Kay explained to everyone what Artie was talking about. “Read it to us, read it to us!” several of the knights insisted, but Kay remained hesitant.
“I’m sorry, guys. . . . I need to do it alone. I promise to read it tonight. If there’s anything important in it, I’ll tell you.”
“Good,” Artie said reassuringly. “Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I am totally pooped. I’m going up to my room. Tomorrow morning we’ll talk more about this Sword of David and get going into that King’s Gate for the Grail. Merlin isn’t gonna be sitting on his hands so we can’t sit on ours. We have to find a way to head him off.” Artie looked each of his knights in the eye.
Kay clicked her tongue. “Dang, Art. You sound like a king.”
Artie winked. “That’s because I am.”
17
HOW KAY HAS A MOST UNEXPECTED CONVERSATION
That night Kay climbed into a huge four-poster bed, a fire crackling in the hearth, and set the small box from her mother on top of the covers. For a while she did nothing but stare at it. Her mind crawled with questions.
Finally she reached down and opened the lid. She pried out the piece of paper and unfolded it. When she got to the last fold, she paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then she opened it and held it in both hands.
And there was nothing there!
She turned it over hurriedly, and over again, but there was no denying it. The paper was blank.
Her nerves morphed into sudden anger. “Mom! What? Why did you leave me a blank note?” Kay was never one to complain about fairness, but this was different. This piece of paper wasn’t just disappointing, it was insulting. It wasn’t fair. She crumpled it and threw it away, but it hit one of the bedposts and bounced back onto the covers. “Ugh!” she blurted, kicking the ball with her feet. “Go away!” But just as it eclipsed the edge of the mattress, something caught Kay’s eye.
She flopped over and grabbed the wad of paper. She pulled it open. There was a mark! “What the—?” And then, before her very eyes, blue-green strokes filled the middle of the sheet. When they were done, they had formed a single word.
Kay?
“Mom?”
The word disappeared, and new marks, in random order, took shape over the page. Within seconds it said, Yes. It’s me. Pamela gave you your gift?
“Uh, yeah. . . . Where are you?”
Somewhere safe. Somewhere pleasant.
Kay almost said snarkily, “Isn’t that nice for you,” but she resisted and just said, “Good. But how are you doing this?”
It’s magic, like so many things in the Otherworld.
“But where did you get magic paper when you left us? That was a long time ago, before all this stuff happened.”
The words disappeared, and there was a pause before the answer came. We have always had magic in us, sweetie. Remember how Artie came to us. . . .
Just then a horrible thought crossed Kay’s mind. “Mom, I’m sorry to ask this, but can you prove that you’re who you say you are?”
The words came almost instantaneously: Kynder’s middle name is Bell. Yours is Orleans. Your left eye is blue, the right green, as are mine. When you were born, you did not cry. Your favorite stuffed animal growing up was a white rat you called “Ratty.”
Kay raised her eyebrows and her heart quickened. It was all true. “What else?”
At the Great Sylvan Library, when I was swallowed by the forest, you and I locked eyes. We didn’t say anything, but we understood each other’s thoughts perfectly. I thought, I’m so sorry, and you thought, I forgive you, Mama.
“All right. But how do I know Merlin isn’t controlling you?”
You’ll have to take my word, dear. Like I said, I am safe and happy, and I will never see a witch or wizard again. Besides, if I were his prisoner, I would be dead. He wants Morgaine dead, after all—and I am a direct descendant of the Lordess of Fenland.
These last words lingered on the page before disappearing. Kay was flabbergasted. “Wait—what? You? That means . . . I’m related to Morgaine?”
Yes. As I said, we have always had magic in us.
“Whoa.”
There is more, dear. There was a pause. And then, Morgaine was the first Arthur’s half sister.
“So what? That was a long time—” But then she got it. “Holy dragon turds! That means that Artie is—”
Morgaine’s biological half brother.
“But how?”
