The Camelot Kids

by Ben Zackheim

  Myrtle gestured for Simon to go next. He glanced at Maille, who covered her eyes with her hands. He timidly took a step into Merlin’s large footprints and held his breath. As the glow blanketed him, he had the distinct sense of being watched, body and soul. The glow made him feel like he did when his mother had caught him in a lie.

  “Any outside technology or gold on your persons?”

  “I, uh, have a flashlight,” Simon said.

  “Hand it over, son. You can have it when you leave,” Myrtle shouted.

  “I can’t bring in gold?” Simon asked innocently, handing her his flashlight from his bag. Myrtle checked with the wizard as if she needed permission to answer. Whatever passed unspoken between her and the old man made her keep her mouth shut. She just shrugged.

  “I also have this vambrace, but I don’t think it has any gold.” Simon dug into his bag, but before he could find it, Merlin stopped him.

  “No, you keep that with you,” the old man said. “At all times. You understand? Come. We’re dawdling while danger nips at our heels. Gatekeeper, look out for anything unusual. I believe we were followed.”

  “Excellent!” Myrtle shouted even louder, as the small party resumed its walk down the road. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen any action around here. Why, I think it was the whole chicken robbery that last had us in a tizzy. 1958, I think.”

  Simon noticed that Maille and Merlin were not going to answer her, so he took it on himself to be the polite one and waved goodbye.

  The small group turned a sharp corner in the road.

  They emerged in another world.

  The deep forest was thick enough to block most of the sun. But the familiar gaslight street lamps cast a warm light over what was obviously a major trade route. The wide dirt road was heavily trafficked by people who wore clothes that didn’t belong in the twenty-first century. Most men donned belted robes or tunics with leather sandals. The women wore skirts and bodices. Everyone carried something — strong boxes, sacks, crates, even chickens.

  One chicken, in particular, was putting up a loud fight in a little girl’s arms. It broke free and ran around in circles, its owner in pursuit. She almost got her hands on the bird, but bumped into Merlin by accident. The old man glared down at her. Just his expression was enough to make the girl back up. She was terrified.

  Everyone around them either bowed or made enough room for ten Merlins to fit through. But Merlin didn’t acknowledge any of it. Simon thought it was rude to pass all these people without even a hello.

  Then Merlin put on a show for everyone. He paused for a moment and, with a flick of the wrist, changed his large wood staff into a shimmering steel staff. It had a green gem embedded in the top. Thick strands of silver weaved around its body. Simon guessed it was a hundred pounds, at least, but Merlin swung it a couple of times as if it were a twig. He put the grand walking stick to the ground with a loud click and started walking again.

  Then, from his robe, he pulled the stray chicken and handed it to the wide-eyed girl. She squealed in delight, and her mother bowed her head to the old man, smiling.

  “Apprentice!” he yelled, not breaking his stride.

  “Sir!” Maille hollered as she ran to his side.

  “Get him something to cover that outfit. He’s going to stand out enough as it is.”

  Maille, without a second’s hesitation, called forth from thin air a scratchy-looking tunic. It dropped to the ground in front of Simon.

  “Don’t worry, it’s more comfortable than it seems,” she said. “Besides, scratchy is the new black.” Simon slipped the robe on over his clothes. He was surprised at how smooth it felt on his skin.

  After a few minutes, they approached the gates to the city. The forest was still so dense that the high, thin doors appeared to emerge between ancient trees. They were laced in black iron and wide open for the traders coming and going. The walls were around forty feet high, covered in vines, and dotted with holes that Simon guessed were for archers in case of attack. Guards with impressive, spiked helmets and 10-foot spears peeked over the edge to keep an eye on all travelers.

  A couple of soldiers at the gate saw Maille walking with the troll on her back. Simon could swear one of them rolled his eyes as if it happened every Tuesday. But most folks milling about the entrance waiting for admission stared at Simon.

