The Eighth Excalibur

by Luke Mitchell

  “How do you think it even got here?” he asked, starting down the main street not with a plan so much as a general certainty that he was far more likely to find something by actually looking around than by just standing at the mouth of the city and gaping.

  Beacons have been known to wander from time to time. Most likely, someone put it here. Perhaps to preserve this city. Perhaps to simply keep it hidden.

  Nate eyed the dark entryway of what might’ve once been a tavern, feeling some combination of exposed and audacious, just loping down the middle of the empty street. So you do remember how Beacons work, then? he asked, veering over toward the houses on the right.

  Ex gave an amused huff at that. No one knows how Beacons work, Nathaniel. Their existence is but one of the Lady’s many great mysteries.

  Yeah, Nate thought, as if that tidbit had been a given. I just meant that part wasn’t, you know… taken away, like—

  Ex didn’t exactly shush him so much as buzz a wordless warning. Nate was behind the cover of the closest house in a moment, wrist blasters at the ready, scanning the empty street for some threat. He caught the low echo of troglodan voices a few seconds before his helmet display filled in three outlines a few buildings ahead, coming for the main street at a lumbering run.

  Not completely deserted, after all.

  “—told us not to set foot in the city,” one of them was saying, farther off than Nate probably could’ve heard with his own ears.

  The comment was met with a growled string of curses he couldn’t untangle.

  “—just had to do it,” came the first voice.

  “And for a pathetic human artifact, no less,” added another.

  “Bah,” growled the cursing trog. “I take my orders from the Dread Lord and the General, not some blight-touched…”

  Nate lost whatever else was said, scrambling around to the rear of his building to keep out of sight. The trio of trog soldiers came thundering past a few moments later, clearly in a hurry to get back to the sounds of fighting in the landing bay.

  One of them was carrying a trident.

  Nate almost could’ve laughed at the sight, up until an explosion sounded from the bay, sending a light trembling through the stone underfoot. The trio sped on, the naysayer grunting after the trident bearer that they had had orders from his Dreadship to respect the blackened bastard’s requests, and that they were all in for a proper fisting when the commander realized what they’d done.

  Nate watched them go, antsy with the need to get back on the move. It was only as their outlines dwindled toward the causeway and he rounded back onto the street that he registered he’d just let three enemy soldiers slip back to an already stacked fight against Iveera.

  “Shit,” he murmured, glaring after their outlines.

  The Beacon, was all Ex said.

  Nate turned away from the retreating trog outlines, knowing his companion was right, then glanced back as another thought occurred to him. “Any chance this helmet can scan for whatever waves that Beacon is giving off?”

  You don’t think I might have mentioned such an ability?

  Nate clenched his fists. I don’t know, damnit, I just… This place is…

  Far too large for one man to search, Ex finished.

  There was no denying it.

  Ex was thoughtfully silent for a few seconds. Where would YOU place the Beacon, Nathaniel?

  Nate frowned at the question, suspecting a trap.

  It is not a riddle. Humor me.

  “Probably right at the center of the city, I guess. If you’re right about it keeping this place standing, whoever stuck it here might’ve wanted to put it where its power could, like, reach everything, right?”

  As I suspected. A rudimentary assumption at best, yet potentially apt if we also assume that it was likely an equally superstitious being who stowed the Beacon here in the first place.

  Nate didn’t bother arguing or defending himself. He just set off at a run, scanning the stretch of buildings ahead, looking for any likely suspects. There were more than a few towering monstrosities of breathtaking engineering that drew his eye from the heart of the city.

  That one? Ex asked, as Nate’s gaze drifted back to one dark-spired behemoth in particular for the third or fourth time.

  Too obvious? Nate wondered. He couldn’t decide whether the building looked like a mighty cathedral, or the kind of fortress in which one might expect to find the dark lord Sauron lurking, but it was one of the few buildings tall enough to actually touch the city’s protective dome. That seemed worth something to his gut.

