The Book Knights

by J. G. McKenney

  “I call to order the second meeting of the Book Knights,” announced Merl. “Those named by Excalibri at this table have but one quest: to seek the Grail Tome. Tomorrow night we must succeed in that task.” His expression darkened. “Failure is not an option.”

  He nodded at the model. “What are we facing, Gwen?”

  Gwen brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, um…let’s start here.” She pointed at a square located on the model’s border next to two curving parallel lines.

  “This is the outer checkpoint, a few hundred yards from the castle at the base of the hill. Everyone coming in has to stop here, first, so their identifications can be checked. Most days, there are two guards on duty, regular Incendi, but I’m guessing there will be more on Corporation Night.”

  Her finger traced its way along the curving road crossing the sweeping contours of the slope, stopping at another square, the same size as the first.

  “Checkpoint number two,” she said. “More Incendi and a heavy steel gate that connects to a ten-foot-high fence that surrounds the castle.” Gwen pointed at the dark line weaving its way across the cardboard.

  “The road comes right up to the building and runs along its southern wall, then it goes under a covered parkway. Here.” Gwen gently rotated the model, table and all, so everyone could see, reaching out and gently tapping the structure.

  “The main entrance is under it, the one the studio staff and execs use.” She removed the gabled parkway, revealing a set of double doors on the castle’s lower wall. She pushed on the doors with her finger, and they swung open on tiny tabbed hinges.

  “You can get to the tower this way, but you have to go up the main stairs or take the elevator. I’ll show you.”

  Gwen removed the roof of the main building. At intervals along the second-floor hallway, small doors opened into a series of divided compartments: the wide studio, the narrow Archive, the elevator across from it, and at the far end, Incendi headquarters with a flame inscribed on its miniature door. In a corner, next to the police office where the main building abutted the curving tower, there was a narrow passageway.

  “The tower stairs are through here,” she said, wedging her finger into the gap. “And this is where the stairs are accessed from outside.” She pointed to the tower’s round base, at an opening in the shape of a gothic arch.

  “That’s where the Incendi enter and leave the building. It’s the quickest way in and out of their headquarters. No one else is permitted to use the tower stairs. I was told they lead down to an old dungeon, the place where the Incendi keep their prisoners: decaps, readers, and in the deepest cells, scribes.” She immediately regretted sharing the information, knowing that Arti’s parents had likely been held there for interrogation—or worse. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Arti. “I—”

  “It’s okay,” said Arti, frowning down at the model. “We need to know everything.” She took a deep breath, “Go ahead.”

  Reluctantly, Gwen continued, “I…I’m pretty sure the stairs go all the way up to Fay’s office at the top of the tower.”

  “They do,” confirmed Merl. “The stairs are original to the castle. I’ve used them countless times. We stored the rarest and most valuable books up there.” In his memory, he could see the Grail Tomes resting on their marble pedestals in the center of the room. “The steps spiral all the way up from the ground to the tower suite. There’s a platform at the top leading to a heavy iron door, its hinges secured deep within the stone.” He glanced at Lance. “It is impenetrable to even the most determined assault. If it’s locked, there’s no getting through it.”

  “Then how are we going to get the book?” asked Arti. “When Fay leaves the tower to perform the Lighting, she’s going to lock the door.”

  Gwen shook her head. “I didn’t know about the door. Arti’s right; what’s the point, if we can’t get into Fay’s office? All of this,” she waived her hand at the model sprawled on the table, “was for nothing.”

  “Oh, but we can get in,” said Merl, slyly.

  Lance grinned at the old librarian. “Merl the Wise, I think you are keeping something from us.”

  “Very perceptive, young knight. In fact, I’ve kept it for twenty-five years.”

  From below the table Merl produced a rusty black key half the length of his forearm. The ancient tool was made of iron with an open bow at one end of its hammered shaft and an intricately shaped bit at the other, containing a complicated pattern of wards and teeth.

