The Dragon King

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The Dragon King Page 8

by Nils Johnson-Shelton


  They turned from the crossover to the house. The sky was just beginning to brighten as they walked up the back steps and onto the patio.

  Artie knelt at the welcome mat to get the key when Kay said quietly, “Artie, the door’s open!”

  It was open! “But you locked it, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, double positive.”

  “Dang it.” Artie peered through the nearest window into the kitchen. It looked the same as before—a total wreck—but at least empty of a dead saber-tooth/rhino.

  “You think it’s another one of those things?”

  “Only one way to find out.” And before Kay could stop him, Artie stole into the house.

  There was no sign of anything in the kitchen. No sign of anything in the den. He tiptoed in farther and hit a creaky floorboard. He froze and listened. No sound. He shifted his weight off the board and it creaked some more. Listened again. Nothing. A few more steps, and he’d reached the cabinet where the swords were hidden. He opened it carefully, leaned in, and emerged holding Excalibur. He pulled out the blade and slung the scabbard over his shoulder. Then he peeked at Kay and gave her the all clear.

  The others crept in. Artie handed Kay and Qwon their swords, and the girls drew their weapons immediately. Artie passed his dagger, Carnwennan, to Pammy. “You keep that,” he whispered. “And stay put.”

  Pammy slid the knife from its sheath and winked at Artie.

  Artie, Kay, and Qwon fanned into the house. They cleared the dining room and the living room and then returned to the entryway. Then they went up the stairs, keeping to the left and skipping the third, seventh, and eleventh steps since he knew they were as noisy as noisy steps came. Snaking along the upper hallway, they arrived at Kynder’s room: clear. Guest room: clear. Kay’s room: clear.

  Artie’s room: locked.

  Artie and Kay exchanged wild looks. Neither Artie nor Kay had any idea where the keys to the upstairs rooms were kept, or if they even existed. The Kingfishers simply didn’t lock their doors.

  Artie took a step back and pantomimed kicking the door in. Kay and Qwon nodded in agreement. “On three,” Artie mouthed.

  “One.

  “Two.

  “Three.”

  He kicked hard. It flew inward and Artie did too, but the door rebounded and its edge hit him across the knuckles. It only hurt for a second, but the shock was enough to cause him to drop Excalibur.

  As he skidded to a stop, a form rose from the bed. A glint of metal caught what little light filtered into the room, the metal coming fast for Artie’s head. His reflexes kicked in and his fists crossed in front of him, like a prizefighter protecting his face. This was it: he was about to put the scabbard to the deathblow test.

  But before the weapon could split his head like a coconut, someone said, “No!” which was followed by the grating of metal on metal on metal.

  Half a second passed and then a breathless voice said, “By the fens! I’m sorry, Brother!”

  Artie opened his eyes. Three of the Seven Swords were crossed in front of him in a tangle of steel. Kay and Qwon had jumped to either side of Artie, crossing Cleomede and Kusanagi in defense of Artie’s noggin, the Peace Sword caught in their crook.

  “Dred!” Qwon exclaimed.

  “I’m so sorry! I was just having the strangest dream, and you startled me!” Dred stepped down from Artie’s bed and offered Artie the hilt of his weapon. “Please, Arthur, forgive me.”

  Pammy called from downstairs, “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah, Mom. We’re fine.”

  “Okay!” Pammy said.

  Artie straightened. “Please, Dred. Keep your sword. It was a mistake. But why’re you here?”

  “Yeah, Semibro, why are you in Art’s bed?” Kay asked.

  “I came with Erik,” Dred explained, wiping sleep from his eyes with the back of a hand. “After we reached Tintagel, he got really homesick. He insisted on coming back here, even if only for the night. I decided to keep him company. Just made sense to stay in your bed, Artie. I locked the door out of habit—and, er, I was a little afraid, to be honest. I’m new to your side. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Artie shook his head. “Not at all. But where is Erik?” Artie was seized with the sudden fear that Erik had gone home to his parents, who would ask a lot of questions.

  “Downstairs, I think. In the game room.”

  Artie sighed. “Oh, good.” He turned to Kay. “C’mon.”

  They sheathed their weapons and returned to Pammy.

