Mice of the Round Table #3

by Julie Leung

  Focusing on the tingle of his whiskers, he thought he felt a slight draft of magic that seemed to belong to Excalibur, and another, slightly stronger breeze that reeked of rosemary and iron. So Morgan was still at the fortress. Surely that meant she still had not solved the mystery of the Grail.

  Unless, with the Grail in hand, she was strong enough to conduct battle from here. He shuddered at the thought and hastily turned to King Mir. “Can you fly me to the Two-Legger section of the fortress?”

  The king tilted his head. “Of course I am able, but what good would that do us?”

  “I know someone who can help us. His name is Galahad du Lac. He’s the one who pulled the sword from the stone this past fall.”

  The bat king’s ears twitched. “Another sword in the stone?” he asked. “And tell me . . . does this sword have a name?”

  Puzzled, Calib nodded. “Yes. He named it after me. It’s called Excalibur.”

  King Mir let out a thundering hiss while Horatio looked downright terrified.

  “What’s wrong?” Calib asked, but the two bats were staring at each other, seeming to have a soundless conversation. Finally, Horatio turned to Calib.

  “Some of the mountains’ crystals contain powers of prophecy,” King Mir growled. “We’ve been seeing two competing visions in the crystals for many, many years. One deals with the sword called Excalibur.”

  “But how can that be?” Calib asked. “The sword was named after me—how could you know that a sword by that name would ever exist?”

  King Mir shook his head. “Time does not always run straight, young mouse. It twists and turns, doubling back on itself sometimes.”

  “Er, all right, then,” Calib said, though he was still slightly overwhelmed that he appeared to have at least a small part in a prophecy. “What do the prophecies say?”

  King Mir fixed his eyes on Calib. “One shows the wielder of Excalibur training under the powers of Avalon and defeating the witch Morgan. The other—”

  The king of the bats broke off sharply, as if uncertain whether he wanted to continue. Taking a deep breath, he said, “The other vision says that the wielder of Excalibur will bring Morgan to power—and that they will betray Camelot.”

  CHAPTER

  33

  Calib almost laughed out loud.

  “That’s impossible,” Calib said. “Galahad is the most honorable Two-Legger I know. Camelot is his home. His father is Sir Lancelot, one of the greatest knights who ever lived!”

  “If you say so,” Horatio said, sounding doubtful. “Power has a way of undermining even the most valiant Two-Leggers. They never learned to control their thirst for it. That created the need for the dragon illusion in the first place.”

  “You don’t know Galahad as I do,” Calib insisted. “You’ll see when you meet him!” His anger was rising now, and he couldn’t stop his voice from getting sharp.

  “King Mir,” Cecily said, stepping between them. “If I may . . . I too had my doubts about Galahad, but he is as Calib says. He is true and loyal and good. If it weren’t for him, Maman would have died this past spring of white fever.”

  She took a deep breath before she continued. “If we don’t take a chance on trusting one another now, when will we ever? I give you my word as a Von Mandrake that this boy is a friend.”

  Calib looked at Cecily gratefully, but she kept her gaze steady on the bat king.

  At last, King Mir heaved a sigh. “Which of you is lighter? My stamina isn’t what it used to be.”

  With King Mir carrying Cecily on his back, and Horatio bearing Calib, they began to circle the mountains in search of Galahad and Excalibur.

  From the outside, most of the fortress windows were boarded up and tightly sealed. Only a handful of windows were lit. One of them might belong to Galahad, or it could belong to the enemy.

  They flew due south, peeping into every window they could. Calib closed his eyes and concentrated on Galahad’s face. He took a long sniff and wiggled his snout, hoping to get a hint of his familiar scent. A tiny sensation tickled the top right whisker.

  “Try flying east.” Calib pointed, his eyes still closed. “And higher up!”

  “What are you doing?” King Mir asked.

  “His whiskers are magically attuned,” Cecily explained, as if she were stating the very obvious.

  Finally, Calib spotted a thin opening, barely wider than a fissure, running down in jagged edges. An acrid, burned smell met his snout. But underneath, he could sense Excalibur’s magic at work. “There! Galahad’s in there!”

