Artie nodded. Then he clapped his hands and said, “Naps for everybody. That’s an order. Tomorrow, before dawn, we make tracks for Fenland.”
26 - “WHERE ARE YOU, ARTIE KINGFISHER?”
Dred had spent the better part of the day beating on the wooden door of his dark cell, cursing the hoary guards who’d dragged him there and the witch-mother who’d cast him away. For hours, the jailers got a kick out of taunting him and calling him names. It was amazing how fast they’d turned on him. The day before he was the prince of the realm, but today he was little more than a bug.
Eventually they left, offering nothing to eat and only a wooden cup half full of rank-smelling sewer water.
What goes around comes around, Dred thought, remembering how Qwon had been served the same swill at the beginning of her captivity.
He paced. He wanted to get out and help Qwon. He wanted to stop his mother. He even wanted to help the fairy Shallot, and he definitely wanted to thank the other one, Bors.
But more than anything, he wanted to meet his brother.
Dred kicked the cup in frustration and barked, “Where are you, Artie Kingfisher?”
“Did you say ‘Artie Kingfisher’?”
Dred jumped. The unexpected voice had come from down the hall, and it had a strange accent.
One he recognized.
Dred went to the small, barred opening in his door and asked, “You’re the one from—what’s it called—Sweden?”
“Yes.”
“But aren’t you in a dragon’s bubble?” Nothing, including sound, got in or out of a dragon’s bubble.
“I was. But as soon as these blackouts started, it weakened and eventually it went away. Now I’m hog-tied with some pretty tough chains, and I can’t move because there’s one spike on my throat, one on the back of my neck, and another in between my legs.”
“Oh,” Dred said dejectedly.
“But what did you say about Artie Kingfisher?”
Dred paused. Should he tell this wild man from the other side?
Sure. Why not.
“He’s my brother.”
Dred was about to explain everything, but before he could, a loud clang shook the cellblock, accompanied by a string of Swedish curse words. Then came the sound of a door being ripped off its hinges. Before he knew it, the man was standing outside Dred’s cell, shining a flashlight through the small square of iron bars. Dred stepped into the light and was momentarily blinded. “Yep, you’re Artie Kingfisher’s brother,” the man said. The light went out. “I suggest you stand away from the door.”
Dred scrambled to the side. Just as he got himself in place, the door flew into the tiny room, the man entering behind it.
He shone the light at Dred’s face again and said, “My name’s Sami, and I’ve come to rescue you.”
“I’ll say. What happened to those spikes you just told me about?”
“Lied. Sorry.”
“Why are you breaking me out?”
“An invisible guy named Bors came through here last night and told me to wait for Artie’s brother,” the man said. “One way or another he said you’d end up down here, and that you’d look just like Artie. He was right on both counts.”
“So you’ve met my brother?”
“I have.”
“What’s he like?”
“Smart. Tricky. Although I sort of wish I hadn’t met him. Then I’d be back home, feasting on roast venison, instead of standing here, wherever this is.”
“But if you hadn’t followed him, I would have captured him. She would have captured him. So you saved him.”
“And now I’ve saved you. And you’re going to return the favor. Both of you.”
“How?”
“This Bors fellow said you’d be able to take me to Artie, and that Artie could get me back home. He said Artie is very powerful. He said Artie is a king.”
Dred stepped forward. “He’s not a king yet, but we can help him become one.”
Sami held out his arm. “Lead the way, uh . . .”
“Dred.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Dred. Sorry if I busted you up the other day.”
Dred smiled. “Don’t worry. Come on.”
Dred took the flashlight and trotted out of the cell. As they wound their way up a flight of narrow, curving stairs, they heard the sound of returning guards. Sami put a hand on Dred’s shoulder and squeezed past him.
Three guards appeared in single file. The two in the front had maces, and the one in the back carried a small pistol, which was a weapon not usually used in Castel Deorc Wæters.
