Erik swung his war hammer at the stout man’s head, but the trapper caught it with one hand and kicked something on the ground, and all of a sudden the three knights were whisked into the air in a jumble. Cleomede sliced deep into Artie’s calf, which healed quickly thanks to the scabbard strapped to his back.
When the dust settled, they found themselves in a rope net about fifteen feet above the ground. Artie and Kay were ready to cut it to pieces when the trapper pulled hard on another line, cinching the webbing so tight around them that they could barely move.
“Erik!” Kay scolded, her arm twisted behind her uncomfortably. “That was so not cool!”
Erik, still coming down from his rage, just moaned.
Artie remained silent and eyed the woodsman intently.
The man was a shade over five feet tall with bright blue eyes and leathery skin. He had a beard that was more like a bird’s nest, what with all the twigs and leaves in it. His expression was one of simple curiosity. He looked neither mean nor kind.
Artie, who was at the bottom of the snare, commanded, “Let us down right now!”
If the man understood, he didn’t show it.
“I said, let us down!” Artie repeated.
The man still said nothing. He pushed his toes into the ground, where some of Artie’s blood had fallen. He knelt, scooped some blood onto a filthy finger, and put it in his mouth. He stood, made a sucking sound, and considered Artie.
“What’s going on down there?” Kay asked. She was on top and didn’t have a good view of the ground. Erik whimpered from in between the Kingfishers.
Artie ignored Kay, looked their captor square in the eye, and said coolly, “I am Artie Kingfisher, and I demand that you release us. The longer you hold us like this, the worse it will be for you later.”
That did it. The man’s face snapped into an amused smile, revealing a mouth with only a few crooked, yellow teeth. His eyes brightened. His nose turned red.
“I am Sami,” the man said with a lilting Swedish accent as he jabbed Artie hard in the leg with Erik’s hammer. “And I demand to know how you healed your leg, or it will get much, much worse for you right now.”
10 - IN WHICH QWON ENJOYS PRISON LIFE—NOT!
Being a prisoner sucked.
After Qwon hit Shallot and Shallot disappeared, Qwon paced around the portico like a tiger in a cage. Since they wanted Dred to believe that she hated Shallot, Qwon liberally cursed the fairy. She punched her fist, whisked her staff through the air, and grunted. She also cursed Dred, since he had put her in there. And even Artie now and then, since he hadn’t been able to stop Dred from kidnapping her in the first place.
After a while, she plopped down in the grass with her back to the birdbath and glowered at Dred’s door, trying not to blink. Even though she and Shallot had a plan, she really couldn’t believe all this was happening. Eventually she fell asleep and didn’t wake until dawn.
Qwon had rolled onto her side in the night and was curled up like a cat as the sky turned from deep blue to gray. The birds outside the Castel began to greet the morning, and as she listened, Qwon shed a few quiet, genuine tears.
What is this Otherworld Place? And when will I get back home?
If only Qwon knew that at that exact moment Artie was back in Shadyside asking similar questions. This was the day that Merlin would materialize in the Kingfisher’s backyard, but it hadn’t happened yet, and all Artie could think about was when he’d be able to resume the quest to rescue his friend.
She clutched her stomach as a pang shot through it. She was hungry.
So, so hungry.
About an hour later a tiny door next to Dred’s large door slid open, and two bowls and two cups were pushed onto the walkway.
Food!
Qwon ran to it as quickly as she could. Her mind raced as she thought of cereal and eggs and bacon and pancakes and muffins and burgers and pizza and fried chicken, even a veggie burger or tofu or plain rice, and, and, and . . .
Gruel. White, pasty gruel peppered with little, hard-backed weevils.
And no spoon.
Qwon sat cross-legged in front of the “food.”
“Not much of a gourmet, are you, Dred?”
No answer came.
Qwon picked up the cup and found lukewarm water. She drank it all in three gulps.
She put the bowl in her lap and stared into it. She picked a dozen weevils out of one section and skimmed some of the porridge off the top with her fingers.
It didn’t taste like anything, which, Qwon figured, was a lot better than it tasting like total crap.
