Mice of the Round Table #3

by Julie Leung

  One by one, Saxons and Britons alike fell to their knees at the impossible sight of this ship. Some trembled with fear; others had their eyes wide-open with ecstatic wonder. Even Leftie and the rest of the animals fighting the flames had paused to stare.

  “A miracle.”

  “Merciful heavens.”

  The awed whispers grew among the gathered crowd, reaching Calib’s ears as the passengers of the boat came into focus. The ghostly outlines of an egret and a wolf stood side by side at the prow. He recognized Howell and the Lady of the Lake. The raw magic of their combined presence made Calib’s whiskers burn and tingle. It felt like being struck by lightning all over again, but painless.

  The boat stopped before Galahad and Arthur. The egret spread her wings and took off from the deck, alighting on the shore before the fallen heroes. As her feet touched the soil, she folded her wings over her face and body. The egret began to change shape, growing taller and sprouting human limbs where there once were wings. The feathers gathered to form an elegant long-sleeved white dress. The long beak shrank back into a pale human nose set in a stern visage. A silver diadem in the shape of an egret appeared on the ageless face of a woman with long gray hair.

  “The time has come for Arthur Pendragon and Galahad du Lac to journey to Avalon,” the woman began in a watery, faraway voice. The Lady of the Lake looked nearly translucent, a mere echo of herself on Avalon. “Their time among mortals is at an end.”

  Her words hit Calib’s chest, cold and final. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant.

  The Lady of the Lake took a step toward the Two-Leggers. She moved her hand in a complicated gesture, and Arthur’s wound closed. The king still looked to be in great pain.

  “Wait!” A panicked Calib ran forward to step between them, but someone else got there first.

  Queen Guinevere drew and aimed an arrow right at the Lady of the Lake. “No,” she said firmly.

  “No?” The Lady of the Lake sounded taken aback. No one had dared defy her in a long time. A blush of anger rose to her cheeks.

  “You are not taking them.” Queen Guinevere pulled the arrow taut against her bowstring. “We still need them here. Back away!”

  “I’m afraid that is not for you or any mortal to say,” the Lady of the Lake replied. “They made a deal with the Grail. They belong to Avalon now.”

  Guinevere’s hand trembled slightly. “I don’t understand. What deal?”

  “It’s true. In exchange for saving Camelot . . . I . . . We gave up our places in Camelot. It was the only way to defeat Morgan. . . .” Galahad struggled to tilt his head up. He tried to prop himself on his elbows but fell with a squelch back into the mud. Calib ran to his side and placed a protective paw on his forehead.

  “Shhhh,” Calib said. “Stay down. We can take it from here.” To his distress, Galahad’s skin was ice cold to the touch.

  Lancelot appeared beside Guinevere and raised his sword at the Lady of the Lake. “I don’t care what you think you are owed. You have no claim here. Our kingdom needs a leader. And I need my son!”

  “Peace, Guinevere! Peace, Lancelot!” The wolf stood up now. “Perhaps I can explain this better, Nimue.”

  Howell leaped gracefully from the boat and onto land. When his paws touched ground, they transformed into booted feet. The fur on his body grew long and knitted together into a white robe. Howell’s long snout shrank back to form a Two-Legger face with a ragged beard and shaggy eyebrows. The Two-Legger’s eyes were mismatched just like Howell’s: one sea green and one icy blue.

  Calib gasped as he beheld Howell in his human shape—Merlin, the greatest wizard who ever walked the Earth.

  He looked around with his mismatched eyes. The burned castle, the ruined ships beached on the rocks, the many injured men and animals.

  “It was too good a place to last forever,” he said wistfully to Guinevere. “You saw it in the mirror many times. You knew this would come to pass.”

  A grief-stricken Guinevere lowered her bow and arrow.

  “Why, Merlin?” she asked, her voice breaking with sorrow. “Why come back now, when it is too late? You could have done something.”

  “A new Britain is coming,” Merlin said. “It was time to let this age pass.”

  Beneath his grief, Calib felt a flash of anger. It was not fair. Everything he and his family had sacrificed, it was all for nothing.

