by Ben Zackheim
“Oh, who knows with him? He’s probably trying to convince a toad that life isn’t worth living and he should just jump in the pot. He did tell me to take you to your room.”
“He did? When did he do that?”
“A second ago. He talks to me in my head,” she explained. “He’s lazy that way.”
Caradoc started to stir on her shoulders. The troll’s eyes opened halfway and he grunted something in whatever language trolls spoke. Once he saw where he was, he groaned like a tired dog.
“Oh no. Not again.” Caradoc’s voice was still booming, but the whining lilt made it much less scary than it had been on the mountain.
“Good morning, moonbeam. Merlin has plans for you.” Maille cooed.
“Merlin has plans for us all, witch, so you can lose the sassy tone. Just because I’ll meet my fate sooner than you doesn’t give you the right to gloat. And why can’t I move?”
“You think I’m going to tell you the spell so you can break it? Stop fidgeting! It’s hard enough balancing you without your melodrama.”
Caradoc went back to sulking. Simon was struck by how different the troll was now, compared to the ferocious monster that had threatened to eat him an hour ago.
Simon prepared to let loose a hundred questions, when he noticed they were being followed. A couple dozen people, some of whom had watched him duel Maille in the toy tent, were ten paces back.
He stopped. They stopped too. They watched him as if he were on a stage. He smiled and waved. They smiled and waved back.
“They want to watch,” Maille said, before gritting her teeth as if she wished she could take that comment back.
“Watch what?” Simon asked, suspicious.
“I’ll tell you, but promise me you won’t freak out.”
“Okay, saying that makes it much more likely that I will.”
“Then forget it,” she muttered.
“They want to watch you open the door,” Caradoc said. He glanced down at Maille with a smug face on.
“What door? What’s he talking about?”
Maille frowned and leaned forward, using Caradoc’s butt to shove her way through a crowd. The main street was getting more hectic as lunch approached. The intersections were especially dense, with delicious smells wafting around the food vendors on every corner.
“Lancelot’s old living quarters. They’re a big deal around here,” Caradoc continued. “No one’s been inside for a thousand years. The door is locked to everyone but Lancelot or his bloodline.”
“Are you done?” Maille asked.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure,” the troll said with a chuckle. “I guess I could tell him about his new teacher, or maybe the 150 knights...” But Caradoc didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Maille flicked her wrist and whispered something. It must have been a spell because the result was a troll-sized sock stuck in Caradoc’s mouth. He went back to moping.
This bought Maille a little time. Simon kept almost saying something, before glancing at the sock that was getting soaked in troll spit, and decided to zip it. But as they climbed the street toward the castle, he summoned enough confidence to ask, “They want to watch me open a door?”
“And even walk in!” She was trying to be silly, but Simon was too busy wrapping his head around it all to notice.
“Wait a sec. If Lancelot lived in New Camelot, and New Camelot was built after Arthur died, then that would mean Merlin welcomed Lancelot back after he was banished by the king for loving the queen.”
“I guess so, yeah,” Maille said.
“It also means Lancelot survived for a long time.”
“A few hundred years, if you believe Merlin.”
“I don’t,” Simon said immediately.
“Probably wise,” Maille said with a smile.
“I don’t even believe that he’s Merlin,” he said, shaking his head like he was trying to loosen a clingy thought.
“Oh, we’re back to that, are we?” Maille teased. She stepped off the main road and slid down a steep hill sideways, on the edges of her feet. Following gravity, she jogged until she reached the outer wall of the castle. Simon followed as best he could, but fell on his butt three times. When he caught up he noticed that Maille was standing near a small, simple door. Could that be the door to Lancelot’s home? It looked like it led to a broom closet.
Simon heard a commotion from above. He watched two soldiers scramble down the hill toward them. One fell over and rolled all the way to Simon’s feet. The other one caught up, breathless. They both stumbled awkwardly to one knee and bowed their heads.
