A Tail of Camelot

by Julie Leung

Checking to make sure that no one was watching him, Galahad bent down and unrolled the piece of paper. His heart hiccupped.

  On it, in the exact same cursive lettering as the message written in the sugar, was a short message: Kom two Sward in Ston.

  Shocked, Galahad reread the message several times. And then, all at once, it was as if a jigsaw puzzle in his brain had suddenly slotted into place, and he understood.

  “Don’t worry,” Galahad said. His voice echoed in the enormous chamber, and he looked up to find everyone staring at him. But he felt no fear. “I think I have a plan.”

  CHAPTER

  41

  From far below, a glint caught Calib’s eye. “There!” he yelled into the wind.

  General Gaius nodded once to show that he had heard him. Calib clung to the owl’s feathers as they veered downward. Looking below, the mouse was relieved to see that Lylas, the Darkling badger, was able to keep up with the owl.

  “Do you think we’ll get there in time?” General Gaius called to Calib. “Are you sure this is the only way to get the Two-Leggers to join the fight?”

  “I think so,” he said. “The Two-Leggers believe that whoever pulls the Sword in the Stone is Camelot’s true leader. If we manage it, they’ll have no choice but to rally behind the sword wielder. We need to show them how to fight again.”

  “But will the Two-Legger understand your message?” he pressed.

  Calib wanted to say, Yes, of course. But deep down he wasn’t sure. The mice and Two-Leggers had never worked together before. At best, they had lived in a state of precarious truce. At worse, they had been all-out enemies, with the mice raiding the Two-Leggers’ kitchen, and the Two-Leggers fighting back with brooms and traps and, occasionally, kitchen knives.

  It was no wonder that the war council had been incredulous when Calib suggested that they ask the humans to join the animals in the castle’s defense.

  “If they want to run, let them run!” an old mouse-knight had snorted from her spindle chair. “Good riddance to those cowards, I say! Back in my day, a knight was a knight!”

  The council had remained doubtful even after Calib repeated what Sir Kay had said in the infirmary: that the human knights were sworn to follow the Sword in the Stone.

  But even that announcement had drawn opposing murmurs from the creatures in the Goldenwood Hall. It wasn’t until Leftie spoke up that they began to consider Calib’s plan in earnest.

  “I, for one, trust you, Calib Christopher,” the big cat had announced to the room, laying down one of his sharp blades at Calib’s feet, in front of the awed crowd. “Last time we didn’t heed your warning, we paid a very high price. I will not make that mistake a second time.”

  In the end, Commander Kensington organized a small expedition, led by General Gaius, Sir Alric, and the Darkling badger Lylas Whitestripe. Calib and Cecily were to accompany them to the Sword in the Stone, using Howell’s secret passageway to escape the castle without being detected.

  By using the tunnel, the group had managed to avoid the attention of the Saxon weasels lying in wait at the edges of the castle’s fields. Nonetheless, there was still a chance a Saxon might spot them as they made the final leg of their journey to the small vale that concealed the Sword in the Stone.

  Looking down at the battle-scarred badger carrying Sir Alric and Cecily, Calib wondered what it meant that Leftie had insisted that the surly Lylas join them. Did the lynx even expect them to come back alive?

  As Gaius swooped down into the clearing, Calib’s breath hitched in his chest. Somehow, the Sword in the Stone seemed even more majestic, even more magical, than it had when he’d seen it earlier. In the sun, the blade dazzled like a bolt of lightning.

  Gaius alighted gently on the sword’s hilt, and a moment later, Lylas, Sir Alric, and Cecily appeared. For a second, all the animals stood there in silence, bound up in the beauty of the strange sight.

  Calib roused himself first. “All right, we need to figure out a way to get the sword out of the stone.”

  “If the Two-Leggers have yet to manage this, what chance do you think we have?” asked Lylas.

  “We have the key!” Calib pointed to Merlin’s Crystal.

  Everyone looked at Calib, confused.

  “Merlin’s Crystal is supposed to unlock a great strength, right?” The words tumbled from him in his excitement to explain. “Well, what if the great strength meant is the Sword in the Stone?”

