by Mari Mancusi
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Emrys said, clearing his throat, “some families aren’t worth having.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take me for example. I’m a constant disappointment to mine.” He laughed bitterly and stretched out his arms toward her. “You may have noticed my skinny arms and sticklike legs, perhaps? Or the fact that I’m quite short, for a boy? My brothers are all strapping lads with bulging muscles.” He made a face. “All my life they’ve called me Runt.”
Nimue scowled. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it? My father always went out of his way to let me know how disappointed he was in me. No good on the farm, he’d say. Always had my nose in a book. If it wasn’t for my mother…” He trailed off, looking wistful.
“So that is why you came to train under Lord Merlin?”
“Aye. It’s my one chance to make something of myself. To prove to my father that I’m not worthless.” Emrys kicked a small stone with his boot. “As long as Merlin doesn’t cast me out for stealing his spell pad and running away with a druid girl my first days on the job, that is.” He gave a wry grin.
“Such a bad apprentice,” Nimue teased playfully. “And yet so noble!”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Come now!” she scolded, feeling suddenly generous. “Had you not turned the Grail into a chicken, it would be in Morgana’s hands right now! Instead it is on its way to Lost Vegas—straight to Merlin. If anything, he should reward you for your service.”
“I hope you are right.”
“What a wondrous thing,” Nimue said, marveling as she stared into the fire. “To be able to travel to the future on a whim. I wonder how Merlin spends his time there.”
“I think he buys swords.”
She cocked her head. “Swords? Really?”
“Sophie said he was going to a place called Excalibur. Which is the name of the sword Arthur pulled from the stone to become king.”
“Right.” Nimue nodded. “Well, I hope Sophie finds him quickly, and he’s able to turn the Grail back into its rightful shape. I don’t know how much time Arthur has left—”
She broke off suddenly, her ears pricking up at a rustling sound in the bushes. She glanced over at Emrys, putting a finger to her lips. Then she slowly rose to her feet, creeping in the direction of the sound while reaching for the knife at her belt.
She stopped at the edge of the brush, straining to listen. At first she heard nothing and was about to go back to the fire, dismissing the noise she heard as an animal or bird. Maybe an owl. Or a bat. Or—
It was then that she saw it. A pair of purple eyes, glowing out from behind a large bush. She let out a small gasp, her fingers gripping the knife so tightly her knuckles went white.
“You!” she whispered.
Before she could make a move, the figure turned and fled. Nimue dove after her, thrashing through the bushes, still gripping the knife tightly in her hands. Branches scratched at her arms and face, and roots threatened to trip her, but still she pressed on.
She could not let Morgana get away.
Her mind raced in horror as she ran, spinning through all they’d just spoken of by the fire. About the Grail, about the Companions, about Merlin himself and where he was. Why, she might as well have wrapped up the Grail in a fancy red ribbon and handed it to the sorceress herself!
“Morgana!” she cried as she ran. “Come back here, you coward! I thought you were a great sorceress. Yet you run from a helpless girl?”
Even as she spoke the words, she knew how foolish they were. Morgana was a great sorceress. While Nimue didn’t even have her spell book and had to use flint to start a fire. What did she think she was doing, trying to goad her into a fight?
But there was no taking it back now. For Morgana had stopped running. She stood in front of her horse, a wicked grin slashing across her cold, hard face. She was terrifying—yet somehow still beautiful. With long black hair, high cheekbones, purple eyes, and full red lips with the power to whisper spells of death and destruction.
Nimue shrank back into the shadows, fear pounding at her heart. With a trembling hand, she raised her pitiful knife in front of her—a useless protection against a sorceress with so much power. But it was all she had.
Morgana lifted her palms. Lightning crackled from the tips of her bloodred fingernails. Nimue swallowed hard, her mind flashing back to her sisters, on the ground, their bodies blackened and burned.
She had escaped Morgana once.
But there was no escaping now.
Emrys watched in horror from his hiding spot behind the thick brush, wincing as crackling sparks seemed to dance over the sorceress’s fingers. For it could be no one but Morgana herself—the evil sorceress from his mother’s stories—now standing before them in real life.
At first he hadn’t understood what was happening. One moment Nimue was talking; the next she dove into the woods. What was she thinking? She was just an apprentice—without even her spell book to help her. While Morgana—at least according to the legends—was the most powerful sorceress in the land. How could Nimue even think about trying to best her in a one-on-one battle?
Was there any way he could possibly help?
“Silly girl,” he heard Morgana purr. “Do you really think you have a chance against me? I am Morgana, rightful queen of Britain. Bow before me or I will take you down like I did your sisters.”
Emrys shot a nervous look in Nimue’s direction. Do it, he urged her silently. You don’t have to mean it. And you can take it back later. But for now—just bow!
But Nimue didn’t bow. Instead she seemed to push back her shoulders, standing as tall and straight as she could. “I am Nimue, servant of the Sacred Grove of Avalon,” she declared, her voice defiant, though Emrys could detect a slight wobble just beneath the surface. She was scared, but trying to hide it. “And I serve only Arthur Pendragon, crowned king of all Britain.” She pursed her lips. “I will never bow down to you, witch.”
“Very well,” Morgana said, with a sick smile. “Then you will join your sisters in death.”
Fire flashed, seeming to come out of nowhere—flames barreling straight at Nimue. Emrys dove in her direction, managing to knock her down seconds before the fire blasted through, scorching the ground where she’d stood.