“Greetings, Sir Lancelot!” One of them, the taller one, screamed. His voice cracked. “Our apologies for being late! The change of the guard was delayed by…”
“Go ahead and tell him, Russ,” the smaller soldier said.
“Sssh!” the tall one hissed.
“Please, guys. Don’t do...” Simon said.
“No, go ahead and tell him that New Camelot has waited a thousand years for his return but he didn’t get a proper welcome because you can’t hold your orange juice!”
“Sir Lancelot…” Russ muttered. “Welcome back to your home and sanctuary! We are here to serve!”
“Please don’t do that. Get up, okay? Please?” Simon glanced around to see if anyone was watching all this nonsense. To his horror, the street was packed with hundreds of onlookers all the way down the hill. From the looks of it, everyone they had passed on their hike had tailed them.
And every single person in the square stared at him.
“Looks like we were followed,” Maille said, letting down Caradoc, gently.
The soldiers did what Simon asked and stood at attention. He reached out his hand. “I’m Simon.” The soldiers shot each other a look, hoping the other one knew what they were supposed to do next.
Maille helped them out. “Shake his hand, guys.”
“Russ,” said the tall one, grabbing Simon’s hand. His red hair poked out from under his helmet in a hundred directions.
“Josh,” said the other kid. He was handsome, but his shoulders drooped like he expected to get hit at any second.
Simon glanced at the door. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.
“If you’ll excuse me. Sorry. Have to open this very important...door.” Simon was trying to be funny but Josh and Russ were horrified that they’d slowed him down. They bowed so low that their helmets fell to the dirt. Simon had never heard a crowd of a thousand people laugh before. Their mirth bounced off the castle walls and echoed over the town.
He took a deep breath. The area was strangely familiar to him. It made him uneasy, and it was clear that Maille could tell. Her expression reminded Simon of his mother when she was patiently waiting for him to brush his teeth.
He recognized the large stone slab that he stood on. Even the flowers coming from the wall of ivy were familiar, comfortable, as if they’d already greeted him at the end of many long, hard days. Of course, he’d never been there before, but the feeling was strong.
Before he grabbed the old door’s handle he could almost feel its texture on his fingertips.
He pushed the heavy door open.
The crowd gasped and cheered so loudly that every bird in the village fluttered into the sky. The noise broke his trance. He glanced back at the throngs of people who were lucky enough to see history made. To them, Lancelot was back.
Simon caught Maille’s eyes and she nodded her head.
“It’s okay, Simon. Go on in. Could answer some questions, right?”
Simon stepped into the one-room home. It was as still as a painting, as if the air itself were unaccustomed to movement.
The bed was large, with an intricately carved base. Engraved images of interlaced swords wove around the furniture. Even the bed-posts looked like four swords pointing skyward. There was no art on the walls, only weapons racked neatly side by side. Several swords, a few spears, a club and a jousting lance hung above them all.
&nb
sp; It was comfortable, silent, and filthy all at the same time. Really, really filthy. He took in a breath and sneezed it right back out again.
He examined the weapons a little more closely. One sword in particular shone in the dim sunlight that managed to break through the gloom.
He reached out to touch its hilt.
A long-fingered hand shot from the darkness and grabbed his wrist.
16
What happened next was a blur of sounds and pain. Simon tried to pull his hand away. At the same time, Russ and Josh hollered and pulled him to the ground. There was a flash of red light and a loud slam, like a heavy door being kicked closed.
Simon was on the floor, the two guards on top of him. The room would have been pitch black if it weren’t for Maille. She was standing at the shut door with her glowing red wand raised. She pointed it at someone behind Simon, but he couldn’t see who it was as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“It’s about time you showed up,” came a crackling voice from the shadows.
“Come out where we can see you,” Maille snarled. “I’m warning you, I know how to use this!” She lifted her bat-wand higher. The red light near the tip began swirling. It was an impressive sight to Simon. But the stranger chuckled. It was a dry laugh, disdainful. Simon sat up, trying to see his attacker.