  Simon caught up to Maille, ducking under the troll’s waving butt. She smiled at him in a way no one had since he’d arrived in Scotland. He smiled back.

  “I know this is all crazy,” she said. “But you’ll get used to it soon enough. You won’t have a choice, really.” Her smile faded a bit on that last part.

  “My parents searched for Camelot since before I was born, and… It’s hard to believe.”

  “Your parents told you they were searching for Camelot?”

  Simon noticed the confusion in her voice. “Yeah. They wanted…”

  “Look alive, Lancelot! You’re upsetting the locals.” Merlin pointed his staff at Simon.

  “What did I do?”

  “They’re all bowing and clearing the roads for you,” Merlin barked. “And you’re busy romancing my accomplice!” Merlin barked.

  They were bowing to him?

  “Is he kidding me?” he whispered to Maille.

  She smirked and shook her head. “They think you’re Lancelot returned.”

  Maille pointed to the tunic she’d given him. There was something sewn onto the chest that Simon couldn’t make out. He twisted it around and was surprised to see the same crest that Graham Academy used — a dragon with a snakelike tail wrapped around a sword.

  “That’s the crest of Lancelot of the Lake,” Maille said. “Only Lancelot or his army can wear it. And since Lancelot hasn’t had an army for fifteen hundred years, they put two and two together.”

  All the attention made him nervous. “What do I do?” he whispered.

  “Whatever you want,” she whispered back.

  So he smiled at them, which didn’t go over too well at first. The grin, as genuine as he could make it on such short notice, was met with confusion. But soon enough, a few people smiled back and it quickly caught on.

  Some people started to say hello as they approached the castle walls. Simon said “Hi” every few seconds, and his greeting was met with scattered applause. He did notice that, even with the growing enthusiasm all around him, several people frowned.

  By the time they’d reached the gate, most of the merchants and citizens were clapping and hollering. Simon did his best to keep his composure as the guards waved them through the gate.

  Maille smacked Simon on the back. “Well played,” she said.

  He didn’t have time to be annoyed. He glanced up at the view in front of him, and his breath was cut short.

  The entry road grew from a narrow stone path to a wide cobblestone street. It was a busy hub of commerce, weaving up the center of the kingdom like a spine, only ending when it ran into the castle that loomed over everything. The slender sidewalks were flanked by stone buildings with pitched roofs, large shop windows and hundreds of tables with goods for sale.

  New Camelot’s citizens rushed by Simon, lugging sacks and crates of this and that. They shoved their way past each other, hollering and working away. Simon tried to look like he belonged as he followed Maille into a large town square, packed with tents and booths.

  “It’s Spring Fair this week,” she said, smiling.

  People were busy, indeed. But they weren’t too busy to spot the Lancelot crest on his robe. Again, the curiosity about Simon bubbled up. Lucky for him, no one had time for distractions and they went back to their business.

  Then a question occurred to Simon. Now was as good a time as any to get to the bottom of things. “Why didn’t you show up last night?” he asked Maille.

  “I’m sorry, Simon. Really, I am. I tried to reach you but Merlin pulled me away on another task. When he wants me to do something I kind of have to do it. He told me you could spend
the night on the loch and we’d both come get you this morning.”

  “How considerate of him,” Simon said, shooting Merlin a frown. The old man towered over everyone so he was visible through the crowd. He considered telling Maille about Tillman’s death, but decided no one should know for now. She’d just feel obligated to tell her boss and then nothing good would happen.

  “Hey. What were you going to say about my parents?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice low enough so Merlin didn’t hear, but loud enough so he could be heard over the din.

  “Nothing really. I heard they were looking for something else. Not Camelot. Excalibur, maybe.”

  Simon stopped walking. “Who told you they were looking for Excalibur?”

  “Merlin, I think.”

  “Merlin knew my parents?”

  “He knew of them, yeah. He watched them for years, but mostly for a laugh. They always searched for the sword in places that Merlin had checked already.” She seemed a bit ashamed that Simon’s folks had been the butt of Merlin’s joke. But they’d been the butt of Simon’s jokes too, so he didn’t mind.

