But Bedevere was all that mattered at the moment. Artie waved his hand through the air as if to push those other thoughts aside and asked, “Can you fix him, Merlin?”
“Yes. But please, I need some room.”
The knights retreated several feet and watched as Merlin took his cane with both hands and started to chant. His feet lifted from the ground, and his baggy linen pants began to billow. His tattoos swirled across the surface of his skin.
“Dude,” Erik said quietly, in awe of the scene in front of him.
The closed eye of the owl’s-head cane opened, and a beam of white light shot out of it and into Bedevere’s mouth. The Black Knight’s chest heaved, his back arched, and his body began to convulse. Kay took a step forward, but Artie held out an arm to stop her. “Let him work,” he whispered.
Then the light from the cane got very bright. The fabric of Merlin’s pants flapped like a flag in a gale. Bedevere’s body calmed before lifting a few inches off the table. Excalibur’s scabbard, which was still lashed to his side, began to glow and vibrate and throw off heat. The light’s intensity grew so much that the knights had to close their eyes against it.
When they were able to reopen them, Bedevere was wrapped in a white robe, his head resting on a pillow. Merlin bent over him, cradling Bedevere’s face in his wizened hands. The cane and the scabbard leaned against the edge of the table. “Thank the trees the witch didn’t also get the scabbard when she stole Excalibur,” Merlin said.
“Amen to that,” Artie said.
“So he’s okay?” Erik asked, his voice shaking a little. Merlin’s healing act was pretty impressive.
Merlin turned, and they were shocked to see that he looked kind of horrible. His tattoos were faded and his skin ashen. “Bedevere will be fine, but I need some things from the invisible tower. An IV bag, type AB blood, and a prosthesis.”
“You keep fake legs just lying around your old basement?” Kay asked.
“Yes, Kay Kingfisher. In a jet-black armoire with a red circle painted on it.” Something about his tone suggested that she not ask why he kept fake legs lying around.
“I’ll go,” Artie said. “I know my way around and I can get in and out.”
Merlin gave Artie a weary look and said, “While you’re on your side, you need to get a trinket—a monocle—from Qwon’s house. The pommel will show you where it is. This monocle will enable you to find the crossover in Japan that leads directly to the katana Kusanagi.”
“Okay,” Artie said. “Lance, come with me. You can bring back the medical stuff while I gate to Shadyside.”
“Roger that, dude.”
“The rest of you chill out here. After tonight, we’ve only got seven days until the new moon.” Then Artie pulled out the pommel and opened a gate to the basement under the Invisible Tower.
The moongate dropped them in one of Merlin’s old living rooms. It had red brick walls, a deep chair, and a TV mounted to the wall.
Artie peered in both directions. “I can’t remember where the medical stuff is, Lance. You go that way, I’ll head this way, and we’ll meet back here.”
“Cool,” Lance said.
Artie soon found the IV bags and the blood, but no fake legs. He went all the way to the back room looking for the black armoire. He paused and found himself next to Mrs. Thresher, the little wooden door he’d traveled through the first time he entered the Otherworld, to get Cleomede from the stone. It seemed like so long ago, and even with all that had happened, he could still hardly believe the things he’d seen and done. Everything had been so strange, and difficult, and uncertain.
And also kind of wonderful.
Artie doubled back, putting the IV bag, blood, and an ice pack in a Styrofoam cooler, and stopped in the living room. Lance hadn’t returned, so Artie sat down in the comfy chair and turned on the TV.
It was tuned to CNN, and Artie wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
It was an aerial shot of the Swedish plain they’d been to. Grazing on the cold, scraggly field was a sizable herd of giant cows—the aurochs.
A little box wedged into a lower corner of the screen contained the talking heads of an interview. The confused male reporter asked, “So these aurochs—you’re saying they’re extinct?”
“Yes. Well, they were,” a woman answered. A subtitle said she was a zoologist.
“So they’re not extinct?”
“I guess not,” the zoologist said, shaking her head in disbelief. “We were certain that there hadn’t been aurochs anywhere on earth for over four hundred years.”