  “This key opens the door,” said Merl. “There were only two made. Morgan has one,” he reached across the table, “and this one I’m giving to you, Gwen. Arti will have enough to worry about carrying Excalibri and its well. And Lance will have his hands full dealing with the guards.”

  “Then we can do it,” said Arti, relieved. “We just have to get to that door.”

  “And that won’t be easy,” added Merl, soberly. “Here’s what I propose…”

  The old librarian stood, reaching across the model, pointing at a cluster of trees drawn on the perimeter of the grounds just outside the first checkpoint. “Gwen, will this forest provide enough cover to hide the motorhome and Lance’s car?”

  “I think so. It’s pretty thick in there. Even with most of the leaves down, they should be well hidden.”

  “Good,” said Merl. “That’s where we’ll park.” He traced his finger along one of the contour lines running outside the fence and stopped where the barrier started to climb the cliff edge below the castle. “At dusk, you’ll leave the trees and make your way here. You’ll cut through the fence—I have bolt cutters—and climb the slope to the castle. I’m hoping that with all the activity on the clifftop, the three of you should be able to make it up the hill, without being spotted.”

  Merl pointed his gloved hand at the main doors on the castle model. “The tower entrance will be swarming with Incendi, so your best bet is to enter here. You’ll make your way up the main stairs to the second level and go to the end of the hall, accessing the tower stairs through the passage next to Incendi headquarters.” His finger traced the route, ending at the narrow slit beside the door with the tiny flame insignia.

  “I expect you’ll run into some guards; there’s no way around it.” He nibbled nervously on his lower lip. “Lance, you’ll have to deal with them. When you get to Fay’s door at the top of the stairs, Gwen will use the key to open it.”

  Merl’s eyes met Arti’s, and he suddenly looked worried. As difficult as it was going to be to get inside Fay’s office, it all came down to her ability to wield Excalibri.

  “Get the book, and get back here as fast as you can,” said Merl. “The History may have already arrived at its final page, or we may have to wait until it does. And if for some reason you can’t make it back, as soon as the page is ready, you’ll have to write it, no matter where you are. That’s why you’re taking Excalibri and its well with you.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Gwen, realizing Merl had not included himself in the mission.

  “I am too old to fight like young Lance here,” he said. “Your memory and youth makes you a much better guide, Gwen. And Arti is the only one who can wield the pen. We must play to our strengths, and mine is knowledge.”

  Merl sat back and bridged his gloved fingers. “While you complete your quest for the book, I will lay siege in my own way: through The Meditations.

  “Morgan’s power has been unchallenged, her control unrivalled,” he explained. “The last thing she’ll welcome, on the eve of reaching her ultimate goal, is uncertainty.” A mischievous smile curled his lips. “Revealing my existence through the second Grail Tome should get her attention.”

  Arti’s eyes lit up. “When she realizes the other tome survived, she’ll think there’s another History. Another final page.”

  “Yes,” said Merl. “She won’t know that it was burned away in the fire. It will be her worst fear come true: that the other great book has survived, it’s in the hands o
f the Challenger, and someone else is stealing her prize while she’s playing to the cameras. It should draw her attention from her tome in the tower. And from you.”

  “A bluff,” said Arti.

  “A bluff,” nodded Merl.

  The old librarian looked across the round table at Gwen. “And if I can convince Fay the final page is being written before she lights the pyre, I might also be able to save the Archive.” He sighed. “I will try.”

  The planning session ended close to midnight, after Merl was confident everyone had memorized their roles. The old librarian had divided the mission into four stages: forest to fence, fence to castle entrance, castle entrance to Fay’s door, and Fay’s door to the tome. Gwen would carry the key and act as guide, deciding how and when to move; Lance would cut through the fence and deal with any guards who might get in their way; and Arti would make it all worthwhile, once they got the book. That last bit terrified her, and as she lie next to Gal’s bed, sleep seemed impossible.

