Song of the Sword

by Edward Willett

  Ariane glanced sharply at Wally. His face gave nothing away. “Looks that way.”

  “Even though you’re in different grades?” Aunt Phyllis took a bite of peas.

  Ariane decided to jump in. “It’s a sort of...mentoring program. To foster school spirit. Get the kids in different grades to know each other. That kind of thing.” You’re babbling...

  “How unusual.” Aunt Phyllis sipped from her water glass. “But why King Arthur?”

  “He’s just interesting,” Ariane said. “Camelot, Guinevere, Merlin, all that stuff. Knights in shining armor. It just sounded way better than, like, researching coal mining in Wales or something.”

  “Not to me,” Aunt Phyllis said. “King Arthur is a myth. And a pretty silly one. Magical swords. Round tables. I’d think you’d find it awfully childish.”

  Ariane gave her aunt a surprised look. Aunt Phyllis almost sounded annoyed again, like she had before she’d sent Ariane out for the milk.

  “Aren’t you both a little old to be wasting your time on fairy tales?” Aunt Phyllis continued, lifting another forkful of rice.

  “We’re not that old,” Wally put in. Ariane saw him looking anxiously from her to her aunt, as though he could sense the building tension. “Weren’t you ever interested in King Arthur, Ms. Forsythe?”

  “When I was a child,” Aunt Phyllis said “But I grew out of it.” She smiled at Wally, or at least tried to. It wasn’t very convincing. “Don’t mind me, Wally. Of course you can do your report on whatever you like. King Arthur just...wouldn’t be my choice.”

  Ariane frowned. It felt like Aunt Phyllis was hiding something. Something about Mom. Something about King Arthur. The Lady said Mom refused her power. Does Aunt Phyllis actually know about that? She was dying to ask. But if Ariane asked too many questions, Aunt Phyllis might start asking questions that she didn’t want to answer.

  So she dropped the subject, and Wally followed her lead. The rest of the meal passed without a mention of King Arthur. Instead, Ariane found herself learning a lot more about the social dynamics of the school fencing team than she felt she really needed to.

  Knowing what they were planning to attempt, she began to chafe at the delay as time ticked by and the small talk continued. Wally didn’t seem to share her anxiety: he helped himself to seconds, and then to thirds. Simultaneously amused and frustrated, Ariane wondered how a boy his size could eat so much.

  Eventually even Wally was finished. But then they had to clear away the dishes. Wally, who had astonished Ariane when he helped set the table, astonished her again by offering to help load the dishwasher.

  Finally, Aunt Phyllis let them go upstairs. “You two go work on your project now. I’ll look in a little bit later with some cocoa and sweets.”

  And to make sure we’re not fooling around, I’ll bet, Ariane thought. But there was no point in stating the obvious or fighting the inevitable – though she hoped their “séance” would be over before Aunt Phyllis knocked...if she knocked.

  Two minutes later she and Wally were in her room and free to talk. “Do you think your Aunt Phyllis knows?” Wally said, his eyes wide. “That your mom met the Lady of the Lake? That’s wild.”

  “I don’t know,” Ariane said. It was hard to imagine, Aunt Phyllis believing in the Lady. Short of asking her outright, she didn’t know of any way to find out, either. “Anyway, never mind that. Let’s get on with the…thing.”

  “The séance?” Wally laughed and held up his hands when he saw her expression. “Sorry! How about... um...‘meditation ritual’? Or maybe...‘self-hypnosis session’?”

  Ariane snorted. “Not much better. How do you know so much about them, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re a medium.”

  “More like an extra-small.” He spread his arms and looked down at his scrawny body, and Ariane laughed. He looked up again, grinning. “I read a lot, that’s all. And, uh...” He reddened a little. “And I saw Flish try it once. With her gang. Which is why I like to call them the coven.”

  “You saw her? She let you watch?”

  “Not exactly. But I overheard what they were planning as they went into her room. So I spied on them. Through the keyhole. See, uh, witches, when they do magic, sometimes they, uh....” His voice trailed off.

  Ariane remembered something she’d read about witches. “Don’t tell me they were naked!”