  It does seem only human, I suppose.

  Well, then…

  Nate put on a burst of speed, trying to ignore the creeping apprehension at the fact that gut feelings and only human logic were their best clues. At least he could move fast in the armor. Frighteningly fast, he decided, as he leaned into it, favoring speed over any risk of running into more rogue trogs.

  He reached the base of the towering cathedral in short order, panting only half as hard as he felt like he should be. Then he caught sight of the ancient marble statue outside the front and forgot about his burning lungs completely.

  It was the Lady.

  Of course it’s the Lady.

  “But…” Nate blinked at the statue, once again trying and failing to understand who these people had been, and how they would’ve known about the Lady at all.

  Need I remind you that now is hardly the time for a history lesson?

  “Right.” Nate bobbed his head, doing little to settle the way it was spinning with the enormity of all the shit that he and the rest of the world still didn’t have the faintest clue about. “Right.”

  He turned for the cathedral.

  It felt profoundly unnatural that those dark oaken double doors still stood tall, proud, and sturdy after who knew how many centuries of abandonment. Then again, that might’ve just been his sinking gut doing the talking. Too many coincidences adding up. Too convenient, that someone would’ve just left this almighty Beacon sitting here in the middle of the city, right next to a big statue of the Lady, in a building so obvious that even a clueless college kid had dialed in on it in under five minutes.

  Convenient? We are more than three miles below sea level, and more than a thousand from any appreciable form of civilization. Perhaps whoever brought the Beacon here simply assumed there was negligible risk of this place ever being discovered by anyone other than a Knight.

  No need to hide the needle if no one would ever find the haystack anyway? Nate couldn’t decide if that was a fair point, or the exact reason his Spidey Senses were tingling. All he really knew was that he needed to find this goddamned Beacon before the fighting spilled out of the landing bay and brought the ocean down on Atlantis for good.

  Wisdom becomes you, Nathaniel.

  He grabbed one thick iron rung and pushed the heavy door open. It swung inward with a mourning creak every bit as haunting as one might’ve expected from thousand-year-old hinges. He’d expected to see nothing but darkness from the outside. Instead, the same soft blue luminescence that lit the dome came wafting through the doorway in welcome. Readying his shield and wrist blaster, Nate took a few cautious steps into the cathedral, and froze.

  He’d been here before.

  The feeling struck him like a phantom fist to the diaphragm, sparking wriggling trills of panic from his chest up to his head.

  How? When? Why did he recognize this place?

  The Lady, he realized, flashing back to their strange journey across the stars. That was it. It had only been a sparse second, but he was almost certain this was the place he’d seen when they’d taken their first flash-step. A vast, underwater cathedral.

  And it was vast.

  Nate gaped at the sheer volume of open space between him and the grand stone arches of the vaulted ceiling, which reached so high as to actually be incorporated into the city dome, with multiple panes exposing the cathedral to the dark ocean above. He stared, trying to
process the simple fact that this place even existed—and that everything else he’d seen out there with the Lady might’ve actually been real.

  His gaze tracked down to the ground floor, following the long rows of intricate stone benches to the head of the great hall. He froze again.

  The Beacon.

  It was sitting right there on the dais—a brilliant sphere of burnished silver and nebulous azure light hovering over the upright arms of some wrought iron shrine. It couldn’t have been larger than a basketball, and it pulsed like a living thing, erratic figures and patterns swirling languidly across the shimmering light and metal of its surface as if they were one and the same.

  Nate didn’t have to ask Ex if this was indeed the Beacon they’d been looking for. He felt it now. Felt its call growing exponentially stronger with every step forward, so potent it was almost impossible to believe it had felt so faint only a hundred yards ago.

  He’d broken into a run before he knew it, not even precisely sure what he was going to do when he reached the Beacon—only that they’d found it, goddammit, and that maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

  Contact Iveera, he told Ex. I need to tell her to get out of—

  Wait!

