I twisted around my dance partner, snatching the key ring out of his pocket. Coming back around, we fell into a left tango then right. I used every ounce of my stealth powers to keep the key ring hidden. When my partner proceeded to spin me out, I stretched out my free hand to pass it to Jason. Alas, this knight was ahead of the beat. He reeled me in before my hand could reach Jason’s.
With a thud, I spiraled against the knight’s chest. I didn’t have time to regain my bearings. He thrust me out again and whirled me back toward him just as quickly. I only had one more thrust left before our opportunity expired, one more chance to reach Jason.
Harnessing all my feminine fire and focus, I kept my partner’s attention on my face as my left hand hovered behind his neck with the key ring still clutched in my palm. He dipped me and then thrust me out a final time.
The timing was perfect. As I flung out my left arm, Jason took the key ring and pocketed it before his own partner spun back in. My brooched knight raised me up for the lift. I met eyes with Blue and SJ and winked. An instant later I was lowered and tossed into Jason’s arms.
“Nice,” he whispered just before launching me to my next partner.
To be courteous, and remain inconspicuous, I danced with my new partner for a few beats before expressing my wish to retire from the dance circle. SJ excused herself next, followed by Blue, and then eventually Jason.
After we’d ditched our dance partners, we met by the buffet. My eyes wandered to the prime rib on the center table, but I reminded my brain to stay focused.
“I’ve got the key,” Jason said, patting his pocket. “And I also found our way out of here. I was talking with one of my dance partners, and the Knights’ Room is down the hall past the music quarters and the library. Since guests have been going in and out of the ballroom, I think we can slip out unnoticed.”
“Okay, what about Rampart?” I asked. But as I looked through the crowd, I realized the king wasn’t on his throne anymore. His wife or whatever was still there. But he and that elderly, regal woman were gone.
“He got up and left a couple minutes ago with his grandmother.”
“His grandmother?”
“Oh yeah,” Jason said. “I found out that the old woman with the crazy levitation magic is his grandmother Morgause. She is very powerful and not very forgiving according to another one of the girls I was dancing with.”
“How many girls exactly did you dance with?” Blue asked, her hands on her hips.
“Morgause,” I thought aloud, changing the subject before Blue could grill Jason further. “She is one of King Arthur’s relatives, right?”
“Yeah,” Blue replied, reluctant to give up her previous topic, but too compelled by the fairytale history nerd inside her not to answer the question. “She is his aunt—the sister of Arthur’s late mother Igraine. Morgause married this guy named King Lot and had a bunch of kids, but she also had an affair with Arthur’s father, Uther Pendragon. That’s how she sired Mordred.”
“But Rampart is a Pendragon,” I said. “And Arthur never had any brothers or sisters. If Morgause is Rampart’s grandmother, then that means Rampart is—”
“Mordred’s son,” SJ interrupted. “The current king of Camelot is the son of the man who killed King Arthur.”
“I’m beginning to understand why a lot of his citizens don’t like him,” I commented. “Hardly the people’s choice award for best legacy. How did a guy like that even come into power?”
“I don’t know,” Jason replied. “But Blue can check the history books about that later. Right now, we should leave while we have the chance.” He nodded at a set of open double doors on the other side of the room.
We made our way through the glittering crowd, around the dance circles, and past servants waiting on guests. I kept vigilant. Just because the king wasn’t in the room didn’t mean we were in the clear.
“If Rampart’s not here, then he’s somewhere in the castle. We’ll have to watch our step,” I said, following Jason out.
“SJ is rubbing off on you, Crisa. You worry too much,” Blue said, maneuvering past a trio of excited courtiers. “Considering what we just did, I think we’ve taken ‘watching our step’ to an art form. That, and utilizing our feminine wilds.”
Jason cocked his eyebrows. “Your what?”
“Feminine wilds,” Blue repeated.
“I think you mean wiles.”