  The bats flew in close so that Calib could hop onto the ledge.

  “Wait right here, and be on the lookout,” he warned. “I’ll get Galahad’s attention.”

  “Don’t forget to introduce us properly,” Horatio whispered as Calib ventured into the crack. “I’m twelfth of my name.”

  Calib nodded once, then ran inside. The sooner he could get to Galahad, the sooner they would be free of this wretched place and on their way back to Camelot.

  Calib padded along the crevice, getting closer and closer to the source of the magic. Suddenly, the crack sloped down sharply, and the walls widened outward into a large cavern lined with columns, big enough for a small army of Two-Leggers. At the other end of the room stood an empty black throne that looked like it had been carved into the side of the cave wall. Vines of roses covered the back of the throne, but half of them looked dead and dry to the touch.

  Galahad was there. He held Excalibur before him, as if he were studying it. His brows were knit in deep concentration, and he was frowning. A Two-Legger girl paced the width of two columns, her energy nervous. Calib had never seen her before. She was as tall as Galahad and about his age, with a mop of hair that reminded Calib of an overused feather duster.

  “Morgan said she would make sure Papa and the others would be the first to arrive on the next ship,” the girl said, twisting the sleeves of her robe. “Her Highness is so generous. I probably should have told her that Greta is prone to seasickness, though.”

  Galahad didn’t look up from the spell he was working on. “Britta, did you let your family know to expect Morgan?”

  “I forgot to send a lark!” Britta clamped a hand to her forehead. “How silly! Of course.” She sprinted out of the room, but not before giving Galahad a gigantic hug.

  “I’m finally going to see my family!” Britta said, her eyes filled with tears of happiness. “I’ve waited so long!”

  Calib felt a surge of pride for Galahad. His Two-Legger friend was already finding ways to help others. The girl left the room, and Calib saw his chance.

  “Galahad!” Calib cried out, running into the room. “It’s me!”

  Galahad jolted away with a start, his hand grabbing Excalibur defensively.

  “We’re here to rescue you so that you can rescue us! We need to—” Calib broke off.

  Calib had tried scampering up Galahad’s leg, but the boy had stepped back. Something was wrong. Galahad didn’t look very pleased or relieved to see him. He had puffy eyes. Had he been crying?

  “Are you all right?” Calib climbed up to the armrest of the throne so that he could peer into Galahad’s eyes. Maybe the boy was feeling unwell.

  “I’m sorry, Calib.” Galahad dropped his gaze and shook his head. “But I’m not going to leave.”

  Galahad’s words thudded into Calib’s chest, as if they were thrown bricks, and Calib almost slipped off the throne, only managing to catch himself with his tail just in time. “What do you mean?”

  “Morgan has discovered something—and she’s promised to teach me.”

  “Is it the Grail?” Calib cried. “We have to stop her!”

  “No,” Galahad said, shaking his head. “We don’t.”

  Calib was stunned, but Galahad hardly registered it. He continued, “Merlin used magic to put Arthur on the throne, when it rightly belonged to Morgan. She is well within her rights to use magic and take it back.”

  “She’d take it b
ack for herself,” Calib said. “She doesn’t care about the people or creatures of this realm. She doesn’t care that she’s killing the land. Or that beasts are getting injured just because she’s not the one who hurts. Morgan le Fay would make a terrible ruler!”

  “I disagree,” Galahad said. “She knows how to make hard choices. And she’s the only one who’s tried to help me understand my powers.”

  “You mean,” Calib said slowly, “the powers that we helped get for you? What about Camelot and King Arthur? What about your home?”

  “Camelot was never my home,” Galahad said softly. “I never wanted to go there in the first place. I never really fit in. The son of Camelot’s greatest knight who just wants to be a healer? The wielder of a magic sword who hates fighting? How do I fit into the tales of Camelot’s knights?”

  “But—”

  Galahad pointed Excalibur at Calib. The mouse stepped back, his throat tightening around his words.

  “I’m giving you one chance,” Galahad said, “because we were once friends. Leave now, before I tell the guards.”

