Gawain (Knights of Excalibur Book 1)

by Hanley, Donald

  “Well, at least you’re getting better at lying to people,” he said, tucking the phone back in her bag.

  “I don’t want to get better at lying to people,” she snapped. She knew he was probably just trying to lighten her mood with a joke, but it didn’t sit right. She shouldn’t have to keep secrets from the people she knew, but it looked unavoidable now. She hated it.

  Hawk nodded, his features carefully neutral. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No, I need something to do.” That sounded harsh and she wasn’t angry at him, at least not specifically. “Sorry,” she said, shooting him a sideways glance to make sure he took it the right way. “It’s been a rough weekend for me.”

  “It’s had a couple of bright spots,” he reminded her, and she smiled shyly in response, although her ears warmed again.

  “One or two,” she agreed, and she pressed down on the accelerator. They couldn’t get to New York fast enough, as far as she was concerned. Hawk pulled out his own phone from his pocket and opened his contact list. Trisha eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you calling?”

  “You’re not the only one with a surly boss,” he said with a grimace, waggling his phone for emphasis. “I need to call Nim and tell her what happened.”

  “Is she going to be upset with you? Us?” she amended uneasily.

  Hawk gave that careful consideration. “Yes,” he said finally. “I believe she will.”

  “Wonderful.” Trisha eased off on the gas, dropping back to just under the speed limit. Maybe she wasn’t in as great a hurry to get to New York as she thought.

  68

  The traffic light at Broadway turned red and Hawk brought the Wrangler to a smooth stop. He pointed up at the skyscraper just ahead on the right, all smooth dark stone and black-tinted glass. Trisha leaned forward to get a better look.

  “Is that it?” she asked, although the Pendragon Security name in silver letters above the main entrance was a bit of a giveaway. It was hard to be certain, looking up at it from street level, but it seemed taller than all the other buildings around it. “Is the entire building yours?”

  “It’s easier to keep everything secure if we keep the riffraff out.” The light turned green and he pulled into the sidewalk cutout in front of the doors, the only space along the entire length of Liberty Street that didn’t have cars parked in front of it. A security guard in a black uniform stationed right there scowled at them and approached, motioning for Trisha to roll down her window.

  “Ma’am, sir, you’re not allowed to park here,” he said sternly, and then he got a better glimpse of Hawk. “Oh, Mr. Hawk! I’m sorry, your car didn’t have a tag.”

  “No problem, Gordon,” Hawk assured him. “Can you get someone to pull this around into the garage? Nim’s waiting for us upstairs and we’re running a bit late.”

  “Yes, sir! I’ll take care of it, sir!” Gordon practically saluted as he opened Trisha’s door and helped her out. Hawk left the car running as he got out and walked around the car while the guard called on his radio for a runner to come down to the front entrance.

  Hawk took Trisha’s hand, surprising her, and led her to the front doors. She had to jog to keep up with his long stride. “You’re kind of important here, I gather,” she noted.

  “They seem to think so.” He pushed the revolving doors and guided her into the lobby. Trisha stopped just inside and gaped around her like a tourist.

  The lobby was huge, taking up the front half of the first floor and stretching up at least twenty-five feet to a glassy ceiling dotted with tiny lights glittering like stars in the night sky. One larger spotlight shone down on the middle of the floor, where a large rough-hewn boulder stood surrounded by a garden of ferns and moss, as if it had been magically transported from the depths of some ancient forest. Right in the center of the stone, protruding up and gleaming in the spotlight, was the hilt of a sword.

  “Oh my God,” Trisha whispered, drawn to it like a magnet. “Is that it? Is that –”

  “No.” Hawk sounded amused.

  Trisha stopped, just a step away from the red velvet ropes cordoning off the garden. “It’s not? Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully. It looked exactly like she imagined it would.

  “It’s a fake,” he assured her. “The blade on that sword is only a few inches long. It’s glued into a slot in the rock.” He eyed the display sourly. “We had to put the barricade up to keep people from hurting themselves trying to pull it out.”