“I’m sure you do, girl. But I know how to use mine too.”
And with that, a tall, thin man emerged from the darkness. His skin was wrinkly white, and his eyes were hollow, devoid of life. Long, stringy hair, like straw, ran down his back and shoulders. His fingernails were as long as the fingers they grew from. He wore leather armor that creaked and scraped as he moved closer. The man opened his mouth and an empty smile crept across it.
“I’d imagine I’m not looking very well, after a thousand years in this pig sty.”
Russ and Josh had their small blades drawn and ready. Simon felt naked without a weapon, but found the courage to speak.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Rukkush. Apprentice and prisoner of Merlin.” His grin broadened. Simon shivered at the dry, scraping sound of his tightening lips as they stretched over his teeth.
“I’m Merlin’s apprentice,” Maille Rose said.
“Ah,” Rukkush’s black eyes flicked toward her. “He’s taking girls now. He must be getting desperate on the other side of that door. Well, then, you are his prisoner as well.”
“Are you saying Merlin locked you in here?” Maille asked.
“Indeed. Who else would have the power to do so? I’ve been sitting in that chair right there for the last hundred years, by my count. I lay in the bed for three hundred years before that. I’m afraid Lancelot was not a big reader, so I haven’t had even the smallest of comforts to tide me over. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had visitors who ended up being a figment of my imagination. Perhaps you are only in my head, too. I’m a bit mad, as I’m sure you’ll understand.”
His smile disappeared and a chill swept the room. He raised a twisted, rotting wand of his own. Maille unleashed a ball of light like the one she’d used on Caradoc. But it was instantly doused like a raindrop in an inferno. Rukkush’s arms swept forward and Maille was thrown against the door.
“That wasn’t very nice, was it, Russ?” Josh said, as Maille let out a moan.
“Not at all, Josh.”
“All right then. In Lancelot’s name!”
And with that, the two boys ran at the ghoul with their swords raised. But Rukkush made quick work of Josh, throwing him against the exact same spot he’d thrown Maille, as if it were target practice.
Russ slipped through and managed to cut their attacker’s chin with the tip of his blade. There was an awkward silence as Rukkush glared at the boy.
Russ swallowed hard. “Oh, there’s hell to pay now, isn’t there?” In a split second, the third of the three teens lay unconscious near the door.
Rukkush poked at his wound and examined the dark blood. “Ah, excellent. Blood. I suppose this is actually happening then. Exciting. Now, we have some time alone before one of Merlin’s brutes breaks through that door…”
Rukkush began to wander around the room. He seemed deep in thought.
“Why is it,” he finally asked, “that Merlin allowed you through this door, when he knows I’m in here waiting for my revenge?”
Simon wasn’t going to answer. He sensed he was being pulled into a trap. The way Rukkush was pacing, keeping his distance, and smirking made Simon suspect something else was going on.
“So it’s silence, is it? Fine. That will do. Let me tell you then, so you don’t need to guess. This is the first of many tests for you boy. He’s told you of your bloodline, I’m sure. No need to answer. I know it to be true. Yes, he’s told you of your bloodline and, in so doing, he’s given you a half-truth. That’s more than I ever got from him, so be thankful.” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it.
“He threw you into this particular arena because you’re tied to a future he believes will unfold no matter what happens here. And, of course, because he does not want to face his past.” Rukkush sighed. “But now that you are here, my long wait is over.”
There was a loud pounding on the door. Rukkush swiftly walked up to Simon and took his chin in his hand. He leaned in so close that his breath covered Simon’s face.
It smelled like nothing.
“Seek the truth, boy, and be prepared to die for it.” The door blew off its hinges, bathing the room in sunlight.
Rukkush turned to dust in an instant.
With that, Simon’s vision went blurry. His knees gave out and he fell to the floor. Silhouetted figures rushed at him. He felt someone lift his head into their lap.