The reporter made a Very Serious face. “So where did these aurochs come from?”
“No one knows.”
“Could they have been living in the wild up there and no one knew about it?”
“That can’t be ruled out, but it’s very unlikely. Remember, Bob, this isn’t the only instance of extinct animals showing up. There were those passenger pigeons in Ohio last month. And then there were those strange red-tufted jaybirds in Pittsburgh a week ago, which as far as anyone can tell is a new species altogether. A new bird hasn’t been found in such a heavily populated area in a very long time.”
The reporter shook his head and said, “Fascinating. Just incredible stuff. Thanks for your time, Beth.” The reporter switched cameras. “There you have it. Is it a new era of animals returning from extinction? Where do they come from? And could all this have anything to do with the strange weather occurring in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and now northern France?” He turned to yet another camera. “When we return, more on the unsubstantiated reports of a band of armed children roaming the bowels of the abbey of Mont-Saint-Michel. Stay right here with CNN.”
Artie muted the commercials. Lance had come back to the room during the newscast and stood behind Artie. “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Artie said, standing up. “Looks like opening the crossovers is having some side effects.”
Lance shrugged. “The worlds haven’t been joined in a long time. I suppose there’s bound to be an adjustment period.”
“I guess,” Artie said, his brow furrowed. “Opening the crossovers was supposed to be good for the two worlds, but right now it just feels like one huge mess.” Artie pointed at something under Lance’s arm. “You found it?”
“Yup,” Lance said as he held out a thing that looked a little like a huge boomerang.
“That’s it?” Artie asked.
“Yeah. It’s called a parabolic leg. This is some state-of-the-art stuff. Couple buddies of mine from Iraq got ones like this. You can run in them. Really fast. The curve in the plastic kind of acts like a spring.”
“Cool,” Artie said. He handed Lance the cooler with the IV bags and the blood and said, “Take this stuff and look after Beddy.” Then he got out the pommel and opened a gate back to the court-in-exile. Before Lance stepped through, Artie said, “Don’t mention that news report to anyone. I want to talk to Merlin about it first. The more things happen, the more questions I have. . . .”
Lance smirked. “I can pretty much guarantee that it’s all part of being king—sire.” It was the first time Artie could remember Lance calling him that. But before he could comment on it, Lance stepped through and disappeared, the moongate shutting behind him.
Artie stood in silence and thought. What am I doing?
He was bringing extinct animals back to life. He was apparently responsible for strange weather. He was helping a wizard get even with a witch. He was angry with the same wizard for having a crummy attitude. He was waiting to hear from a fairy spy that would soon be air-dropped into Fenland. He was trying to get to Avalon so he could become King Arthur.
He was putting himself, his sister, his friends, and his father in danger.
He was doing these things, when all he really wanted to do was go and save Qwon.
And then a surprising—almost horrifying—realization came to him: when Qwon was safe, Artie Kingfisher wanted to go back to school. He wanted to go back home. To Shadyside.
Not the Otherworld.
He looked at the pommel and made a decision. Before doing anything, he would wait to hear from their spy, Bors le Fey. Then he would get Kusanagi. Not because Merlin had ordered him to, but because it belonged to Qwon.
And then, he would go and free his friend.
Artie wrapped his fingers around the pommel and pictured Qwon’s house.
“Lunae lumen,” he said, and the gate whisked him away from Merlin’s lonely basement.
19 - HOW BORS IS DELIVERED
Late that night, Tiberius circled high over Fenland as Thumb peered through the mottled clouds below. Fallown, the golden Leagonese dragon that carried their spy, Bors le Fey, flew several hundred feet above.
They were waiting for Merlin’s blackout as they turned wheels in the sky.
“Hmmph. Wizards,” Tiberius cooed scornfully.
“He’s doing the best he can, Tiberius,” Thumb countered.
The flat, low-lying island of Fenland sprawled out below them. It was shaped like a plump lizard perched on a tree branch. Castel Deorc Wæters was located on the island’s highest point in the middle of the lizard’s head, right where its eye would be.