  Merl had laid out the booth’s cushions for Arti and Gwen on the floor of the motorhome, he and Lance taking up residence for the night next to Lance’s Charger in the adjacent garage. None of them would sleep well, knowing how difficult their task would be. Even so, Merl’s last words, before calling the second meeting of the Book Knights to an end, impressed upon them the importance of being ready: “We only get one chance at this.”

  “Are you awake?” whispered Gwen.

  Arti delayed in answering, “Yes.”

  “I can’t sleep,” said Gwen.

  “Me neither,” admitted Arti, envious of Gal’s long, deep breaths emanating from the bench above her.

  “Let’s talk a while; maybe it’ll help.”

  Arti stared up through the darkness at the motorhome’s ceiling. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Anything but tomorrow night,” Gwen laughed. A nervous silence followed. “I…I’d like to know more about you.”

  “Really?” said Arti. “Why?”

  “You love books,” said Gwen. “I never thought I’d ever meet someone who was like me.”

  Like you? This time Arti wanted to laugh.

  “Tell me about your library,” said Gwen.

  “It was hidden in our house,” said Arti, picturing the little room with its shelves full of books, wrapped around the two soft leather chairs warmed by a tall reading lamp. She didn’t know why she was sharing something so personal with Gwen; the words just started to flow from her.

  “The room wasn’t very big, but it had a lot of books. When I was small, my mom and dad would read them with me before I went to bed.” Arti remembered her parents’ faces in the soft light, the warmth of their touch. It was the first time in weeks that she’d been able to see them so clearly in her mind.

  “I really miss them,” said Arti. Her lip quivered, and she was glad Gwen couldn’t see her face in the darkness.

  Gwen sensed the sadness in Arti’s voice. “Sorry, I’m doing it again. I know it hurts you to think about them. I can tell you really cared for each other.”

  “Care!” blurted Arti, loud enough that Gal stirred above her. “They’re still alive and I’m going to save them.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Gwen. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I envy you.”

  “You envy me?”

  “Yes. Your parents…love you. Mine only care about themselves, their careers. They don’t even know me. All my life, I’ve had to pretend to be something I’m not—for them. So they could have what they want. My life’s been one big lie.”

  “So you just left? Your home and your job with the Corporation?”

  “Best thing I ever did,” said Gwen. “I hated every minute of it.”

  “But everyone knows who you are. You’re famous.”

  “So? It means nothing when you’re alone. The Archive is the only thing that ever made me happy, that gave my life meaning.” She sighed, “Those books are all I have.”

  “Not anymore,” said Arti. “You have us now—Lance and Gal and Merl and me.”

  There was a long silence, and Arti thought she heard a sniffle from Gwen.

  “Are…are you alright?” asked Arti.

  “Yeah,” said Gwen. “It’s just that…that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  From that moment on, despite the four years that separated them in age, Arti and Gwen were like friends at a sleepover, whispering stories well into the night. They talked about their favorite books, the fantastic worlds they explored, the heroes they loved, and the villains they despised.

  “Now we’re characters in our own story,” said Gwen, yawning. “I wonder how it will end.”

  “I don’t know,” said Arti. “At least, we’ll find out together.” Pulling the blanket up, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.

  Morning seemed to arrive early, the bright light of the rising sun pouring in through the windshield of the motorhome. Gwen was already up when Arti stirred, but Gal remained quiet on the bench above her, wound up tightly in her blanket as if she’d fallen prey to a huge constricting snake. Arti could hear Merl and Lance talking outside, above the hollow noise of a kettle being filled at the back of the garage. They sounded sober and subdued, aware of how important the coming evening would be.

  Manners at breakfast were just as restrained, each member of the quest ignoring the fact that the oatmeal needed salt and the tea was too weak. Barely a word was spoken, the silence finally ending with Merl’s address.