Igraine—Artie and Dred’s genetic mother—was also Morgaine’s mother so many years ago. Her father was a man named Gorlois, who, incidentally, was killed by Arthur’s father, Uther.
Kay whistled. “Things were pretty mixed up back then, huh?”
Yes.
Kay paused as this new information washed over her. “So Artie and I . . . Kynder and me . . . the three of us were meant to be together, weren’t we?”
Naturally.
“That’s why Artie and I had our special connection!” Kay said, more to herself than her mom. “Because we really are related!”
Yes.
“It makes sense now. More sense, anyway.”
I’m glad, dear.
Kay paused as she worked up the nerve to ask the most important question there was. “Mom . . . why did you leave? If you’re a long-lost child of the Otherworld, why couldn’t you handle Artie?”
The page went blank and stayed that way for half a minute. Kay fretted that the connection had somehow been cut, but then the marks started to fill the page. The apple fell far from the tree, dear. I’m not like you. I’m nervous and insecure. I rarely felt comfortable around other people, and when Artie appeared, I was pushed over the edge. Somehow, I crossed over and ended up in Fenland. . . .
“How did you have that key? The one with the horse on it?”
It was a family heirloom, passed down from Morgaine to our forebears many centuries ago. It was a tradition, passing the key, so I was passing it to you. Tell me—did it open the door to the Grail?
“What? No. It opened a lock on some crazy chest.”
Oh. We were always told it was the Grail key. “The key for the door. The door for the King. The King for the Grail.’” That was the line.
“I guess that’s kinda true. We used it to get the Grail key, which is bigger and shaped like a crown.”
Doors always lead to more doors. I am glad you are closer to the cup, since you seem to want it.
“We do, Mom. Merlin almost killed Kynder—who’s frozen in rock for safekeeping—and we’re going to use it to bring him back!”
Kay shook with anticipation. Just the thought of Kynder made her want to jump from bed and run into Artie’s bedroom so they could get the Grail right away, but it didn’t seem appropriate, not with this maternal message maker in her hands. Not since she was having a real conversation with her mom for the first time in forever.
“Mom . . .”
Instantaneously the page read, Kay, I’m so sorry I left you. It has been the greatest regret of my life.
Tears filled Kay’s eyes.
Don’t cry. Get the Grail. Save your father. Tell him I’m sorry too. I never meant to hurt him.
“What about . . . What about Artie?”
I never really knew him. But after you, I owe him the biggest apology. Please give him my heartfelt regards.
These words lingered on the page, and Kay read them over and over. Finally she asked, “Mom, will I see you again?”
The page went blank and remained that way for a while.
No.
Kay’s chest heaved silently. She drew a breath to speak but then thought better of it. She waited. A minute passed.
Are you still there?
“Yes.”
I love you, sweetheart. I am so proud of you. Continue to make the world as you live it. I love you.
“I love you, too.” She paused. “Mom, will I be able to use this piece of paper again to—”
But as she spoke, the sheet began to shake as
if blown by a breeze. Then the edges caught fire. Kay jumped out of bed and moved toward the fireplace. As the page burned more, the words I love you grew bigger and bigger. Kay worked her fingers around the paper so they wouldn’t burn. When she couldn’t hold it any longer, she dropped it onto the logs.
After it was gone, she said, “Well, that had to be the strangest reunion ever.”
Then she ran as fast as she could to her brother.
While Kay was opening the box, Artie lay his head on the pillow of his Tintagel bedroom and fell immediately to sleep. Within minutes his eyes darted back and forth as an intense dream overtook him.
He was inside the King’s Gate, standing in front of the door with the crown-shaped keyhole. He inserted the key and opened the door. First nothing was there, but then a great flock of birds bolted out. They flew around him, beating their wings against his body. He held his ground. When the air was clear Artie stepped through the doorway, and a face took shape in the near distance.
The face was Erik’s, his eyes completely white. Then the head turned all the way around, like an owl’s, but instead of the back of his head there was just a repeat of Erik’s white-eyed face, as if he had two. The image filled Artie with base fear.
