The Camelot Kids

by Ben Zackheim

  With a single heave of the crate, Caradoc lifted the gold treasure upon which peace depended — or so they hoped. The friends said nothing as they hiked, the rocks beneath their feet crunching loudly.

  The kids made a loose circle around Simon. Caradoc and Thadeus stayed back a few paces. They got within thirty feet of the enemy soldiers and stopped. The air was hot and dry. The gleam from Shadow’s windows shone upon the low clouds, covering them all in a blood-red blanket.

  Two more of Shadow’s large doors opened slowly. Maille pulled her wand out of its holster, but Simon put a hand on hers. She shot him a frown, then leaned on the bat like it was a cane.

  A small, backlit figure emerged. At first, the party couldn’t see him well. But as he walked into the torchlight, Maille and Simon recognized him.

  It was Red. But it wasn’t the Red they remembered. His too-big shirt and torn up jeans had been replaced by a black outfit, topped off with a black cloak and a sword that he held at his side.

  “RED!” Simon yelled. But he knew in a split second that this wasn’t going to end well. The expression on Red’s face was the only clue he needed. Merlin had been right. Red was not Simon’s buddy.

  “Don’t call me that, Simon.”

  “Where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.”

  “Oh, really?” Red said, pacing. “Is that why you left me down there in that dungeon? Is that where you put all of your friends?”

  “You know I couldn’t do anything about that,” Simon said. “How was I supposed to go up against Merlin?”

  “You might have lost, but it would have been an honorable defeat. As it turns out, the old man’s suspicions about me were dead on.” Red smirked at Simon in a way no friend should ever look at another. “Call me Mordred. Welcome to my castle!”

  “So you used him all along,” Maille yelled. “You knew Simon was important to us and you used him. Sounds like you’re the one who owes Simon an apology.”

  “I didn’t know who I really was until I got sprung from your prison, witch. When the assassin set me free, she called me my real name and it woke something up in me. Those blackouts I’ve lived with all my life were actually my true nature taking over, allowing me to do the work I was destined to do.”

  “Which is what, exactly?” Gwen asked.

  “What do you think? To destroy Merlin and everything he stands for, of course. He attacked me first, but my army will be the last to strike.”

  “Red... Mordred, we don’t need to be enemies,” Simon pleaded.

  “Sure we do.” At that, Red lifted his sword, and his soldiers did the same. They formed a circle around Simon’s party, who managed a circle of their own, facing outward, swords and wands ready.

  Thadeus didn’t have a weapon but he stood behind Simon, fists clenched. “Mordred! Stand down!” he said. “We’re looking for Trejure. We don’t want to fight you.”

  Red aimed the tip of his sword at Thadeus, one eye closed as if aiming a gun. “You. Shut up.”

  Simon was the first to attack, which took everyone, including his allies, by surprise. Two soldiers swung at him but when their blades missed they hit each other instead. Simon was aiming his sword for the head, rattling the helmets with the blunt side of his blade. “Nothing will take a man out of a fight quicker than a smart bonk on the head,” as Hector liked to say. Simon was determined to get out of this without killing anyone.

  The others followed and at first they did quite well. Better than you’d expect from a party made up mostly of kids. But the soldiers pushed hard. They were going for deathblows as they pierced the air with their blades. A few of them struck Caradoc, who wailed in pain but kept fighting.

  Simon had estimated that striking first would throw the enemy off. It had, but it wasn’t enough to overcome their numbers.

  They were losing.

  He’d led everyone to their deaths.

  As the soldiers descended on Simon’s party, a loud CRACK from high above them broke up the fight. Silhouetted against the darkening sky was a flying figure.

  “Back away from our guests!” Rukkush spoke with an authority that you’d expect from a thousand-year-old man. The soldiers, and Red, stopped pressing the attack.

  “I told you to welcome them to your home, whelp!” Rukkush said to Red.

  “Don’t talk to me like that!” Red screamed. Red had barely finished his sentence when his chain armor shot up over his head and wrapped around his face. He fell to the ground, struggling to pull the armor off.

