by Dan Wingreen
Terrorists Killed by Department as They Set Fire to White House!
He skimmed the article to pass the time, even though he'd read it three times already. It talked about the group of unnamed terrorists who broke into the White House three days ago and tried to assassinate the Prime Minister. They were stopped before they could get anywhere near him, of course, but not before they started a small fire with their sloppy and uncontrolled magic, forcing the White House to suspend tours and close to the public for several days while the damage was repaired. He stopped his casual skimming and got caught up in actually reading it when he got towards the end.
—all the terrorists were apprehended or killed at the scene, and not a single Agent, employee, or tourist was harmed. In a statement released just hours after the attack, Head of White House security Lorna McClaran nobly took the blame for allowing terrorists to breach the capitol, and, in a private ceremony, was executed by the Prime Minister himself later that day. During a speech to the country early yesterday morning, the Prime Minister renewed his vow to fight terrorism and urged citizens to be vigilant in watching their neighbors for all signs of sedition or disloyalty, and to report them to their local Department of Magic and Sorcery office at the earliest opportunity.
The part about him and Lee had confused Aidan the first time he'd read it. He had no idea why they would lie and say they'd been killed. It was basically like letting them get away with it, especially since there had to be hundreds of clear, usable crystal ball images they could release to the public. He'd asked Lee about it, and he'd said it was damage control. After Lee had broken Aidan out of the DMS in Pendragon Bay, they'd released pictures of them, but only on the west coast. An attack on a local Department building was easy to region lock. An attack on the White House in the middle of the day was national news and no matter how much control the government had over the press, word would get out eventually. Not only that, but since their pictures had already been released in relation to another incident, they couldn’t risk showing their faces to the entire nation. If the public realized the same people who broke out of a DMS building on the west coast had also attacked the White House and gotten away unharmed, it ran the risk of turning them into either folk heroes or boogeymen. One gave them too much power and the other made the government look weak, so instead their identities were brushed under the rug. They basically got away with almost burning down the capitol of the United States because it was bad press.
Despite everything, Aidan found that hilarious.
He skimmed a few more articles until Lee got back, and then they drove off.
Lee ate while he drove, as silent as he'd been for the last day. He had been getting quieter the closer they'd gotten to Arthur's resting place, more withdrawn. He’d been taking less care with his appearance, too, leaving his hair unbound and wearing the same clothes he’d changed into after escaping the White House ever since. It was a more obvious version of the same kind of strange moodiness he'd sunken into when they were approaching Philadelphia, except this time it didn't bother Aidan. It gave him time to think.
Aidan didn't think he'd ever completely come to terms with what happened to the village. The hollow, squeezing feeling he got in his chest every time he thought of any of the People he'd known—or even the ones he’d just observed for a few minutes—felt too permanent, like an open wound inside of him. It might scar one day, but it would never go away. He was lucky to have Lee. He didn't want to think what all this might have done to him if he was alone.
Aidan could already feel it starting to change him. He could actually feel his internal makeup shifting and rearranging to make room for all the guilt and rage. The problem was, he didn't want to change. He liked who he was now, the new Aidan. He didn't want to be a new, new Aidan. An Aidan who felt nothing but the need to make up for his own mistakes. One who killed without thought because it made him feel better. What would happen if he changed so much, he couldn't even remember who he'd started out as? What would happen if he changed so much that everything Lee loved about him went away?
He couldn't let that happen. So, as they drove towards the tomb of the Once and Future King, Aidan curled up in his seat and fought a silent battle for his soul.
In the end, it was the thought of seeing Lee looking at him one day without even a sliver of recognition in his eyes that helped Aidan stop the shifting newness from taking hold. He'd rather live the rest of his life with a bleeding wound than try to live without Lee. It wasn’t easy, and he suspected he’d be fighting a version of this internal battle for a long time to come, possibly even for the rest of his life. But that was okay. Aidan had been around Lee long enough for more than a little of the sorcerer’s stubbornness to rub off on him. Though, if asked, he was sure Lee would insist that Aidan had plenty of his own stubbornness to go around.
Aidan couldn't help smiling.
He glanced over at the stubborn sorcerer in question, and his smile dimmed. Now that he'd mostly sorted out his own issues, the silence was starting to bother him.
What's wrong with you, Lee? Why won't you talk to me? Why are you only looking at me when you think I won't notice? What's going on in your head?
And because Aidan had promised himself he wouldn't pry, all his questions remained unanswered.
They drove for two more hours through rural Ohio. Whatever paths and trails the man who wrote the scroll had followed were either overgrown or had been flattened to build roadways or houses, so it was harder than they'd expected to find their way.
It was strange how quickly civilization seemed to suddenly stop out there though. Roads ended abruptly or curved back around on themselves, herding drivers west or back south or around the wild lands to Cleveland in the north. Houses were clumped together in small developments with when there were miles of open plains and sparse forest that could have easily held hundreds more. It was like there was a tacit agreement that civilization could only go this far and beyond lay the unclaimable wilds.
