Knights vs. the End (of Everything)

by Matt Phelan

  Dedication

  FOR JASPER AND NORA

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Sir Gawain & the Green Knight (and Also Erec)

  Chapter Two: Better Than an Owl

  Chapter Three: A Minute on the Lips

  Chapter Four: Weird Sisters

  Chapter Five: Now What?

  Chapter Six: The Squires and the Tree

  Chapter Seven: What Now?

  Chapter Eight: The Punch & Punchy Show

  Chapter Nine: Night Wanderings

  Chapter Ten: Three Imps

  Chapter Eleven: Dream, Kick, Duel

  Chapter Twelve: Choices

  Chapter Thirteen: The Fury of the Black Knight

  Chapter Fourteen: The End is Nigh

  Chapter Fifteen: D vs. D

  Chapter Sixteen: Once & Future

  A Note from the Bridge Troll

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  Sir Gawain & the Green Knight (and Also Erec)

  On the last night of the year, a snowstorm engulfed Camelot. Outside the castle, the wind howled, the snow swirled, and the temperature dropped well below freezing.

  Inside the castle, the thick stone walls, majestic tapestries, and blazing fires kept out the chill. The brave, good knights of King Arthur’s court reveled in the cozy atmosphere, telling stories and jokes, singing songs and toasting good cheer.

  Until . . .

  The great oak doors burst open.

  An enormous steed entered the main hall. It was twice the size of a normal horse. Stranger still was its color. It was completely green.

  Riding the horse was a giant of a man—regal, strong, and every bit as green as his steed. Silence filled the hall.

  The Green Knight dismounted. He held the finest, greenest battle-axe anyone had ever seen.

  “Knights of the Round Table,” bellowed the Green Knight, “I challenge one of you to take my mighty axe and deal me your finest blow. I shall not defend myself. Use all of your strength, and strike me well and true. Who is brave enough to accept?”

  Sir Gawain, noblest of all, rose and stood before the Green Knight. Murmurs peppered the Round Table.

  “One more thing,” said the Green Knight. “If I survive your blow, in one year’s time you must journey to my castle, where I will have my turn. I shall strike you with all of my might.”

  Gawain remained silent. Calm. Cool.

  “Strike well, brave Gawain.” The Green Knight offered his axe, a hint of a smile visible beneath his massive green beard.

  Gawain took the axe.

  “HOLD IT!” yelled a voice from outside the hall.

  Sir Erec strode through the doors, past the green stallion, and right up to the standoff.

  “I’ll handle this,” Erec said casually.

  “I say, Erec,” said Gawain.

  In a flash, Erec took the axe, swung it wide, and sliced the Green Knight’s head clean off. The head dropped to the stone floor with a thud. The body remained standing. A collective gasp sounded from the Round Table.

  Erec stepped toward the head.

  “Up to your old tricks again, eh?” he said.

  Erec gave the head a strong kick.

  Another gasp came from the crowd.

  The head soared across the hall toward the door, where Sir Bors caught it as he ambled in.

  “Unnecessary roughness!” the Green Knight’s head roared, his eyes popping open. “Oh, for pity’s sake. It’s you.”

  “Hello, froggy!” said Bors with a grin.

  “Bors!” grumbled the head. “Release me at once, you rotted stump.”

  “Gladly.” Bors tossed the head over his shoulder. Sir Hector nimbly caught it as he strolled in.

  “Tsk, tsk,” said Hector. “What are we going to do with you?”

  King Arthur rose. “Sir Erec, please explain,” he said.

  “Yes, Sire,” said Erec. “This big lug,” he continued, patting the still-standing, headless body, “is a bit of a troublemaker. Nothing we can’t handle, of course.”

  “I, too, could have handled him,” said Gawain evenly.

  “Quite possibly, Gawain,” said Erec. “But we just saved you the bother. The Green Knight is a fairly elaborate prankster. We have experience with him.”