  No, his head was trying to wrap itself around something else. What did it mean that this old man tracked his family?

  “Someone who knew my parents told me that Mom and Dad were digging for something with a lot of power. Maybe it was Excalibur.”

  “That would be powerful, all right.” She didn’t seem to like the possibility one bit.

  “You said Merlin had already checked the places where my parents went. So that means Merlin’s searching for it too. How long has Excalibur been missing?”

  Maille smirked. Simon knew the expression well. It was the one people made when they realized he was smarter than he looked. “The sword’s been missing since King Arthur was killed.”

  “So even the all-powerful Merlin can’t find a magic weapon,” Simon said.

  “Which means someone’s hiding Excalibur. Really well,” Maille said. Clearly, she’d thought the same thing for a long time.

  As if he could hear their mumbling, Merlin glanced over his shoulder, a sour expression on his face.

  Simon couldn’t believe he was talking about legends like they were real, but it was getting hard to deny when he was dodging people dressed like it was 500AD under the shadow of a humongous castle he’d never seen before.

  “Maybe they were looking for Excalibur,” Simon said. “Everything they did was a secret, so who knows? Thanks for being honest with me, Maille.”

  “Sure, Si - LOOK OUT!”

  Simon ducked just in time to dodge a man on a low-flying chair.

  “Pardon! Acting up this morning!” the man hollered as he turned a corner, out of sight. Simon noticed for the first time that the sky was dotted with several people on floating chairs. They sat back and watched the view below as their rides glided by without a sound.

  “That’s the way the rich travel around here,” Maille said with no small distaste in her tone. “They buy them at The Spell to show off. Silly. It’s not like the town is so big that you need to fly around.”

  “The Spell? What’s that?”

  Maille smiled. “I’ll take you there one day.” They passed by booths packed with food and treat — everything from colorful fruits to meats to candy and even ices. The ices were every color of the spectrum, plus or minus fifty. How they were kept cold was a mystery to Simon, but since chairs were flying about and two wizards were walking with him (one with a one-ton troll on her back), Simon assumed magic was involved.

  The candy was unlike any he’d ever seen. Lollipops on top of sugar sticks. Rolls of chocolate piled eight feet high. Huge glass vats of red and orange syrup sparkling in the sunlight, under rolls of rainbow-colored candy ribbon.

  One treat in particular caught his eye. It was a bundle of colorful dough, swirled around a stick and coated in solid sugar. The smell alone made him vow to pick one up when the fair began.

  As Simon and Maille wove through a narrow and crowded street, they lost Merlin, but they didn’t really care.

  Especially after they stumbled on a huge tent packed with toys. A sign hanging over the entrance read, in a ridiculous cursive, “Mr. Teetotal’s Toys for Tots, Teens and Reasonable People.”

  The modest cart on the street outside the tent had a few toys in it. Glowing balls, knight and dragon figures, wooden swords, dolls — the selection wasn’t unusual. But, upon closer examination, Simon noticed tiny pipes poking out from some of the toys. He picked up a puppet and wondered at the small gears on its back. They click-clacked gently, like cogs in a timepiece. He moved a switch with his thumb and the puppet snapped to life.

  “No playing with the toys!” the toy hollered at him, spitting steam out of its pipes before going limp.

  Maille, far from being embarrassed by her companion’s scolding, got really excited about something. She put down the troll in the middle of the narrow street (to the horror of the passing pedestrians) and darted inside the tent. Simon followed her.

  Maille’s grin was years younger than she was. Simon was even more awestruck. Large, bright balls floated above their heads, their sleek surfaces alight with intricate moving patterns that glowed like fire. Realistic puppets with grimaces and grins and everything in-between hung from the booth’s makeshift walls. The creepy characters jerked about at the slightest movement. With the troll’s powerful snoring just outside the tent, they were stuck in a constant jig.