  Simon was relieved the fight was over, but he wasn’t about to let his friend suffer any longer. He struggled to pull the chain mail off Red’s face. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Stop it! He can’t breathe!” Simon yelled. Rukkush released him. Red yanked the armor from his face and scuffled away from Simon’s helping hand. He ran back into the castle, shoving some of his own soldiers aside as he went.

  Rukkush hovered above. His eerie silence made everyone uneasy.

  Finally, he spoke. “Why you would care for such a worm is beyond me,” Rukkush said to Simon. “He lives to kill you and destroy your home, but you still protect him. It seems people have become even dumber while I was staring at walls and concocting epic love poems.”

  “He doesn’t want to kill Arthur,” Simon yelled. “That’s just ideas you’re putting in his head.”

  “Me? Oh, I have nothing to do with all this. I’m merely enjoying the show, as you all tear each other to pieces. No, for me it’s all about Merlin. But I’m sure you knew that.” His smile was as dry and dead as it had been in Lancelot’s musty lair. “Now, please step inside. You have a very impressive cohost to meet.” His long fingers pointed to the castle doors.

  The Shadow’s soldiers backed away to let Simon and his friends by. Maille swung her bat, daring one of them to step out of line.

  When they got inside they realized that the center of Shadow was actually one gigantic courtyard. The magnificent towers that the kids had marveled at just days ago now towered over them like dark creatures from a jury, gathered to determine their fate.

  But the actual judge and jury sat in the middle of the open space. It wasn’t a surprise, when they saw him. They’d been seeking him out, after all, and they’d felt his presence everywhere. But to see him in the flesh pulled the air right out of Simon’s lungs.

  Trejure.

  47

  He was as awesome as Simon expected he would be. Even lying down he was three stories high. But it was his flesh that shocked him most of all. It was a thick hide, mixed with spots of snakelike scales, bigger and thicker than a man’s hands. And underneath the skin was an orange glow. Simon and his friends squinted their eyes to adjust to the dragon’s bright flesh. It was as if fire crept through him, just below the surface. Trejure’s long, golden neck wrapped around his shoulders, and his head lay calm and still on his front talons. His demeanor was that of a snoozy, displeased cat. He lay in the center of the massive bailey, and managed to fill it up nicely.

  Rukkush hovered above them. He settled on a tower, sat on the slanted roof and leaned back like he was reclining on a couch to watch a game.

  Simon’s party was still. The plan had always been to offer gold for peace. But if Trejure was involved in a conspiracy to destroy New Camelot, then he probably wouldn’t call it off for a mere ton of gold.

  “May I help you, boy?” the dragon asked drily. A snake’s tongue shot out and rolled slowly back in. In his gut, Simon knew that peace was not an option.

  “We’ve brought you a ton of gold, in this crate here. We only have one request.”

  “What is stopping me from taking it right now, little one?” The dragon’s neck began to unwind from his body. He still lay down, but now his head towered over them.

  “Honor, I guess,” Simon managed to say through his terror. “We worked hard to reach you in good faith that you would want the treasure we have.” The temperature shot up a few degrees as the dragon exhaled hard, clearly irritated. But he
didn’t respond, which Simon took as an opening for him to continue.

  “Please take this gift.” Simon nodded to Caradoc, who popped the lid off the crate of gold. The golden leaves sparkled in the light. Trejure’s eyes grew black, hungry. Nearby dragons screeched at the scent of the exposed treasure but the king of dragons roared back and they went silent.

  Simon looked at the man who claimed to be his father. “And in return I’d like to know what happened to my parents.”

  “WHAT?” Maille yelled. “That wasn’t the plan!” But Simon couldn’t explain why he’d decided not to plead for peace. He hoped he’d have time to clear things up later. If they survived.

  “I’m sure you would,” Trejure said. His voice was like silk, but Simon could hear the temper underneath it.

  The dragon stood. His claws dug into the cobblestones, cracking them to pieces. His head reached to ten stories high.