The stars were bright and plentiful. Fenland was also constellated with twinkling lights, as little towns and thoroughfares and the Castel itself were lit up. The sea surrounding the island was black as pitch.
“We’ve’n’t much time,” the dragon said. “Two minutes. Otherwise Scarm’ll notice us and give chase.”
Thumb had never encountered Scarm, the Fenlandian dragon, but he knew all about her. She was younger than both Tiberius and Fallown, and renowned for a quick temper. Her coloring was a deep, iridescent purple. Of all the dragons she had the biggest wings, and, unlike any of her kinfolks’, these were covered in green feathers. Her breath attack was a scalding-hot stream of black oil.
“Merlin will come through,” Thumb said quietly, hoping he was right.
The dragon just said, “Hmmph.”
Two minutes passed. Nothing happened. Tiberius snapped his tail, signaling to Fallown that they would have to leave. Even though Bors could turn invisible, they wouldn’t drop him without the blackout in effect. Light wasn’t the issue—magic was. With the sangrealitic power out, most of the Castel’s warning enchantments would be on the fritz.
The dragons turned east and prepared to kick it into high gear. But then Bors, who was a mute and couldn’t yell, split the air with a loud whistle.
“Hmmmph!” Tiberius exclaimed, displeased with the unnecessary noise.
“Look!” Thumb said.
The island’s lights flashed and then snuffed out.
The dragons pointed their heads to the earth and dived. Thumb suppressed a gleeful yelp and dug his fingers into Tiberius’s skin as the wind screamed around him.
They dropped a thousand feet in seconds. Tiberius leveled off as Fallown descended another five hundred feet. He hovered there for a few seconds before beating his wings to rejoin Tiberius. When he pulled alongside Tiberius and Thumb, they saw that Bors was gone.
Tiberius said, “Hold’n on tight, Jester Thumb.”
Thumb lowered his chest onto the dragon’s neck and waited for the kick.
The dragons winked at each other and accelerated to jet speed in an instant.
It was such a rush that Tom Thumb couldn’t help but laugh.
20 - IN WHICH DRED IS LET IN ON A SECRET
“Mordred!” Morgaine crackled over a walkie-talkie as the lights went out again. “Come here!”
Bors had been dropped the night before, and over the past twenty-four hours the entire island of Fenland had been suffering intermittent blackouts. Most of them only lasted a few minutes, but two had gone on for more than an hour. It was a development that had angered Morgaine to no end, since they not only shrouded the island in darkness, but also dampened the primary source of her strongest magic.
Morgaine was positive that Merlin was behind these machinations. She wanted the wizard dead so badly, and she knew that he wanted the same for her. After all, she had led the coven of witches that had imprisoned him in the invisible tower, and he would never forgive her for it.
Of course she would never forgive him either. So many centuries ago he had helped deny her rightful ascent to power.
Back then Merlin had sided with Arthur the First, her nauseating, righteous half brother. Arthur the pure, the chaste, the noble. Morgaine had hated that Arthur with all her heart. Why had Nyneve, that loathsome Lady of the Lake, chosen him for Excalibur? He was nothing but a hypocrite, a sheepish bore who was all too ready to follow the wizard’s orders. He was the glove to Merlin’s hand. The first Mordred, Arthur’s son and nephew, and the apple of Morgaine’s eye, was the person who should have been chosen as king. Mordred the brave, the right, the bold! Morgaine’s coven had tried to oust Arthur and replace him with Mordred, but they had failed. It was true that Mordred dealt that old Arthur his fatal blow with the Peace Sword, but not before suffering his own dying wound.
Her sweet, sweet Mordred. This new “son” of hers was nothing next to him.
How she missed him.
And how she hated the wizard.
Morgaine wasted no time in dispatching hundreds of soldiers across Fenland, tasked with finding out how the wizard had managed to tap into their sangrealite grid, and with finding a way to stop it.
Because of these orders, Castel Deorc Wæters was operating on a skeleton crew.