  A wooden horse on wheels rolled around a long table, weaving between the other toys.

  “Look!” Maille said, pointing at the horse. “It’s not easy to charm wood like that! Wood is a misbehaver.”

  “What’s a misbehaver?”

  “Wood and stone are the toughest materials to bend with magic. They belong to the elves and dwarves, so they tend to misbehave when humans try to do anything with them.”

  Simon could have fixated on the mention of elves and dwarves, but a couple of toys stole his attention. Two metal knights, one in silver armor, the other in black, grasped two shiny swords with both hands. Maille saw them too and squealed.

  “Please, sir, are these the new Round Table Knights?” she asked the merchant. He was an old man with large spectacles and, clearly, little time for a teenager’s stupid questions. He managed to nod his head before going back to his itemizing and dusting.

  Maille clapped her hands excitedly and moved the knights so they faced each other.

  “Hey! No playing!” the frail vendor squawked.

  “Please, sir. I’ll fix it after. Promise!”Maille made a pleading face, eyes wide, grin wider.

  The toy seller mumbled something about wizards, bad weather and snakes.

  Maille grabbed two smooth wood sticks from the table and handed one to Simon.

  “This is so cool. Watch…”

  She held the stick with both hands, then lifted it. The silver knight ejected steam from its head and did the exact same thing with his sword at the exact same time. She swung the stick around and the silver knight copied her perfectly. “Go ahead. Try it!”

  Simon lifted his stick up and was shocked at how heavy it was. The black knight raised his sword weakly, the same way Simon had, and stumbled around like a drunk.

  Maille giggled. “They’ll taunt you once in a while, but don’t let it get to you.”

  Simon made an effort to contain his awe. It may have been incredible, it may have been something he’d never seen before, but he knew what happened next. He lifted the stick over his head and swung it in front of him, trying to get his black knight to strike the silver knight from above. But Maille saw it coming, and parried with a large swing of her own. It broke through Simon’s attack and nicked his knight in the thigh. The toy jumped up and down, shaking its fist at Simon. Maille giggled again.

  That did it. No more fooling around.

  Now that he had a feel for it, Simon grounded himself and lifted the sword again. Maille did the same. The two knights faced each other and the fight began anew.

/>   Maille attacked from above. Simon lifted the stick in time to block her. The force of the blow brought his knight’s sword down to the ground hard. That should have been a liability. But Simon realized in a split second that he could use it to his advantage. Against any common sense, he leaned forward forcing his toy’s sword to scrape over the floor, where it promptly stabbed the silver knight’s foot.

  Maille’s guy jumped up and down in pain.

  But she didn’t let it complain for too long. She slashed at Simon from the left and forced him to block again. She stabbed forward and he backed up and parried perfectly. He brought the stick around in a large arc and stepped into the attack.

  Maille managed to deflect it but her knight was off balance.

  Simon didn’t even think.

  He pulled his stick back then lunged forward with all his might. His knight’s sword impaled Maille’s man with a sick metallic thud. The black knight abandoned its sword in its opponent’s chest, took a step back, and clapped its hands in celebration. The losing warrior made ungentlemanly gestures at Maille.

  When Simon came out of his adrenaline rush he realized that Maille was smiling at him. Not only that, but dozens of customers were watching them play, delighted. The silver knight pulled the weapon from its armor, gave it back to the black knight and they both stood still, side by side, just as they had appeared when the kids first spotted them.

  Simon smiled at the onlookers as they clapped him on the back. Maille lifted her wand and, with a swing, a poke and a whisper the considerable damage they’d done to the toys disappeared.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said politely. The toy merchant mumbled back. Maille exited, lifted the troll over her head with one arm, and looped her other arm through Simon’s.

  15

  “See? Either you’re a very fast learner, or Lancelot’s blood is in your veins after all,” Maille said. “I’m a very accomplished swordswoman. You can even ask Merlin.”

  Simon opted for the change-the-subject strategy. “Where is Merlin anyway?”