  “Oh.” Trisha tried to hide her disappointment. She really wanted to try to see if she could be the next Queen of England. “So where’s the real one?”

  “Long gone,” Hawk sighed. “Merlin didn’t have any use for it after Arthur pulled out the sword. Come on.”

  He led her around the stone to the curved security desk positioned in front of the bank of elevators. Four guards sat there, each sporting the same black uniform Gordon wore, along with an impressive array of monitors.

  “Mr. Hawk,” one of them nodded as they approached. He eyed Trisha speculatively.

  “Carlos. Can you set up a temporary access badge for Miss Macmillan? We’re heading upstairs.”

  “Already done, sir.” He held out two badges and Trisha took hers doubtfully. It had her name and picture on it, along with the admonition, in bright red letters, Guest. Escort Required. “Madame Nim authorized it earlier.”

  “Thanks.” Hawk’s Providence sweatshirt didn’t have any pockets so he clipped his badge to his belt. His photo looked angry, as if he resented having his picture taken. Trisha’s photo looked like the one on her Massachusetts General ID and she wondered how Pendragon Security got hold of it. Did they hack into the hospital database? she wondered uneasily, attaching the badge to the front of her hoodie.

  They walked around the desk to a run of high tech turnstiles, all chrome and glass and glowing displays. Hawk dug out a white plastic card from this wallet and inserted it into a slot below the keypad on the nearest turnstile, tapping in a six-digit code and removing the card before Trisha could see what the number was. The turnstile chimed and opened.

  “You guys really take your security seriously around here,” she noted, hurrying through the opening before the turnstile changed its mind and locked her out. Hawk repeated the process to let himself through. “Can’t the guards just let you in? They all know you, apparently.”

  “When your enemy has shape-changers at her beck and call,” he reminded her, “just having a familiar face isn’t enough. You need one of these cards,” he held it up before jamming it back into his wallet, “and the right code.”

  “But couldn’t I just kidnap you, steal your card, and torture you until you tell me the code?”

  “Oh, is that the sort of thing you’re into?” Hawk grinned. He nudged her towards the elevators as she stammered out a vehement denial. “People are the weak link in any security system, but hopefully I’d hold out long enough to give you the distress code instead.” At her doubtful frown, he added, “It’s a code that will let you through but silently alert the security team that there’s a problem. You wouldn’t get very far.”

  Hawk pressed the up button and stepped back to inspect the floor indicators above the elevators. There was also a down button and Trisha wondered what lay below them. The parking garage, maybe? The vault with all the Quest artifacts? A secret escape route in case the Chevaliers attack? She shook her head to stop the rush of crazy thoughts. I’m just nervous, that’s all, she told herself. One of the elevators dinged and Hawk waved her inside.

  He tapped the button for the 35th floor, but nothing happened until he touched his badge to a small reader set above the controls. The indicator light changed from red to green and the elevator rose, fast enough that Trisha lost her balance. Hawk steadied her with a hand on her back and then pulled her closer.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, bracing her hands against his chest, but he leaned down until their noses nearly touched.

  “Kissing you.”

 
; “But what if someone – hmph!” His mouth engulfed hers and any resistance she had evaporated. Her arms went around his back and she forgot to breathe for a while, until the elevator dinged again. She wasn’t sure if her lightheadedness was due to the kiss or the elevator coming to a sudden stop. She broke away with a gasp. “What if someone sees us?” she whispered.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Doesn’t it matter to you? Are you allowed to make out with your Quests or whatever I am?’ The doors parted and she hurriedly brushed her hair back, just in case it had gotten messed up.

  The hallway stretched out ahead and to both sides, with frosted glass doors spaced out along the walls. There was no one in sight and Trisha wondered where everyone was. Other than the guards downstairs, she hadn’t seen a single Pendragon employee.

  Hawk didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual going on and he took her hand again, leading to the right. The doors they passed had cryptic numbers mounted on the walls – 35C10, 35C12 – and led into conference rooms of various sizes. All of them were empty.

