by Ardis, Priya
Perceval looked at me with pity. “She gets what she wants, you know.”
I pointed a stick of bark to the top of the slope. “You’re on watch first.”
Perceval laughed again and rose. He trudged off up to the top of the hill.
Some time later, heavy footsteps pressed into soft earth, tearing into brittle fallen leaves. I rose swiftly from my bedroll, ready sword in hand. The muted sounds of deep night had gone unnaturally silent. The round shapes of the hills lay in peaceful deceptiveness… for they were not empty. Hidden danger walked over their slopes. The rowan tree’s bushy leaves swayed in the wind. A wind carrying the musty stink of an unwashed body I didn’t recognize.
An intruder.
A hill fort stood off in the distance. I’d avoided going near it. Apparently, I hadn’t taken us far enough. I cursed the fact that I didn’t have any magic and kicked at the embers of the fire. I had put it out to hide us. Now, its shadows hid the intruder. A few flames flared. From the shadows cast down by the sloped hill, a man lunged at me with a gleaming sword.
I barely had time to raise my blade and block his strike. His breath close to mine, I recognized the face beneath the beast. It was no barbarian. Nearly unrecognizable in brown peasant-wear, this was worse.
I pushed him back. “Sergius.”
“Vane!” The little princess scrambled awake.
Sergius sneered at the sight of her. “I see you kept a few prizes.”
“Run, now!” I told her. The simple command proved to be a distraction. Sergius got close enough to kick me in the stomach. The power in the kick sent me flying to the far side of the small camp.
To her credit, the little princess acted swiftly. In half a blink, she grabbed her bow and sent an arrow flying at Sergius’s head. It hit him squarely. He snarled. His face transformed into one of a beast with a distended forehead and gleaming fangs. He plucked the arrow out of his head as if it was nothing. The wound started healing on its own.
“You’re a gargoyle,” I said in surprise.
“Unfortunately for you, boy. It took a while to recover from the heart wound. I’m not as quick of a healer as others, but I vowed to make you pay.” He stalked towards me. “You managed to travel far.”
Because of her. I’d never met another person like her. “You’ve been tracking us since Carthage?”
The little princess shot another arrow. Sergius knocked that one down while still in flight, like swatting down a buzzing fly. “I’ll deal with you next, little one.”
“What did you do with my brother?” she yelled.
Perceval had been on watch just above us on the hilltop. I glanced at the spot where he should have been. It was empty.
Sergius smiled with broken teeth. “He’s a bit tied up at the moment.”
Internally, I sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t killed him. No doubt saving him for a bout of prolonged abuse later. Except that wouldn’t happen. Now I knew how to kill him. My hand tightened on the leather hilt of my sword, I smiled back at Sergius. “Good. We can finish this without distractions.”
I leaped back up. He ran at me. We dueled with our heavy swords, but despite his strength, he was no match for my training. One well-aimed thrust sent his sword flying. One stomp on the knee brought him down. Following the steps to a deadly dance, I moved behind him. One kick sent him sprawling facedown to the ground. With a yell, I hacked down at his neck. Blood spurted at me. My blade met skin and bone, but I didn’t stop its descent. Sergius’s head severed in a last cry of battle.
The crunch of more footsteps broke the quiet night.
“Agatya.” A command came from above.
The sword went flying out of my hands. I looked up. A band of soldiers on horses stood on the hilltop. Two stood slightly in front—an older boy about my age and a younger one wearing dark robes, about Perceval’s age. A sword sat comfortably on the older boy’s right hip. He held a heavy shield with ease. The emblem of a flying red dragon covered it. A dagger lay tucked in his leather belt. Though he wore plain trousers instead of the skirt of a Roman soldier, I knew by his stance he’d been trained as one. I knew by the austere lines of his privileged face and unbroken teeth, he was also this band’s leader.
The little princess shot off an arrow from her bow. It almost nailed him between the eyes. A black-robed boy beside the soldier let out a stream of magic and the arrow dropped harmlessly at the soldier’s feet. The little princess swiftly notched another arrow.
“Stop!” Perceval shouted, his head poked out from behind the robed boy. “They untied me. They mean us no harm.”
