Behind the tree they were out of sight of most of the Garden’s occupants. Pausing only to take a deep, slow breath, Jamison placed his hands together, then swished them at the stone wall. The slim branches of the tree rose from beside Laurel – one brushing her cheek as it passed – and vines snaked up from the ground to dig into the stones like spindly fingers, pulling them apart just far enough to create a small exit.
Once Laurel and her friends were through the wall, Jamison gestured again and the vines and branches retreated, returning the wall to its former pristine state. Jamison stood still for a moment, perhaps listening for some sign that they’d been spotted, but it appeared they had managed to get out without being seen. He pointed up to the Winter Palace and began the climb.
“Why are we sneaking out?” Chelsea whispered to Laurel as they scaled the steep hill after him. Without the benefit of the gentle, winding path that led out of the actual gate to the Garden, they were climbing almost straight up. It was a shortcut, but not an easy one.
“I don’t know,” Laurel answered, wondering the same thing. “But I trust Jamison.”
“Once we find out what’s going on, I’m returning to the Garden,” Tamani said, his voice a low murmur. “I won’t abandon my sentries.”
“I know,” Laurel whispered, wishing there was a way to convince him to stay somewhere safe.
On the long climb to the Winter Palace, Chelsea’s eyes were practically popping from their sockets as she tried to take everything in. Laurel tried to imagine the scene through Chelsea’s eyes, remembering her own first trip to Avalon – the crystalline bubbles far below them that housed the Summer faeries, the way the palace was held together by branches and vines, the footpaths paved with rich, dark earth.
Sooner than Laurel could have imagined, they reached the white archway at the top of the slope. Even Tamani was clutching his sides and sucking in deep, noisy breaths.
“Must continue,” Jamison gasped after giving them only a brief moment to rest. “The strenuous part is behind us.”
As they traversed the palace grounds, Chelsea eyed the broken statues and crumbling wall. “Don’t they fix anything?” she whispered to Laurel.
“Sometimes retaining an item’s natural power is more important than keeping up its outer appearance,” Jamison said over his shoulder.
Chelsea’s eyes widened – she had spoken so softly even Laurel had scarcely been able to hear her – but she said nothing more as they mounted the steps and pushed open the great front doors.
The palace was silent but for the footsteps of the small party; the white-uniformed staff were nowhere to be seen. Had they already received word of the attack? Laurel hoped they would be safe, wherever they had gone, but she had begun to wonder if “safe” was an option any of them had left.
Jamison was already climbing the enormous stairs that led to the upper rooms. “Please, follow me,” he said, without looking back. He gave a small wave of his hands and the doors at the top swung slowly open. Even though she knew it was coming, the ripple of power that went through Laurel as she stepped through the gilded doors made her breath catch. Chelsea reached out and squeezed Laurel’s arm, and Laurel knew her friend felt it too.
“We are not running away,” Jamison said abruptly. “I suspect you are all wondering it.”
Laurel felt a little guilty, but it was true.
“As soon as we have finished here, we will return and we will stand together. But this must be done first, and I alone can do it. Come.”
At the end of the long silk carpet, they followed Jamison to the left and stood in front of a wall. But this wall, Laurel knew, could move – and it concealed a marble archway into a room with something Jamison had once called an old problem.
Jamison looked up at David, who had at least fifteen centimetres on the wizened Winter faerie. “Tell me, David, what do you know of King Arthur?”
David looked over at Tamani, who nodded once. “He was the king of Camelot. He allied with you guys.”
“That is true,” Jamison said, clearly pleased David knew the fae version of the tale. “What else?”
“He was married to Guinevere – a Spring faerie – and when the trolls invaded Avalon, he fought alongside Merlin and Oberon.”
“Indeed. But he was much more to us than a strong fighter with an army of brave knights. He brought to the Seelie Court one thing it could never furnish for itself: humanity.” Jamison turned and, with a wave of his arms, split the enormous stone wall down the middle. Vines slithered forth from the crack, curling around the faces of the rocks and dragging the two walls apart with a low rumble. “You see, in spite of his magician and his dealings with the fae, King Arthur was entirely human. And that was something we needed very badly.”
As the walls parted, light streamed through a marble arch and into a stone chamber, illuminating a squat block of granite. Wedged into the granite was a sword that looked like it had been forged from solid diamond, its prismatic edges casting rainbows across the white marble chamber.
King Arthur, the blade of the sword wedged in stone.
“Excalibur!” Laurel whispered, understanding.
“Indeed,” Jamison said, his voice low and hallowed. “Though it was called something else, in those days. But here it is, and here it has been, untouched since King Arthur himself drove it into this rock after his victory against the trolls.”
“Untouched? But I saw you doing something with it when I was here last time,” Laurel said.
“I was trying, as I have my entire life. I cannot seem to leave it alone,” Jamison replied. “Excalibur is a unique combination of human and faerie magics, forged by Oberon and Merlin to seal the alliance with Camelot and ensure victory against the trolls. Its wielder is untouchable in combat and its blade will cut effortlessly through almost any target. But Oberon also sought to protect his people against a day when the sword might fall into the wrong hands: It cannot be used to harm fae. One could swing Excalibur at a faerie with all his might, and it would simply stop, a breath away.”