  “Where is everybody?” she asked as they neared the end of the hall and the window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. “This place is deserted.”

  “There’s actually probably a couple of thousand people here today, but most of them work on the lower floors. These are the executive conference rooms. We’re in this one.” He pointed to the last one on the right, 35C19, but before they could reach it, the door opened and Nim stepped out.

  She wore a soft gray skirt and jacket ensemble this time, with matching heels and a white crew-neck blouse underneath. Her hair was up again but in a different style that made her look much younger than before. She didn’t seem surprised to see them there and Trisha supposed the guards had called her to let her know they were on the way up.

  “Trisha!” Nim exclaimed, striding forward. “I am so sorry about what happened yesterday.” She did the same double-cheek-kiss thing as before and then took Trisha’s hands in hers, stepping back to look her over. “Are you all right? How are your parents?”

  “They’re fine, thanks. I’m fine, too, really.” She felt embarrassed by Nim’s attention. She was a Queen of Avalon, after all, and Trisha was a nobody. “Hawk kept us safe.”

  “Hawk should have known better,” she said, her voice turning frosty. “You should have called us as soon as you knew about the cairngorm.”

  “You were on a plane,” he muttered, looking like a schoolboy caught cheating in class.

  “We have voicemail for a reason,” she reminded him sternly, “and Arthur’s phone works just fine. A team could have met up with you in DC.”

  “We didn’t know it was the real cairngorm,” Trisha protested, even though she’d been convinced as soon as she saw the wedding photo. “We didn’t want to bother anyone until we were sure.”

  “Hmm.” Nim didn’t look like she believed Trisha’s story one bit, but she let it slide. “Well, you’re safe now and Savard is dead, finally. We should have dealt with him in Boston,” she admitted ruefully. “An error in judgement on my part. I’m sorry, Trisha.”

  “That’s okay,” Trisha assured her awkwardly. “It all worked out.”

  “Come on in,” Nim told them, moving aside and gesturing to the conference room door. “We’ll all anxious to take a look at the cairngorm.”

  “We?” Trisha asked. Hawk held the door for them and Trisha stepped in with some trepidation, not sure what to expect. There were two men inside, but the closest one had a familiar face. “Lucas!”

  Lucas rose from his chair at the table and grinned at her. “I knew you couldn’t bear to stay away from me for long,” he drawled.

  Hawk snorted behind her as Trisha rolled her eyes, but she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek anyway, since that seemed to be the standard greeting around here. “You’re looking better,” she observed. Clean-shaven and dressed in his own clothes, he was a far cry from the John Doe lying comatose in the emergency room.

  “Everything’s back where it should be,” he smiled, rapping his skull with his knuckles. “So I was right about you after all, wasn’t I? You were the one to find it.”

  “I guess you were. So is the Quest over for real now?” she asked, looking at Nim.

  “This one is. The next one is just starting.” The other man strode around the conference table to join them. He was older than Hawk and Lucas, perhaps in his late forties, although a touch of silver showed at his temples and lines creased the corners of his gray eyes. He held out his hand and Trisha shook it gingerly. He had a strong grip and she wondered if he was another Knight like Hawk.

  “Arthur,” said Nim somberly, “this is Patricia Macmillan. Trisha, I’d like you to meet Arthur Pendragon.”

  “Welcome, Patricia,” he said with a warm smile. For a moment, the room wobbled around her and she just stared at him. He looked like a typical corporate executive, dressed in a tailored suit that matched his eyes and a dark blue tie held in place with a gold clasp, but he had the bearing and presence she always associated with royalty. There was no doubt in her mind he was King Arthur of Camelot.

  She was distantly aware that her hand was still clamped in his but she was unable to move it, unsure whether she should curtsey or bow or just run from the room in terminal embarrassment. Arthur’s smile crinkled his eyes as he carefully extracted his hand from her stricken grasp.

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” he told her. “Nim told me about your adventures in Boston and Virginia. I’m sorry we put you through all that.”