Sami wasted no time dispatching these men. He broke the maces and ignored the gunman, who was in no position to shoot anyway since he was in the back. In a matter of seconds the soldiers were lying in a dilapidated, moaning heap.
Sami was no joke and also a little scary.
“Nice work,” Dred said, impressed.
“Thanks. Where to now?”
Dred paused. “We need to get the swords before we go to Artie. They were in my mother’s room, but I don’t think she’d risk leaving them out in the open.”
“So she hid them,” Sami suggested.
“Yes.” Dred thought for a few moments, then snapped his fingers. “If she wants to hide them from me too, then I think I know where she put them.” He raced off, and they threaded their way through the Castel, heading toward the passageway that led to Morgaine’s lab.
As they arrived at the secret door, it dawned on Dred that, very soon, he’d be leaving Castel Deorc Wæters—the place in which he’d spent his whole life—for good. Softly he said, “Well, this is it.” Dred moved the stone in the wall, and the hidden door grated open. “Come on.”
As Dred led them through the earthen tunnel, Sami inspected the ground. “Someone was just in here—look.” He paused and pointed at the ground.
“I don’t see anything,” Dred said, looking at where Sami indicated.
“There. See that indentation in the dirt? It’s very faint.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dred lied, still unable to make it out. He continued down the hall, and when they reached the door to the lab he saw that it had been left ajar. He remembered how careful he’d been to close it, so he knew that Sami was right. Morgaine had been there not long before.
“This way,” Dred said, pushing the door open and stepping into the lab.
They walked in silence past all the big glass tubes containing the failed attempts at re-creating King Arthur. Dred tried to ignore these biological abominations as he made his way to the back.
“What is this place?” Sami asked in a stupefied tone.
“This is where I was born,” Dred said with a mouthful of venom. “It’s where Artie was born too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Morgaine made us. She made us so Artie could retrieve Excalibur. She thought that with the sword she could finally kill Merlin. If the wizard dies, then there is no one alive in the Otherworld—or in your world—who could challenge her.”
“Merlin?” Sami breathed. “Really?”
“Really.” Dred stared into Artie’s crib. There was a canvas bundle lying diagonally across the mattress. “Here they are.”
Dred yanked the fabric, and out tumbled three weapons: Excalibur, The Anguish, and the Peace Sword.
He stuck Excalibur through his belt, sheathed the Peace Sword, and handed The Anguish to Sami. “Think you can handle that?”
Sami turned the strange weapon in his hand, looking at it reverently. “Definitely,” he said.
“Good. Now we need your tracking skills to follow Morgaine and her army. You have any problem riding a bear?”
Sami winked. “Not at all.”
27 - ON THE ORIGINS OF A CERTAIN WIZARD
Kynder stared into space in utter disbelief.
A dusty, insignificant-looking book with tiny print was laid open before him. Next to this was a giant tome full of yellowing handwritten sheets. Both contained Otherworld genealogic
al information, and both were open to pages that concerned one Myrddin Emrys, aka Merlinus Ambrosious, aka Merlin.
He was born in Wales, in the town of Carmarthen, in an uncertain year in the fifth century CE.
His mother was named Adhan.
His father didn’t have a name.
That was because Merlin’s daddy was an incubus. A demon.
Numinae sat across from Kynder. Over the past day he had regained some of his true form. He was much, much taller, even taller than Kynder now. His skin was completely green, and had patches of moss growing on it here and there. When closed, his mouth had a tendency to disappear, which freaked Kynder out a little. But this was nothing next to his eyes, which had reverted to the way they were when Artie first saw the lord of Sylvan: black where the whites should have been, with shocking green irises and snow-white pupils.
“What does this mean? That Merlin . . . is a bad guy?”
“Unknown, but he has been mad—crazy—in the past, and he could be again.”
“A crazy guy with a ton of magical power. Great,” Kynder said, sounding a lot like Kay.
“My guess is that, at minimum, he has not been honest about his motivations for everything that he has asked of you and your children.”