  “Galahad—”

  “I said LEAVE ME!” the boy shouted, swinging his sword down near Calib’s tail. Calib scampered out of sight and back into the crack in the wall, just as the doors swung open.

  Red appeared alongside a woman who could only be King Arthur’s sister, Morgan le Fay. They shared the same nose and hair color, though Morgan’s eyes were a cool gray. A black crown sat atop her tresses. In Morgan’s hands was a small wooden box.

  “We will need to test Britta’s new theory,” Morgan said. “In hindsight, I should have guessed it would be so simple. To take is to give is to take. Merlin loved lecturing about the balance that needed to be maintained.”

  Calib expected Red to make some sort of snide remark about sacrificing Galahad, but the boy remained oddly silent as Morgan opened the wooden box. Inside, a skinny white hare sniffed the air nervously.

  Calib held back a gasp. It was Jasper!

  “Kill the creature, Galahad,” Morgan demanded. “Prove your loyalty to me, once and for all, and I will share with you the Grail’s powers.”

  Calib held his breath, waiting for Galahad to say no, to loudly proclaim that he was a knight of the Round Table and would never murder an innocent life.

  But Galahad remained silent and unmoving.

  Morgan narrowed her eyes. From the darkness, a golden hawk flew to perch on her shoulder. It ruffled its feathers, but it was very careful to not let its claws dig too deeply into its master’s shoulders.

  “I need to know if you are ready,” she said. “Will you allow a weak king like my brother to continue to lead the people of Britain astray? Or will you help me issue law and order so that the fight between Saxony and Britain may finally be over?”

  Galahad stayed silent, unable to answer. The poor hare was trembling tail to ears, his head bobbing up and down. Calib desperately looked around for some way to intercede on Jasper’s behalf, but there were too many of them.

  “The time has finally come,” Morgan continued, “to march on Camelot. I only want the strongest and the smartest with me.”

  She turned to Galahad.

  “Will you join us?”

  For one last moment, all was well. Galahad sheathed Excalibur at his side, and Calib breathed a sigh of relief that Jasper would live. And then, with one swift motion, Galahad reached for a dagger that had been tucked into his belt, then lunged and pierced the blade’s tip into Jasper’s heart.

  Calib cried out in shock, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of the dagger clattering to the floor. Galahad picked the hare out from the box, and Jasper lay in his arms, limp and lifeless. Bright-red shocks of blood were splattered in stark contrast to his white fur.

  “It’s dead,” Galahad proclaimed, holding the hare out for everyone to see.

  Deep horror twisted into Calib, as if the dagger had pierced him instead. Even Red looked a little queasy. Morgan le Fay’s expression, on the other hand, was completely unmoved.

  “Let the blood flow into the Grail,” she commanded. She materialized the Grail out of thin air and held it before Galahad. He walked over to the wooden cup and let the blood drops fall in.

  Rays of yellow light shot up from the bowl, shining golden upon Morgan’s triumphant face.

  “It works!” Red murmured in complete awe.

  Calib fell back onto his haunches, feeling faint. His vision swam with tears. How could Galahad have betrayed them so brutally? Against Calib’s best efforts, the secrets of the Grail had been revealed to Camelot’s greatest enemy. And it was his best friend who’d helped them.

  Morgan waved a hand over the light. Then, taking the dagger that Galahad had dropped, she ruthlessly stabbed the blade through her hand. All who watched flinched as the knife went clean through her palm. Unblinking, she pulled it out again. The knife had left no mark.

  “You’re invincible now,” Britta whispered. She had just returned from her letter writing to witness Morgan’s feat. Britta’s voice was full of awe and tinged with fear as she eyed the dead hare in Galahad’s clutches. “My theory actually worked!”

  Morgan was smiling. Her face contorted into a mask of vengeance and contempt.

  “Brava, my brilliant Britta,” she said, smooth as a fox. “Your family would be proud of you. When they arrive, we shall have a celebratory feast in your honor.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Red reached out a tentative hand to the Grail, but Morgan quickly pulled the treasure away from her son’s grasp.

  “No. You have done nothing to deserve it,” Morgan said.

  Red looked as if he’d been physically struck by her harsh words.