“No, it’s wilds,” Blue insisted. “As in, animalistic instinct that can’t be tamed.”
“I don’t think so,” Jason responded. “SJ, can I get a ruling?”
SJ shook her head, exasperated. “We shall look it up in a dictionary later. For now, can we focus on the task at hand?”
“Ugh, fine,” Blue huffed. “But I still say it’s wilds.”
I laughed.
And I thought I provided the comic relief in this story.
feel small,” Blue said in a low voice.
Stepping into the Knights’ Room—the room that Ormé said was above the Boar’s Mouth Temple—I had to agree. Gray marble floors supported massive obsidian pillars that led up to a ceiling of overlapping large mirrors. The mirrors reflected the great centerpiece at the heart of the room: an enormous round table. And by round table, I mean the Round Table.
The mahogany wonder must’ve been thirty feet in diameter. There were fifty tall-backed chairs surrounding it, each constructed from dark wood with a navy velvet seat and back cushion. While all the chairs were carved with fine designs, one seat at the other end of the table was significantly larger and more intricate. I drifted toward it, running my fingers along the backs of the chairs as I went.
When I reached the grand chair—the king’s chair, no doubt—I looked around the room. Lit torches lined the walls and added to the strong, commanding atmosphere. I could feel power emanating around us as potently as if it were blended in with the oxygen.
Above the door we’d entered hung five large tapestries. The first held a familiar inscription. It was the Great Lights Prophecy—the prophecy that had set me and Alex on this violent opposing path:
“A game of four kings
Three of them lost
A struggle for the realm
Where one king pays the cost.
This fate will be forged
By one Knight alone
Born of royal blood
Heir to the lion’s throne.
The Oath pledged to Camelot’s king
Endowed with the quest
And blessed by the Boar’s Mouth
With strength to pass the test.
The Lake shall be crossed
And the Sword will be found
To the rightful king returned
When Great Lights strike the ground.”
I felt bitterness as I read it. I also felt resentful at the wizard Merlin who’d spoken the prophecy into existence and shackled me to its direction. People needed to stop having prophecies that involved me. I was trying to forge my own path and define my own fate. That was a lot harder to do when magical, powerful people kept spitting out destinies for me to fulfill.
I valued Liza as a mentor and an ally, but if I was being completely honest with myself, I think I would always feel a little bitterness toward her for starting all this trouble in my life with her prophecy. Since the woman had become so important to me, and I cared for her, I knew I could never tell her this. Nor could I smack her. But Merlin was a different story. If I ever met him I’d be severely tempted to give him a good thump on the back of the head. Unfortunately, according to Arthur, the wizard had been missing for years.
My gaze drifted to the other tapestries above the door and I paused on one in the middle. It was gold and black with a set of crossed swords at the center.
“Over here.”
SJ’s voice echoed across the chamber. She was standing near the back wall next to a gargantuan fireplace. Gold floret designs decorated the mantle. The fireplace itself was so clean that it looked like it had never bee
n used. SJ stepped inside it and promptly disappeared from view.
“Just as I thought,” her voice echoed. “There is a passageway through this fireplace.”
“How do you know?” Blue asked.
“There is no ventilation system in here,” SJ called. “There is only stone overhead, meaning this is a fake fireplace. And look …” She stuck her head out and pointed at the floor. “These dust patterns do not fall naturally. It is as though something has moved across this space repeatedly.”
“That must be the entrance to the Boar’s Mouth Temple,” Jason said. “Any ideas on how to open it?”
“It’s best not to overthink these things,” Blue responded. “People are suckers for consistency, so let’s go with classic fairytale logic. If fireplaces, bookshelves, and tapestries are the most common hiding places for secret passageways, what are the most common ways to open them?”
“I’d go with moving a book on a bookshelf, wall candelabras that double as levers, and …” I glanced around the room and spotted a life-size statue of a lion. “Buttons hidden inside statues.”
