The Dagger of Dragath
The next day, Penelope let me out of bed for a short walk, but now four palace guards followed me everywhere I went, and they had been instructed never to leave their posts for any reason. I made my way to the palace library, looking for Uncle Gabriel, since one of the footmen had seen him head there that morning.
I found him sitting on a chair, a pile of big leather-bound books with yellowing pages in various states of being read lying all over the huge rectangular oak table in the center of the room.
The library was a wonderful two-storied room with a wooden gallery running along one side that could be reached by a large spiral staircase. It was bright and spacious, with shelves upon shelves of beautiful, leather-bound books adorning the walls. A set of doors led out onto a large balcony that overlooked one of the palace’s inner courtyards.
“Is there something you need, Aurora?” said Uncle Gabriel, looking up at me for a second as I entered the library before going back to studying his books.
I sat down in the chair beside him. “I was thinking, Uncle Gabriel.”
Uncle Gabriel closed the book he was reading, raised one eyebrow, and looked at me patiently. “Yes, well, that is never a good thing with you.” His eyes looked like he was holding back a smile.
“It’s just,” I began, my hands fiddling with my amulet, “I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot ever since Morgana confirmed what really happened that night.”
“Oh,” said Uncle Gabriel, “and what is it you would like to know?”
“Penelope once told me that there are magical weapons that can kill a High Fae. And that’s probably how Morgana killed my mother.”
“There are such weapons, yes,” said Uncle Gabriel, “but no one has seen one in centuries. What is your point?”
“Can’t we use one of those to kill Lilith?”
“Possibly.” Uncle Gabriel leaned back in his chair and stroked his clipped white beard. “But the only weapon we know of is probably with Morgana, and we don’t even know what it is or what it looks like.”
“I do. I know what it looks like.”
He raised his eyebrows again. “And how, may I ask, did you manage that?”
“I haven’t told you everything,” I began.
Uncle Gabriel gave me a pointed look. “I surmised so.”
I was hesitant at first, but I finally told him about my dream. Having Morgana confirm that she stabbed my mother through the heart finally made me realize that the horrible nightmares I used to experience were a real memory, and I wanted to make sure my uncle knew the whole truth if we were to defeat Morgana and Lilith.
Uncle Gabriel heard me out patiently, but when I came to the part about the dagger, his eyes lit up.
“Are you sure?” he interrupted, quite unexpectedly. “In this dream, are you sure you saw Morgana stab Elayna with a dagger?”
I nodded. “Yes. I think so. She was about to stab her, but in my dream I am always pulled away at the last second, and then there is a blinding flash of light.”
Uncle Gabriel nodded sagely. “You were being pulled into the portal. The flash was the portal closing after you went through. Such power is rarely seen. Only the fae can create such a gateway, but usually it takes over a dozen powerful fae to do what your mother did for you that day.”
Again tears welled up in my eyes, and I brushed them away, determined not to get waylaid by my emotions. My mother was gone. There was nothing I could do about it. I had to concentrate on the task at hand, which was finding a way to defeat Lilith.
“About the dagger.” Uncle Gabriel’s eyes lit up again, just like when I mentioned the weapon before. “Describe it.”
“Well.” I tried to visualize it. “It was sort of curved . . .”
“Curved, or sort of curved?” asked Uncle Gabriel sternly. “There is a difference.”
I envisioned it in my memories again. “Yes, curved, definitely curved. With a gold handle,” I added.
Uncle Gabriel sat on the edge of his chair. “Good, good. Go on.”
“The blade was made of a strange black metal, and it had a big, red ruby on its hilt,” I finished.
Uncle Gabriel stood up and abruptly walked to the door. “Guards,” he bellowed.
The guards posted outside the door responded immediately.
“Summon my daughter and Mrs. Plumpleberry.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said one guard as he marched off to do the Duke’s bidding. To the other guard, Uncle Gabriel said more quietly, “Ask the prince to meet me here. Let him know that it is an urgent matter.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The second guard scurried off in the opposite direction.
My eyes narrowed. “Why have you called them all here?” What had I done now?
Uncle Gabriel was not listening. He rummaged around on the shelves, trying to find a book; which one, I had no idea. He refused to speak to me.
Serena and Penelope arrived a few moments later.
“Father,” said Aunt Serena, “is everything all right?”
“It will be,” said Uncle Gabriel, still rummaging among the shelves for a book.
“Is there some reason in particular you have asked us here, Your Grace?” Penelope came over and checked me for the tenth time that day. “Is Aurora in any discomfort?”
“Yes. No, I mean. Yes, I have a reason, and no, she is not in any discomfort,” said Uncle Gabriel, pulling out a large, dusty leather-bound book. “Found it!”
He opened the book. The paper looked worn and yellow, and Uncle Gabriel turned to a page that had a horrifying picture on it. A terrible, demon-like creature with curved horns, hooved feet, and reddish-black skin held aloft a dagger, ready to stab it into the heart of a kneeling fae-warrior. They were painted amidst a battlefield, and all over the page, bodies lay strewn