The head made another half revolution. Erik’s face was gone this time, replaced by one that was older, the nose long and pointed. It had white muttonchops, and the skin was dark with inked tattoos. The eyes were closed.
Merlin.
The eyes opened. One was completely red. But the other was as Merlin’s eyes had once been—bright, alive, even cheerful. Merlin wore an oily cloak draped over his shoulders, and his leather hood dived down in a sharp V over his forehead.
Artie recoiled. Merlin laughed and brought his hands down quickly. In them was a sword. It looked exactly like Excalibur.
The blade sliced into Artie’s neck, and everything went completely white.
The brilliance of this dream-death was as terrifying as anything Artie had experienced on either side in his young, ancient life. He tossed and turned but couldn’t wake up. Eventually, the light dimmed and Merlin was gone.
Artie sat bolt upright in a cold sweat, his stare fixed on the far wall. It took him a few seconds to realize that Kay was in the room, saying, “Artie, hello? Are you there? You were having a dream!”
Artie spun to his sister. “Kay—I think I figured out a way to—”
“I just talked to Mom!”
“A way to—What?”
Kay explained what had happened with the note, and all that Cassie had said. When Artie learned that he was related to Morgaine, he cringed. “Gosh. I hope Dred doesn’t figure that out. It would be pretty strange to learn the woman you thought was your mom actually was your half sister.”
“Whoa. I didn’t think of that.”
Artie was much, much more delighted, however, to discover that he and Kay also shared some blood. In a sense Artie realized that he wasn’t an orphan at all. He belonged with Kay and Kynder. If they could get their dad back, that lone fact would make all of these adventures worth the trouble.
But they still had a long way to go. “Kay,” Artie said, thinking again of his haunting dream. “I think I have a plan to defeat Merlin.”
“Really? What is it?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow. I want to think it through a little. I’ll run it by Numinae in the morning. Will you join us for breakfast?”
“Heck yeah. I’ll be there with bells on.” She turned to leave and then paused. “Artie, Cassie said she was sorry for leaving us—and for leaving you.”
Artie lay back down and pulled the covers to his chin. He was glad to hear it, not so much for his sake but definitely for Kay’s. She didn’t deserve losing her mom. No kid ever does. “I’m happy to hear it, Kay. And just so you know, I forgave her a long time ago.”
She pushed the door open. “Me too, I guess. G’night, Art.”
“G’night, Kay.”
And then she left. Artie was so exhausted that even with this exciting news he fell back asleep quickly. Blessedly, he had no more dreams.
18
IN WHICH ARTIE HATCHES A PLAN
“Morning, Numinae.” Artie and Kay walked into the Royal Chamber, dressed and ready to go. Bran had laid out a breakfast of fresh fruit, hot coffee, cold Mountain Dew, and hard-boiled eggs at three places around the table.
“Sire. Miss.”
Kay plopped into her chair, while Artie sat next to Numinae. Artie looked to the far end of the room at the shimmering portal that was the King’s Gate. Soon enough, he’d be going through it again, this time with friends.
Kay pointed at the open book in front of Numinae. “Whatcha reading?”
“An obscure Leagonese text on what might guard the Grail. Most of it is in fairy verse, which is needlessly verbose. It’s funny—in person fairies are very direct; witness Shallot le Fey. But in writing, they dance around things in half measures and allusions.”
“You don’t have to worry about half measures anymore. Artie’s cooked up some kind of a plan!”
Numinae turned to Artie curiously. “Beyond getting the Grail, you mean?”
“Yeah, but we’re still doing that.” Artie poured a cup of coffee and began to peel the shell off a brown egg. “In fact, I was hoping you’d come with Kay and me.”
Numinae breathed in, making a sound like a breeze blowing through a pine forest. “I’d be honored, m’lord.”
“I’m glad. I was going to ask Thumb, Bedevere, and Bercilak to join us too.”
Numinae nodded his approval. “A good party for the mysteries surrounding the Grail. Bercilak is hungry for action.”