  Simon’s hand went to his sword. Their small party and paltry treasure came into perspective all of a sudden. He and his friends were nothing to this monster. They offered him nothing. Seeing his defensive stance, Josh and Russ pulled their swords from their scabbards.

  “I have no need for your dainty box,” Trejure spat contemptuously. His head slithered down, down, down until he was face to face with Simon. Simon didn’t move.

  “WAIT!” Thadeus pulled Simon back and stepped in between them. The dragon’s neck relaxed.

  “What are you doing, Simon?” Thadeus tried to put his hand on Simon’s shoulder, but Simon pulled away.

  “Don’t touch me. You’re not my father!”

  Maille, who had always been suspicious of Thadeus, took a step toward them. Simon held up his hand to stop her.

  “What are you talking about?” Thadeus said, a touch of pleading in his tone. “Of course I am. Where is this coming from?”

  “You climb a tree like a monkey. My dad could never do that. And your teeth are nicer than Gwen’s!”

  Apparently, Trejure thought this was funny. He began to chuckle and then laugh. It became so loud that everyone had to cover their ears. All but one. Simon noticed that Thadeus didn’t respond to the noise at all. After a moment, the dragon stopped and his head slithered back down so it was level with Simon’s.

  “This man is your father, boy.” The hot breath made Simon squint.

  “So you want me to believe that he stumbled on a talking tunnel that happened to lead us back here to you?”

  “No, he led you here, quite purposefully. I failed to tell him about the tunnel’s temper, but it looks like you made it in one piece,” Trejure said. His reptilian mouth curved into a smirk. “Is that clear enough for you?”

  The expression on Thadeus’ face was so pained that everyone in the chamber knew that what the dragon had said was true. The last person to get the message was Simon.

  This was, indeed, his father.

  And his father had betrayed him.

  48

  Simon could barely breathe. The world got dim as he fought tears. Thadeus was working with New Camelot’s enemies. Thadeus, his own father, had never done anything but lie to him.

  “As for his new smile, that’s simply a wish granted,” Trejure said. “It seems your father has been insecure about his teeth for a long time. Simple spell, really.”

  Again, Simon glared at the dragon, and the dragon smirked back.

  “I’m sorry, Simon,” Thadeus said. “I didn’t want to be the one to bring you here like this, but when you left New Camelot with the gold… we didn’t expect that. We needed someone to follow you. I wanted it to be me who got to you first.”

  “He’s your son, you jerk!” Maille said, disdain dripping off every word. “You abandoned your own son! He thought you were dead!” It was fortunate that Caradoc was holding her back.

  “So you let the giants loose on us?” Simon asked.

  “No. No, of course not. That was an accident. I was curious, Simon. You know me. You have to understand,” Thadeus pleaded.

  “Then help me understand. And try telling the truth for once,” Simon said.

  Thadeus launched right into an explanation. His desperation was clear in every word. “I’ve been searching for Excalibur ever since I was told about my role in the prophecy,” he said. Trejure let out a low, threatening growl.

  “I’m going to tell him, dragon. Now that he’s here, I have that right.”

  Surprisingly, Trejure didn’t protest. “Simon, a lot of people thought it was my generation of descendants who were the next coming of Arthur and his army. Merlin thought as much for a while, too.”

  “His naiveté and senility all wrapped up into one,” Trejure said. Simon shot him a frown that made the dragon even more self-satisfied.

  “Merlin never trained me in New Camelot. He saved that for the descendants of other knights. He left me with the tantalizing prospect of being one of the saviors of the kingdom. Then one day, he told my parents never mind. I should live a normal life and forget the whole thing. Think about that, Simon. A three thousand-year-old man, telling you to forget that there was a whole other world filled with real heroes who could do some actual good!”

  Thadeus was getting upset. His face distorted into a bitter mask. Simon recoiled a bit as his father’s voice rose, but Thadeus caught himself, calmed down, and forced a smile.

  “I couldn’t forget. Of course. Simon, you need to understand. I had to find out how I could help. How I could spare the whole world from the evil that’s consuming it. War, poverty, hatred. It doesn’t need to be this way. Thousands of years ago, for a few wonderful years, one king brought everyone together to live in peace.