Qwon continued removing the bugs and scooping up the food until it was gone. She was so hungry she even licked the bowl.
It wasn’t a good meal, but it was filling.
She put the bowl back in front of the door and considered eating Shallot’s too, but didn’t.
After breakfast Qwon resigned herself to another day of pacing around. In the late morning a squall passed through, and Qwon tried to get clean, but it was no use. She was covered in grime and filth, and it wasn’t going to come off with a little bit of rain and no soap.
Still, the water felt good.
As the day went on, she felt angrier and angrier. She yelled things like, “Shallot, where are you?” and, “Don’t be a chicken!” and, “If you don’t show up, then I’m going to eat your food, you dumb fairy!” and, “You stink!”
At one point an invisible Shallot whispered into her ear, “I already ate.”
“What—how?” was all Qwon could manage. She went back to the door and saw that the second cup and bowl were empty and the little pile of weevils that Qwon had made was also gone. “You ate the bugs? Ew.” This elicited a faint chuckle from behind Dred’s door. She started pacing again and said to the unseen fairy, “So in addition to being rude, smelly, and mean, you’re also a disgusting bug eater! Figures.”
At which point a still-invisible Shallot smacked Qwon hard in the back of the head.
“Ugh!” Qwon blurted, rubbing her head and realizing that she actually did hate her fellow prisoner a tiny bit. “Coward!” she barked, brandishing her staff. Then she turned to Dred’s door and said, “Can you believe that? What a sneak!”
No sound came from Dred’s door this time, but Qwon had a strong feeling that he was still there, watching and waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure.
The following morning Qwon was up before the sun. She went to Dred’s door and sat in front of it. No food had come the night before, and hunger again twisted her stomach into knots. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulled them to her chest, and waited for the little slot to open.
When it did, Qwon said, “Hey, Dred, can I have a spoon?”
No answer came. Just the bowls and cups, pushed out by a stick.
Qwon grabbed the stick. “I know you’re there. C’mon, just a tiny spoon? Can’t hurt, right? I mean, it’s not like I can dig my way out of here.”
Still nothing. Dred yanked the stick hard, pulling it from Qwon’s grip. The little door slid shut with a bang.
Qwon crossed her arms and huffed. “Thanks a lot. You know, if it were the other way around, I would totally give you a spoon. Just a wooden spoon! I’m sure your crazy mom wouldn’t like it, but who cares?”
Nothing.
“The silent treatment, huh? Suit yourself. But if you give me a spoon, I promise I won’t share it with that darned fairy.” Qwon paused for effect and said quietly, “Man, what a jerk she turned out to be.”
Still nothing. She picked up the cup and took a few sips of water.
“You ever eat this stuff you’re slinging, Dred?” she asked. “’Cause it’s pretty awful. You should try it, just so you know what your prisoners are dealing with. Maybe it would make you, like, a better kidnapper or whatever.”
Qwon picked up the bowl, stretched out her legs, and set it in her lap. She began to eat. At least it was warm. “Hey, Dred, you know what the best thing about it is? The bugs. They’re r
eally awesome. Thanks so much,” she said sarcastically.
Qwon thought she heard something through the door. It might have been a giggle.
“Seriously, though. What I wouldn’t give for a real home-cooked meal. Shoot, I’d even take a Happy Meal from Mickey D’s. You Otherworld people eat hamburgers or lobster rolls or hot dogs? You ever drink a Coke? Or an orange soda? I might give up a big toe for an orange soda.”
Qwon picked the weevils out of her food and made another pile as she spoke. It occurred to her that maybe she should eat the bugs, as a source of protein, but she wasn’t ready to go that far yet.
She took another bite and spoke with her mouth full. “I wonder if the fairy thinks about food as much as I do,” she said. “Who knows. She actually likes the bugs, so she’s probably happy.”
Qwon put down the bowl and had some more water.
