by KM Shea
Britt didn’t know what possessed her to name Sir Bedivere as her marshal. It was an impulsive act, but she wanted to repay the knight for his loyalty.
Sir Kay stood only to kneel on the ground. “I thank you, my King, for your great generosity. It would be my honor to serve and protect you.”
Sir Ulfius and Sir Bodwain—also fully expecting their positions—knelt as well.
“I will serve you for the rest of my life, my King,” Sir Ulfius said.
“You are my lord and liege. Thank you, my King,” Sir Bodwain said.
Sir Bedivere scrambled to his feet. “I-I thank you, my King,” he said, clearly shaken in comparison to the other men.
“We will talk about this later,” Merlin muttered to Britt.
“You don’t like my choice?”
Merlin narrowed his eyes at her, making him look hawkish, before he stood and declared. “I will live to serve King Arthur!”
4
The Lady of the Lake
“Furthermore, I am your counselor. The very title implies you ask me for my opinion before you do anything at all.”
“I don’t think—” Britt started.
Merlin ignored her and continued. “In this case, God was merciful, and you assigned one of the best knights in the realm to an appropriate position, but don’t think that will always happen! One must rely on good sense and logic, not luck,” he said as he spread a bedroll on the ground.
“If he’s one of the best knights in the realm, why didn’t you try to recruit him earlier?” Britt kicked at a log that had rolled from the firewood stack.
Sir Kay had gathered enough wood to burn their fire for a week. They were only camping out for the night—on their way to a blasted lake to get another sword—but Britt had decided over the months that Sir Kay was the Boy Scout type. He was not merely prepared; he was set.
“Because he’s young and green, and he hasn’t a spot of land to his name. I went after men of influence, not legends that make maidens misty-eyed. But that is not the point,” Merlin said.
“Look, Merlin, I get it. I’m not supposed to do anything without your permission except breathe. I KNOW. You’ve been harping on about it since we set out two days ago. Can you give the topic a rest yet?”
“Have you learned your lesson? I think not.”
Britt grumbled and looked to Sir Kay, who was busy scratching away in some sort of logbook. Britt wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, but whenever she tried to interrupt him, Merlin threw a hissy fit. Sir Ector was there as well. He was already passed out on the far side of the fire, softly snoring.
“I am not saying you are an imbecile incapable of making decisions—you handled Lot quite well. It is merely that you still do not understand all the ways and customs of this kingdom in spite of my efforts to educate you,” Merlin said, settling down on his blanket. “Tomorrow, you must be respectful. The lady we are going to visit is not one of my allies; she is of the faerie. The faerie do as they please and side with no one.”
“I’m going to sleep. Good night.” Britt turned her back to the fire and pulled a thin blanket up to her shoulders.
Merlin poked around the fire for a bit longer, muttering the remaining chastisements he intended to give Britt, before he also turned in. Britt listened to Sir Kay rustle papers as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Several hours later, Britt bolted upright. Fear grasped at her throat, and her heart pounded in her ears as she heaved gulps of air and stared at the fire.
It was a nightmare. Britt couldn’t remember what about, but the terror that burned her heart and gnawed at her stomach felt too real to ignore.
After a few moments, Britt relaxed and glanced around the makeshift camp. Sir Kay—she was startled to see—was watching her. When he was satisfied she was well, he closed his eyes, propped up by horse packs.
Britt shifted, trying to make herself more comfortable, and almost kicked her backpack—the one she had worn on the day she was struck by lightning and blasted into a coma.
As the days stretched into months and Britt hadn’t woken up, she avoided looking at the backpack more and more. The sight of it brought a stab of homesickness and fear to her heart. Why hadn’t she woken up yet? Was there something seriously wrong with her? Was this a medical-induced coma, or had she hit her head on something? Britt knew dreams often seemed to last longer than they were in actuality, but the length and clarity of this odd King Arthur dream was starting to frighten her.
Britt hesitated before she reached for the backpack and pulled it towards her. She opened it up and unearthed the British travel guidebook, flipping it open to the informational section on British mythology and legends.