  “No...” Wally sounded a little wistful, and must have realized it, because he turned even redder. “No. But they stripped down to their underwear.” Now he was so red Ariane thought he might spontaneously combust. “I mean, I’ve seen Flish in her underwear before, no big deal, but Shania is...I mean...look, just forget it, OK? The point is, I kind of know how it works.”

  Ariane felt a pang of...though she hated to admit it...jealousy. When Mr. Stanton had broken up her fight with Shania, his eyes had been all over the other girl. He’d hardly glanced at Ariane until he took her to the office. And now Wally, too? Boys! She grimaced. “Sorry I asked. Let’s get on with it.”

  Wally nodded. He’d brought a backpack with him. He opened it and took out a candle. It was fat, round, and white, about ten centimetres in diameter and twenty centimetres tall. Ornate silver lettering wound its way around the candle’s circumference. It looked perfectly suited to an arcane ritual – until Ariane picked it up to get a better look. “Happy New Year 1998?”

  Wally shrugged. “It was all I could find.”

  Ariane laughed. “So where should we put it?”

  “Somewhere we can’t accidentally set fire to the place?”

  Ariane looked around. The only good-sized bit of open floor in her room was at the foot of her bed, where a round pink throw rug covered the oak floorboards. “Help me move the rug.”

  Together they rolled it up and shoved it under the bed. Then Wally put the candle on the floor, took a book of matches from his pocket, and lit the wick. “Turn off the light,” he said.

  Ariane clicked off the switch while Wally settled himself cross-legged on one side of the candle. Now the only illumination came from the blue-green glow of the computer’s aquarium screen saver and the candle’s yellow flame, flickering in the slight draft from under the door.

  Ariane pointed to the monitor. “Should I turn that off?”

  “No, leave it on. If the candle doesn’t work, you can always try concentrating on the virtual fish.” He grinned. “Come to think of it, that might be more appropriate for the Lady of the Lake.”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “Princess of the Pond? Maiden of the Mud? Miss Teen Watersprite of Twenty...OK, OK, I’ll shut up.” Her phaser-like glare had finally penetrated his shields of obliviousness. He indicated the floor on the opposite side of the candle from him. “Come on, let’s give this a try.”

  “We don’t have to take off our clothes, do we?” Ariane said innocently, folding her legs under her.

  “Very funny,” Wally muttered, blushing again, and Ariane grinned. But her grin faded as the strangeness of what they were attempting sank in. She looked around uneasily. The wavering flame made shadows dance in the corners, giving Ariane the unnerving feeling that strange, living things slithered, skulked, and skittered just on the edge of her vision.

  Too much imagination...

  “What do we do now?”

  “First, hold hands.” Wally held out his, and Ariane took them. They were warm and dry and not unpleasant to touch. Thanks to Aunt Phyllis, the thought crossed her mind that this whole thing might just be a scheme of Wally’s to hold hands with a girl, but she shoved the notion aside.

  “Now what?”

  “Stare at the candle, and concentrate on...whatever it is you have inside you. This ‘power’ you feel. Don’t look away.” Ariane focused on the leaping flame while he continued to murmur. “Watch the flame. Reach out for the power. It’s there inside you. Look for it. Reach for it. Watch the flame...”

  The candle flame swelled to fill her vision, and Wally’s voice seemed to fade into the
distance. She looked past the glowing corona of hot gas into the darker, cooler centre. It looked almost like a tunnel, like a doorway...a passageway to something else, some new level of concentration...

  ...some new level of power, some new facet of the Lady’s gift...

  The dark centre of the candle flame rushed toward her – swallowed her. But in that darkness, she heard a song. Not the song of the water this time, but something different, harsher, colder, and harder...

  And then light, as bright and white as lightning, banished the darkness and cast everything into sharp relief. Ariane and Wally jerked apart and stared at her desk. The light was blazing from the computer monitor. As they watched, it darkened and turned a deep blue. Something swirled in the centre of it, coalesced, and became an image of a bloodstained sword – gripped by a mailed fist.