  “You have been a complete failure at every turn,” Morgan continued. “I’ve had to clean up your messes over and over. The Grail is not your plaything.”

  “But, Mother,” Red said, and for the first time, Calib felt a little sorry for the sorceress’s son, “I was the one who brought back Merlin’s Scrolls.”

  Calib’s sympathy vanished.

  “The wrong ones,” Mogan replied coldly. “The one that held the answer was delivered to us by Galahad. The one that Britta translated. I’ve had enough of your petulance. Go to your room, Red, and await further instructions. You are no longer needed here.”

  After a few seconds of dreadful silence, Red stormed away, his footsteps echoing in the vast throne room. Morgan turned her attention back to Galahad and Britta.

  “Our ships will depart this evening,” she said. “Galahad, you will accompany me. Britta, you will remain here and prepare the rooms for your family.”

  And as Galahad—a knight of the Round Table—bowed to Morgan, Calib’s heart shattered.

  The Two-Legger in front of him looked like Galahad, even smelled like him, but this was not his friend. This was a stranger. This—Calib almost choked—was a traitor.

  CHAPTER

  34

  Calib sprinted back up the ledge to the safety of the sill, his instinct and training kicking in and overriding the other feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. It felt like something large and ugly was clawing at his chest.

  “Where’s the boy?” King Mir asked when Calib appeared. “Where is he who bears Excalibur?”

  “Fly,” Calib said gruffly as he clambered onto King Mir’s back. “We cannot rely on Galahad any longer. We’ve lost Excalibur and the Grail to Morgan le Fay.”

  Calib tearfully recapped what had happened, including the murder of Jasper.

  “Two-Leggers were always weak creatures,” King Mir called to Calib as he dipped around the mountains. “For all their size and strength, they are too easily corrupted and will turn on you in an instant.”

  Calib glanced to his side, where he could see Cecily gripping on to Horatio’s neck ruff, tears silently whipping off her face as they flew. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, lost in his thoughts. Had he somehow caused his friend to turn? He thought of the Lady
of the Lake and how disappointed she’d been that Calib hadn’t brought Galahad. If Galahad had gone to Avalon, the Lady could have trained him, and then maybe he wouldn’t be under Morgan’s spell—or whatever it was—now. Maybe this was all Calib’s fault.

  Just like Valentina’s burned wings.

  Just like the fact that Camelot’s greatest enemy now had the Grail.

  His fault.

  “It’s not your fault,” Mir said kindly, and Calib was startled to realize he must have spoken out loud. “Men cannot be trusted. It’s becoming clear to me that Two-Leggers aren’t going to be able to save themselves from this mess. Where to, Calib Christopher?”

  Calib tried to collect his thoughts. What hope could they possibly have with Excalibur and the Grail gone? Then it struck him—the remaining treasure.

  “We need to steal Merlin’s Mirror back!” He looked at King Mir.

  “I have an idea of where the magical mirror might be,” Mir said. “I’ll take you to where we’ve overheard most of Morgan’s plots.”

  Calib clung tightly as Mir swooped left. The bats maneuvered to the other side of the mountains, toward the pink dawn that was just starting to peek over the horizon. Calib’s eyeballs throbbed with sorrow, but he found there were no more tears left to cry. He thought about what he would have to say to Commander Kensington—that he lost their strongest Two-Legger ally to Morgan’s influence.

  Horatio and King Mir delivered the mice to a tall window in a turret that faced east, back toward Camelot. They alighted on a small balcony just as the sun began to rise.

  “Be very careful. Next to Merlin, she is the strongest Two-Legger I have ever encountered,” Horatio whispered.

  Calib thought about Queen Guinevere defending her castle with her ladies-in-waiting at the Battle of the Bear. “I know stronger.”

  Calib and Cecily squeezed inside between the alabaster-lined windows and made their way down to the landing that led to the balcony doors. Calib concentrated on sensing for any magical traps or snares, but the place was empty of the running blue marks he had come to associate with protection spells. The smell of darker, rawer magic, however, was overpowering. Inside the rounded room where they found themselves, mirrors lined every square inch from floor to ceiling.