Quests for Glory

by Soman Chainani

  “Are you king or not?”

  “Who is this Lion!”

  “If you won’t fight the Snake, he will!”

  “Be quiet,” said Tedros.

  No one listened.

  Tedros shot his gold fingerglow over their heads like a firework, scorching a hole through all the maps.

  “I SAID BE QUIET,” Tedros roared.

  The whole table fell silent.

  “Thought there was a ban on magic at Camelot,” Putsi’s empress peeped.

  A map smacked her in the head.

  “Listen to me and listen clearly. The Snake is lying,” Tedros declared. “He says he’s King Arthur’s eldest son and rightful heir. If that were true, my father would have to have had a child before I was born. But my father was with my mother from the time he was a boy at school until he married her and she gave birth to me. It’s impossible my father would have another son. First of all, he loved my mother devotedly and would never betray her. Second, he would have never kept a secret like that from the woman he married nor from the son he groomed to be king. Whatever became of my father in his last years, he was a Good man—and an honest one. All of you know that to be true. It’s why your kingdoms turned to him to lead whenever Good and Evil faced a common threat. But there is more evidence that the Snake is lying. For instance, who would be the mother of this supposed heir? Certainly not my mother. And any other woman who’d have borne King Arthur’s son would have shouted it from the rooftops for gold or fame alone. And lastly, would a son of King Arthur—the king who fought to protect all of you—be out wreaking havoc and murdering my friends? This Snake is not my father’s son. This Snake is not my father’s heir. He cannot pull Excalibur.” His eyes went to Guinevere near the door. “Right, Mother?”

  The entire table turned to her.

  Guinevere blinked back. “Of course.”

  The group murmured agreement. Tedros tried to feel relief, but then he saw his mother’s eyes shift to the floor, her throat bobbing.

  Should have asked your mousy old mum, the advisors had said. She knows everything, no matter how dumb she plays. . . .

  But now Tedros could hear the Ice Giant and the King of Bloodbrook murmuring over whether there was still a reward for his mother’s and Lance’s heads. . . .

  Tedros glared daggers at them. “This Snake is a lying mongrel and yet he’s managed to divide us right at the moment when we need each other most. Good and Evil may be at eternal war, but we must also come together when our world faces an outside threat—something my father understood and fought for. We cannot let the Snake tear us apart. We must join as allies, build an army that I will command, and destroy him once and for—”

  The door flew open, almost knocking Guinevere and Lancelot over, and a hawk and a horned owl whizzed into the room, spearing more holes in the maps, each bird carrying a scroll in its beak. The hawk dropped its scroll into the hands of the King of Foxwood and the owl dropped its message to the Prince of Mahadeva, both of whom opened them quickly.

  “‘Snake and his band of trolls broke into castle, took your daughter hostage,’” the Foxwood king read, eyes wide. “‘Lion arrived and freed her. Trolls executed. Snake on the loose.’”

  “‘Snake’s werewolves fed three guards to the man-eating hills,” the Mahadeva prince read from his scroll. “Lion saved the rest.”

  A sparrow zipped through the door and dropped a note in the King of Camelot’s lap.

  Tedros opened it.

  “‘Snake knows I’m on his tail. He’s coming for Camelot. Will try and take your kingdom by force. We must meet immediately and prepare for war. Name your time and place,’” he read out loud. “Signed, ‘Your Loyal Knight.’”

  Tedros stared at it, speechless.

  “You ask us to build an army for you,” said the King of Bloodbrook. “When perhaps it’s the Lion who deserves such an army.”

  Tedros shook his head. “So-called ‘Lion,’ you mean. Because he’s lying too. I haven’t appointed any knights. My only knight is dead—”

  “Well, then this boy surely took it upon himself to replace him,” said the King of Jaunt Jolie. “Your father had his best knight defending his banner in the Woods. For a good while at least.” He glanced sourly at Lancelot, then back at the king. “In times like these, you need an ally you can trust. An ally like this Lion, who has already proven himself.”

  “I don’t even know who he is,” Tedros persisted.

  “Then I’ll ride out with a full envoy to meet the Lion as he asks,” said the Duchess of Glass Mountain.