“King Arthur,” she murmured, reading the section about the famed king, “is a legendary British king and hero. His historical existence and role is widely debated, but he is said to have been crowned at age fifteen on the day of Pentecost. The day of his crowning ceremony, he selected Merlin as his counselor, Sir Ulfius as his chamberlain, Sir Bodwain as his constable, his foster brother Sir Kay as seneschal, and Sir Bedivere as marshal.”
Britt went numb, and the book dropped from her hands.
How? How was it possible that Britt, knowing very little King Arthur lore, had dreamed of those particular men?
“Well, it is my dream. I can dream up information to fill a guidebook, too,” Britt muttered, picking up the book again. She flipped through it, her desperation growing with each page she turned. City maps, historic notations, points of interest, it was all there, detailed, organized, and displayed.
Britt threw the book away from her. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest, and Britt started to feel light headed.
It was real. For months she had been in denial, but it was time to face the facts. This historical nightmare was real. Tears fell from Britt’s eyes, and she gasped for air as she tried to face her new reality.
Her mother, her friends…would she ever see them again? Hadn’t Merlin said he couldn’t send her back? Could she even survive in this era? Britt knew very little about King Arthur, but she knew he died. And she knew he fought a lot.
“No, no,” Britt whispered, shaking her head.
“…Britt?”
Britt looked up, wide-eyed and frightened, into the fatherly face of Sir Ector.
The older knight squatted down in front of her. “Lass, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”
Britt burst into tears at the kind question and babbled through her sobs. She was terrified; she was frightened; and she would never see anyone who knew her again.
“There, there,” Sir Ector said, kneeling so he could reach out and hug Britt.
Britt slumped against the fatherly man and sobbed.
“What is her problem?” Merlin demanded as he sat up, his hair mussed.
“I-I want to go home,” Britt spat out through snot and tears.
“Oh, Britt,” Merlin sighed before he joined Sir Ector and placed a warm hand on Britt’s head.
“When the night rolls back and dawn comes, things will be brighter,” Sir Ector soothed, not at all bothered when Britt pounded on his shoulder with a fist.
All night Britt mourned the loss of her family, friends, and her life.
“This forest does not end,” Britt sourly said the following day, perched on the back of her mare.
Merlin glanced over his shoulder. “It is called Arroy, the Forest of Adventure, for good reason, Arthur,” Merlin said, although he did not chastise Britt’s terrible mood.
Britt glared at the trees. “That’s a lame name,” she said as the rest of her company moved around her in good cheer.
Sir Kay looked confused with Britt’s use of modern language, but he kept silent and rode behind her, occasionally patting his mount in reassurance.
Britt’s sorrow had left her shortly after dawn, only to be replaced by bitterness. Merlin and her foster family seemed to accept this and wisely said nothing. On a normal day, Britt would marvel that Merlin would willin
gly take her verbal abuse, but she was still too grief stricken to care.
“The lake at which I hope to obtain for you a new sword is enchanted. Although it lies close to your castle, Arthur, it is considered the property of the faeries,” Merlin said.
“Fantastic. I always wanted magical neighbors.”
“You never know, Britt. I have been told a time or two that faeries brew the best of ales. Perhaps you could trade with them.” Sir Ector laughed and slapped his thigh in mirth. His horse seemed to share his amusement as it shook its head.
“A trade route with the faeries?” Britt repeated, cocking her head as she considered the idea. (Sir Ector was the only one out of the group to whom she was not hostile.)
“Here we are,” Merlin said when they reached a break in the trees.
Before Britt stretched a large lake. It looked nothing like any of the lakes Britt had ever seen. For starters, there was no trash littering the ground, and the water was clear with not so much as a spot of algae floating on the surface. It seemed…clean. Fresh and untouched. Flowers bloomed on the shores, and further down the lakefront, a mother deer drank with her baby. Up the opposite shoreline was a wooden boat, and far out in the center of the lake, Britt could see a sword, held above the water by what looked like a human arm.
