Door Into Faerie

by Edward Willett

  “But if we were that close, why didn’t we sense it?”

  “I know why you wouldn’t,” Wally said. “It would be bone dry inside that headstone. With no water in contact with the hilt, you can’t sense it. Just like you couldn’t sense the shard in the salt water on Cacibajagua.”

  “But you were able to sense it there.” Ariane still sounded a little peeved about that, Wally thought. “If the hilt is in the headstone, and you were staring straight at from less than a metre away, why didn’t you sense it?”

  “I don’t know,” Wally admitted. “But Great-Grandpa may have known a thing or two about hiding shards we don’t. You know, through lore passed down to him through the family.”

  “So just after we got caught grave-robbing, you want us to go back and smash the headstone? Don’t you think they’ll be keeping a close watch on the cemetery for a day or two? And what are we going to use to smash solid stone with even if we can get back there without getting caught? We left our pick when we ran and they’re not likely to leave it lying around waiting for us.”

  Wally’s irritation suddenly roared into full-fledged anger. “You got a better idea, ‘my Lady?’” he snapped. “Another lead you haven’t told me about? A feeling? Hearing any singing? Or maybe you just want to go back to Barringer Farm and wait for Merlin to figure this out and grab the shard first!”

  Sword talking, he suddenly realized. Oh, crap.

  “Ariane,” he began hurriedly, “I didn’t –”

  But Ariane had already leaped up from the fallen log, her face red. “Don’t you dare mock me, Walter Knight! I am the heir of the Lady of the Lake. The sword is mine to retrieve and to use as I see fit. Just because you’re the heir of King Arthur, don’t think you have an automatic right to the sword. It’s the Lady’s sword. Your ancestor just used it – and lost it due to his own weakness!”

  Wally never saw the tendril of water form. The first he knew of it was when it slammed into his back, throwing him over the log on which Ariane had been sitting, driving the wood into his diaphragm so hard his breath whooshed out. Spots dancing in his vision, he lay there, soaked in icy water, fighting to breathe, fighting even harder to force down the rage pouring into him from the sword, the urge to get up and teach the sorceress a lesson, show her who truly wielded Excalibur.

  Ariane dropped on her knees beside him. “Wally!” she gasped out. “I’m sorry…”

  She reached down.

  Don’t let her touch you! shouted the sword, but Wally pushed back hard. She’s my friend…my girlfriend…I love her…she loves me…

  She loves me.

  Her hand touched his arm. The water sprayed off of him again. It didn’t help him breathe, but it made him warmer. And then she put her hands on his shoulders and helped him roll over and sit up, and took his fingers in hers and helped him to his feet, and her touch made the last of the anger slide away.

  “That,” he said when at last he had air enough to form words, “was awful. Ariane, I’m so sorry. The sword…”

  “The sword,” she said. “I know. I can’t believe I let it make me hurt you.” She sounded shaky. “Wally. What happens when it’s complete?”

  Wally swallowed hard, and pulled her to him in a hug. She hugged him back. Again he was startled to find he was taller than her now. He pressed his cheek against the curve of her head, her hair soft against his skin, and whispered, “I fought back against the power just now with the best antidote to anger I know, and it worked.”

  “What?” Ariane said. “What antidote?”

  “Love,” Wally said. He squeezed her even tighter. “Love.”

  •••

  “Love,” Wally murmured, and Ariane thought her heart would break, though whether with joy or terror, she wasn’t certain.

  The rage that had roared up in her out of nowhere – no, not out of nowhere, out of the two pieces of Excalibur she wore against her skin – had frightened her. The sword was clearly agitated, angry, furious they had not yet found the hilt, turning them against each other not because it was sentient but because it was not: it was just raw emotion, raw desire, raw rage. Kill your enemies was its one thought, its one motivation, and it saw almost everyone as an enemy – even when its power was being felt by two individuals who were actually friends. More than friends.

  Wally thought their love was strong enough to fight off the sword’s fury. Maybe so. Maybe when it was whole that fury would be less wide-ranging. Maybe then it would truly submit to their will.