  “My goodness again,” Pammy said, seeing Dred for the first time. “You really do look like Artie.”

  “Mom, this is Dred. My, uh, kidnapper and friend.”

  Dred held out his hand, and when Pammy took it he bowed and kissed the back of it. “Oh my,” Pammy said, blushing. Artie rolled his eyes.

  Dred stood and let Pammy’s hand go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Onakea. Your daughter is a wonderful person.”

  “Thank you, Dred. I think so, too.”

  Kay pushed past them, saying, “Yeah, yeah. We’re all wonderful people, really and truly. But let’s go see Erik.” She disappeared down the stairs.

  Artie followed his sister. “We’ll be right back.”

  When they got to the game room, Erik was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the carpet, the VR goggles strapped to his head. The TV was not on and the only light in the room was the flickering green and blue shafts leaking from the sides of the glasses. Erik was completely still. The golden Xbox controller sat idle in his hands. His back slumped. Artie walked around him. Erik’s mouth hung open, a thin string of drool falling from it.

  “Erik,” Artie said, but Erik didn’t move.

  The lights in the goggles, however, went dark.

  “What’s he, asleep?” Kay wondered, clicking on a lamp in the corner.

  Artie shrugged. “Erik!” he called more loudly.

  Still nothing. The drool came free and landed on one of his knees, which was soaked.

  “Erikssen,” Kay said, pushing him lightly on the back.

  “Wha’?” Erik blurted. He let go of the controller and fumbled with the glasses. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s us.” Artie wrinkled his eyebrows. “Did you fall asleep playing video games? Sitting like that in the middle of the room?”

  “Huh, no. I, uh . . .” He finally got the glasses off and blinked as he looked at Artie and Kay.

  “What’s with you? You look like you’ve been hypnotized or something.”

  “What? No. I was just playing Otherworld.”

  “Or getting a lobotomy,” Artie said.

  Kay rapped her knuckles on the side of her head. “You all there?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, guys,” Erik insisted. He jumped up and bounded over to Gram, which leaned against the wall near the game console. “Totally fine.”

  “Why are you down here?” Artie asked.

  Erik sighed. “I wanted to go home but I knew I shouldn’t, so I just started playing Otherworld. Hope you don’t mind that I played with your character, Artie.”

  Artie felt a little uneasy—something about the situation bugged him. “Course not.” He moved back to the stairway. “Come on. We’re going back to the real Otherworld. There’s a lot to do.”

  Erik nodded. “Great.”

  As they left Artie said, “And, Erik, I promise to get you home as soon as I can. I’m so sorry you can’t go there yet.”

  “It’s okay,” Erik said quietly. “I did write my mom a letter, just to let her know I’m all right. I didn’t tell her anything about all of this. She wouldn’t believe it anyway. Can I send it to her?”

  “Definitely. We’ll have Pammy drop it in the mail.”

  “Cool, thanks.”

  They shut off the Xbox and the VR goggles and met the others in the kitchen. Artie gave Pammy Erik’s letter while Kay went into the pantry and pulled a twelve pack of Mountain Dew from behind a case of canned beets that had been there for as long a
s they could remember. It was one of their best hiding spots.

  They said their good-byes and wished one another good luck. Artie and Kay watched the Onakeas leave while Dred and Erik got some snacks in the kitchen.

  “You read Cassie’s letter yet?” Artie asked.

  Kay shook her head. “Couldn’t work up the nerve.”

  Artie resisted the urge to make a joke about how Kay never hesitated to do anything, and instead said, “You will. Soon.”

  “I hope so.” She faced Artie. “We’ve got to bring our dad back. Like, ASAP.”

  “I know.” Artie spun on his heel. Dred and Erik stood a few feet away, munching on trail mix. “We’re out, guys. Hope you’re ready, Dred. Because we’re headed to Fenland. We have some unfinished business with Morgaine.”

  11

  IN WHICH THE PARTY HAS A LOVELY CHAT WITH MORGAINE—NOT!

  Back at Tintagel, they loaded up on swords, armor, arrows, helmets, bucklers. Kay filled the infinite backpack with water and snacks, and made sure there was rope in it. They double knotted their shoelaces and tucked in their shirts. No loose ends.