  “Meddlers, the lot of you!” yelled the green head. “No sense of humor at all. I’ve never met a worse gang of—”

  “Language, Sir Green Knight,” said Hector as he turned and lobbed the head into the shadows. The Black Knight entered next, holding it.

  “Lady Magdalena!” cried the head. “Present company, excluded, of course. How are you, my dear?”

  “Never better,” said Magdalena with a smile. “And you?”

  “Not bad. I wouldn’t mind having my body back.”

  “Not quite yet,” said Erec.

  He turned to Arthur.

  “My king, we have traveled for the past year. We have fought and defeated many monsters and creatures of the night that Morgause released into the world.”

  “But . . . ,” began Arthur.

  “But,” Erec continued, “no sign of Morgause herself. Or her son Mordred.”

  “My mother is very clever, very powerful, and very determined,” said Gawain. “Capturing her will not be easy.”

  “We do not underestimate your mother, Sir Gawain,” said Magdalena, joining the others. “We have had too much experience with her for that.”

  “My brothers Agravaine and Gareth continue their search as well. They were due back in Camelot on the solstice,” said Gawain. “But we’ve had no word from them.”

  “Perhaps they have found her!” said Hector brightly.

  “Wait,” said the Green Knight’s head. “My mind wandered a bit there. Ha! Joke!”

  Bors chuckled. “I get it!”

  “But seriously,” continued the Green Knight, focusing on Magdalena. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Morgause.”

  “Oh! I’ve seen her. Calls herself the Queen of Air and Darkness or some such rubbish. Not a pleasant human, that one.”

  “Where did you see her?” demanded Erec.

  “She was visiting her sister. Morgan Le Fay.”

  Everyone in the hall caught their breath.

  Queen Guinevere broke the hush.

  “Morgan Le Fay the sorceress?” she whispered.

  “The very same, Your Highness,” said the Green Knight. “She’s practically half-fay nowadays. I suppose that’s where she got the name, now that I think about it.”

  “Can you take us to them?” asked Erec.

  “Yes. But you might not like what you find.”

  The fire crackled. Erec, Hector, Bors, and Magdalena exchanged looks. A year’s worth of searching, adventure, horror, and strife were perhaps nearing an end.

  “Ahem,” coughed the head. “Do you think I could get my body back now?”

  Chapter Two

  Better Than an Owl

  Melancholy Postlethwaite stood in Merlin’s tower studying an enormous book of spells. Hundreds and hundreds of beautifully bound volumes lined shelves that spiraled up, up, up the tower walls.

  Merlin sat on a stool, gazing out the window. Archimedes the owl perched nearby, looking straight ahead (and certainly not at Merlin).

  Mel turned her attention from the book to a stone on the table in front of her. She stared at it. She furrowed her brow.

  The stone wobbled . . . and lifted into the air. It floated for a moment before dropping.

  The owl made a
little clicking sound.

  “You are coming along splendidly, Mel,” said Merlin brightly.

  “It doesn’t feel so. Maybe a wand would help?”

  “Much magic deals with nudging the flow of natural forces, and the wood of certain trees is a natural conduit for that,” said Merlin. “But a wand is not necessary.”

  Mel sighed. She gazed at the magical artifacts scattered about, the mysterious potions, the strange plants, the many books and baffling charts.

  “It is all so complicated,” she said.

  Merlin looked up and smiled.

  “It only appears so. It is simplicity itself. All you really need is experience, a bit of imagination, and a problem to sink your teeth into, so to speak. Those are the ideal ingredients for magic.”

  The owl ruffled his feathers quite loudly and flew up the rafters.

  “Oh, that’s enough of you!” said Merlin. “Mel is doing very well. Better than many I’ve taught, present company included.”

  “Do you talk to your owl a lot?” Mel asked.

  “He used to talk back, but we had a bit of a disagreement concerning the tree.”

  Archimedes swooped down to the worktable and knocked over a beaker of green liquid. On purpose.

  “You’ve mentioned a tree before. That you need to watch out for a certain one. Why? What can a tree do to you?” asked Mel.

  “It is not what the tree will do, Mel. The tree is a destination of sorts. For me.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Mel.