  Nate jerked to a sliding halt at the flicker of movement ahead. He steadied and looked around the empty space, thinking maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then the dark figure he could’ve sworn hadn’t been there a moment ago stood from the front row of stone benches, and turned to face him.

  In the mad dash, Nate had all but forgotten what the pilfering trogs had said about the blackened bastard who’d apparently told them to stay clear of the city. Now though, struck by the terrible presence of the thing standing before him, Nate wasn’t sure what else he could be looking at.

  If it was a troglodan, it wasn’t like any he’d ever seen. Large enough, certainly. But the thing looked more like the actual dark lord Sauron than like Groshna or his kin. Pitch black armor bristling with more sharp edges and wicked intent than all the lords of hell combined. The thing looked like it could’ve killed a man with any part of its body. In the unlikely event that failed, though, Nate had little doubt the barbaric greatsword strapped across its back would be equal to finishing the job.

  “Who are you?” he asked, trying to keep the waver from his voice.

  The Black Knight said nothing. Just watched him with the bottomless black holes that pierced its helm where the eyes should’ve been, sharp horns and blood red plume tilting ever-so-slightly in silent consideration.

  What am I looking at, Ex?

  I… cannot say. I don’t believe he is an ally, Nathaniel.

  Nate resisted the urge to raise his blaster in warning, suddenly afraid he’d be provoking a fight that he wouldn’t win. “What are you doing here?” he called instead.

  The Black Knight started wordlessly forward, stalking toward Nate without the slightest glint of hesitation, each dark footfall sending a low thud reverberating through the still cathedral.

  “Stop,” Nate said, taking a few involuntary steps back, a heavy dread settling over him. He raised his shield and aimed his wrist blaster. The weapon felt woefully inadequate. “I said stop right there!”

  The Black Knight hesitated for half a breath.

  Then it drew its dark sword and charged.

  42

  Crucible

  To say the Black Knight charged was misleading.

  There was no fearsome battle cry. No long, stone-pounding dash to combat. The thing simply raised its dark greatsword from twenty yards away, and brought it sweeping down for Nate’s head, having somehow covered the distance between them in less than the blink of an eye.

  If meeting a charging troglodan head-on had been like stopping a car, catching the Black Knight’s blow on his shield might as well have been trying to catch a falling mountain.

  There was a disturbingly loud crash, and then he was flying. He couldn’t have said how far he went, or how many obstacles he smashed straight through on the way. By the time the world resolved back into a luminescent blue pile of pain and stone rubble, all Nate really knew was that he was outclassed here. Even through the shield and the armor, his forearm was on fire with the fury of the blow he’d tried to block. He had to look down to confirm the arm was still there at all.

  No sooner had he done so than he realized the Black Knight was already there, standing over him. He rolled over and drove a kick into the thing’s gut. Or tried to, before the Knight caught his ankle in a frighteningly strong grip. For one terrible moment, he thought the monster would simply give a twist and snap his leg in two. Instead, the Knight gave a sharp jerk, and Nate found himself airborne again.

  Three or four pulverized stone benches later, he was coughing up blood and trying not to puke in his helmet. He looked frantically around for the next attack, but the Black Knight was taking its time over in the main aisle. Taking his time, some corner of Nate’s brain decided. Because there was something almost human about the way the enormous bastard was looking around the cathedral now, greatsword draped casually over one broad shoulder.

  “Where is he?” the Black Knight rumbled in a dreadfully low voice.

  Nate gritted his teeth and clawed his way back to his feet, trying to hide the grunts of pain. “Where’s who?”

  “The conjurer,” the Knight said, not turning. “The wizard. Your thrice-damned Merlin.” His dark gaze swept around the cathedral, across the balconies, up to the vaulted ceiling. “WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BLACKENED COWARD?!”