Perceval scrambled down the black gelding. The boy carrying him threw back the hood of his robe. A single shaft of moonlight hit the robed boy’s face.
I nearly dropped my sword—something a soldier would rather die than do—yet my suddenly damp hand and fingers struggled to hold on to the bloody blade. I took a few unsteady steps up the slope. I whispered, “Merlin.”
The boy blinked, a frown falling over an otherwise expressionless face.
“Merlin, it is I,” I said, louder this time. Happiness filled my chest. I swept one hand across the face, wiping away the blood that shadowed it. “It is your brother. Vivane.”
Merlin’s expression changed. It was the tiniest of movements. If I hadn’t been watching with such desperate intensity I would have missed it. His mouth twisted at the ends. Not to one of happiness as I hoped. He grimaced. It was fleeting. Merlin quickly smoothed it away. Yet, I saw it. I lowered my sword. The hope to which I’d been clinging—the hope he’d understand why I left him—faded. The blade sank deeply into a maiden earth. It was all I could do not to sink down with it.
I’d come home. Such as it was.
The older boy lowered his red dragon shield. “Is it true?”
Merlin nodded. “He is my brother, sire.”
A jaunty smile stretched across the boy’s narrow face. “Will you not introduce us?”
“Vivane—”
I interrupted. “I am Vane.”
Merlin nodded. “Vane.”
To my dismay, he said the name easily… acceptingly, and my hopes plummeted even more.
“Vane,” repeated Merlin. “This is his highness, Prince Arthur of Cambria, Demetia, and… Domnonia and—”
“Other surrounding lands.” Arthur interrupted. “We’ve been thinking of picking one name.”
My eyes flickered. Prince of Domnonia. The Roman ruled my homeland. My magic may have been blocked, but I didn’t sense any Keltoi blood in him. I said, “You’ve been busy with such a small band of men.”
“Our camp is on another hill.” Arthur inclined his head. “And it is my father who has been busy.”
There was an edge to his tone that caught my interest.
“I seek to hold what we’ve gained,” he said. “The Saxons continue to press on us.”
I didn’t entirely believe him. Ambition colored the prince’s face. I played to it. “I would say you haven’t dealt them a big enough blow.”
“I mean to.” Arthur’s light eyes traveled over me with calculated thoughtfulness. They lingered on the bloodstained sword I still held loosely. “I’m glad to meet someone else who understands such things.”
Under his interested scrutiny, I relaxed my fingers on the blade even more. Never let them know how much you want something. Arthur urged his horse down the slope toward me. Merlin rode down after him. I fought back a smile. Renewed hope filled me. Maybe home had a place for me after all. I glanced from Merlin to Perceval and his sister. A place for all of us. I turned back to Merlin. And a second chance.
A wave of light sparked the dark night. It hit us with the strength of a thousand cavalrymen. The men on the hilltop slumped in their saddles. Arthur and Merlin followed. My head jerked to the little princess. The wave hit her first. She fell onto the bedroll.
No. My head screamed. The wave hit me. I held onto the sword.
Under my tunic, the crystal necklace, the shackle that boun
d magic, burned. I let out a cry and fell to my knees. My palms hit dirt, but I managed to stay awake. Long moments passed. I hung on, my body shaking under the pressure. Just when I thought I would break, the wave finally passed.
The crystal necklace unclasped and slipped off my neck. I was finally free.
Over the hill, a shadow appeared. The figure walked down the slope and stepped into the camp. The firelight illuminated his face. Septimus.
CHAPTER 14 – PROM
CHAPTER 14
PROM
The week passed swiftly. Marilynn was only too happy to get away from the house (and Matt). She covered the first half of the week while I slept most of the time. Sylvia managed to get a doctor to make a house call, but I didn’t really need one. Vane had done something while I’d slept. I didn’t know what, but it helped. Although I was tired, my body seemed to be finally healing.