  The knights going to Fenland were Artie, Kay, Dred, Erik, Bedevere, Shallot, and last, Lance, who was fully recovered. Thumb and Numinae were still at the Library in Sylvan doing research, and Bercilak was content to stay at Tintagel and stand guard.

  Before crossing to Fenland, Kay gave them a once-over like a drill sergeant. “All right, ragged Knights of the Round Table! Game time!”

  Shallot tested her scentlock; Lance twanged his bowstring; Erik spoke some Swedish to Gram.

  Using Excalibur’s pommel and Dred’s knowledge of Castel Deorc Wæters, Artie opened a moongate into a side passage near Morgaine’s bedroom. Dred snuck through to check if the coast was clear. It was. Artie went next, and the others followed.

  The moongate snapped shut. Since all of Castel Deorc Wæters’s sangrealite had been stolen by Merlin, the lights were still out. Kay fished a headlamp out of the backpack and flicked it on.

  They huddled in a circle, their weapons drawn. Lance already had two arrows nocked in his bow—which looked exactly like his original bow, painted with stars and stripes and bald eagles and everything. Orgulus, reclaimed from Numinae, hung from his belt.

  Dred leaned forward. “Most likely she’ll be in her room, plotting away.”

  Artie ran a hand over his jeans pocket. Scarffern, his secret and mysterious weapon, was waiting and ready. If he needed it on this trip, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. “We go right to her,” he said. “Confront her here and now and demand to know about the Grail.”

  “Numinae should be here,” Shallot lamented. “We’re going to need his magic.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Artie said resolutely. “She’ll hear us out.”

  Lance raised his eyebrows. “I hope you’re right.”

  Artie turned to his brother. “Dred, lead the way.”

  Dred moved into the hallway. Torches, set in iron sconces, burned at regular intervals. Dred walked up a flight of stairs, turned again, and stopped. In front of him were the huge double doors that led to Morgaine’s bedroom.

  Dred held up a fist to knock, but Artie raised Excalibur. “I’ll do it.”

  He knocked three times, but there was no answer. No evil, sickly sweet voice that Dred knew all too well. Artie knocked again. Nothing.

  “Maybe she’s running some errands,” Kay said.

  “Or maybe she jumped into that fetid moat of hers,” Shallot hissed.

  “I doubt it,” Dred said. “You guys ready?” They nodded, and Dred pushed the doors open.

  Shoulder to shoulder, Artie and Dred entered. The room was illuminated all around with torches and many-fingered candelabras dripping with wax. These rose toward the ceiling on magical cords, going as far as the stained glass windows in the upper reaches of the chamber. Artie asked Excalibur for some light, and it began to glow. The others followed cautiously.

  “Where is she?” Artie whispered, his stomach suddenly full of butterflies.

  “I don’t know,” Dred said, searching for any sign of Morgaine.

  “Could she be invisible?” Kay wondered.

  “No. I would see her,” Shallot answered, which made sense since she could turn invisible herself.

  They took a few more steps, and Dred straightened. “She’s not here.” And then, as he was about to sheathe his weapon, he caught sight of Eekan, his mother’s red-tufted jaybird, sleeping on a pedestal stand on Morgaine’s vanity.

  Dred turned to Shallot. “If you’d be so kind as to get that bird, mistress fairy.”

  She sheathed The Anguish, pirouetted, and disappeared. A few seconds later Eekan was screeching and flapping helplessly in Shallot’s invisible hands. She twirled and was visible once more. The bird was not happy.

  Dred approached, followed by the others. “Where is she?” he asked. The bird struggled and squawked. “Don’t lie, Eekan. You know I’ll be able to tell.” The bird tried to bite Shallot’s hand, but she adjusted her grip and caught the bird around the throat. He whimpered. “Last chance,” Dred said. “If you don’t tell me, the fairy will turn you into dust. You don’t want that, do you?” Shallot smiled, and the bird finally began to chitter and click in a language only Dred could comprehend.

  When Eekan was finished, Dred said, “Son of a witch.”

  “What is it?” Artie asked.

  “She’s downstairs.”

  “So?” Kay said.

  Dred sighed. “She’s in the place where you and I were made, Brother. The place I told you about.” He paused dramatically, then whispered, “Her lab.”