“What’s with that fairy, anyway? First she fights me, then she figures maybe we’re pals, then she calls me something very unladylike that I’d rather not repeat, and then she disappears. Okay, so I hit her. Twice. But still. Why won’t she talk to me? I mean, what’s the point of being imprisoned with someone if you refuse to talk to them? I understand why you wouldn’t want to talk to me, but why not her?”
She leaned closer to the door hoping to hear another laugh, or anything, but nothing came. How was she going to get through to him?
“So hey—since you’re from this Otherworld place, does that make you some kind of fairy too?”
A loud thump came from the other side of the door, like maybe he’d fallen out of his chair.
Bingo.
She pretended not to hear it.
“Yeah, you must be. I mean, your mom looked human enough, but she did have a purple eye. That’s not normal. And you wear that helmet all the time, so you must be hideously messed up in the face. Maybe you’re like a troll fairy or something. Maybe your mouth is on your forehead and you don’t have any eyes and you have a big ponytail growing out of the middle of your face.” She paused. “Whatever you are, you can’t be as pretty as Shallot. I mean, she may be a jerk, but she is beautiful, you have to admit, even with that weird, lanky body and those teeth of hers.”
Qwon thought she heard Smash yelp from behind the door.
She smiled wryly to herself.
“Oh, hey, one more thing before I head out and enjoy this lovely day—thanks for the staff. I mean it. I don’t know why you gave it to me but, for what it’s worth, I’ll never forget that you did. But then, I’ll also never forget that you kidnapped and drugged me and locked me up in here, so you still owe me. Just saying.”
Qwon stood and walked away from the door, leaving Dred to ponder her words.
She woke the next morning, shaking, at the very same time Artie and his knights were preparing to leave for Sweden. It was cold. Way colder than the night before. Qwon stood and started running in place, trying to get her blood flowing. The sun rose, and again she heard the riot of morning birdsong beyond the Castel’s walls.
Finally the air began to warm.
At breakfast time Qwon went to the door and sat in front of it.
“Blankets, Dred, blankets,” she said quietly. “Tell your dumb mom that if she wants me to live until she can catch Artie, I’m going to need blankets.”
No answer. She waited.
Finally the slot slid open and the bowls and cups were pushed out.
Qwon looked over. The water in one of the cups was steaming! She grabbed the cup and laced her fingers around it. She blew on the water, and hot vapor coated her face. She took a sip, and it warmed her from the inside out.
It had a slight, minty aftertaste.
“Thanks, Dred,” she said.
Then she noticed that one of the bowls of gruel was bug-free. She picked it up and held it to her face. It smelled different. It smelled sweet!
She dipped a couple fingers in and took a mouthful. It wasn’t just sweet, it was salty too. Amazing!
Qwon forced herself to eat slowly. Food had never tasted so good.
When she was done, she let the bowl fall into her lap and closed her eyes. She drank her tea. “Dred, that was the best meal of my life. Seriously. I still basically hate you, but not as much.”
She put her bowl back in front of the slot. And that’s when she noticed a short wooden spoon. A little note was tied to it. She picked up the spoon. The note read, “Don’t let her know you have it.”
Qwon smiled and tucked the spoon into her shirt. No way was she going to share it with Shallot. Not until the fairy apologized for smacking her the day before, anyway.
A short while later, as Qwon paced the yard, it occurred to her that maybe it wasn’t Shallot who Dred meant in his note. He could have meant Morgaine.
Qwon bit her bottom lip, suppressing a smile. If that was true, then maybe—just maybe—their plan was beginning to work.
11 - IN WHICH ARTIE PLAYS A LITTLE LET’S MAKE A DEAL!
As Qwon, far off in Fenland, tucked the spoon into her shirt, Artie, Kay, and Erik swung uneasily in the snare in Sweden. Their captor, Sami, had just demanded that Artie tell him how he’d healed himself, but Artie said authoritatively, “The only way I tell you about my leg is if you let us out of here.”
“I don’t think so,” Sami said.
“Think again,” Kay said from the top of the trap. “If you let us go now, Artie won’t hurt you.”
A resonant belly laugh rose from deep within Sami. As he wiped tears from his eyes, he looked at Artie and said, “You hurt me?”