  But what if Wally was wrong? What if, once the sword was united, it had its own agenda, its own goals, and her mantra – I control the sword; it does not control me – was proved nothing more than childish defiance?

  What if the Lady had lied to them?

  Wally had suggested that long ago, and she’d refused to listen. But now, as their quest neared its end, she wondered.

  This is no time for doubt, she told herself staunchly, but another part of her disagreed.

  This is the perfect time for doubt, it murmured.

  Though she really didn’t want to, she let go of Wally and stepped back. “So,” she said, “assuming you’re really onto something, how do we break into a gravestone? Water’s not going to do it. Not even ice – it’s not like those rocks in the cave on Cacibajagua. There’s no opening into it.”

  “But what if we made one?” Wally said excitedly. “All we need is a crack. Heck, we didn’t look closely – maybe it’s already cracked. Force in water, freeze it, do it over and over…”

  “Awfully slow,” Ariane said. “But maybe.”

  “Or maybe we don’t have to do it there at all,” Wally said. “If we could pull it out of the ground, you could transport it somewhere else, and we could break it at our leisure. Back to Barringer Farm, even. There are tools in the barn.”

  “How much would something like that weigh?”

  “A lot,” Wally admitted. “But no more than me, and you transport me.”

  Ariane thought about it, staring out at the blue water of Kenosee Lake, mist rising from it into the dawn light. “It might work,” she said. “But we won’t take it to Barringer Farm.”

  “Why not?”

  Ariane turned toward him. “Because I don’t know what will happen if we do free the hilt,” she said seriously. “Look what the shards we already have just made us do. We were almost at each other’s throats. What if we can’t control the sword when its whole again? What if it made me lash out at Mom, or Aunt Phyllis, or Emma? It’s too dangerous. We have to go somewhere far away from everyone.”

  “But without tools?”

  “As long as there are rocks around we can break it open,” Ariane said. “Just pick it up and drop it on something hard. I’m thinking the mountains.”

  Wally nodded. “Makes sense.” He looked at the lake. “So, let’s get back there and –”

  “Wally, we were caught less than half an hour ago digging up a grave,” Ariane pointed out. “We’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest. There are going to be Mounties there soon, if they’re not there already. We can’t show up in broad daylight and just kick over the gravestone.”

  “I know,” Wally said. “But we can’t stay away all day, either. What if Rex Major turns up?” He frowned at the lake. “Wait a minute…there was another pond, right down at the end of the park, past the church, near that old two-storey house. It had some trees and bushes around one end. What if you take us in there, and we keep an eye on things from cover until the coast is clear?” He grinned. “It’ll be like a picnic, only with the added excitement of possibly getting caught by Mounties.”

  “Lying in the weeds beside a slough avoiding law enforcement,” Ariane said. “You’re such a romantic.” She sighed. “But I suppose you’re right. And as long as we’re close to the water we can get away even if we are seen.” Her stomach growled. “Can we at least get something to eat first?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Wally said. He looked around at the woods. “There�
��s a hotel on this lake somewhere. Bet you there’s a restaurant.”

  “Let’s go find out,” Ariane said. She held out her hand, Wally took it, and they walked into the water and melted away.

  •••

  Felicia, when she disembarked from the company jet, was not happy to be told the trip to Cannington Manor was happening right that minute. “I thought I’d at least get one day in Toronto to go shopping like you promised,” she grumbled.

  “I’m just putting it off for a few days,” Major said. “This could be the end of the quest, Felicia. New shoes will wait.”

  “Not if they’re the only pair left and they’re on sale,” Felicia pointed out, but she followed Major across the tarmac to his private jet, parked not far from the just-arrived corporate one, and climbed in. She immediately went to the lounge refrigerator for a Diet Coke and a bag of sour-cream-and-onion chips.