“Oh,” Britt said, remembering what sword Arthur was famous for obtaining besides the sword in the stone.
“This is the home of the—” Merlin proudly started.
“Lady of the Lake, yeah, yeah. So where is she?” Britt asked as she dismounted.
Merlin pushed his eyebrows together as he studied Britt. “She will arrive shortly. No one visits the lake without her knowledge,” he said as he also dismounted.
Sir Ector and Sir Kay slid off their horses and led them to the shoreline to drink.
Britt followed, exhaling stiffly as Sir Kay took Merlin’s horse from him.
“What sword is that, held by the arm in white samite in the middle of the lake?” Sir Ector asked, shielding his eyes as he squinted across the lake.
Merlin nodded his head at the sword, as if to pay it homage. “It is a legendary weapon, far beyond the likes of what we seek.”
Britt frowned at the wet ground as her mare shuffled into the lake to get a drink. “That’s Excalibur. It must be,” she muttered, making Sir Kay glance at her as he soothed his horse and Merlin’s.
“Behold, here comes the fair Lady of the Lake. Allow me to do all of the talking,” Merlin warned as he started down the lakefront.
Just past the deer, a woman appeared, walking in their direction.
She had pitch black eyes and ink black hair that fell almost to her feet. She was garbed in a green dress and wore a strand of emeralds set in gold. Her face was smooth and her expression was lofty. Besides the incredibly long hair, Britt didn’t see anything particularly magical or faerie like about the petite lady.
“Lady,” Merlin said, bowing before her. Sir Ector joined Merlin in his bow, tossing the reins of his horse to Sir Kay.
“Welcome, Merlin the enchanter,” the lady said. “I have been told the new king, the true King of Britain, travels with you under your protection.”
Kay juggled the three mounts, paying minimal attention to the faerie visitor.
“How do you think she gets her hair that long and beautiful?” Britt whispered to Sir Kay.
Sir Kay shrugged. “Servants?” he suggested. He paused for a moment before dumping all of the reins and digging his logbook out of his horse’s pack, inscribing something unreadable on the pages.
“King Arthur does indeed ride with me,” Merlin said, indicating to Britt.
Britt blinked but made no move to bow or play nice with the faerie lady, who studied her carefully.
“The rumors are true, then, that Britain’s new king is not only young, but has some of the blood of my people. He has our elegance and beauty,” the Lady of the Lake said.
Merlin coughed to hide his fright, and it occurred to Britt that the wizard never thought that particular lie would spread to the supposed faeries as well. “Yes, my esteemed lady. If you know that, then surely you must know why we have ridden here?”
The Lady of the Lake returned her attention to Merlin, playing her mystic role to the beat. “You have come to obtain a sword for King Arthur, an enchanted sword.”
“Surprise,” Britt dryly said.
Sir Kay coughed and avoided meeting Britt’s eyes.
“We have,” Merlin confirmed. “We would be forever in your debt if you would grant King Arthur this boon.”
“I believe I have just the sword,” the Lady of the Lake said, approaching the waters of her lake. She stepped into the lake until she was knee deep before she elegantly bent over and pulled a sword from the depths of the water.
“I present to you Hrunting,” she said as she exited the lake waters, holding the sword in her arms. Britt noted that perhaps the faerie part was not a total sham as the lady’s dress appeared to be dry.
“Hrunting,” Merlin whispered, his eyes glowing as he stooped over the sword to inspect it. “The sword of Unferth, given to Beowulf at Unferth’s death.”
Britt looked to Sir Kay for an explanation, but the young knight shrugged in ignorance.
Sir Ector ahhed over the weapon, but judging by his lack of belly jiggling, Britt suspected he didn’t know who Unferth was either.
“Hrunting, the sword which has never failed anyone who hefted it in battle,” the lady said, a trace of a smile curling on her lips.
Britt frowned. Hrunting? Even though she wasn’t an Arthur nerd, Britt knew Arthur’s famous sword was called Excalibur. What the heck was Hrunting?