It was a condition that Dred found to be a pain in the butt. Without soldiers to run around for Morgaine, he had to pick up the slack. Just in the last day, he’d made eight trips to the basement to flip the circuit breakers. Now it sounded like his mother wanted him to do it again.
“Moooor-dreeeed!” she repeated.
Dred, who was talking through the door with Qwon, rolled his eyes and said, “Jeez. I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. Let me know how it goes,” Qwon said.
Dred slid the little door shut. He grabbed Smash and headed to his mum’s chambers.
Qwon rolled onto her back and watched the sky turn from purple to pink as the sun set in the west.
She was nervous. Things were happening fast. Early that morning, well before sunrise, an ecstatic Shallot had appeared at Qwon’s side and shaken her awake. “Whassup?” Qwon asked groggily, surprised to actually see the fairy after so many days.
Shallot whispered, “Another fairy has joined us!”
“Another prisoner?” Qwon asked confusedly.
“No. My cousin Bors le Fey arrived during the blackout in the middle of the night. He’s here on behalf of my clan and King Artie Kingfisher. He’s going to help us escape!”
“Wow!” Qwon said. “How do you know this?”
“His smell told me, of course. We fairies can communicate through our odors.”
“Oh,” Qwon said. “So, what—we’re out of here then?”
“Soon, Qwon from Pennsylvania! Be ready!”
“I will,” Qwon said a little unenthusiastically.
“What is it?” Shallot asked.
“I don’t know. . . . It’s just . . . Has the plan changed at all? Since we have help now?”
“What do you mean?” Shallot asked.
“Are we still planning on . . . taking care of Dred?”
The fairy huffed. “Don’t go soft on me now, Qwon. We have to escape, and I plan on doing whatever it takes to get out of here.”
“I know, I know. But . . . let’s try to go easy on him, okay?”
Shallot spit out an exasperated “Ha!” and promptly disappeared, leaving a heady trace of her sweet smell that stunned Qwon for a few moments.
When the mini scentlock passed, Qwon’s mind raced. In seven days the new moon would rise. At any moment their escape would begin. But what if it didn’t work? What if they got caught? Or what if it did work? Morgaine would blame Dred for their escape. Qwon didn’t want Dred to bear the brunt of Morgaine’s anger. It wouldn’t be pretty.
She also didn’t want Shallot to hurt—or worse, kill—Dred out of spite. Qwon had come to like Dred and she decided that when the time came, she would do what she could to protect him.
Meanwhile, Dred slowly made his way to Morgaine’s chambers, Smash perched atop his shoulder. And as it happened, he was thinking of Qwon.
Not just thinking of her, but thinking of releasing her. Morgaine had Excalibur and The Anguish. Wasn’t that enough to lure King Artie? Did they really need this innocent girl too? The simple truth was that over the past few days Dred had come to like Qwon, and he didn’t want her to get hurt.
Dred came to a stop and rapped on Morgaine’s door, trying to force these thoughts from his mind before his mother could detect them.
“Come in!” his mother said in her singsong voice.
Dred entered. Her room was lit with candles and small, battery-powered lanterns.
“You called?” he asked, walking toward her.
Morgaine was slumped at her vanity, her green hooded cloak draped over her body. She answered, “Yes, dear boy.” Her voice was strong but it had a shake to it that he’d never heard before.
“Mum, are you all right?”
“All right? No, of course I’m not all right.” She turned away as he got closer, but she didn’t realize that Dred could see her in her mirror’s reflection.
The face he saw there was his mother’s, but it was very different. She had aged thirty years in the last twelve hours. Her cheeks were gaunt, and her chin pointed. Her mouth gaped a little every time she drew a breath.
“Mum!” Dred exclaimed. “What happened to you?” Smash, also startled, nuzzled in his master’s neck.
“The wizard is toying with me!” Morgaine said as she faced him. “If the power was up, you’d see me as you know me, but when it goes down . . . I look like this.”
“I’m sorry, Mum,” Dred said, and he meant it.
“I don’t want your sympathy, boy. I’m still strong, so don’t get any ideas.”
The Seven Swords Page 14