  “I will ride with you,” said the Queen of Ravenbow. “We should meet the one who’s fighting the Snake.”

  “The one doing a king’s job. Count me and my knights in too,” said the King of Foxwood—

  “I’ll go,” said Tedros.

  The leaders turned to him.

  “What all of you say is true,” Tedros said, regaining his composure. “Whoever this so-called Lion is, he’s saved my princess and friends in the name of Camelot and is calling himself my knight. But he asked me to meet him—no one else—and I will oblige. The rest of you will stay here in the castle and make plans for battle. If the Snake is coming for Camelot soon, we must be ready to fight him.”

  Lancelot stepped forward. “Your Highness, you won’t be safe in the Woods alone. You don’t even know where the Snake is. He could ambush you with his army. It’s too risky—”

  “More risky to let this Snake spread lies and depend on a stranger to stop him. A stranger we know nothing about,” said Tedros. “When we were arguing about the Four Point, you were the one who told me to leave the castle and do my job as a king. Well, I’m taking your advice, Sir Lancelot. I’ll go meet this Lion and if he is indeed a loyal ally to our cause, I’ll bring him to fight in our army. I’ll ride into the Woods tonight.”

  “Then you’ll take me with you,” said Lancelot.

  “No,” Tedros ordered, for his mother’s sake. “You are needed here—”

  “A king must have a knight. You will take Lancelot,” said Guinevere’s voice.

  Tedros and Lancelot both spun to her, surprised.

  “Lancelot was your father’s best knight and champion. Taking Lance is what your father would have done and it’s what you must do too,” said Guinevere, standing tall.

  Whatever tension was in her face had been replaced with a firm resolve, leaving no room for negotiation.

  “I can’t leave you here alone, Mother. Not without him,” Tedros said, still stunned. In moments like this, she’d always chosen to protect Lancelot over her son. She’d always chosen to protect their love first.

  Guinevere turned to the leaders. “While the king and his knight ride into the Woods, I’ll work with your kingdoms to build an army. This boy who calls himself the Lion is surely right. If the Snake’s attacks in the Woods are failing, he will come for Camelot with a vengeance. And he’ll do it soon to rob us of time to regain our strength. It doesn’t matter anymore what the king did or didn’t do at the Four Point. If Camelot falls to the Snake, he will not summon councils or build alliances or solicit your opinions. He has no respect for diplomacy, legitimacy, or the Truth. Many of you saw this firsthand when he tried to murder you and your families. That is just an inkling of what could lie in store for us all. If Camelot falls, then so will all of your realms. From here on out, we are either allies or enemies, and if we are enemies, Good and Evil are both doomed. Choose now.”

  Rulers mumbled to each other, giving her suspicious looks, but Guinevere cut them off. “As for your feelings about me, I was once a king’s wife. I know how to execute the work of a queen.” She looked right at the King of Bloodbrook and the Ice Giant of Frostplains. “And if the bounty on my head is worth more than the safety of your people, then by all means, strike the first blow.”

  Neither of the Never leaders said a word. The rest of the table gazed at Guinevere with fresh eyes, as did her son, who knew all too well how easy it was to misjudge her.
The only sounds in the room were the impatient tweets of the Lion’s sparrow, waiting for a reply to take back to his sender.

  “Then it’s decided,” said Tedros, turning to his colleagues. “I will ride to meet this ‘Lion’ and the rest of you will remain at Camelot to prepare for war. My stewards will show you to your rooms. Summit dismissed.”

  The leaders dispersed, giving both the king and his mother small nods as they left. Tedros tucked the Lion’s sparrow messenger into his pocket and sewed up the holes in the floating maps with his fingerglow before he glanced up and saw that the room had emptied, save for his mother and Lancelot, embracing in the corner.

  Tedros came up behind them. “Thank you for helping me. Both of you. When it came to protecting the kingdom, I know how much my father trusted you as his knight, Sir Lancelot. It’s time I did the same. You are now my knight too.”

  Lancelot met the young king’s gaze. “We ride tonight, Your Highness.”

  Guinevere lifted her head from Lancelot’s arms, her eyes red and scared, looking between her son and her true love.

  “Bring him back safe,” she said.

  Tedros didn’t know who she was talking about.