  “Then what was the point of it, if Camelot was always going to be destroyed!” Calib burst out, surprised at how angry he sounded. “Why did you send me on these stupid quests to try to save it?”

  Merlin turned his attention to Calib. “You misunderstand, mousling. You have ensured Camelot’s survival for eternity.”

  “My dear Calib.” A familiar, warm voice stopped Calib’s heart. “You have much to learn about what Camelot is and could be.”

  “Aye, not that we had enough time to tell him of course,” responded another voice that spoke to him from a long-lost past. Calib turned to see who the voices belonged to.

  A stout, barrel-chested mouse stood on the shore. His golden fur was tinged at the ends with silvery-gray hairs. He wore a simple brown robe, the kind he always chose when he did not want to be noticed. Beside him stood a noble mouse-knight, dressed in the Christopher colors. His coloring matched Calib’s. He was the spitting image of a certain tapestry of which Calib had memorized every single detail.

  Calib rubbed his eyes, barely able to speak.

  “Father? Grandfather?”

  CHAPTER

  48

  “But how is this possible?” Calib whispered. His mind couldn’t comprehend what his eyes were seeing. He staggered forward toward Yvers’s and Trenton’s outstretched arms. And like a waking dream, everything and everyone else seemed to melt away. When Calib’s paws grasped theirs, and the familiar scent of his grandfather and father reached his snout, tears overwhelmed him. His greatest wish, even more than becoming a knight, came unbidden to his lips.

  “Will you stay this time?”

  Sir Trenton and Commander Yvers looked at each other sadly.

  “I’m afraid we are here only for a little while,” Yvers said. He looked longingly at their surroundings. “Given my abrupt departure, I had wanted to see Camelot one last time.”

  At the thought of the ruined scene behind them, guilt flushed Calib’s cheeks red. For generations, the Christopher mice had protected the Grail, and with it, their castle home. And now both were lost.

  “I’m sorry I let you both down.” Calib could no longer look into his grandfather’s kind eyes. “I’ve failed to live up to the Christopher name. Failed spectacularly.”

  Calib unbuckled his chest armor with the Christopher crest and tried to hand it to Sir Trenton.

  “No, Calib, you haven’t,” Yvers said, staying Calib’s paw. “In fact, you’ve done just the opposite. You’ve saved us all.”

  “I don’t understand,” Calib said. “The visions in Merlin’s Mirror came true. Camelot burned no matter what I tried to do to prevent it.”

  “Camelot was never about a castle or a piece of treasure, but its people,” Trenton said, coming forward to place the armor back on his son. “In each of your adventures, haven’t you noticed? You’ve united the Darklings, the Two-Leggers, and even many of the Saxons, all under one banner. You’ve truly made Camelot stronger in ways we never could have done by our keeping secrets and distrusting others.”

  “I knew that night you first stumbled into my cave that you were destined for greatness,” Merlin said, having returned his attention to the mice. He sat himself down on the ground. “You have always been brave, strong, and wise, Calib Christopher . . .”

  “And that is the mark of a true Camelot knight,” King Arthur finished.

  Everyone looked surprised that the Two-Legger king could suddenly understand what the mice were saying to one another without the aid of Excalibur.

  “Under the circumstances of our gathering, all may speak and be understood freely her
e,” Merlin clarified.

  “I remember you,” Guinevere said to Calib. “You upset an entire meeting of the Round Table before my cat, Lucy, ran off with you.”

  “He was the one who unlocked the Sword in the Stone.” Galahad was awake now. “He’s the whole reason any one of us has survived this long.”

  “And to think, Lucy nearly ate a knight.” Queen Guinevere patted Calib on the head.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, but I am no knight,” Calib said, bowing sheepishly to the king and queen. “I’m just a squire.”

  “Well, that won’t do.” Arthur crooked a finger to the mouse. “I can change that, you know.”

  “You mean . . . ?” Calib looked at Yvers and Trenton in disbelief. He didn’t think he would ever be knighted after everything that had transpired, but somehow, Galahad’s praise also rang true. All this time, he thought he was failing to live up to what he thought his grandfather and father would do. But perhaps he had found his own path.