“How?” David asked. “I mean, the momentum has to go somewhere, doesn’t it?”
Trust David to bring science into it.
“Would that I could answer that,” Jamison replied. “I cannot say whether Oberon intended to do precisely what he did, but I can assure you that the prohibition is absolute. No part of the sword can touch a faerie – and no faerie can touch any part of the sword. I cannot even manipulate it with my magic.”
That’s why you let David and Chelsea in, Laurel realised. Jamison’s glance back into Avalon, his talk of destiny . . . he had shared last summer that the World Tree told him of a task he alone could perform. Only Jamison would be willing to place the fate of their land back in human hands, as it had been in Arthur’s day.
“David Lawson,” Jamison said, “Avalon needs your help. Not only are you human – with the ability to wield the sword – but I can sense your bravery, your strength, and especially, your loyalty. I know what you have done for Laurel in your world; standing by her when it meant risking your life. Even entering Avalon today took great courage. I suspect you have much in common with that young man Arthur, and I believe it is your destiny to save us all.”
Chelsea was soaking up the scene with eager eyes.
Tamani looked horrified.
Laurel knew what Jamison was going to ask, and wanted to stop him, to tell David that he should refuse – that he didn’t have to do this; that being around her had hurt him enough already. He didn’t need to be a soldier for Avalon, too.
“David, with the name of kings,” Jamison said formally, “it is time to discover if you are the hero Laurel has always thought you to be. Will you join us in defending Avalon?”
Laurel looked at Chelsea but knew instantly that there would be no help from her. Her gaze was fixed on the sword and she wore an expression not unlike jealousy, as though she wished there were a similar role she could play.
Then David turned to look at Ta
mani, and Laurel found herself hoping Tamani would say something, anything, that could dissuade David from accepting Jamison’s offer. But a strange sort of silent conversation seemed to pass between them, and then Tamani, too, donned a look of wistful envy.
When David turned at last to Laurel, she closed her eyes, conflicted. Did David realise what Jamison was asking? The amount of blood he would be required to spill? But this was Avalon. Her homeland, whether she could remember it or not. So many lives at stake.
It wasn’t a decision she could make for him.
She stood very still, then opened her eyes, meeting David’s. She did not move, didn’t even blink. But she saw his decision written on his face.
“Yes,” he said, looking straight at her.
Jamison’s outstretched arm was all the invitation David needed. He walked through the marble archway and looked down at the sword. He touched the pommel, tentatively at first, as though expecting it to shock him. When nothing happened he stepped forward, bracing his feet on either side of the gleaming weapon.
Then, wrapping his fingers around the hilt, David pulled the sword from the stone.
The air around them seemed to electrify as the crystalline blade emerged from the slab, and Laurel took an involuntary step backward as torrents of energy washed through the room. She felt Tamani’s chest against her shoulders and his hands at her elbows, steadying her, and she was glad for the support. David stood motionless, staring down at the sword in his hand with a probing expression.
Jamison gasped and they all turned to see the smile spreading across his face. “I am not ashamed to admit I wasn’t entirely certain that was going to work. After all these years, it’s a bit of a dream come true for me.” Then he cleared his throat and sobered. “We must work fast. The Queen will be here at any moment. Tamani, you’ll want something as well.” Jamison gestured invitingly toward a small selection of shimmering armaments hanging from the eastern wall of the chamber where the now-empty block of granite sat.
“They’re beautiful,” Tamani breathed, so quietly Laurel doubted anyone else had heard. He walked over and hefted a long, double-headed spear; the blades on each end looked razor sharp. It didn’t give Laurel quite the same squicky feeling as she got when she was around guns, but it was close. Tamani turned and balanced the spear in his right hand, lifting it up and down a few times before nodding. “This is a good weight for me,” he said, his voice serious. It was his sentry voice; a sign that he was officially in battle mode. And that frightened Laurel as much as the spear.
“Sir?”
Everyone turned to face David. Despite the unearthly power exuding from him, he looked rather lost. “Yes, David?” Jamison said.
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand. What do I do?”
Jamison stepped forward to place a hand on David’s shoulder, but it slid away. David gave the hand a puzzled look, and Jamison pulled it back, smiling as though he’d just discovered something wonderful. “Believe me when I say it is as simple as swinging the sword. It will guide you, and make up for any and all of your deficiencies. But like Arthur before you, you must have the courage to step forward and the strength to remain standing.” He paused. “I am asking you to do a hard thing, but it is well within your ability. I promise you that. Now come,” he said, addressing them all again. “We should be going.”
No one spoke as they traversed the upper chambers, descended to the foyer, and passed onto the palace grounds. It was Jamison who finally broke the silence as they reached the white marble archway at the head of the trail.
“If we go back the way we came,” Jamison said, turning to look back at the group, the wind carrying his voice to them, “perhaps we can avoid the Queen altogether.”
“And why would you want to do that, Jamison?” Queen Marion’s voice was soft and simmering as she stepped up to the white archway. Behind her, Laurel could see a long line of green-garbed sentries, their weapons shouldered, mingled with her Am Fear-faire.