I made it to school Thursday and Friday. They were easy days. No one really wanted to concentrate. Most of the talk centered on prom and who had gotten accepted to which college. Bennett, our valedictorian, got early admission to MIT. She was staying nearby. Many of the kids decided to stay close. Ramanajan was going to Boston University. Nearly a hundred colleges lay scattered through Boston and its surrounding areas. I hadn’t even applied. Neither had Grey, but Harvard held a reserved family seat for the Ragnars.
It depressed me a little that I wasn’t thinking about the future. So I decided to go home and pull out the stack of brochures lying forgotten at the back of my desk. I’d filled out one online application when a thought struck me. I searched for the keywords ‘King Arthur’ and ‘Boston.’ Pages and pages of results returned for the Total Tremor and rumors about the inevitable end of the world. I decided not to read the conspiracy columns. I wondered how many of them were put out by the government.
The Security Council had decided not to go public. One, there wasn’t an immediate solution to offer. Two, they were working on a secret project with Merlin to which I hadn’t been able to get the details. (Matt refused to tell me in case Vane gleaned it through the Dragon’s Eye.) Three, it was decided the chaos such an announcement would cause would undermine what efforts they could make to find a way out.
On impulse, I added another keyword ‘illustration’ to the search. One link immediately stood out—a series of murals hanging in the Boston Public Library. I clicked through websites that detailed the murals. My heart sped up. The series was titled The Quest and Achievement of the Holy Grail.
The drafty glass doors of my room showed a clear night sky. The clock on my cell read midnight. I wouldn’t be able to get into the library tonight. I glanced at my room’s closed door. If I wanted to do this tonight, I had to ask Matt for help. We’d barely spoken since Rourke’s death. He remained holed up in his study, doing who knows what. He didn’t ask for my help and I didn’t volunteer. Again, I found myself unable to cross the chasm between us. It was becoming a pattern.
But I couldn’t ignore this. I trudged down the stairs to Sylvia’s study, deciding not to take the crutch. The hallways were eerily empty. The house had been emptied of gargoyles. Grey, Gia, and Sylvia would return tomorrow morning from the funeral. Apparently, Rourke owned a brownstone in New York or an estate in Long Island. No one wanted to mention the inheritance of the throne, but I noticed Deirdre and Colin staying very close to Grey. As for Grey, I knew he wanted nothing to do with it.
I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t touched Excalibur for months. I didn’t miss it.
Okay, that was a lie. I tried not to miss it.
I passed by the living room. A group of twenty or so young wizards sat together eating popcorn. Marilynn was on the couch at the center of them. A few girls sighed and pointed to the giant flat screen. I immediately recognized the ultimate prom movie (a personal favorite of mine which I would only admit to under pain of death)—Pretty in Pink.
A girl with long braids spotted me hovering. She gave me a beaming smile. “Will you be going tomorrow, sword-bearer?”
The question blindsided me. I doubted Vane would actually show. “Uh, I don’t think—”
“Merlin is taking her,” a boy next to her said. “I heard it at school.”
Marilynn’s gaze locked on me. “Is he?”
“He hasn’t asked and since it’s tomorrow, I doubt it.”
Marilynn nodded as if I told her nothing she didn’t already know. The other witches and wizards gave me pitying looks. I asked quickly, “Are all of you going?”
The whole group nodded.
“Don’t you have dances at Avalon Prep?” I wondered aloud.
“Um, not really,” said the girl with braids. “We used to have a Yule Ball, but they gutted it after someone made the decorations explode.”
“They were trying to magic them to dance,” murmured the boy beside her.
The girl with braids took his hand and gushed, “Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I heard the hall is grander than a Parisian opera house.”
It was. I’d seen pictures of the venue. Marilynn had outdone herself. I glanced at her. She was grinning at the girl. For someone who had to be twenty-something Marilynn was oddly obsessed with prom. I groaned internally and forced myself to do the right thing. “Since I’m not going, Marilynn, you ought to go. The head of the committee should show up just in case.”
Her head snapped up to look at me. I returned the suspicious look with a steady gaze.
“Just in case,” she agreed quickly.
She jerked her head back toward the screen as if to stop me from changing my mind. I bit my lip to suppress my smile. The group shushed each other as the big prom finale started on screen. I watched for a few minutes and slipped away. The study, it turned out, was empty.