  “I do not expect you to,” said Merlin. “Wheels are always in motion. I have my enemies. Certain outcomes may come to pass.”

  “Destiny?”

  “Possibilities. But with possibilities, there is always choice.” Merlin rose, took out his wand, and made the green puddle vanish. He selected a book and started to read, effectively ending the conversation.

  A quiet knock sounded on the door and it creaked open. Sir Hector poked his head in.

  “Excuse me, Merlin. I was wondering if I could have a word with Mel. Oh!”

  Hector stepped slowly into the tower, his eyes wide.

  “So . . . many . . . books!” he whispered. “How wonderful!”

  “You are welcome to sit and read whenever you like, good Sir Hector,” said Merlin.

  “How I wish I could. A long evening in a comfortable chair with a book.” Hector sighed.

  He strained to see the highest shelves, bumping into a wooden lectern. A great leather-bound volume lay closed upon it. Scratches ran across the gold leaf title: The Terrible Lizards.

  Hector jumped back.

  Merlin smiled mischievously. “Go ahead. Open it. A good book should be reread from time to time.”

  “Most good books do not try to eat me,” said Hector. “Mel, the others sent me to fetch you. We may have located Queen Morgause.”

  Mel turned immediately. She looked at Merlin. The old wizard smiled.

  “Don’t forget your bow, my young apprentice.”

  Mel grabbed her bow and her quiver of arrows and followed Hector out the door.

  Merlin crossed the room. He lifted the stone Mel had levitated and turned it slowly in his hand.

  Archimedes flapped and flew to his perch. He scowled at Merlin, then turned to the window and the red setting sun.

  Erec, Magdalena, and Bors awaited Hector and Mel in the entrance hall of the castle. The Green Knight stood with them, munching on some mutton. Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad, splendidly dressed, strode across the hall. Lancelot nodded.

  “Magdalena . . . boys.”

  “What’s the good word, Lancelot?” asked Erec.

  A pause.

  “Chivalry?”

  “It’s just an expression,” said Erec. “How are you?”

  “Well.”

  They waited but Lancelot said no more.

  “Great. And you, Galahad?”

  Galahad stared at Erec.

  “Come along, Lancelot,” sniffed Galahad. “The minstrels shall be starting soon. We’ve already seen this group’s entertainment for the evening.”

  “What entertainment?” said Bors. “You mean saving Gawain from a great time-consuming prank?”

  “Is that what you did?” said Galahad in a bored tone. “I thought it was a pantomime.”

  “I have the feeling you don’t appreciate our work,” said Erec.

  “I do not think you are anything special, no.”

  “We are best prepared for situations such as the Green Knight here,” said Erec stiffly.

  “Oh?”

  “We have unusual experience.”

  “Such as?” asked Galahad.

  “We fought an entire world of gigantic murderous lizards! You may recall that one? There were several songs written.”

  “Hmm. That so?”

  “We battled monsters in the Orkneys,” stated Bors. “And that was at night. In mist. Very low visibility.”

  “Again, there were songs,” added Erec.

  “Sorry. I do not pay much attention to gossip.”

  “Gossip!” Erec yelled. “We’re living legends!”

  Galahad chortled. “That’s wonderful. Yes, you do jest most excellently, Sir Erec. Well done. But we must be off. Shall we, Lancelot?”

  They swept from the hall.

  “Git,” said Erec.

  Hector and Mel turned the corner.

  “I have Mel! Say, have any of you ever been in Merlin’s tower? He has thousands of books! I did not know so many even existed!”

  “Fascinating, Hector,” said Erec. “But we must prepare. At first light we are leaving to confront the Queen of Air and Darkness and bring an end to this adventure. Books will not help.”

  Chapter Three

  A Minute on the Lips

  The knights, Mel, and the Green Knight set out early the next morning. A few inches of snow covered the ground, and the bare trees stood out dark and skeletal against it. It was midwinter. Bleak was a good word to describe the scene.