Jamison drew up short, his confident posture slipping for the briefest moment before he recomposed himself. “Because you are going to be very angry with me,” Jamison said simply. “And we don’t have time for that.”
Laurel could see the question on the Queen’s lips, but she didn’t ask it, searching each member of the party with her eyes instead. When her gaze fell upon Excalibur her expression betrayed shock. “Jamison, what have you done?”
“What the Silent Ones knew you would not,” Jamison said evenly.
“You must realise the consequences of this.”
“I am aware of what they have been in the past, but I also know that the past need not dictate the present.”
“You will be the death of Avalon one day, Jamison.”
“Only if I stop you from killing her first,” Jamison said, his voice ringing with quiet fury.
The Queen’s eyes flashed anger, then something Laurel thought might be pity. “You are so unbendable,” she said. “Even Cora spoke of how unyielding you are when you set yourself to something. Well, do as you will. But remember that the branch that will not bend is the first to fall before the storm. I refuse to bear any responsibility for your death. Come, Yasmine.”
The young Winter faerie stepped away, taking Jamison’s hands into her own. “I want to stay with you,” she said, determination flashing in her eyes.
But Jamison was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” After a glance at Marion, he bent himself close to Yasmine’s ear. “If we were both there to protect you, perhaps. But I do not trust myself to do it alone.”
“You don’t have to,” Yasmine said fiercely. “I can help.”
“I cannot risk your safety,” Jamison said, shaking his head.
“You won’t actually die, will you?” Yasmine asked, looking reproachfully back at the Queen.
“I certainly don’t intend to.”
Yasmine glanced briefly at Laurel and Tamani before lowering her voice. “I can do great things,” she said, so quietly Laurel scarcely heard. “You have told me for years, that I can and will do great things.”
“That is precisely why you must stay here,” Jamison said, lifting one hand to touch her face. “What we go to do now is not great – it is only necessary. It is more important than ever that you remain alive so that you can do those great things. Avalon cannot afford to lose you, or all our efforts will have been in vain, in the very moment they are nearest to blossoming.”
Whether Yasmine understood Jamison’s cryptic speech or not, she nodded her assent, then turned to catch up to Marion, who hadn’t waited for her. Jamison’s eyes tracked the two Winter faeries until they reached the palace and were safely inside with their Am Fear-faire. Only then did he turn back to the group. “Come,” Jamison said, his voice strained as he led them down.
“There are . . . so many,” Laurel said to Tamani as they trailed Jamison, passing lines of sentries still marching up the path that led to the Winter Palace.
“Two hundred, give or take,” Tamani growled.
“Two hundred?” Laurel exclaimed, her breath catching in her throat. “Does she really need that many?”
“Of course not,” Tamani said.
Laurel hesitated. “Can Avalon spare that many?”
“Of course not,” he repeated, his eyes hollow. “Let’s go.”
He took her hand and together they followed Jamison, David, and Chelsea. Laurel’s feet seemed to move of their own accord as gravity pulled her downhill along the path that led to the Gate Garden. The line of sentries finally ended and soon even their marching footsteps had faded away, leaving only the sounds of breathing and the scuffing of their own footfalls.
Laurel’s head snapped up as the silence was shattered by a piercing blast of gunfire.
“We’re too late,” Tamani growled.
“They’re here?” Laurel asked. It was too soon!
“And they have guns,” David said, his face pale.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jamison said. “We ha
ve something better. Perhaps you young ones should run ahead. I’m afraid these old stems are slowing you down.”
The others turned to look at the glittering sword and David’s face paled. But Tamani’s grip tightened on his spear. “Let’s go kill some trolls.”
The four of them ran the rest of the way to the Gate Garden, which was in an uproar. The tops of the walls were lined with sentries wielding bows and slings; others were passing around knives and spears. Most of the sentries seemed to be on the verge of panic, and the whole operation had an air of disorganisation about it.
“The caesafum doesn’t work!” Laurel heard one armoured sentry shouting at a plainly garbed Spring carting a wheelbarrow full of potions. “None of that Mixer stuff works! Get back to Spring and tell them we need more weapons!”
“I—”
But the anonymous fae’s response was drowned out by the roar of crumbling stone some fifteen metres from the entrance to the Garden. Immediately, the cry went up: “Breach in the wall!”
“We’ve got to close that breach,” Tamani said. “The Garden is a secondary choke point, after the gateways. We need to contain the threat until Jamison catches up. David, I want you on point.”
David blinked.
“That means I want you in front. Nothing can hurt you.”
“Are you sure?” David said, his voice shaking on the first word before he steadied it.
Tamani fixed David with a determined look. “I’m sure. Just don’t let go of the sword,” he said seriously. “From what Jamison said, I don’t think anyone can take it from you, or yank it out of your hands. But even so, whatever you do, don’t let go. As long as you have your hands on that hilt, you’ll be fine.”
David nodded, and Laurel recognised his stony expression. It was the look he’d had when he pulled her from the Chetco River; when he carried her across the ocean to the lighthouse to rescue Chelsea; when he insisted on returning to guard Yuki last night.
This was the David who could conquer anything.
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