  Lylas slammed his paw to his chest. “It could be entirely possible, young mousling. None of us ever thought it could be a Two-Legger weapon.”

  Calib nodded. “Exactly. Gaius, could you bring the crystal closer to the sword?”

  The owl dipped his head to dangle Merlin’s treasure near the blade. After a few uncertain seconds, the crystal and the sword suddenly began to glow the same milky blue. The runes that decorated the blade seemed to shimmer and change shape.

  “Old Magic,” Sir Alric said in an awed whisper. He wiped away a tear that rolled down his snout. “I never though I’d see the day . . .”

  “Did it— Do you think it did something?” Cecily asked. “I mean, do you think we can pull it out now?”

  “Step aside,” Lylas rumbled, “and I will prove to you that badger strength is unparalleled.”

  But though the badger pulled and tugged at the hilt with all his might, the sword remained as stuck as it ever had. Lylas began to punch the rock.

  “What are you doing?” Gaius asked.

  “Trying . . . to . . . loosen . . . the . . . sword,” Lylas grunted between breaths. “Stuck . . . solid.”

  Calib’s heart sank. His plan wasn’t working. He had failed them all.

  “We could try to chisel it out,” Sir Alric suggested. He had climbed up to the sword’s hilt and had begun measuring it with a ruler made from leftover embroidery thread.

  “We don’t have time!” Cecily said, anxiously waving her sword. “And the Saxons could find us any minute!”

  “This doesn’t make sense.” Calib sat down on his haunches, trying not to let defeat overcome him. They were so close to completing their mission! He was so sure Merlin’s Crystal was the key. There had to be a way to remove the sword.

  Sitting on the ground, Calib noticed for the first time that the crack in the stone widened at the bottom of the rock, creating a slight crevice at its base. Perhaps when Lylas punched the sword, it had widened the split. Calib’s ears began to tingle. The large fissure looked just like the entrance to Howell’s cave, only mouse-sized.

  Calib sprinted toward it. Peering in, he saw that it extended back, creating a passageway into the stone just big enough for a mouse to squeeze through.

  “Sir Alric, come quickly!” he said. “Lylas and Cecily, stand guard with Gaius.”

  The badger lifted the mouse-knight from where he stood on the stone and placed him next to Calib.

  Gesturing for Sir Alric to follow him, Calib squeezed into the passageway. After only a few mouse lengths, the tunnel opened up into a small cavern within the stone.

  In the center of the cavern, the lethally sharp tip of the Two-Legger sword bathed the cavern in an eerie blue light. The sword had cut all the way through the granite, stopping just short of resting on the dirt floor. The runes on the blade glowed strongest at the tip.

  “Sir Alric, are you able to read these runes?” Calib asked.

  The knight squinted a moment. “It’s been a long while since I learned them, but I think it reads: ‘There is great power in small warriors.’ However, there’s one mark here that doesn’t make any sense.”

  The knight pointed to the last one etched closest to the point of the sword. A tingle raced up Calib’s spine. He ran his paw down the blade carefully, tracing the edges of the rune. It was larger than the rest—about as big as Calib’s arm. And it was in the shape of a dagger.

  “This isn’t a rune at all!” Calib said. “Quick, we need the crystal!”

  Sir Alric was already running out of the crevice, and Calib fo
llowed only a whisker length behind.

  After listening to the mice’s careful explanation, Gaius bowed his head so that Calib and Cecily could pull the crystal over his tufts. The crystal was even more beautiful up close. It was as clear as a raindrop and seemed to hum with its own excited energy. Or maybe it was only reflecting the excitement that Calib felt in his own heart.

  Using all their strength, the three mice were able to pull the unwieldy crystal into the cavern.

  Once there, Sir Alric and Cecily helped Calib prop the crystal into place. With a satisfying click, Merlin’s Crystal slid into the empty shape of the rune.

  For a moment, nothing happened, but then the sword exploded with blinding light. Calib held his paws over his face to protect his eyes from the brilliant rays.

  There was a loud cracking sound, and the sword dislodged from stone ceiling. It slid down in a sudden avalanche of pebbles and dust and then thudded to the bottom of the cavern.