  “The Crown now calls Calib Christopher before this court and company,” King Arthur said.

  Calib stepped forward. With his father and grandfather watching on, he felt dizzy from joy.

  Queen Guinevere helped prop Arthur up. Trenton handed Arthur a sword. Calib recognized it as Darkslayer, which he had sacrificed to call forth the Lady of the Lake. His father’s sword.

  King Arthur held it between his thumb and forefinger.

  “With this sword, do you swear to be brave, strong, and wise, and to uphold yourself to the qualities befitting a knight of Camelot and Britain?”

  “I do.” Calib thought he had never said truer words in his life.

  King Arthur smiled. “I dub you Sir Calib Christopher, guardian and defender of Camelot ever after. Rise, sir knight, and claim your title.”

  Calib’s eyes were bright as he stood and accepted the sword from King Arthur. It felt good and right in his paw. He looked around at the gathered group. Color was returning to Galahad’s face. Arthur and Guinevere were holding hands. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right. Life could go on without the castle.

  A peaceful silence settled as the sun began to set.

  “It’s time to go now,” the Lady of the Lake said. “Our magic will only last a short while. Arthur’s wounds are deep and beyond the physical. Morgan buried all her hate into that arrow. He will need healing from the Sisters, and our magic is not what it used to be.”

  “And what about Galahad?” Calib asked.

  “Galahad will heal faster because of his youth.” A new voice entered the conversation as a Two-Legger woman emerged from the boat. She was dressed in an all-white habit, one that resembled the Lady of the Lake’s feathers. “But it will still take time. And there is no better place to heal than home.”

  “Mother!” Galahad stumbled forward, and mother and son embraced.

  “Avalon is my home now, and yours as well,” Lady Elaine said. “We, the sisters of St. Anne, have taught you all you needed to know about the need for peace, while your time with your father in Camelot has taught you what it means to be truly brave. Those lessons will serve you well, but as beings of magic, we belong on Avalon.”

  “Will Galahad ever come back?” Calib asked.

  “Perhaps one day, when the world is ready again for magic,” the Lady of the Lake said. “Galahad and Arthur will both return, but perhaps not in the forms in which you see them now.”

  “Will we be able to visit?” Calib asked. “We made it to Avalon once.”

  Merlin and the Lady of the Lake looked at each other uncertainly. “I’m afraid,” she finally said, “we will need to cut Avalon from this world in ways that cannot be undone. Two-Leggers do not know how to handle magic.”

  “That’s not true. Look at Galahad,” Calib said.

  “But look at Morgan,” the Lady of the Lake said. “It’s too dangerous to keep magic in this world.”

  “Men will go on to do great things on their own,” Merlin said. “They don’t need magic anymore.”

  And though he did not wish it, Calib knew it to be true.

  “So I guess this is good-bye for now,” Galahad said to Calib. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I won’t forget you, ever.”

  Calib struggled to come to grips with saying good-bye to his best friend. He thought back to the first time they had met in the throne room so long ago. There, Galahad had invited him on to his palm on the night of their first encounter. Calib had been terrified then and ran away from him.

  But now, as Galahad opened his palm again, Calib bounded up to his Two-Legger friend without hesitation. Calib took off his helmet and placed it on Galahad’s thumb.

  “Remember, you will always have a friend in the woodland realm.”

  Queen Guinevere looked at her husband. “All our long years together. I did not think there would come a day when you would not be by my side.” The queen placed her hand gently on Arthur’s cheek, letting her own tears fall on his face.

  “I am sorry,” Arthur said. “You deserved better.”

  “No,” Guinevere said. “We deserved each other. And for as long as I live, I will find a way to honor the legacy that we built here.”

  The king and queen embraced for a long time. Finally, she let go and allowed Lancelot and Merlin to carry King Arthur to the boat. Galahad stood on his own and began to follow them toward the ship.

  “Good-bye,” Galahad said, stopping in front of Sir Lancelot. The knight wrapped Galahad in a strong hug. “I’m sorry I never followed in your footsteps.”