  “The world is in danger, son. The traditions that keep our lives rich are dying as new, soulless habits are taking their place. People don’t take care of each other. It’s every man for himself.”

  “I’ve heard all this before,” Simon said.

  “Well, I can do something about it!” Thadeus’ stern tone knocked Simon off his high horse.

  “But why are you working for him?” Simon pointed his thumb at Trejure dismissively. The dragon growled a warning.

  “I don’t work for him,” Thadeus said. “I need Excalibur to ensure Camelot’s rebirth. The prophecy begins with reuniting Arthur and the sword. Trejure has it.”

  “How long have you lied to me?”

  “Simon…”

  “How long?”

  “Your mother and I suspected for years that a dragon hoarded Excalibur. We found clues in the attics and closets of other descendant families. Since we were the only historians who would believe such a thing, we were the only ones to put two and two together. But it’s only since my brother sent me here to die that I found Trejure and managed to strike this deal.”

  “What deal?”

  “Trejure will deliver Excalibur to me. In return, I’ll give him Excalibur’s scabbard.”

  “Scabbard? Why do you want a scabbard?” Simon spoke directly to Trejure, which seemed to throw even the monster off a little bit.

  There was a cackle from on high. Rukkush now floated in sleepy circles above everyone. “He’s dying,” Rukkush said. “After millennia of spreading terror for no discernible reason, the old dragon is nearing his end.”

  Simon noticed that the king dragon didn’t respond at all to Rukkush’s taunting. Whatever was happening in the courtyard was much more complex than Simon or his friends could comprehend.

  “Excalibur’s sheath holds vast power,” Thadeus continued. “Trejure will be immortal if he keeps it close.”

  “Did you find the scabbard?” Simon asked.

  “I found it, Simon,” his father said, sadly. “You have it.”

  “What do you mean? This thing?” He lifted his sword’s scabbard from his belt, ready to take it off and toss it, if it meant they could all get out of there.

  “No. The vambraces.” Simon and Gwen instinctively made fists. “Their steel once made the sleeve that held Excalibur,” Thadeus explained. “They were forged
in dwarfen mines, with the help of a wizard elf. You, Gwen, and Arthur have the three pieces of Excalibur’s scabbard.”

  “We’re not going to just hand them over,” Gwen said sternly. Her fingertips were white from holding her wand too tight. Simon tried to meet her eyes to calm her down. But her focus was on Thadeus.

  “I hope you think about that before you decide,” Thadeus said.

  The threat was not veiled. Even Simon sensed that his father would turn to force if they refused to go along. Thadeus had a dragon, a maniac wizard, and Mordred’s forces on his side, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to get what he wanted.

  All of a sudden, a castle door slammed open nearby. Chester was escorted into the courtyard by a couple of soldiers. He was bound and, from the looks of it, he’d mouthed off a few times. His eye was purple and swollen. Simon felt sorry for him, despite himself.

  Then he noticed that Chester was wearing the vambrace. The time for action had come. The three kids were being brought together by his dad to relinquish the pieces of Excalibur’s scabbard. There wouldn’t be any way out of this mess without a very one-sided battle.

  Unless…

  Chester was led to the other kids. Gwen put her hand on her brother’s shoulder but he pulled away. Apparently, Chester didn’t like pity.

  “We can’t remove the vambraces,” Thadeus said. “You need to do it. Once you do, please hand them to Simon and he can give them to me.”

  “If we don’t?” Simon asked.

  “Then Merlin’s girl apprentice dies first. Those two boys second,” Trejure said, eying Josh and Russ.

  Simon glanced up at the dragon. Its eyes had gone wide in anticipation.

  The sounds of the battle outside gave Simon the courage he needed.

  Do it now.

  “Trejure!” Simon yelled. The dragon’s eyes broke from the kids’ vambraces, blinked, and glared at him with familiar contempt. “If you want these vambraces then you need to take them from us. Or maybe you want Rukkush and Red to do your dirty work for you, as usual.”