“So the worlds don’t need to be rejoined?”
“No, they do,” Numinae said authoritatively, which gave Kynder a little comfort. “I just think that’s not Merlin’s ultimate goal. Rejoining the worlds—perhaps even pursuing the Seven Swords—for him these are things that serve a different purpose.”
Kynder leaned back in his chair. Its creaks echoed throughout the reading room. Then it hit him. “This is about Morgaine, isn’t it?”
Numinae made a low humming sound. “Yes. She wants the worlds to stay separated. Much of her power would fritter away if they were rejoined.”
Kynder shook his head. “No, what I mean is that for Merlin this is only about Morgaine.”
Numinae cracked his neck, which sounded like a giant branch snapping in two. “Believe me, Kynder, I just don’t know.”
Kynder stood. “But you knew about this incubus thing, Numinae! Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Numinae calmly said, “You wouldn’t have believed me and I wasn’t able to manipulate you like Merlin did. Nor would I have wanted to. I am here to help you and your children, not to tell you what to do.”
Kynder put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Will sangrealite provide my world with clean energy? Was that part true?” he asked, driving directly to the point that had pushed him willingly into Merlin’s arms to begin with.
Numinae nodded. “It will.”
Kynder let out a sigh of relief. “At least he didn’t lie about that.”
“He is not all bad, Kynder. He has helped you and the children. He saved Kay and Artie, as you told me, and he trusted you to raise the new Arthur Pendragon.” Numinae paused before adding, “Even the devil was a servant of God.”
“Ha! So the story goes. But Merlin is no angel, fallen or otherwise.”
“None of us are.”
Kynder fell back into his chair. “I have to talk to Arthur and warn him and Kay about what Merlin is, and what we think his motivations are. At this point they must be on their way to the rendezvous in Fenland. Can you get me there?”
“Of course. I can summon Tiberius and you can travel very quickly. But it strikes me as risky. Morgaine could be waiting.” He paused before adding, “Merlin could be there too.”
“I don’t care,” Kynder said, frowning. “Arthur and Kay have been risking their necks for more than a month. Besides, if Merlin is there and no one else has shown up yet, I think I’d like to have a few words with him.”
“I should think you might. But don’t be too hasty. Wizards need to be handled carefully. They can be quite . . . rash.”
“Point taken. Now I have to get to Fenland.”
“No, my friend. We have to get to Fenland.”
“Great,” Kynder said emphatically.
“Go and get ready,” Numinae rumbled. He stood and seemed to grow a foot or more right in front of Kynder’s eyes. Then Numinae shook his arm, and it turned into a giant wooden maul. “Tiberius has been summoned. We’ll leave as soon as he arrives.”
28 - IN WHICH KYNDER CHATS WITH MERLIN
Kynder’s first dragon ride was a doozy. Tiberius, whose neck had been outfitted with a double-seated leather saddle, had pulled out all the stops. He whisked them over Sylvan and across the Otherworld Sea, with clouds, sky, and stars streaking by at the speed of sound.
They arrived at a point high over Fenland several hours before dawn, four days before the new moon. Above them was the black firmament, a cosmic sieve perforated with a million points of light; below was a soft carpet of gray clouds. In the east a large storm pulsated with rainbows of lightning.
The dragon, which had not yet spoken during their trip, said calmly, “Hmmph. That tempest moves fast thisaway, and a fog rides swiftly from the other direction on a westerly front. They’ll be meet’n at the rendezvous by sunup.”
“Can your sight penetrate the clouds, my friend?” Numinae asked.
“Yeah, can you see Arthur?” Kynder wondered.
Tiberius leaned forward and strained his eyes on the shrouded land below. “Hmmph. They are not here. None are. All is cold and damp.”
“Well, I’m glad we beat them,” Kynder said.
“When do you think Fallown will arrive?” Numinae asked Tiberius. The Leagonese dragon had also been summoned to the rendezvous, just in case they needed help.