Our group moved toward the statue. It was made of marble, but its eyes were glittering emeralds. The four of us studied it, searching for a clue. I peeked inside the lion’s mouth and saw that the opening ran deep. Something shiny inside caught the light for a split second.
I stepped back. The lion’s mouth was too narrow for me to fit my arm inside. I knew what I had to do.
“And history repeats itself,” I said, drawing my wandpin.
Transforming it into a sword, I shoved the blade inside the lion’s mouth until I felt it press against something. A button.
Like I had with the dragon statue back at the Capitol Building at the start of this adventure, I twisted my sword inside the lion’s mouth and unlocked the secret passage. The sides of the fireplace slowly pushed outward. We heard the sound of various locks and tumblers moving within the wall. Then the stones directly in front of the fireplace pulled apart, revealing a stairwell.
“You were right,” I said to Blue, returning my wand to pin form and tucking it within my dress. “People are suckers for consistency.” I turned to Jason. “You still have that Mark Two on you?”
While Blue, SJ, and I had no place to keep our communicative magic mirrors, Jason’s suit had pockets. He pulled out his compact and tossed it to me.
“SJ, can you keep watch while we go down?” I asked. “If anybody comes in, I think your potions might be our best bet for evading trouble.”
“I agree. Should I call Daniel to tell him we will be out soon?”
“You read my mind.” I handed her the Mark Two.
Leaving SJ behind, we descended the dark staircase. There weren’t any torches to light the way. However, every step was encrusted with a flat, glassy substance that made the stairs glow vaguely like they’d been coated with the saliva of stars. When we reached the bottom, we faced a grand door made of Jacobee stone. A boar’s face was carved into it and there was a lock beside the handle.
Jason removed the key ring from his pocket. There were four keys on it. He placed the gold one inside the lock and turned. With a mighty, ominous creak, the door hinged open. We stepped into a temple of shadows.
The only light came from the floor and ceiling, which were partially constructed from the same luminescent material as the stairs. Fewer sections of the floor and ceiling glowed the farther from the door you got, and as a result the far sides of the room were shrouded in darkness, concealing the true size of the temple.
Twisting pillars stretched up and connected in curved arches all around us. A row of parallel empty silver braziers led to the rear of the room where a massive statue in the shape of an open-mouthed boar’s head was mounted.
The statue was three times bigger than the head of an actual boar. It was mostly composed of gold, but its eyes, tusks, and teeth were made of dark blue sapphires—sharpened so finely they would’ve mortally impaled any beast unlucky enough to fall upon them.
“Okay, it’s all you from here,” Blue said, gesturing from me to the boar.
I took a deep breath and approached the statue. Ormé had said that I needed to place my hand inside its mouth and state my quest. If it was a worthy mission and my heart was strong enough to complete it, then I would receive the blessing.
Gingerly I placed my hand inside the Boar’s Mouth. My wrist lay upon the prickly points of sapphire teeth between the two tusks.
I gulped.
Prophecies were vague. My friends and I had learned from our own prologues not to expect the obvious when it came to their outcomes. Camelot’s Great Lights Prophecy could be no different. I genuinely might not be the “Knight” with the potential to retrieve Excalibur. It could be Alex, or it could be someone else with no connection to either of us. Believing that I was the one and offering myself up to this boar was a gamble. If the statue didn’t bless me, it would bite off my hand.
I shuddered. Then I exhaled slowly to chase away my nerves.
You can do this. If you don’t believe that, neither will the boar.
I stared directly into the eyes of the glittering animal. Alex had been here recently. He hadn’t gotten his hand bitten off; according to Mauvrey, pledging The Oath to the wrong king caused the statue to not respond at all. But this wouldn’t be the case with me. This was going to end one way or the other. Might as well get it over with.
I wasn’t sure how formal a proclamation I had to make, but I decided to wing it.