  And he didn’t ask.

  Tedros blew gently on the black ink until it was dry. He’d rewritten the scroll a few times to make sure his handwriting looked especially regal.

  SHERWOOD FOREST TOMORROW

  6:00 P.M.

  at MARIAN’S ARROW

  PASSWORD is “LITTLE JOHN”

  —KING TEDROS of CAMELOT

  A cool breeze sifted into his bedroom through the open balcony door. Tedros rolled up the parchment, stamped a wax seal of Camelot’s crest, and tucked the message into the sparrow’s feet. He fed the tiny courier a scrap of toast, and leaning out the balcony, he sent it flying into violet evening.

  Sherwood Forest was the only possible place to meet this so-called Lion. For one thing, it was less than a day’s ride from Camelot. But more importantly, the Forest was a secure stronghold guarded by Robin Hood and his Merry Men, its routes so dense that the Snake or his minions couldn’t possibly attack there. Luckily, Tedros’ father had a long-standing alliance with Robin Hood, so the king and the Lion could convene safely—and privately—at Marian’s Arrow, where the door was password protected and where everyone knew the only rule of the pub: what happens inside stays inside.

  Standing at the balcony, Tedros watched the twilight cast shadows on the Pool Garden. King Arthur hadn’t wanted his bedroom smelling of flowers, so he’d had the royal gardens ripped up and replaced with a landscape of reflecting pools, some small, some big, in a variety of shapes, with a maze of paths swirling around them. Tedros could remember running about as a boy in wet shorts, hopping in and out of pools, chasing his mother, who was always one step ahead of him.

  The king took a deep breath, his first after the fever of the day. When the unexpected summit was over, he’d managed a quick bath and wolfed down a dinner of steak, broccoli, and sweet potatoes, pounding down double portions so he’d be ready for the ride to come. His stewards were preparing the horses with Lancelot and packing bags of provisions; Agatha’s maids, who’d been acting like headless chickens without Lady Gremlaine or Agatha to direct them, were put to work cleaning swords.

  Tedros was about to close his balcony door when he noticed a shadow sitting out on the stone bench by the biggest reflecting pool. He stepped out on the terrace and walked down the steps, passing a guard stationed at the entrance. In the dark, he could hardly see the thin path around the pools.

  “Hello,” he said, coming up behind the shadow.

  His mother smiled up at him, barefoot on the bench.

  “When are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Soon,” said Tedros, sitting beside her.

  “Did you—”

  “Eat? Believe it or not, if you don’t worry about me eating, I will still do it. And in sufficient quantities over the past six months to make the cooks despise me as much as the guards do. Which is . . . a lot.”

  His mother sighed. “They weren’t especially fond of you as a child either.”

  “Thanks, Mother,” said Tedros.

  They both looked at each other and cracked up.

  Slowly their laughter trailed off.

  “I wish I’d been here instead of hiding with Merlin and Lance these past months,” said Guinevere. “The reason I came back to Camelot in the first place was to stop hiding after all these years. To help you be king. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

  “I’ve gotten used to not having parents, to be honest,” Tedros said.

  His mother sat quietly, watching the wind sweep across the pools.

  “When I’m gone, keep your eye on the guards,” said Tedros. “No one can find Kei. The guard who locked me in. The other guards say they’ve never even heard of anyone by that name. But I don’t know what’s Truth and Lies anymore. Nor do I know who to trust. If anyone tries to kill you for the bounty, you’ll have nobody to help you.”

  “The price on my head is the furthest thing from my mind right now,” his mother said, dipping her foot in the pool. “But I’ve learned my lessons about trust. When I was queen, I snuck out of the castle every night for months to see Lance. I had to figure out which guards would keep my secret. In the end, I chose the wrong one. That’s how your father found out.”

  Tedros glanced at her, surprised. It was the first time she’d ever talked so honestly about deceiving his father.

  “Sometimes I worry about whether you know who to trust, though,” said Guinevere. “You seemed to have grown close to Lady Gremlaine while I was gone.”

  Tedros flinched. She was talking about that moment in the Hall of Kings when she, Merlin, and Dovey had returned. His mother’s first image of her son after six months of being away was seeing him coddled by a woman she hated.