  Major didn’t go to his office: he helped himself to a large whisky and settled down in one of the lounge chairs – buckling himself in, of course – to enjoy it. The engines revved up, and he leaned back and closed his eyes. Unless they died in the next few minutes on takeoff, or the plane suffered a catastrophic mechanical failure en route, or they crashed on landing, the final piece of Excalibur might soon be his.

  It was a moment to savour.

  So of course Felicia Knight spoiled it.

  “Wally and Ariane both told me something,” she said. She sat across from him, likewise buckled in, but slouched down and with her arms folded across her chest. The can of Coke sat on the low table between them, the unopened bag of chips beside it. Today she wore tight red-leather pants and a matching jacket, beneath which was a black T-shirt, sequins spelling out “Superstar” across her chest. Shiny high-heeled black boots encased her feet. The outfit was only slightly less inappropriate than the cocktail dress she’d insisted on wearing to Castle MacPhaiden.

  “I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything they told you,” Major said. “They are my sister’s creatures, and they will say anything to obtain the final piece of Excalibur.”

  “And you’re saying you wouldn’t?” Felicia said.

  Major sipped his whisky, then held it in both hands as the plane started to roll. “What’s this all about?” And couldn’t it wait until we’ve either made it safely airborne or died in the attempt?

  “They both said that no one came to help Wally on Cacibajagua. They said you didn’t send any one, that you wanted him to die – or at least didn’t care if he did.”

  Tread carefully, Major thought. “First of all, Felicia, as I just said, they will lie without a second thought if it helps them get the hilt of Excalibur. And second, Ariane simply got there first and spirited Wally away before the men from the resort reached the spot. They’re just trying to turn you against me.”

  “That’s not all Ariane told me,” Felicia said. “She also said that tranquilizer you shot her with almost killed her –”

  “As I told you, that was a risk –”

  “– and she said,” Felicia pushed on, “that if she had…dissolved, or whatever the hell she does, Wally would have dissolved, too. Wally would have died.” Felicia’s eyes suddenly locked on his, hard as diamonds. “Were you lying when you said he’d be safe?”

  “I was not,” Major said, calmly, and sincerely, and, of course, utterly falsely. “Felicia, your brother betrayed me and I hold no particular fondness for him, but I know you do, and so I would never hurt him, because I know that would hurt you.”

  They were accelerating. They’d be airborne in a minute. Rex Major’s heart raced in anticipation of that. It had nothing to do with whether or not Felicia believed him.

  Did it?

  She can’t stop me, he thought. Even if she betrays me, too, she can’t stop me.

  Felicia didn’t respond. Arms still folded, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes as Rex Major’s private jet roared into the cloudy skies above Toronto.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Hilt

  Two and a half hours after they’d arrived in Kenosee Lake, refortified once again with carbs and coffee, and with a picnic lunch packed for later in the day, Wally and Ariane returned to Cannington Manor. At the southeastern end of the road that defined the village rose one of the handful of still-standing buildings, a two-storey white house. North of it grew trees and bushes, and close to those, partially hidden by them at one end, was a slough – a different and somewhat larger pond than they’d materialized in before, though not far away from the first. Ariane brought them back into being behind the trees, and finessed their arrival so that they didn’t send up a geyser of water as sometimes happened when she was in a hurry. They crawled through mud and reeds out of the pond and in among the saplings and bushes, and she ordered them dry as they peered across and down the road toward the churchyard, through the large gate, big enough to admit a vehicle, in the eastern corner of the wire fence.

  They could just see Ebenezer’s grave past the corner of the church. Wally had half-expected yellow crime-scene tape and a dozen police cars, but that was clearly a function of watching too many cop shows. If, in fact, the Mounties had been called, they were long gone. The only person in sight was the man who had chased them earlier that morning, filling in the hole they had dug.