  “Oh.” Artie was a little unsure about going there, but they had no choice. “Well, lead the way, Dred.”

  Before leaving, Shallot asked, “What about the bird?”

  “Keep it hostage,” Dred said. “Mum loves that bird more than anything.” Shallot snickered, tightening her grip around the feathery neck. And then they filed out of the room and through the darkened Castel.

  Down, down, down they went, retracing the same path that Qwon and Shallot had taken when they’d escaped from Castel Deorc Wæters with poor Bors. They met no resistance. Morgaine’s minions had either been decimated in the battle with Artie, Merlin, and the knights; or, as was more likely, had simply deserted after Morgaine had failed to capture Artie Kingfisher.

  Finally they reached the subterranean tunnel containing the secret door that led to the lab. Dred ran his hands over the wall until he found the hidden stone that Bors had shown him. He pushed it, and the door swung open.

  Dred continued to lead the way. Lance and Shallot brought up the rear.

  Many small footprints could be seen in the dirt on the floor. “She’s definitely been down here,” Dred said.

  They reached the end of the passage. The door there was open. Inside they could hear the clink of drinking glasses and a woman’s distant voice.

  Artie looked at his knights. “Here goes, guys.”

  They went in, this time with Artie in the lead. Just like Dred had before them, they gawked at the abominations set in endless rows of glass canisters lining the room. Unfortunately for everyone but Artie, they had not been warned.

  “What is this place?” Kay asked, her voice quavering.

  “Looks like a mad scientist’s lab,” Lance mused.

  Shallot just hissed, and Bedevere steeled himself silently.

  “It’s where Artie and I were born,” Dred said solemnly.

  “Far out.” Erik clearly wasn’t as freaked out as the others.

  They drew closer to the end of the room, and the things in the tubes got more and more recognizable.

  “Gross, that one looks just like you!” Kay cried out before clasping a hand over her mouth, sure she’d given them away.

  Which she had. A loud whoosh came from the back of the lab, and before they knew it Morgaine floated before them. With arms outstretched, she cooed, “Hello, my liege!” Her voice was dangerously sweet and tin
ged with sarcasm. “Come and meet your faithful servant, your vanquished foe, your besotted tribute, the Lordess of Fenland!”

  Artie stepped forward. “Morgaine,” he said confidently.

  “King.” She swept her arms through the air. “What do you think of your nursery? I slaved in here for longer than you can imagine.”

  “It’s great,” Artie said insincerely. “And thanks. Really. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a finger bone and a lock of hair.”

  “So true!” She came closer and into better view. Her auburn hair was twisted atop her head like a pile of icing on a cupcake. Her war dress was gone, replaced by the kind of clothing Dred was more familiar with: a loose pantsuit and silver shoes and a yoke of tacky necklaces that jingled whenever she spoke. The sangrealitic bracelets she’d worn on her forearms in battle, though, were still there.

  “So, Arthur Kingfisher-Pendragon, et cetera, et cetera. How goes the kingdom?”

  Artie walked to within seven feet of Morgaine and stopped. Her necklaces tinkled. “Tell me about the Grail,” he stated flatly.

  “Ha! Cutting right to it, aren’t you?”

  “Hey!” Kay said. “Don’t talk to him like—”

  “Please, Lady Kingfisher, I am speaking to the liege, not you.”

  “I’m no lady.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Watch it, Mum,” Dred warned.

  Morgaine didn’t even look at Dred. “I shall address whomever I like, however I like.” Her voice was full of hate. “Thanks to you and that foul wizard, we have no power on Fenland—but I did keep some for myself.”

  “Your bracelets,” Shallot said.

  “Your dagger,” Dred added.

  “Yes, those, my dears.”

  Dred stepped next to Artie. “Mum, listen—”

  Morgaine rushed to Dred in a blur and waved a hand in front of his face. “Enough! I will not listen to you, traitorous boy!” And before Dred could respond, a web of skin-colored string wove across his mouth and laced it shut.

  Dred brought a hand to his face, his eyes wide, and made a muffled sound in protest.

  Shallot slid to one side of the room and disappeared, jaybird and all.

  “Don’t bother with your parlor trick, sprite,” the witch said. “I can see you. I was always able to see you.”

 

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