Kay chuckled. “It’ll be good to see wheat he can do, besides eat and drink like there’s no tomorrow. Pretty funny how an ‘empty knight’”—she made little air quotes with her fingers—“can be so darn hungry.”
They laughed. “And what about the others, sire?” Numinae asked.
“That’s where my plan comes in. It involves Dred and this Sword of David.”
“Ah. I was thinking about that last night too, sire.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well . . . if we could somehow trick Merlin into drawing the Sword of David, it would weaken him without his knowing it. Not until he tries to make some magic, anyway.”
“And once he’s weakened, he might be vulnerable,” Artie said, seeming to finish Numinae’s thought. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”
“It would be risky, but if for some reason we could not best him in battle, it might be our only hope.”
“Like a fail-safe,” Kay said, snapping her fingers.
“That’s right, sis. But tell me, Numinae—in what corner of the Otherworld does this sword live?”
“Ah, that’s the thing, sire. None of them.”
Artie took a sip of coffee. “What do you mean?”
“The sword of David is on your side. In some place called Turkey.”
“Like the country?” Kay asked.
“Yes.”
Artie shrugged. “At least it won’t be guarded by a giant or witch there.”
“Quite, m’lord.”
“Do you know where in Turkey?” Kay asked.
“According to Master Thumb, someplace called Topkapi Palace, in the village of Istanbul.”
Kay couldn’t help but laugh. She’d done a unit on foreign cities in seventh grade that included Istanbul. “Oh, that’s not a village, Numinae. Well over ten million people live there.”
“By the trees! There is no place in the Otherworld like that.”
“No, there isn’t,” Artie said. “Dred will have to go there, obviously. I was going to ask Lance, Shallot, and Qwon to join him.”
Numinae nodded his approval. “And while they are there, we will seek the Grail.”
Exactly. And here’s how I think we can trick Merlin.” Artie smirked at his two conspirators, and they huddled close over the table. “Listen carefully, and don’t tell any—I mean any—o
f the others about this.”
Kay’s eyes went wide. “What is it, Art?”
“We have a traitor,” Artie said.
“A what, sire?”
“How do you know?” Kay breathed, sounding shocked.
“I saw it in a dream.”
“Seriously, Art?”
“Seriously. Trust me.”
“Who is it?” Kay asked.
“I can’t tell you. If I did, you might treat the traitor differently.”
“Understood. Very prudent, sire.”
Kay tilted her head at Numinae. “I’m assuming it’s not him, right?”
“No. It’s not.”
“And it’s not her either?” Numinae countered with a little smile.
“No, not Kay.”
“All right, so it’s someone,” Kay said. “I’ll try not to let the suspense kill me. But what’s this plan?”
“The traitor is going to help us.” Artie’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. The fire crackled in the hearth. There was no other sound. “Here’s how.”
After formulating their plan and going over it again and again, Artie, Kay, and Numinae called for the others to meet them in Tintagel’s courtyard.
It was a bright, cloudless day. The Otherworld sky was bluer than it was purple, and high above the castle walls two dragons turned in the air, occasionally diving playfully at each others’ tails or wings. Tiberius—majestic and motionless—roosted on top of the gable end of the main building, completely asleep.
The knights congregated around Kynder’s stone in the middle of the yard. Next to it was Morgaine’s stone. Thumb paced in a tight circle. Lance checked his quiver of arrows. Bedevere ran a cloth over the edge of his claymore. Shallot squatted, drawing pictures in the dirt with the tip of The Anguish. Erik was next to her, whispering something that made the fairy smile. Bercilak stood off to the side, whooshing his great battle-ax through the air. And Dred stood thoughtfully against the rock that held Morgaine, a hand resting on it.
With his sword and mussed hair and long legs, Dred looked pretty impressive. As Artie crossed the yard, he realized that he, too, must have appeared impressive from time to time, and this made him feel that much more kingly.
The Dragon King Page 13