Probably less a tacit agreement and more like a standing order not to let anybody build or expand too close to where Arthur is. Not that anyone issuing the building permits would know that, but who would ever think to question an order from on high…
Eventually they had to leave the carriage behind, hidden between several large bushes, and go the rest of the way on foot with nothing but the scroll on Lee's back and Excalibur held tightly in Aidan's arms.
They walked through a surprisingly thick forest for what seemed like hours with only a curse from Aidan, when he tripped over a rock, or a subdued "This way" from Lee, after he checked the scroll, to break the silence. The air was so thick with nervous anticipation Aidan was sure if he swung the sword he'd be able to cut it.
Somewhere on the other side of these trees was King Arthur, just waiting for them.
Aidan couldn't help being excited.
Then, with no warning at all, the forest abruptly ended. It was like walking through a curtain into the back room of the book binders where he used to work, except instead of thread, needles, and covers of various sizes and materials on the other side, there was a waterfall.
It wasn't a very big one, although Aidan would admit he hadn't exactly seen very many waterfalls, so maybe they were all this small. It flowed down the middle of a large, U-shaped outcropping of rock that must have been at least two hundred feet wide and about half that tall, before falling into a small, shallow pond that emptied into a nearby stream. Underneath the outcropping was a large opening spanning the entire length, about fifteen feet high, which opened up into a dark cave. Most of the cave was taken up with what, after looking closely, Aidan could see was the now-much-bigger pond, but there was a clear, wide path that followed the edge of the pond above the waterline and into the cave.
Lee led the way to the cave, carefully making his way over the damp stone. Aidan shivered, both from the sudden cold of the misty air and the thought of walking under the huge rock face. He peered inside the opening, but he couldn't see
very far. It didn't look like there was anything holding the massive rock up. What was keeping it from collapsing? He would have liked to see some kind of support rocks or hazy magic; something to show it wasn't going to fall on top of him the second he walked under it. Caves tended to do things like that.
It's probably been like this for a million years and I doubt it was waiting all this time just so it could fall down right when you walk under it.
Aidan tried really, really hard to believe that as he followed Lee into the opening.
The sorcerer wordlessly summoned a ball of light, illuminating the large, open space under the rock. Aidan let out a relieved breath when he saw the large cave—and the pond—mostly ended about thirty feet or so into the area that was previously covered in shadow. There was another, much smaller, opening tucked away at the end of the path leading deeper underground. Lee moved faster when he spotted it, and Aidan hurried to catch up.
This new cave was small and narrow. It was also completely straight and, when Aidan looked down, he saw that the ground was perfectly smooth. Not a natural cave, then, but one that was created with purpose. Unbidden, memories of the foul paths that led to the necromancer’s lair rose up in Aidan’s mind, and he ruthlessly pushed them away. This was different. As obviously artificial as this path was, it held none of the oppressive taint that infested the ones carved by the necromancer. Still, necromancy-stained atmosphere or not, Aidan couldn’t help feeling somewhat uneasy as he followed Lee deeper into the cave.
Aren't the People the only ones that can do the rock shaping thing? Well, and me, I guess. But I think I'd remember doing this a few hundred years ago.
Did that mean the People helped the man who wrote the scroll hide Arthur?
That train of thought, while interesting, was lost when Aidan noticed the old, rough gouges in the otherwise unblemished cave floor. Like something very heavy and possibly sarcophagus shaped had been dragged across it. His heart began to race with excitement. Whoever had shaped this cave, it was looking more and more like they’d be finding something at the end of it. Could it really be Arthur?
They hadn't gone very far when Aidan suddenly remembered something he'd read in the scroll. Protections identical to the ones used in the tomb in Rome have been placed…
"Lee?" Aidan asked, his voice echoing through the tunnel. He shivered at the sound, but he couldn't figure out why it bothered him. He shook off the oddly familiar feeling and lowered his voice to a quiet hiss. "Aren't there supposed to be traps here?"
"I'm taking care of 'em," Lee murmured.
Aidan frowned. Lee didn't seem to be doing anything but walking. Even as he thought that, though, he noticed every few feet Lee would make a subtle gesture with his hand. The third time he did it, Aidan heard a soft clicking sound off in the distance.
No, not off in the distance, more like through the rock…
He wondered what kind of traps had been built into the walls. The same as in Rome, whatever that meant. Vague, but Lee seemed to know what it was referring to. Had he been in the tomb in Rome, then? Either way, he seemed to know what he was doing, and Aidan didn't want to distract him, so he kept quiet.
Based on his last experience with caves, he expected to be walking for at least an hour before they got anywhere, so he was more than a little surprised when they walked into a large, low-ceilinged room after only fifteen minutes. Lee stopped short and Aidan almost walked into his back. He avoided him, barely, and stepped around the sorcerer, opening his mouth to ask what the problem was. The words died on his tongue when he got a look at the rest of the room.
It was wide and long, but not very high, with several tunnels breaking up the perfect lines of the walls off to the sides. Lee's ball of light reflected off the smooth, glassy walls, lighting the whole area up with a soft blue light. Aidan wondered if that had been done on purpose. It reminded him of illustrations he'd seen of old temples, where every part of the building was designed to evoke worship and glorify whatever deity the builders had revered. Despite being hidden away, this seemed like a room that was meant to be seen and inspire awe in those who saw it.