Merlin blinked. “I thought it failed Beowulf when he fought Grendel’s Mother, and he abandoned it as a result. Its magic is still intact after such a failure?” Merlin carefully asked.
“Of course,” the Lady of the Lake said.
Merlin smiled—the fake one he used when he knew he was about to force something on Britt that she would not like. “Thank you, kind lady. Arthur, come claim your sword.”
Britt narrowed her eyes as she passed her reins to Kay—the poor knight—and stalked purposefully towards Merlin, Sir Ector, and the lady.
Merlin’s eyes widened as he observed her countenance, and he shook his head slightly before hissing to her behind his clenched smile. “Remember your manners, Arthur.”
Britt ignored the order and instead stared at the sword. It was rusted, brutish, and unadorned. “No,” she said.
The Lady of the Lake blinked. “Pardon?”
“No. This isn’t my sword. I want Excalibur,” Britt said.
Sir Kay had to lean against his horse, he started coughing so hard, and Merlin placed a hand at the back of Britt’s neck and squeezed.
“I’m sorry. The lad doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Merlin laughed.
“Yeah, I do. There’s no way I’m walking out of here with a sword that doesn’t work. I want Excalibur,” Britt said as Sir Ector retreated—also coughing occasionally—to help his son with the horses.
“Arthur, we are guests in this enchanted place. Do not act rudely,” Merlin said, his smile so tight Britt could almost hear his teeth cracking.
The Lady of the Lake sneered. “Excalibur is meant for greatness, boy. A beardless youth such as yourself is not even worthy to look upon it.”
“Okay, cut the mystic crap,” Britt said, shaking Merlin off her neck. “I want Excalibur, and I know you are going to give it to me.”
“Am I? Are you a soothsayer and a king now? Did your foster father and brother teach you magic arts as well?” the Lady of the Lake drawled.
“Don’t talk about my family like that,” Britt growled. “And if you don’t give me Excalibur, I am going to slap you back to Beowulf so fast your head will spin!”
“Brute! Is this how you treat a lady of great standing?” the Lady of the Lake demanded.
“It is when she is a stuck up snob who needs a haircut,” Britt
said, looming over the petite woman.
“You rude beast!”
“Petty wench.”
Merlin was on his knees, in the throes of horror, but Britt heard Sir Ector quietly tell Sir Kay, “Perhaps we shouldn’t have let the boy spend so much time in London taverns.”
“You crash about this sacred sanctuary like a wild boar. You ruin the holiness of this place!” the Lady of the Lake declared.
“Like I care! My eyes are puffy; I have a headache; and I want to go home. Just give me the stupid sword.”
“You will never win a maiden’s heart!”
“Oh, no. Whatever will I do?” Britt asked, rolling her eyes.
The Lady of the Lake’s mouth dropped. “You’re a woman,” she said on sudden insight.
“So are you,” Britt snorted.
“Fine!” the Lady of the Lake snapped. “Take the sword—if you can. Many have tried, but no one can pull it. Good riddance!” she said turning on her heels and stalking away—still carrying Hrunting.
“How do you plan to get out there, Arthur?” Sir Ector asked as Britt marched past him.
“I’ll use the boat,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She was anxious to push off the shore before Merlin recovered his mental abilities.
The wizard was still bent over, white faced and horrified.
Britt hopped in the boat, and Sir Kay handed the horses over to his father long enough to push the boat farther into the lake.
Britt eased the oars of the boat into the water and rowed out to the sword. She hadn’t rowed much before, so she circled Excalibur a few times before she drew close enough to grab it.
Britt eyed the arm clasping the sword. The water at the center of the lake was deep blue, cloaking whatever the arm was attached to. Close up, Britt could see that the arm was wrapped in a sleeve made of some sort of cloth that looked like silk, and golden bracelets were fastened around the thin wrist. It was a woman’s arm, for certain.
“This is weird beyond all belief. I always thought the legends about King Arthur were written by total stoners,” Britt muttered as she reached for Excalibur’s hilt. The second her fingers touched the sword, the arm holding onto the blade released it and disappeared into the water with lightning fast movement.