No Matt in sight.
That’s how I found myself at the library the next afternoon.
I spent the morning on the phone dealing with a last minute prom crisis over parking. Marilynn disappeared somewhere (sans cell phone, I suspected a prom hair emergency). After solving said crisis, it took two hours to drive to Alewife, catch the Red Line train into Boston, and switched subway lines to get to Copley Station.
The Boston Public Library took up two buildings. A harsh sun heated the wide concrete surrounding a patch of grass called Copley Square. The McKim Building resembled a three-story palace with arched columns and giant entrance. From the first floor, I climbed up to the mezzanine level. Below me, children played in an open courtyard complete with fountain. Resisting an urge to linger and watch their laughter, I followed the signs up to the second floor. I crossed past librarians milling with researchers and other patrons and reached the other side of the building. The ornate grandiosity of Bates Hall caught my eye. Coffered ceilings and arched windows had been architected as a Roman cathedral. Rows of low desks with lamps lined the length of the hall as if waiting for class to begin. Bookshelves lined the sides but didn’t reach high enough to touch the domed ceiling. To the side of the grand hall lay Abbey Room where Edward Austin Abbey's murals covered the walls, floor to ceiling. The gallery held five paintings. I read aloud, “The Vision, the Oath of Knighthood, the Round Table, the Departure, and the Castle of the Grail.”
“About time you found them.”
Matt’s voice made me jump. Except it wasn’t Matt. My pulse went from normal to skyrocket speed in less than a second. Doppelganger-Matt stood casually just inside the gallery. He wore pristine black formalwear with easy confidence. The tailored tuxedo fit him perfectly and the freshness of the material indicated it had been made recently. He’d gotten it made for me, I realized. For today.
A shiny deep-green vest, reminiscent of the sea, fit snugly across his lean chest. A matching green tie was tucked neatly under the vest and shiny black shoes completed the ensemble. Longish brown hair was tamed into submission—something that confirmed Doppelganger-Matt’s true identity.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
“I have an engagement.” His eyes swam with calm waves and
the way they watched me… I could have melted right on the spot.
A glance raked me from head to toe. “You look better.”
“I feel it. No more ugly crutch.” I raised and lowered my hands. “See.”
His gaze lingered on my T-shirt as it stretched across my chest. “I agree. Not ugly.”
I lost the fight to not blush. “How did you find me here?”
“I’ll always find you,” he replied with a roguish grin. He lifted his wrist to glance at a heavy silver watch. “It’s early. Would you like to walk around with me?”
He stuck out a tuxedo-clad elbow. I found myself taking it. A charming Vane was impossible to refuse. Walking around in jeans and T-shirt with a guy in fine formalwear made us strikingly conspicuous, but I found it easy to ignore the occasional passerby’s odd looks. He led me to the first painting in the series. I read a plaque near the painting. “In the Vision, a white-robed nun holds up the child, Galahad. An angel visits. The angel carries a dove, a golden censer, and the Grail under a red shroud. What’s a censer?”
“It holds burning incense.” His arm slipped out of the elbow-hold and a warm palm settled on my back instead.
I struggled to concentrate as we walked to the next painting. My voice had a slight waver as I read the next description. "The Oath. The nuns bring Galahad to Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors, who fasten spurs on him.”
“Getting him ready for his journey.” Doppelganger-Matt leaned close.
All too aware of his proximity, I tried to ignore the sweet, clean breeze of his breath as it traced the curves of my ear. Finally, I couldn’t stand it. I jerked away from him and walked to the next painting. He chuckled behind me. I leaned down to read the next plaque. “In the Round Table, the leaders of Arthur's realm are seated at a full table with only one empty seat when the palace becomes suffused with light and Galahad comes in with an old man to take the empty seat.”
“The one pure of heart is found,” Doppelganger-Matt said softly.
Pure of heart. I paused. Vane had once said that only one pure of heart could pull Excalibur. Also, the picture seemed familiar. Much like the tapestry in the UN Security Council room. I went to the fourth painting. “In the Departure, the knights attend mass with Galahad, who is now a knight.”