  Sir Alric let out an undignified whoop of joy, and Cecily threw her arms around Calib’s neck. Blushing, Calib disentangled himself and rushed over to examine the ruins.

  Merlin’s Crystal had melted into the sword, turning into a dagger-shaped rune. Calib put his paw to it, and it felt cool. There would be no removing the crystal from the blade now.

  Sir Alric and Cecily were still cheering when Gaius’s worried voice echoed toward them.

  “We’ve got company!” he squawked.

  “Who is it?” Cecily asked, planting her footpaws into the attack stance.

  “Two-Leggers from Camelot!”

  Calib slipped through the fissure and into the sun, turning to look where Gaius was staring.

  A boy with oversize ears and a determined expression appeared, riding a stubborn-looking white pony, and Calib could hear that more Two-Leggers followed behind him.

  “What do we do?” Lylas asked, straightening his breastplate.

  Calib smiled.

  “We welcome them.”

  CHAPTER

  42

  As Galahad approached the Sword in the Stone, he was not surprised at all to see a small tawny mouse perched upon its hilt. He watched the mouse rise onto his hind legs and wave his paw, almost in a greeting.

  A group of mice, an owl, and a badger wearing a tortoise shell on his front stood guard. The badger reared up and held out his fists like a boxer. The great horned owl spread its wings and screeched.

  Galahad heard the crowd of loyal Camelot servants and squires murmur uneasily behind him. It had actually been more surprising to Galahad that all the squires had offered him their protection and support.

  “It’s better than watching the parade of cowards at the castle,” Malcolm had said, and Galahad knew then that his days of torment were over. “I’ll follow you, Galahad.”

  Malcolm now stood behind him, a large poleax clutched in his hand while Bors drew his sword.

  “I’ve never seen animals like this,” Bors whispered, wide-eyed.

  “Maybe you haven’t been looking,” Galahad said.

  He dismounted his pony and carefully approached the tawny mouse, half-expecting him to scamper away. But the mouse stood completely still.

  Galahad held out his hand tentatively, just like the first time they had met. The mouse seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he leaped onto the boy’s hand and, with barely any pressure at all, scampered from the boy’s wrist to his shoulder. Galahad could feel the soft tickle of the mouse’s fur against his neck.

  Galahad thought he understood what to do next.

  He looked at the sword, admiring the masterfully forged blade that gleamed like fire. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt and pulled. A gasp went through the crowd.

  Effortlessly, the sword that had budged for no one else glided out of the stone.

  For a moment, Galahad felt weightless. A powerful current coursed through him, and his senses seemed to extend to all the woods around him. He closed his eyes and felt the weight of his body on the moss beneath his feet. He felt the wind tickling the branches of the trees overhead and the warmth of the sunlight on their leaves. He could feel the stomp of boots as the first of the Saxon army began to tread the charred ground of St. Gertrude’s ruins. All at once, Galahad was aware of the many voices the woods possessed. They came to him in a gentle chorus of pleas. He heard the babble of the river protesting the intruders who had sloshed through its shallows with their weapons and their beasts.

  “Seek the Lady of the Lake,” a voice whispered in his ear. He thought it might be the voice of the wind. “She will show you the way.”

  Galahad opened his eyes and held the sword high over his head, its sharp point raised toward the sky. The flat of the blade reflected the sunlight with a golden flash. He hardly noticed that before him, people were falling one by one to their knees. They bowed to him and to the power of the sword, which had been destined to reveal the true leader of Camelot.

  “We have to go back to the castle,” Galahad said, and his voice sounded louder and deeper than it ever had before. “The Saxons have reached St. Gertrude’s. Today, we fight!”

  CHAPTER

  43

  The whole group, both animal and Two-Legger, raced together back to the castle, with Calib seated on Galahad’s shoulder.

  The mouse calculated that if Galahad was right and the Saxon Two-Leggers had passed St. Gertrude, they had only a half an hour before the human army joined the weasels at the edge of the Darkling Woods.

  They had to get back in time!

  As Galahad thundered across the drawbridge, the sword remained sheathed.

  “I have the Sword in the Stone!” the boy shouted, cupping his hand around his mouth and waving his other arm.