“In the last dark before the dawn,” Tiberius said.
“Good,” Numinae said, and patted his dragon’s neck. “There’s a rock in the sea a mile from the shore. You can land there. When someone shows up, we’ll head in.”
“Hmmph,” Tiberius grumbled. “Hold’n tight.”
With no other warning, he folded his wings and dropped headfirst to the earth, piercing the thick blanket of clouds. They emerged more than a minute later only a few hundred feet above the sea. Tiberius opened his wings and gently glided to a stop over a black rock.
Fenland was in the distance, a dark line rising from the water.
They waited in silence. Water lapped pleasantly at their rocky perch. Kynder closed his eyes, and Numinae and Tiberius only spoke sparingly. After a few hours a great bank of fog overtook them. Fenland disappeared as visibility dropped to only a few dozen feet. Numinae pulled a lamp from a saddlebag and turned it on. Its green light gave the fog a sickly hue.
The sea became completely calm. Sounds vanished.
“This sure is a weird fog,” Kynder observed.
Tiberius shifted his weight from one leg to the other and let out a long “Hmmmmph.”
“It is,” Numinae said, hastily extinguishing the lamp. “We’re not alone.”
A chill ran down Kynder’s back as it hit him: “Merlin’s here.”
“Yes,” Numinae said in a fierce whisper. “He mustn’t see me yet. I’m sorry, my friend.”
And then Numinae moved out of the saddle and appeared to become one with Tiberius, melding into the green dragon’s iridescent skin right before Kynder’s eyes.
Before Kynder could say anything, an unseen hand grabbed him by the neck, yanking him from the saddle. Within seconds Kynder was being pulled through the air, his feet dragging along the water’s surface. Tiberius vanished in the fog behind him as Kynder heard the dragon snap his wings and surge into the air.
Kynder was being hauled through the mist as if through a maze. The wizard was trying to confuse the dragon, and it apparently worked, because before long Kynder neither heard nor saw any sign of Tiberius.
Which was unfortunate.
But what was more unfortunate was that Kynder was having a hard time breathing. The magical hand gripping him was literally choking the life from him.
Finally he came to a stop over a narrow white-sand beach. A black bluff rose sharply to his left, and to the
right was a dune dotted with tall grass. Beyond this Kynder made out the tops of the trees that populated the vast swamp of Fenland.
The sea was at his back, and in front of him was Merlin, still holding Kynder by his neck with some spell.
The wizard was dressed in a black leather robe and had donned a simple linen cowl. Fog billowed from the bottom of his clothing, as if it were the source of the mist covering the sea. He pointed the owl-head of his cane directly at Kynder’s chest.
He did not look happy.
“Where is the stone that I gave you?” the wizard demanded.
Kynder clutched at the wizard’s invisible hand. He couldn’t talk. He was getting light-headed.
“Pshaw!” the wizard spit. He brought the head of his cane down swiftly, breaking the enchantment that held Kynder. A loud crack rang out over the beach as Kynder collapsed to the ground, a sickening snap coming from his right leg.
“My leg! You broke it!” Kynder wailed.
“Did I? So sorry,” Merlin said insincerely.
“What happened to you?” Kynder asked, trying to stay still, afraid to move his leg at all.
“Nothing happened to me. This is who I am,” Merlin said darkly.
“I see,” Kynder said with a note of resignation. “Well, I gave the stone away.”
“To whom?”
“Numinae.”
Merlin made a throaty sound of disgust. “And what, pray tell, did that thing have to say about it?”
“He said it was a keeper stone, that it kept me from doing certain things—namely, looking into who you are. He said I didn’t need it to be in the Otherworld, which is clearly the case. He said you were manipulating me.”
“How . . . revealing.”
“And he said you were lying to Arthur.”
The wizard blew out his cheeks. “I did nothing of the sort. I have been faithful to all of you. That’s more than I can say of you, Kynder. You should have stayed at the Library. You should have kept the stone.”
The Seven Swords Page 19