Artie just nodded while Kay said, “Heck yeah, dude!”
“Let me show you something,” Sami said, turning from his catch. He sauntered over to a gigantic tree stump. “You see this?”
“Yeah,” Artie said.
“What do you think it weighs?”
“I dunno. A couple thousand pounds?”
“Probably. Watch.”
Sami bent and hugged the stump. His arms didn’t even make it halfway around, but it didn’t matter. He stood with hardly any effort, lifting the stump as if he were picking up a bag of leaves, and walked it closer to his tools. He set it down with a thump and disappeared.
“So? Big whoop,” Artie yelled after him. “You should see some of the things I can do!” No response came. It was kind of a bluff, anyway. Without Excalibur, Artie wasn’t sure what he could do.
Erik asked in a whisper, “How are you healing yourself, Artie?”
“Excalibur’s scabbard!” Artie hissed.
“Wow,” Erik said. “That’s pretty cool.”
“You want to know what’s not cool, Erik? You bum-rushing this guy’s camp and getting us caught in this net,” Kay said, still upset.
Erik sighed. “Sorry, guys. But seeing that sword kind of messed me up. I guess that means it’s really mine, huh?”
“Sh!” Artie said. “Don’t say anything else, either of you. I have a plan. Also, can you move your knee, Erik? It’s really digging into my shoulder.” Erik tried but just made it worse. “Ow! Never mind.”
“Not much fun being caught in a snare, is it?” Sami boasted as he waltzed into Artie’s field of vision carrying the largest, sharpest-looking ax Artie had ever seen.
“Nice ax. I’ve got a friend who’d like that,” he said, thinking of Bercilak. “Maybe one day I’ll bring him here so he can take it from you.”
“Ha!” Sami chortled. Then he walked over to the huge stump, raised the ax over his head, and brought it down with a deafening smack.
“What was that?” Kay demanded.
“Nothing,” Artie said as he looked at what the woodsman had done. The stump was cleanly split in two. “You’re quite the show-off, Sami,” Artie said. “Let me ask you something—how long have you lived here?”
“My whole life. I am Sami—it’s not just my name but my people. We go back thousands of years, back to the ancient world. The world of magic.”
Artie believed it. This guy was like some Otherworld missing link. “Is
that why you’re so strong?” Artie asked. “Because of magic?”
“I am strong because of my people. Plus, I eat a lot of protein. And I am a woodsman,” Sami said with a wink.
Artie winked back. “Tell me, Sami the magic strongman, do you get a lot of visitors?”
“Well, no.”
“Then don’t you think it’s a little strange that now you’ve got three American kids caught in a net?”
“I guess,” Sami said, shrugging.
“Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?” asked Kay.
“No, he’s smart, Kay.” Artie hoped a little flattery might help. “He just doesn’t know what to do with us. Do you, Sami?”
“Ha! There’s where you’re wrong, boy.” He walked back to the sharpening stone and picked up the long knife he’d been working on earlier. He moved to the stag and whispered some words to it. With his free hand he stroked its head between the horns. Artie could see the animal’s breath quicken. It was scared.
The edge of the woodsman’s knife threw off a glint of light. A few more coppery leaves fell from the beech tree.
“You ever go hunting, Artie?” Sami asked, saying Artie’s name for the first time.
“Only for dragons,” Artie answered as his stomach started to turn.
Sami shot Artie a dubious glance and said, “One thing you learn when hunting is that it’s important to do certain things quickly.” And then, without hesitation, Sami moved the knife into place and opened the deer’s throat. “I don’t know who you are or how you got here or why you’re carrying the kinds of weapons you are,” Sami said, moving closer to them. “All I know is that you are going to tell me how you did that thing with your leg, one way or another.”
“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” Artie said, sticking to his guns.
“Ha! I don’t really care.”
With that, Sami cut Artie across the forearm. The blade was so sharp that it hardly hurt. Some blood dripped out, but in an instant the wound sealed and any trace of it faded away.
Sami jumped back. “You’re a witch!”
“That’s right,” Artie said, his mind racing.
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