  A voice boomed from the speakers, deep and powerful enough to rattle the window. “The sword is not for you. Abandon your quest, or face the wrath of Merlin!”

  Wally’s grip on her hand tightened. Ariane felt grateful for the human contact.

  “Merlin grants you this warning because he is merciful. But his mercy is not unlimited. Do not expect it again!”

  The image of the sword vanished. The blue changed to the blazing white light that had startled them a few moments ago. Wincing, Ariane threw her hand across her eyes. And then the light was gone, and the monitor once again showed computerized fish swimming in a virtual aquarium. In the sudden hush, Ariane heard the sound of a car starting up outside. She leaped to her feet, knocking over the candle, which splattered hot wax across the floor before sputtering out. “Watch it!” Wally cried, but Ariane hardly heard him. She raced to the window, jerked up the blinds, and peered out into the night just in time to see a car pulling away from the curb...a white Ford Focus.

  Wally joined her. “Who was that?”

  “Someone who was trying to scare us.” And succeeding.

  “But...how?” Wally walked over to the computer. “How could he...reach inside your computer like that?” He sounded tense...even frightened, though Ariane doubted he’d ever admit that to her. “I’ve never seen a monitor light up like that before. Something would have to be short-circuiting and arcing inside...but the thing is still working. Nice trick.” He managed a smile. “And it sounded like he got James Earl Jones to deliver his lines. Mr. Darth Vader himself.” The smile faded. “Do you think he was spying on us? Was that Merlin outside your house?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But whether that was him, or someone who works for him…he knows who I am now.” She felt a chill. “And where I live. I’ve seen that same car several times. It was parked on Winnipeg Street this afternoon. I walked right by it. It even had a sword on the door. If it belongs to Merlin, he’s practically advertising.”

  Wally looked up sharply. “What?”

  “Not a real sword. A picture of a sword. And some letters. ECS.”

  Wally’s mouth fell open. “Oh, wow. Wow.”

  Ariane stared at him, irritated. “Wow what?”

  “ECS. It stands for Excalibur Computer Systems. Rex Major’s company.”

  “Rex who?”

  “Rex Major!” Wally said. “He’s like…Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, all rolled into one. One of the richest men in the world. His Excalibur server software is everywhere. The whole Internet practically runs on it.” He gasped. “My phone – remember the way it lit up in the underwater chamber? Just like this computer. It was a smartphone – connected to the Internet.” He leaned forward, excited. “If Merlin is still alive, he wouldn’t be calling himself Merlin anymore, would he? He’d have to have a disguise, become someone else – something other than a wizard. What if Rex Major is Merlin? What if he’s combined his magic with his computer software? He could extend his power anywhere the Internet reaches. And that’s almost everywhere.” His eyes widened. “And his name!”

  “Rex Major?”

  “It means High King in Latin!”

  “But Merlin’s not a king.”

  “But if the Lady was telling us the truth, he wants to be one. That’s why he wants Excalibur – to take over the world.” He looked at the window. “Rex Major wouldn’t have been out there in person. But he’s got offices everywhere. That must be one of his…” he grinned suddenly, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually getting to use the word, “…minions.”

  Ariane felt a chill. “But…how are we supposed to beat someone like that?”

  “The Lady said you could do it. With the power she gave you.” He looked down and nudged the fallen candle with his foot. “So do we try again?”

  Ariane thought about it, recalling what had happened the first time they’d tried it, and suddenly she realized something: the strange new song she had heard in the mystical darkness still echoed in her mind. She shook her head. “No need,” she said in wonder. “It worked.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Ariane spread her hands. “I can hear the song of the sword. I know where to find the first shard of Excalibur.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Going with the Flow

  Wally stared at Ariane. He opened his mouth to speak, not sure if he should ask “How?” or “Where?” first. Before he could make up his mind, the bedroom door opened and Aunt Phyllis stuck in her head.

  Good thing I just turned on the lights, he thought. The fallen candle was just beside his foot; he nudged it under the bed. He couldn’t do anything about the rug having been rolled up, but though Aunt Phyllis’s eyes flickered over it, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she smiled.