  “This may be easier than I thought,” Wally said softly to Ariane. “If he leaves soon, the park will be deserted…”

  It was a nice thought, but hopelessly naïve, he realized a few minutes later, as two white trucks drove into the park through the main gate down at the far end of the gravel path. Workers got out, and for the rest of the morning and afternoon, the park was, if not exactly a beehive of activity, at least too busy for Wally and Ariane to show themselves. The workers seemed to be there to un-cart and reposition artifacts in the buildings in preparation for the summer visitors, who would begin to arrive the coming weekend. Winter’s winds and melting snows had left behind trash and untidy mounds of decaying leaves, so a general cleanup was also in progress. As a result, there was always someone in sight.

  But the first thing all those workers did, before picking up a rake or lifting a box, was make a pilgrimage to the churchyard to see the vandalized grave of Ebenezer Knight. Wally felt guilty about digging up Great-Grandpa’s grave for no good reason – but he reminded himself that if they hadn’t, he might never have realized that the “cross” on the gravestone was really a sword hilt, and that the hilt was not buried at all, but inside the stone.

  If it really was.

  It has to be, he told himself staunchly, but in fact he knew it didn’t have to be at all – that the hilt on the stone might have just been Great-Grandpa’s own private joke, referencing the treasure he’d actually hidden somewhere else, where no one would ever find it.

  He glanced at Ariane. She’d dozed off shortly after they’d arrived, and lay stretched out on the ground, her head pillowed on her arms, her black hair, hanging loose, hiding her face from him. Once again he felt a wave of affection for her – affection, and a fierce hope that this would be the end of it, that as soon as the coast was clear, they would grab the headstone, smash it open, get the hilt, take the other shards from Merlin and complete the Lady’s quest – and maybe, after all that, just be Wally and Ariane, ordinary high school students looking forward to an ordinary life.

  Huh, he thought, looking back down and across the road to the churchyard where the hilt might be waiting. Now that I put that into words, it doesn’t sound nearly as wonderful as I thought it would.

  The fact was, he’d enjoyed the adventure. He’d always dreamed of being given a magical quest, and here he was, on the verge of fulfilling one. Oh, sure, there had been awful moments, moments of terror and despair and sadness – but there had also been wonderful moments, moments of pure joy.

  Moment of pure love, he thought, looking at Ariane again.

  The truth was, he’d never felt more alive than he had during the quest for the shards of Excalibur. He’d never
experienced anything so exciting. He’d never done anything that felt like it mattered as much as this.

  He remembered an old song from the First World War he’d run across somewhere online – How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paree? the lyrics ran. How could he and Ariane go back to being ordinary when the past six months had been so extraordinary?

  Well, first things first, he reminded himself. First, you have to get the hilt. And for that to happen, you have to have guessed right about its location – and this park has to empty out for the night.

  Which was still hours away.

  Wishing he’d brought a book, wishing he could emulate Ariane and fall asleep – but afraid to, because if anyone wandered over to their hiding place for any reason, someone had better be awake – he tried to make himself more comfortable on the hard ground. At least it’s not muddy, he thought – Ariane had taken care of that when they’d first arrived, drying the spot where they’d be lying – but that didn’t make it any more like a feather bed. In fact, she had probably made it harder.

  Ironically, considering he’d just been thinking how much he’d miss the excitement of the quest once it was over, this was shaping up to be the most boring day ever.

  But then, despite his determination to stay awake, despite the hardness of the ground, his body betrayed him. He’d been shorted on sleep for days, his internal clock was horribly confused from the trips back and forth across the Atlantic, and he’d spent the early hours of the morning in hard physical labour. Without his even realizing it, his eyelids closed, and he slept, and slept soundly.

  He awoke with a start to the sound of a slamming car door.

  He raised his head and blinked through the screen of bushes.

  The sun had leaped across the sky. It was late afternoon now. The slamming door belonged to a black SUV…

  …and getting out of it were Rex Major, two men he didn’t recognize…

  …and Flish.

  •••

  The flight from Toronto to Regina passed both very quickly and very, very slowly for Merlin – quickly because he kept himself busy with emails and spreadsheets and other business-related activities, slowly because he didn’t know what Ariane and Wally were doing, and if they somehow got to the hilt first…