Master of Swords by Angela Knight

circles.
    The ceremony that followed had become all too familiar over the past months. First came prayers from representatives of the faiths the fallen Magekind had practiced, then the eulogies from friends and lovers.
    Finally Arthur Pendragon and his sister Morgana Le Fay stepped from their places at opposite sides of the square. An elegant figure in his black tunic and hose, the former High King lifted his bearded chin and scanned the crowd. “Centuries ago, we Magekind took a vow to Merlin to use our abilities to protect humankind from its own worst impulses, even if it meant laying down our immortal lives.” Normally, he prided himself on his use of modern slang, but for solemn occasions like this, Arthur fell back into more formal cadences.
    He spread his brawny arms wide. “These four kept that vow last night in battle against the worst threat we’ve known in all our long history. I honor their memory and their courage, but what’s more, I make a vow on their biers: they will be avenged!”
    Around Lark, the Magekind roared their approval as she lifted her own voice in a shout of agreement.
    Arthur turned in a slow circle, scanning the crowd, letting them see his fury. “Geirolf meant to mock Merlin when he used those black grails of his to make his followers vampires. We killed him for his crimes, just as we’ve killed two thirds of his followers. But another third remains. As long as they exist, they can use the final grail to create more vampires. We dare not rest until we find the cup and destroy it—and with it, the last of Geirolf’s spawn.” Arthur lifted his chin. “But make no mistake—we will succeed, just as we’ve succeeded against the forces of ignorance, rage, and bigotry for centuries. And these heroes will rest in the peace they deserve.”
    The Liege of the Magi raised his voice in a parade ground bark as he reached for the sword hanging at his side. “Magi, present arms!” Drawing Excalibur from its scabbard, he lifted the great blade skyward. Next to Lark, Galahad drew his sword as the other Magi did the same.
    â€œMajae!” Morgana shouted, raising her ringed hands. “Join with me in sending our lost heroes home!”
    Lark sent a wave of magic at the biers, her spell blending with those the other women fired. The biers began to glow under the building enchantment, shining brighter and brighter until they merged into a white-hot ball of light. Abruptly the ball shot upward like a rocket to detonate far overhead in an explosion of dancing sparks.
    Lark watched the magic fade with aching eyes. Beside her, Caroline sniffed loudly.
    â€œNow, put aside your grief and listen,” Arthur said as he stepped into the vacant space where the biers had stood, broad-shouldered and grim in his embroidered black doublet and hose. His black boots rang on the stone as he slid Excalibur back into its scabbard. The other vampires followed suit, swords rattling.
    Lifting his dark head, Arthur scanned the silent crowd. “Each of those we lost had been members of the Magekind less than ten years. Heed me well—I will lose no more of my children!”
    He paused, letting the silence build. No one in the crowd so much as coughed. Satisfied that they were taking him seriously, Arthur continued, “The councils have met, and it is decided. The most experienced Magekind will be paired with our newest recruits. The veterans’ responsibility is to assist them in combat and ensure they have the skills needed to survive while we all hunt the last grail. And lest there is any doubt—these assignments are not a topic for debate.” He looked at his half sister. “Morgana.”
    â€œYes, Arthur.” She threw her arms skyward and closed her eyes. Light burst from her fingertips. Far above the square, glowing slips of paper began to float downward like leaves.
    By instinct, Lark put a hand out. One of the sheets landed in