  The company rode in silence, all lost in their own thoughts. Sir Erec still bristled from the encounter with Galahad. Magdalena contemplated possible scenarios for capturing Morgause and, in particular, any tricks and traps that might await them in the faerie realm. Mel reviewed her recent magical training and her new skills and wondered whether any of it would be enough. She also thought of Morgause’s son, Mordred, who was only two or three years younger than herself. Could he be saved from Morgause’s hatred of Arthur, and her passion for revenge? Hector tried to focus, but he couldn’t help dreaming about Merlin’s library. Perhaps Merlin had some good books about gardening.

  Bors was thinking about lunch.

  “There,” intoned the Green Knight from the front of the company. He was pointing at a most unusual house in the woods.

  “What in Lancelot’s name is that?” said Erec with a look of pure disgust.

  “It’s made of . . . ,” began Hector.

  “Rotting meat,” finished Magdalena.

  “To you.” The Green Knight chuckled. “Yes, the house appears to be made of various rotting meats. But that is a faerie trick. It has a very different appearance to its true prey: children.”

  The Green Knight turned to Mel.

  “My dear, most excellent Mel,” he said. “You are not yet too far away from that innocent time. What do you see?”

  Mel squinted and tilted her head.

  “It’s blurry, but . . . it looks like the house is made of—”

  “Sweets!” called Bors in delight. He dismounted and stomped toward the house. “Pies! Biscuits! Frosting! That house looks delicious!”

  “Bors, you great oaf, stop!” bellowed the Green Knight. “If you take a bite of that house, you will be lost forever!”

  “Forever?” asked Mel.

  “Yes,” said the Green Knight. “By no means ever eat anything in the land of Faerie. If you do, you will remain there for an eternity.”

  “But,” said Bors, glancing at the chocolate window
shutters.

  “Bors, just don’t bite the house. Not biting a house should be easy enough to remember,” said Erec. “Right. So this is where we’ll find Morgan Le Fay and Morgause. They are inside, Green Knight?”

  “In a manner of speaking. You must proceed without me. I . . . I am not entirely welcome in parts of Faerie. The Good Folk and indeed some of the other Green Men feel that I spend too much time in the company of humans.”

  “Fair enough. We thank you for leading us here,” said Erec, dismounting.

  “Can’t talk you out of it, can I?” asked the Green Knight.

  “Nope,” said Erec.

  At the same time, Hector said: “Well, perhaps we should hear some of your reasons.” He glanced guiltily at Erec, then added: “I mean, nope indeed.”

  “One more thing: you must leave your weapons here. No metal, especially iron, will be allowed to enter Faerie. The penalty will be swift and very unpleasant,” said the Green Knight. “Very. Unpleasant.”

  “Can I bring my bow?” asked Mel.

  “Yes, but not the arrows. Or, I suppose, the arrowheads,” said the Green Knight.

  “All right, then. Fellows, let us enter,” said Erec.

  He reached for the disgusting, rotten meat door and twisted the handle.

  They entered. All was quiet and still. The one room of the house was bare of furniture of any kind. Thankfully, the interior was not made of meat, but of ordinary wood planks.

  “I expected the realm of Faerie to be a bit more fantastical,” said Erec.

  “Like that?” asked Magdalena, pointing out the window.

  Outside the house, the surrounding area was no longer a bleak midwinter forest. The land was lush and green. The trees were gnarled and twisted with great roots snaking in and out of the ground. Strange and beautiful flowers and plants bloomed everywhere. The sky itself was an eerie pale yellow.

  “Hmm,” said Erec. “Back outside, I suppose. Be on your guard. And Bors, no snacking.”

  Chapter Four

  Weird Sisters

  Queen Morgause and her sister Morgan Le Fay sat at a long narrow table decorated with flowers and finely twisted vines in the center of a glen. Plates of luscious fruits, golden breads, and shimmering sweets filled the surface, along with goblets of nectar. At the center, a knight sat bolt upright and quite still except for occasionally lifting bread to his mouth and chewing slowly. He gazed into the distance in a perfect trance.