  “It’s – that’s – I mean –” Trisha’s shell-shocked brain couldn’t get her thoughts sorted out and Hawk gently guided her into the nearest chair. “Thank you, uh, sire,” she finally managed.

  “Just call me Arthur, please. Gawain, I’m glad to see you made it back in one piece.” The two men gripped forearms, just like in the movies. “We had no idea things would turn out like this.”

  “We never do,” Hawk observed wryly. “We couldn’t have done it without Trisha.”

  “We couldn’t ask for a better ally,” Arthur agreed. He pulled another chair away from the table and turned it around to face her, sitting on its edge and clasping his hands between his knees. “Do you understand what all this is about, Patricia?” he asked somberly. “I know it must be hard for you to believe, even when you’ve seen it with your own eyes.”

  “I – I do, I think,” she stammered, look around for support. Hawk stood behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder, a motion Arthur noted but didn’t comment on. “You’re the real King Arthur and Hawk and Lucas are your Knights and you’re fighting Viviane and Lionel and – and a bunch of others, I guess. Whoever wins get Excalibur and rebuilds Camelot.”

  “Well, yes and no.” Arthur sat back, his eyes darkening with an old sadness. “I’m no longer a king and Camelot is long gone, never to return.”

  “But – but what’s the point of all this, then?” she protested. “If you’re not trying to bring Camelot back, why all the Quests and – and Lionel and –” She sputtered to a halt and Hawk’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, not in warning but in sympathy.

  “Camelot is gone,” Arthur told her, “but its promise remains.” He rose and walked to the windows filling one entire wall of the conference room. Half of Manhattan stretched out in front of them, a crowded vista of tall buildings and narrow streets. “Tell me, what do you see over there?” he asked, pointing off to his right.

  Trisha hesitated and then moved to stand beside him. She peered into the distance, trying to figure out what he meant. “The World Trade Center?” she hazarded. The multi-faceted tower stood well above the surrounding structures, its glass sides reflecting the clear blue of New York’s winter sky.

  “Where were you on September 11th?”

  “I was eight, in elementary school back in Richmond. All I remember is a lot of confusion and being sent home early.”

  Arthur nodded. “I was here, standing in this very spot. I saw the first p
lane come in from the north and hit the North Tower and I watched helplessly as the second came in from the south. The cloud of dust and fire that followed their collapse covered the city like a shroud.”

  Trisha sucked in her breath in horror. “Are you saying Viviane did that?”

  Arthur looked at her in surprise. “No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that. I have to believe that Viviane was as shocked and outraged as the rest of us at the senseless destruction and tragic loss of life that day. What I meant was that what happened on September 11th was a symptom of a much larger problem, one which is growing worse with every passing year.”

  “I don’t understand,” Trisha frowned. Arthur turned to face her.

  “Camelot wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it represented an ideal for others to follow. While it stood, it was a beacon to guide mankind towards a brighter, gentler future.” He let his breath out in a frustrated sigh. “When rhetoric replaces rational discourse, when we spend more resources fighting each other than poverty, disease, and ignorance, when isolation is preferred over community, when faith outweighs fact, this is what happens.” He gestured to the window. “What we’re trying to do, Patricia, is bring the world back from the precipice and lead it to that golden age we glimpsed centuries ago, but it’s a very difficult road to travel, with many obstacles along the way. Without Excalibur and Merlin’s guidance, we will fall short.”

  “But why is Viviane trying to stop you? Doesn’t she want the same thing? You told me that, right?” she asked Nim.

  “Viviane wants the same outcome,” Nim stated flatly, “but she wants to achieve it by fiat, by imposing her will on the world. Excalibur will give her the power to do so.”

  “Viviane lost her faith in humanity a long time ago,” Arthur sighed, “but she hasn’t given up on them. We want to be counselors to mankind, she desires to be their Queen. We’re in a race to see who can recover Excalibur first, and, unfortunately, Viviane holds a critical advantage over us: she knows where it is. She just can’t get to it.”