  “Tonight’s the night,” he said, stating the obvious. “We’ll leave here half an hour before sunset.” He checked the clock hanging on the end of the overhead cupboard. “Nine hours from now. The model of the castle is in the garage behind Lance’s car, should anyone need to look at it or review the plan. If you’ve forgotten anything from last night, or if you have any questions, ask me before we leave. Once we depart the Camel Lot, we won’t have time for deliberation or to amend our strategy. Things will happen fast, and everyone needs to be ready.”

  Arti felt the oatmeal curdle in her stomach at the finality of the old librarian’s words. If she was this nervous now, she couldn’t imagine how she was going the feel when darkness fell and the mission began.

  “Arti will continue her practice with me, here.” Merl nodded at Lance, “You can use the garage, again, to exercise. Don’t overdo it; you’ll need all your energy for this evening. Gwen, you can join Lance, if you wish. Go over the plan, and see if we’ve forgotten any details. Use that memory of yours to make sure we’ve accounted for every possibility.”

  Lance smiled at Gwen. He welcomed the chance to spend more time with her but couldn’t hide his worry. She and Arti would be under his protection, tonight. He could handle a few dozen Incendi bearing lighters, but the thought of facing Mordred was something else, entirely. He couldn’t guarantee the outcome.

  Gwen sensed Lance’s unease. “We’ll be ready,” she said.

  The next few hours passed like the day before. Arti sat with Merl at the round table, staring down at a blank sheet of paper, Excalibri in hand. He asked her questions in a low voice, trying to get her to focus her thoughts through the pen, to write something, anything. It was a useless exercise.

  Forged together in truth, the pen and the will are one. If Arti heard Merl say those words one more time, she was going to scream. She wondered why someone as smart as Merrill of Astenga didn’t leave better instructions.

  Arti looked closely at Excalibri, at the shining silver pen with its intricate engraving, the tiny pommel, hilt and guard. At least the pen had survived the centuries, she thought. But it’s no good if I can’t control it. She pictured the ancient Astengan holding it two thousand years ago, just as she was now.

  Merl sighed deeply, bringing Arti out of her daydream. “It’s midday,” he said. “I can see you need a break.” He rubbed his eyes. “So do I.” He edged his way out from behind the table and walked stiffly to the door. “Grab something to eat. I’ll be back sho
rtly.”

  Arti set Excalibri down on the piece of paper and turned to see Gal sitting up, a mound of blankets and a pillow at her back.

  “Any luck?” asked Gal.

  “No, nothing. I can’t figure it out,” said Arti. “And I’m running out of time. What if I can’t do it, Gal? What will happen to everyone?”

  “You’ll do it,” said Gal, tight lipped and serious, half of her face still one big purple bruise. “Just like Ward Weatherin’ton did.”

  “Ward Weatherington?” Arti looked at The King’s Errand sitting on the shelf behind Gal’s bed. Although the bookmark was in the same place Arti had left it a few nights before, she suspected another Gal deception. “You read the last two chapters, didn’t you? When?”

  “The mornin’ after we watched the fights at the Cauldron,” confessed Gal. “Before we came here. You were still sleepin’.” She frowned. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait. I had to know how it ended.”

  Arti smiled. “It’s alright. I should have known you’d be sneaky,” she chided. “Well, what’d you think?”

  “It was the best,” beamed Gal. “You weren’t kiddin’ about it bein’ a surprise. Just when it looked like Ward was dead meat, he fooled everyone. I think he kept goin’ because of his little brother, Petey; he didn’t want to let him down. The way he used the gem to get the map and trick the wizard was so cool.” She paused, looking deep into Arti’s eyes. “That’s why I know you’re gonna write the final page. Because you’re just like Ward: you never give up.”

  Gal’s unwavering support reminded Arti of just how special her young friend was and how much she had come to depend on her. Maybe Merl, Lance, and Gwen deserved their descriptions etched by Excalibri on the round table. But as wise and courageous and just as they were, Gal eclipsed them all. And if Arti was truly blessed, as the pen had named her, she knew Gal’s friendship was a big part of it.