His last thought before he passed out was, “I’m not comfortable in this bedroom.”
17
Simon woke up thinking it was all a dream. He expected to see the walls of the orphanage. He wanted to get to the kitchen before Brad so he could eat breakfast in peace.
But when Simon lifted his head and managed to open his eyes he knew he wasn’t in New York. Sister Mary’s didn’t have arched ceilings hovering forty feet above his head. It didn’t have dozens of bunks protruding from stone walls from floor to ceiling. Thick ropes hung from the rafters above, dropping past the beds and ending inches above the floor. Simon watched as a boy peeked over the edge of a bunk that was at least twenty feet up. The kid leapt to one of the ropes, dropped fast, and landed lightly. It was Josh. He ran to Simon’s bedside and took a seat next to Russ.
The two boys both smiled. Josh half-waved, half-saluted clumsily. Simon realized that the other boys in the room, about a dozen of them, were dressed in light armor. Everyone was unmistakably exhausted and filthy as if they’d just come home from a war. Some were even tending to small wounds. The rest were staring at him from their perch of choice.
“Hey,” Simon said.
In unison, many of the kids in the room said, “Hello.” The chuckles broke the ice a little bit.
“Where am I?” He realized for the first time that he felt awful. He was dressed in pajamas, not his own, and he could barely move his legs. He tried to sit up, but was hammered with a wave of dizziness that sent him falling back onto the pillow.
“The nurse says don’t try to move on account of the spell yer under, sir,” Josh said.
“Call me Simon.” The boys whispered among themselves. He rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t imagine feeling worse than this.
“Don’t mind them, Simon. We just got back from training,” Russ said, before yelling, “Go back to yer business!” The boys milled about, but none of them left the room. They were obviously trying to overhear the conversation.
“So where did you say I am again?”
“Nowhere, sir… Simon. That is, yer not nowhere. More like yer in New Camelot,” Russ said.
“I know I’m in New…”
“The castle, specifically, boys’ quarters. We call it Wellwoven,” said Josh, shooting R
uss an irritated look as if to say, do I have to do everything? “That thing in Lancelot’s room, it cast a spell on you. We thought you was a goner for a minute. But our nurse is the best ever.”
“She’s the best all right. I wish I was sick sometimes.” Russ smiled at his own inside joke. The two boys gave each other a wink, which offered Simon no comfort at all.
“Thanks for helping me,” Simon mumbled. It was all he could do to stay awake.
“Not much help in the end, eh?” Russ seemed embarrassed.
“Sure it was. You… distracted him.”
His polite gesture was recognized as just that, and the boys grinned. Even Simon managed a weak smile.
From what he could see through the dizziness, he did indeed appear to be in a castle. The tapestries and tall windows gave it away. There was also an entire wall of swords, hung side by side at shoulder height. Simon’s eye caught on the weapons.
“They’re our swords. Our ‘second heart’ they tell us.” Russ walked to the wall and pulled his out. He swung it around a bit, which made a whistling sound.
“You’re good with that,” Simon said. Some of the boys snickered.
Russ smiled nervously. “Nah. I’m only in my fourth year.”
“Me too.” Josh said it with a sense of pride.
“So…” Simon didn’t quite know how to ask his question. The boys leaned in closer. “So are you two knights?”
“One day we will be,” Russ said. “Now we’re training.”
“We’re all descendants of Arthur’s knights, though. According to Merlin,” Russ slipped his sword back into its place on the wall.
Simon hadn’t seen that coming.
He scanned the room as the boys pretended to be busy doing something else. All of them were related to the legendary Knights of the Round Table? Simon almost admired them before he stopped the thought. If he admired them, then he’d have to believe everything. He’d have to admire himself!
“Did you all grow up here?”
“Not a one of us,” Josh said.
“Nah, Merlin heads out once in awhile to find descendants and brings them back here.”