  It took a second for the castle inhabitants to stop their travel preparations and realize what the boy had said. But as Galahad rode forward into the courtyard, the clamor died around him.

  Calib slipped a little as Galahad stopped his pony in the center of the courtyard. The mouse looked from the boy’s shoulder onto a sea of faces—some of them suspicious, some of them hopeful, most of them flat-out disbelieving.

  There was a commotion behind him, and Calib turned to see Sir Kay and the rest of the knights come out from the stables, their horses saddled. Calib thought they must have been about to mount their chargers and ride away from Camelot.

  “You? You’re telling me that you pulled the Sword in the Stone?” said Sir Kay. “Even Arthur’s feat, as great as his skill was, was a stretch of the imagination, but you?!”

  Sir Edmund strode up to Galahad, glaring openly in his face. “Most likely this boy found a sword in a scrap heap and now thinks he can play us all for fools.”

  “Only a true knight could pull the Sword from the Stone.” Sir Kay narrowed his eyes. “The honor is not meant for a poor kitchen boy.”

  Calib scowled. What did they know about what a kitchen boy—or mouse, for that matter—could do?

  “Then maybe it’s not a knight that we need,” said Galahad. The boy unsheathed the sword from his scabbard and held it aloft.

  Calib shivered. A current passed through the crowd, as if an invisible, magical wind had lifted the hairs on everyone’s necks. Sir Kay, Sir Edmund, and the rest of the knights with their bulging travel packs went silent, their eyes wide as goose eggs. It was more than a sword. Lit up by the sun, dazzling with ancient runes, it seemed like a promise.

  For a second, Calib thought he heard Howell’s voice, but it came to him so softly he could not make out its message. Then the wind whipped that away.

  “Growing up, the stories were all the same.” Galahad spoke clearly, and Calib thought he did not at all look the part of the raggedy kitchen boy. He looked like a true knight. “The hero always comes to the rescue. But we cannot wait for others to save us. This day, we must be our own heroes. We are the last defenders of Camelot! Now, who will stand with me?”

  Malcolm raised his sword first. “All of Camelot is sworn to follow the Sword in the Stone
! If a kitchen boy can pull the Sword in the Stone, then we can defend the castle without King Arthur!”

  Calib watched with satisfaction as one by one, the Two-Leggers of Camelot drew their swords, crying out their loyalty to the castle and to Britain. They raised their weapons—some of them no more than brooms and pitchforks—in answer to Galahad’s plea. They shouted and stamped and filled the courtyard with rumbling noise.

  Galahad’s plan was working!

  Suddenly, a frantic cacophony erupted from the bell tower. This was not the orderly chiming familiar to all the inhabitants of Camelot. This was a clanging crash that sounded like every bell in the tower was being rung at once, as hard as possible.

  It was an alarm.

  Somewhere on the walls a Two-Legger was shouting.

  “Invaders at the gates! Thirtyscore and counting!” There was a rusty creak as the drawbridge was slowly raised.

  “Time to go, Valentina!” Calib whistled for the crow. She dove neatly and scooped Calib up from Galahad’s shoulder. Calib regretted not saying good-bye, but Galahad was too busy giving orders to the Two-Leggers. Besides, if they managed to defend Camelot from the invaders, there would be plenty of time to talk later.

  From his vantage point on Valentina’s back, Calib could see flashing metal marching from the edge of the Darkling Woods and the telltale bend of the grass that told him that the weasels had returned.

  Valentina flapped to the ramparts, where the animal army was waiting.

  “You’re back!” Commander Kensington shouted as Valentina landed. For a moment, the stern commander looked as happy as a small mousling with a fresh piece of cheese. “Thank Merlin! Did it work?”

  “I think so,” Calib said, slipping off Valentina’s feathers. “We managed to free the Sword in the Stone. The Two-Leggers are sworn to follow whoever holds it.”

  “Let’s just hope it’s not too late,” Kensington said grimly. She looked at Calib as his fellow pages—Cecily, Devrin, Warren, and Barnaby—gathered around him.

  “Stick together,” Kensington said. “Those are my only orders to you. Make Sir Owen proud. Make Commander Yvers proud. Make Camelot proud.”