  “I was surprised she was still in the castle,” said Guinevere briskly. “I thought you were going to fire her after the coronation.”

  “I needed her, Mother,” said Tedros, heating up. “The people were revolting, there was a bounty on your head, the kingdom was falling apart. . . . I needed someone who the people had faith in. Someone who could help me. No one was here—”

  “Agatha was here for you. That wasn’t enough?” said his mother.

  “I was trying to protect her from all that. It’s why I kept Lady Gremlaine in the castle,” said Tedros, defensively. “When you were queen, you ran away with Lance and hid from the world. You abandoned your responsibilities for love. But I have to balance my responsibilities with love. That’s what makes me different from you. Because what Agatha and I have . . . it isn’t a mockery like whatever you had with Dad.”

  Guinevere exhaled as if he’d socked her in the chest.

  “It wasn’t a mockery,” she said.

  “It wasn’t love. Let’s agree on that,” said Tedros. “If it were love, I wouldn’t have spent my whole life trying to figure out what love is. I wouldn’t wake up every day desperate to keep it now that I’ve found it. You can’t fathom how alone I felt, knowing my mother’s true love wasn’t my father. And every day I’m not with Agatha, that loneliness comes back. Because she’s the only person who has ever fought for me when I’m down. Everyone else just runs. You included.”

  His mother said nothing.

  “If it makes you feel better, you were right about Gremlaine,” Tedros mumbled. “Pretty sure she was conspiring with the advisors the whole time.”

  “I doubt that,” his mother said softly, almost to herself. “As little as I care for Lady Gremlaine, she cared for the Mistral Sisters even less. If I hadn’t fired her back when I was queen, she would have made sure Arthur never brought them into the castle. So we all paid a price for our mistakes in the end.”

  Tedros frowned, the plot he’d worked out in his head between Lady Gremlaine and those three hags suddenly growing fuzzy. . . .

  “Do you know where she lives?” he asked. �
��Lady Gremlaine?”

  Guinevere paused. “No.”

  It was pitch-dark now, save the torchlight coming from the windows of the castle behind them. Tedros could hardly see his mother’s face anymore.

  “Did the Mistrals tell you anything? About what they did with the money?” his mother asked.

  “No. They hid it somewhere, though. That’s for sure.” Tedros hesitated, picking at his nails. “They did say you know more than you’re letting on. That you’re playing dumb.”

  His mother pulled her toes out of the pool and slipped both feet back into her slippers, about to leave.

  Tedros grabbed her shoulder. “Why did you fire Lady Gremlaine? Please. I need to know.”

  Guinevere’s shadow was very still. Finally she slackened, as if there was no running from this anymore. “She grew too close to your father, Tedros. This was before you were born. Gremlaine had always been in love with him—the whole kingdom knew that—so when he came back from school with me on his arm, she absolutely loathed me. To the point that I never drank from any glass she offered, fearing it was poisoned.”

  Tedros’ eyes bulged. “She was in love with him? Before I was born? But then that means—”

  “No, she did not have his child, Tedros,” said Guinevere testily, pulling away. “That’s why I didn’t want to talk about this. Because I knew you’d jump to conclusions. Do you really think I’d keep that secret from you? If I knew you had an elder brother? If I knew you weren’t the rightful king? Your father would have told me. Arthur had his faults, but he was not a liar and he was not a cheat. Which is more than you might say about me. But this is the truth: you are king. No matter what any Snake says.”

  Tedros looked down, his crown sinking deeper on his head.

  “It’s time you knew the whole story,” Guinevere continued. “I told Arthur to fire Gremlaine, but he wouldn’t. Not that I was worried about Arthur betraying me. He was too honest a man and too in love with me to ever do anything like that. It’s why I know the Snake is lying. Still, I didn’t want to watch Lady Gremlaine continue fawning over him so openly. It was infuriating, for one thing, and for another, people were starting to talk. So I had her moved to the White Tower early in my reign so we would see as little of her as possible. Our paths rarely crossed that year you were born. Even with her out of sight, though, I could feel her lurking, always insinuating herself between your father and I. After you were born, I finally convinced Arthur to let me fire her. It wasn’t easy. . . .”