  “Son, you were meant for a much greater purpose than I could ever imagine,” Lancelot said. “I could not be prouder of you than I am now.”

  The knight looked at Lady Elaine with tears in his eyes. “Thank you for looking after our son.”

  Merlin and the Lady of the Lake beckoned to the mice. Commander Yvers and Sir Trenton lingered by Calib’s side.

  “You take care of yourself, young Christopher,” Yvers said, giving Calib’s paw one last squeeze before they boarded.

  Together, the animals on the shore watched the boat to Avalon sail downriver, carried by the rushing waters.

  Many warriors had gone this path to the Fields Beyond. And the thought filled Calib with hope.

  Just as the boat looked like it might tip over the waterfall, it took off soaring in the twilight air.

  Camelot—beast and man—watched it until it became a small speck on the lavender-blue horizon and then disappeared.

  “I will go help the others clear out the debris,” Lancelot said softly. His eyes stayed on the horizon where the boat had gone. “But eventually, we will need to address the issue of succession.”

  “We will rebuild,” the queen said. “But I have no interest in ruling over a new Camelot. There will never be another Camelot, nor would I dare try to recreate it. It lives on in our stories, and that is enough for me.”

  “There may be a fight for power,” Lancelot began uncertainly.

  “I will see that through,” Guinevere said, and gave Calib a smile. “With the help of some very sage advisers.”

  Hours later, when the last of the embers had finally died out, the animals of Camelot went to see what they could salvage. Calib found himself walking through the tapestry hall once again, taking an old, familiar path. Most of the tapestry was irrecoverable. Only a blackened, charred splotch on the wall marked where Sir Trenton and Lady Clara’s tapestry once hung.

  He was soon joined by Cecily, Commander Kensington, Sir Alric, and the rest of the Camelot mice.

  Together, they began to sweep up the dust and ashes in silence.

  “Leftie has offered us a home in the Darkling Woods,” Commander Kensington said. “There is room in the caves. Plenty of space. It can shelter us for a time.”

  Viviana von Mandrake placed her paws around Cecily’s shoulders. “We will go. I’ve been thinking about starting my own inn again.”

  “The caves are near a river,” Barnaby added. “It’s a good place to
launch ships.”

  “There are hot springs, too,” Dandelion said as she and her reunited cousin, Fennel, filled a bag with ash.

  “How luxurious!” Ginny exclaimed. “We could start a bath spa!”

  “I’ve read about those,” Thomas said. He helped lift the bigger pieces of debris while Rosy and Silas tumbled about, fetching water for the working mice.

  One by one, all the creatures of Camelot agreed. They would join the Darklings.

  “What do you think, Calib?” Cecily asked, putting her paw in his.

  It was true what his grandfather and father had said. Camelot was not a place but an ideal. It would have to live on only in stories. Calib looked into a nearby mirror and thought he saw Galahad waving back. He blinked and realized it was just his own reflection.

  He smiled and nodded.

  He was Sir Calib Christopher, brave, strong, and wise. And through him, Camelot’s glory would never fade, no matter where he lived.

  EPILOGUE

  “The Hurler only looks intimidating, but just keep your eyes on the berry.” Calib repositioned little Gala’s paws farther apart on the wooden sword. “Draw your strength from your shoulders, not the arms, just like your mother taught you.”

  Gala made a few practice swings. They were strong and sure. Calib was impressed but not surprised. She was her mother’s daughter, after all, and Lady Cecily Christopher was the greatest swordsmouse of her generation. There was a bright eagerness in Gala’s eyes that reminded Calib so much of himself at that age. An ache built in his throat.

  He turned to face the direction where Camelot once stood. Some mornings he believed he could still see the castle, its proud turrets ever reaching toward the sky.

  After so many years, and a smattering of gray whiskers around his cheeks to show for it, Calib had come to accept that a new world had dawned on their Britain.

  “Okay, I can do this,” Gala said, and ran to line up with the other first-years about to face the Hurler—the Two-Legger slingshot that shot berries and acorns for target practice.