Although the sarcophagus resting in the center of the room was enough to do that on its own.
It was made of pure white marble, polished to a mirror-sheen and gleaming majestically in the light. The top was carved into the image of a man, highly detailed, right down to the folds in the cloak that covered his shoulders and the individual strands of hair that rested on his forehead. The figure's eyes were closed, but he wore a peaceful expression on his face, like he was taking an afternoon nap on a warm summer day. In his hands he held a sword that was a perfect replica of the one cradled in Aidan's arms.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lee take a few steps forward and make another gesture with his hands. Aidan gasped as the beautifully carved lid flew off and crashed to the floor with a loud thud that echoed around the room.
Inside was a man.
King Arthur in the flesh was everything Aidan had ever thought he'd be, and yet he wasn't at the same time. Tall and broad, it was obvious even lying down he was powerful in a physical way people these days just weren't. Even Lee wasn't as solid as Arthur looked. His dark blond hair was short, but elegant, cut above his ears with the fringe lying across his forehead almost exactly like it had been in the carving. Strong jaw, a nose slightly curved in a way that somehow made him look even more regal, thin lips, and a face that was slightly lined with age, but no less handsome for it. Arthur was every inch the Sleeping King of legend in his physical appearance.
Which was why the simple, almost common way he was dressed was so surprising. What Aidan could see of his clothes, while stylish—or what Aidan assumed was stylish almost two thousand years ago—was unassuming. They were white and made of what looked like wool, covered with armor that was serviceable but ordinary. No designs carved into the pauldrons, no gold or jewels worked into the gauntlets; not even a crown on his head. The armor itself looked almost piecemeal, like bits and pieces had been taken from different vanquished enemies. Their quality made Aidan think that was unlikely, but it might not have been wrong to assume the design was taken from different sources. The chest and shoulder pieces seemed to be Roman style, but instead of the skirt he'd seen Legionaries wear in some of the older Arthur paintings, his legs and thighs were covered with metal greaves, and the gauntlets he wore seemed made to hold a larger longsword instead of the shorter swords Aidan had read were more common back then. His hands were clasped together, resting on his stomach as if waiting for such a sword to hold.
There was no doubt in Aidan's mind that Excalibur belonged in those hands. Even without being dressed like his idea of a king, this was unmistakably Arthur. It was almost unnatural how most every representation of the man Aidan had seen looked almost no different from his actual appearance. It was like looking at every illustration in every book he'd ever read about Arthur come to life right in front of him.
Or, maybe not to life, since it was obvious Arthur definitely wasn't alive. His skin was pale, and Aidan had no doubt it would be cold to the touch. Not that Aidan would ever be able to bring himself to actually touch Arthur. For all he looked like he was sleeping, there was no telltale raising and lowering of his chest to show he was breathing. The body in front of Aidan was deathly still. There was also a hole in the armor, barely visible in the shadows cast by the edge of the sarcophagus, but definitely not part of the design. It was on the left side of Arthur’s chest, just under where the heart would be…
Aidan swallowed heavily and looked away.
Then gasped in surprise for the second time in as many minutes.
Lee was crying. Silent tears streamed down cheeks that were almost as pale as Arthur's. His jaw was clenched, like he was trying to keep from making any noise. Aidan had never seen him like this. Except, maybe, in the cave, when he'd failed to save Aidan, when he had to face the consequences of that failure.
But why would he look anything like that now?
>
After a few moments, Lee squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, they were clear. No more tears fell. He wiped his face, and Aidan could see his jaw…not really relax, but loosen slightly, at least. Without looking away from Arthur, he held his hand out towards Aidan. Understanding what he wanted, Aidan wordlessly handed over the sword.
Lee took it tentatively, with slightly shaking hands. He stared at it for the longest time, like all the answers to every question ever asked could be found in the recently cleaned and polished blade that gleamed in the magical light. He traced the edge lightly with his finger, then clenched his hand and pulled it away. Lee lowered Excalibur with a sigh that echoed softly through the room.
"He can hear us, you know," Lee said quietly.
Aidan blinked, startled as much by what Lee said as he was by the fact he was actually talking after almost eight hours of near silence. "What?" he asked, glancing at Arthur's body. "You mean…him?"
"Aye," Lee said. "It's part of the spell that kept him from dying. He can hear everything that's being said around him, translated over and over again in his head until he can understand it like he'd been speaking it his whole life."
"How—" Aidan winced slightly as his voice echoed. "How is that even possible?" he whispered, half expecting to see Arthur lean over so he could hear better.
For several long moments, Lee was silent. The silence went on for so long Aidan was starting to wonder if he should maybe ask something else when, instead of answering, Lee said, "You know, I used to know someone who asked that all the time." Lee laughed softly, a small, fleeting smile passing across his lips. "Most curious little boy I'd ever met. Always with the needin’ to know. 'How is it possible that the sun don't fall out of the sky?' 'How is it possible that you can lift something up without even touchin’ it?' 'How is it possible that everyone's so scared of you when you're really very nice?'"