  Time manipulators could not hide what they were doing, and I could not afford to see what sort of repercussions I might face for bending the rules of time because I was bored.

  Trying not to tear the brittle yellowed pages, I carefully closed the old book of spells I was reading. That uneasy feeling I had since I woke up churned inside of me again as my fingers slid across the worn black leather cover.

  I looked around; it was early morning and the park close to the London hotel I had been staying for the last four days was still empty and peaceful. After I took a deep breath of fresh air, I stood up and dusted down my jeans. I grabbed my brown leather bag off the ground and placed the old, heavy book inside. My first ever solo trip was fun and relaxing, but I had missed my friends at the Avallon Academy. I missed Arthur, too, but he could not join me as he had been sent on a secret mission which I assumed had something to do with Merlin’s disappearance.

  I walked down the empty street and made my way to the Red Lion pub on Main Street. There was always a comfortable quietness in the pub. This morning, only one table was occupied. After I ordered a full English breakfast and coffee at the bar, I hunkered down at my favorite spot close to a window waiting for the waitress to serve my food. I placed my brown leather bag on the chair beside me and looked at the people that had started crowding on the road outside the pub.

  The smell of steaming coffee alerted me; breakfast was served on my table. My stomach rumbled as I forked a slice of bacon. I was going for a big bite of fried egg when a middle-aged woman sitting at the next table leaned her body toward me. “Is it good?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?” I looked at her confused by the interruption.

  “I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I am looking for something decent to eat on this menu and I do not know what to choose. The food you are eating, is it any good?”

  “It is a full English breakfast. It is okay.” I sipped my coffee as I looked at her more carefully. Her face didn’t remind me of anything.

  “My name is Camila. Mind if I join you?”

  I nodded to her to take a seat. “I’m Gwen,” I said while chewing a piece of bread. Not very polite of me, but I did not care; I did not know who that woman was or what she wanted from me, however, I was curious enough to find out.

  “Are you a regular here? It is my first time here. In fact, it is my first time in London,” she said as she placed her black purse on the table. She wore a black pantsuit fitted with black and white flats of some High Street brand.

  “Not my first time here but I am tourist,
too.” I semi-lied. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

  “Both,” she said casually while reading the menu.

  I could not decide if it was the look in her eyes or her perfect looks that made me feel so uncomfortable.

  “I am going to have full English breakfast, too,” she said as she put the menu back at the table.

  Her dark skin looked impeccable; maybe I should have asked her what kind of moisturizer she used. “You are not looking for something decent to eat, are you?” I asked instead. I did not intend to be so straightforward, but those words just slipped out of my mouth. I had to be less impulsive.

  “You are right,” she admitted. “I am a private investigator.”

  “And what is what you want from me?” I forked a fried cherry tomato into my mouth.

  “I am looking for your sister.”

  “I am sorry, there must be a mistake. I do not have a sister.” I took a large bite of my food, mostly to hide my frustration and less due to piggery.

  “You are exactly who I am looking for.” She smiled with a beautiful smile.

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Absolutely,” she said as she took a smartphone out of her purse. “Your name is not Gwen Smith. Your real name is Gwen DeGrance; Gwen is derived from Guinevere.”

  She tapped the photos icon on her smartphone Home screen and selected an album from the list that appeared. “Your father was Leo DeGrance, one of the greatest mages and member of the Board of Wizards. You never knew your mother; she died when you were a toddler.”

  She selected a picture, and then tapped the photo’s Play button; when the slideshow started, she turned the screen to me to watch. “You have a sister; her name is Gwyneth. She had a twin brother who died at birth. That broke your mother’s heart and she never recovered. Your father died shortly after your mother’s death.”

  She tapped the Play button again to stop the slideshow.

  “Those people on those pictures, I have never seen them before. I told you, it is not me who you are looking for.”