  “Hello, you two! I’ve got some cookies and hot chocolate waiting downstairs for dessert, if you’re ready.”

  Wally looked at Ariane. Are we?

  “That would be great, Aunt Phyllis,” Ariane said. “Perfect timing.”

  “How is the project coming?” Aunt Phyllis asked as they followed her down the stairs.

  “We’ve made a good start,” Ariane said.

  “I thought I heard a loud voice upstairs – a man’s voice,” Aunt Phyllis continued as she led them into the kitchen. “Gave me a start, until I figured out it must have been coming from your computer.”

  Ariane looked at Wally.

  “It was a YouTube clip,” he answered without hesitation. “Of this cheesy King Arthur movie. The volume was set too high. I’m sorry if it startled you.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. Now, you two sit at the table...”

  In two minutes she had poured three big mugs of hot chocolate and Wally was biting into a thick chocolate-chunk macaroon. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Why can’t Ms. Carson bake like this? “You’re a terrific cook, Ms. Forsythe.”

  “Thank you,” said Aunt Phyllis. “Please, have another.”

  Wally obeyed, happily. Ariane didn’t say anything: her mouth was already full with her second cookie. She polished it off and started on a third. “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Famished,” she replied, chewing more slowly.

  Aunt Phyllis nibbled daintily on her first cookie. “So, Wally. You said at dinner you grew up in Regina. Has your family lived here a long time?”

  Wally nodded. At least this is safer ground than strange voices in the bedroom. “My parents were born and raised here too, and my grandparents on my father’s side. My father’s father’s parents moved here around 1915 from Cannington Manor.”

  Aunt Phyllis nodded. The name clearly meant something to her. Just as clearly, Ariane had never heard of it. “Where’s that?” she asked. She finished her third cookie, but though she was eyeing the plate, didn’t pick up a fourth.

  “Thirty-five kilometres or so southwest of Moosomin, not far from Moose Mountain Provincial Park. A bunch of English people settled it in the late 1800s. They thought they could recreate a proper Victorian English farming village on the prairie. It boomed for a while, but that was before Canadian Pacific decided not to build a rail line to the town. The nearest branch line ended up ten mi
les south, and that was pretty much the end of Cannington Manor. There’s hardly anything there now.”

  “Well, there’s a very interesting interpretative centre,” Aunt Phyllis said. “I’ve been there. It’s a provincial heritage site. Were your great-grandparents English, then?”

  “Great-grandfather Knight was. He was the youngest of five boys, so there wasn’t much of an inheritance for him to look forward to in England. He came to Cannington Manor as a teenager because he’d seen one of the ads Captain Edward Pierce had put in the London newspapers.”

  “Ah,” Aunt Phyllis said. “Your great-grandfather was one of the infamous ‘bachelors.’”

  Wally grinned. “That’s right. And apparently a pretty wild one too.”

  Ariane gave her aunt and Wally a bewildered look. “What are you guys talking about?”

  Aunt Phyllis sipped her hot chocolate. “Captain Pierce – who may or may not have been a real captain – planned to set up an agricultural school where young men from England could learn to be Saskatchewan farmers. What he mostly ended up with were dissolute young men more interested in drinking and carousing than farming.”

  “They hung out at Didsbury, this big estate run by the Beckton Brothers,” Wally said. He’d read everything he could about Cannington Manor once he’d learned about the Knight family’s connection to it. “Ernest, Billie, and Bernie Beckton had inherited quite a bit of money back in England, and it went a long way out here on the frontier. They bred thoroughbreds – horses – and raced them too, as far away as Chicago. They even hunted foxes, you know, red coats, hounds, the whole bit. And they were famous for the parties they held at their lakeside cabin.”

  “But eventually, like everyone else, even they gave up and left for greener pastures,” Aunt Phyllis continued when Wally stopped to take another sip of his hot chocolate. “Got married and took their wives back to England, I think. A lot of the ‘bachelors’ drifted farther west. A few headed up to the Yukon, prospecting for gold. Others enlisted in the British army and fought in the Boer War. Your great-grandfather must have been one of the few who stayed.”