  The cathedral walls shook with the raw power of the Knight’s voice. Even with the added protection of his helmet, Nate staggered backward, ears ringing, bludgeoned brain racing to catch up with who the hell this vengeful spirit was, and why he’d expect to find the Merlin here, of all places. Unless…

  “The Beacon. Did you… Did you bring it here? Was this all…?”

  Before he could finish asking if this entire mess had all been one big trap to catch the Merlin, the Black Knight turned and began toward him, shifting the greatsword on his shoulder like he was thinking about springing across the benches and cutting Nate in two, right then and there.

  “I don’t know where the Merlin is,” Nate said, keeping his shield ready. “He left the planet. I don’t know where. But he’s not here. So if that’s what you’re doing here, you’d better just—”

  “You would die for him, human?”

  Nate swallowed, hating how his traitorous innards cowered at those words. Hating how much he clearly wasn’t some unshakable paragon of duty, like Iveera. Hating that he was afraid.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend.

  “I’d die to protect my planet from that thing,” he said, pointing to the Beacon, thinking of Marty, and Gwen, and everyone else out there he’d failed to protect. Their faces, coupled with the words, stirred something deep inside, anger and desperation and fear at this black terror before him all spilling into the crucible, churning into something new.

  “And if you’re a part of all this,” he continued, the fires of a besieged New York licking at the crucible in his mind, working its contents into a kind of controlled madness, “then I guess I’ll die to stop you too.”

  The promise hung in the air, permeated only by the gentle glow of the luminescent dome, and the tranquil hum of the Beacon’s presence.

  “Very good, Earth Knight,” the Black Knight said, spreading his hands wide, inviting attack. “Come, then. I would see you protect your planet.”

  For a second, Nate faltered, expecting some trap. But the trap was already sprung, he knew—had been sprung the moment he’d walked into this cathedral. There was no escape. No guarantee it would matter even if he could buy more time. There was only him, and the one obstacle keeping him from the Beacon.

  I am with you, Nathaniel.

  That inner madness rippled, ready to boil over. It didn’t matter that he was facing a superior enemy. Didn’t matter that he didn’t know what to do. He had Ex
, and he had a job to do. He had a choice.

  Electric tingles crackled down his right arm, radiating to his hand, begging to be released. No holding back. That was the only way.

  Unleash me, Excalibur Knight.

  For the first time in his life, Nate didn’t question instinct. He just took a single, impossible leap across the thirty feet between him and his obstacle, bellowing a wordless scream all the way, and brought his crackling fist down like a born-again thunder god.

  The air detonated around them, impact jarring through his arm so savagely that it went half numb. Then he saw the shimmering alien sword that had appeared in his hand, gently curved blade crossed with the Black Knight’s greatsword, thrumming with quiet power, and it all clicked together, simple as could be. Here was the sword, and here was his Black Knight.

  No holding back.

  The Black Knight shoved off his blade, sending him back a few steps for balance. He lunged right back in, sweeping the alien blade for the Black Knight’s head, keeping his shield raised as best he could. The Knight avoided the strike with a half-step backward, and leaned clear of the following slash, not even bothering to use his sword. Nate stepped after him, determined to keep the pressure on. It wasn’t enough.

  Another slash, and another. A thrust. A sweep. A shield swipe. The dark titan stepped clear of each strike with all the effort of a bored slow-dance partner, waiting for the song to end.

  Nate swung harder, moved faster, but it was no good. The Knight was too skilled. Within a minute, his lungs were burning, shoulders and arms growing heavy with fatigue. Desperate, he cut his next swing short and squeezed off a surprise shot from his wrist blaster. The blue bolt dissipated on a shimmering ripple of energy armor, leaving the Black Knight perfectly unharmed, and earning Nate his first counterattack.

  He nearly fell over trying to duck the broad sweep the Black Knight made for his head. Before he could regain his footing, the Knight brought a brutal strike down on his raised shield. Another blow hammered down, and Nate’s front leg buckled.