“I seek Excalibur,” I said bluntly. “I want to retrieve it from Avalon and use it to free the mind of our friend Paige Tomkins from Glinda’s memory stone, learn the secret of the genies’ whereabouts before the antagonists do, and once this is done, return the sword to Camelot’s rightful king just like the prophecy says. I will return it to Arthur.”
It was quiet for a second, and then—
“Argh!”
I screamed as an unexpected force sucked my entire arm inside the Boar’s Mouth. My shoulder was jammed against the tusks and I couldn’t get free.
“Crisa!”
My friends rushed to my aid but stopped when the room began to rumble and a great wind blew them back.
A bone-chilling voice echoed all around us. “Your mission is worthy,” it said. “But there will be a price to pay.” The boar’s voice boomed like a megaphone, resonating deep within my head and chest. The statue’s eyes glowed ardently, pulsating with every word.
“Another will seek the sword. Another sword will seek you,” the boar continued. “What you gain will be beyond compare. But the cost will shift your fate beyond repair. Do you accept these terms and assert that your heart is strong enough to pay the price?”
A chill passed over me. The boar spoke in riddles and it felt like I was signing a contract I hadn’t read. I wondered if this was how the Little Mermaid felt when she went to the sea witch to exchange her voice for legs.
Girl definitely didn’t read the fine print on that deal.
That part of the Little Mermaid’s story always felt like a cautionary tale to me, like a warning against entering into legal arrangements without having all the facts. And yet here I was making a similar, unadvised exchange. I didn’t know the specifics of what the boar was talking about, so agreeing to the terms was an act of faith.
But I suppose that’s what all choices—and this quest—came down to in the end.
“I do,” I said. “I accept these terms and all that comes with them.”
A brilliant white light exuded from the statue’s mouth. It was so bright I had to shield my eyes with my other hand. A tingly feeling spread through my body. It was peaceful and almost cleansing, like a spa treatment for the soul. At least until I noticed what was happening. A white substance like smoke was seeping out of my skin and pulling away from me. When it left, I felt exposed and raw.
The aura twisted next to me in a morphing cloud for a few seconds before transforming into a full-size ghostly representation of me. Gh
ost Crisa blinked and wailed. Then she shot across the room and dove into a section of normal marble floor. When she absorbed into it, the normal bit of flooring changed and took on the same eerie, mystical glow as the stairs that led here and other parts of the temple’s floor and ceiling.
The light receded from the Boar’s Mouth and my arm was released. I eased it out of the cavity and took a few steps back, joining my friends
“You have been blessed,” the boar’s voice boomed. “Retrieve the sword and bring back Camelot’s lost king. Only when he sits on the throne will your mission be complete and this fragment of your soul be returned. Fail, and your physical body will wither within the year and the rest of your soul will be trapped here forever.”
The boar’s sparkling eyes extinguished and all went silent.
“So that’s what’s causing the floor to glow,” Jason thought aloud in awe. “The souls of the people who came down here, got blessed, and never completed their missions.”
“Seems kind of like overkill,” Blue commented. “We already have a bunch of people that want to eliminate us and like a dozen magical obstacles to worry about. Was another bit of hindering hocus pocus really necessary to the story at this point?”
“Probably not,” I replied. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll likely die six other ways before some stupid missing piece of my soul takes me down.”
“Fair enough,” Blue shrugged. “Still, I wish someone would give us all the information about what we’re getting into ahead of time. You know, ‘Do this. Watch out for that.’ I realize we were in a rush this morning, so Arthur didn’t write down any instructions before we left, but it would’ve been nice if Ormé had warned us about this part of the deal.”
“She may not have known,” I said, rubbing my arm. “In any case, it’s inconsequential now. What’s done is done.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
My heart froze and the three of us spun around. Two figures appeared from the shadowy depths of the temple: Rampart and Morgause. I had a feeling they’d witnessed the entire ordeal.
Crisanta Knight: To Death & Back Page 11