“No!” Nimue cried, struggling to get up. But Emrys held her down, shooting her a warning look.
“Stay down,” he commanded as he staggered to his feet. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Nimue trying to get up anyway—of course she wouldn’t listen to him.
“Well, well,” Morgana purred, her eyes lighting on him. “Whom do we have here?”
Emrys turned to Morgana, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest as best he could. He probably looked ridiculous to her. A pathetic runt of a knight without any shining armor to speak of. But Nimue had no one else, so the duty fell to him.
He drew in a breath. Here went nothing.
“I am Emrys the Excellent,” he declared, meeting the sorceress’s eyes with his own. She had beautiful eyes, he had to admit, though the pupils held a frightening darkness. He cleared his throat. “A wise and powerful wizard, trained under the great Merlin himself.”
“I see.” Morgana’s gaze swept over him from head to toe. “And what do you want, little wizard?”
This was folly. Pure and utter folly. He wondered how his mother would feel when he didn’t return to the farm. His father would likely say, I told you so. And he would be right.
But there was nothing to do about it now. “I want you to turn around and leave us and never come back,” he said staunchly, trying to keep his voice from betraying his fear.
Morgana’s mouth curled. A chuckle escaped her lips. “I must say, Emrys the Excellent,” she drawled, “you are very brave. But also…well, I’m sorry to say…very foolish.”
Emrys’s heart beat faster in his chest. His whole body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. But somehow
he managed to stand his ground. “Three,” he said. “Two…”
This had to be the stupidest thing he had done in his entire life. And it seemed likely it would be the last thing he would ever do. So much for studying to be a wizard. So much for showing his father he wasn’t worthless. She would strike him down and then move on to Nimue and—
CRASH!
Morgana jumped. “What was that?” she cried, turning from him to address the sudden sound, coming from somewhere behind her. “Is someone there?”
Suddenly Emrys heard Nimue’s voice. “Come on!” she cried. “Get on!”
Emrys looked up, shocked to see that while he’d been facing down Morgana, Nimue had managed to circle back and steal her horse. Now, with the sorceress momentarily distracted, she reached down and grabbed his hand. He climbed up behind her, gripping her shoulders to keep his balance.
“What are you doing?” Morgana demanded, turning back around. “You can’t—”
“Go!” Emrys cried.
Nimue flicked the reins. The horse took off. From behind, Emrys could hear Morgana’s shriek of rage, followed by firebolts blasting in their direction. Bushes went up in flames. The air began to thicken with smoke.
“Faster!” he begged Nimue. She flicked the reins again, and the horse, seeming to realize he, too, was in danger, picked up the pace.
They raced though the forest, not pausing for anything. Branches whipped at Emrys’s face and arms, but he ignored them, holding tight to Nimue as if his life depended on it. Which, of course, it did.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they reached a clearing beside a small gurgling stream. Nimue pulled on the reins. The panting horse stopped and headed over to the water for a much-needed drink.
“I think we’ve lost her,” she said, staring past him into the woods.
Emrys nodded, sliding off the horse, breathing heavily, as if he were the one to have run through the forest. His whole body felt limp; the heat of the moment had been the only thing keeping him upright before now. All he wanted to do was collapse, take a moment to breathe.
Instead he looked up at Nimue. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, though her face was still quite pale. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she said. “I was sure I was done for.”
“I’m not sure how good a rescue it was. If you hadn’t grabbed the horse…”
She smiled. “What, you didn’t have a great big plan for when you counted down to one?”
“Not exactly.” He blushed.
“But it worked,” she reminded him. “It gave me enough time to cast the distraction spell on her. And grab her horse.” She patted the horse’s neck.
“We make a good team,” Emrys declared.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Though…”
He cocked his head. “What’s wrong? Are you worried she’ll find us still?” He gave an uneasy glance toward the woods.
“No.” Nimue shook her head. “Why would she bother to find us? What she really wants is the Grail. And thanks to my foolish tongue, she now knows exactly where to find it.”
“Oh.” Emrys winced. With all that had happened, he’d almost forgotten their earlier conversation. “What do we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. She’s probably already on her way to Lost Vegas. Merlin and the others will have no warning!”
“Right.” Emrys raked a hand through his hair. “Unless…”
Nimue gave him a sharp look. “Unless what?”
“What if we warned them?”
“How are we to do that?”
“We could travel through time, too. Using Merlin’s Well of Dreams. It works as a portal to send people places. And since Merlin used it last, it should be able to lead us right to him.” Excitement rose inside him as a plan formed in his mind. “Don’t you see? We can find him and Sophie and the others before Morgana does. Warn them she is on her way.”
For a moment Nimue didn’t speak. And Emrys half wondered if she thought him insane. And maybe he was—to even think of traveling through time on such a crazy quest. But he could think of no alternative.
Finally, Nimue sat up. She lifted her chin. Met his eyes with her own.
“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” she asked. “Let’s get back to the Crystal Cave.”
The good news? Spike made it through the flight, mouth elastic intact. In fact, he slept most of the way. The bad? When they landed, Stu’s phone had about thirteen texts from his mother, each more urgent than the last. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to talk to him. He should come over tonight for dinner. They could talk more about the move. She wanted to make sure he was okay.
As the plane taxied to the gate, Stu’s stomach crawled with nausea. What was he going to do? How was he going to answer her? And also, was he okay? He still wasn’t sure, honestly. Mostly he’d been trying not to think about it—concentrating on their mission instead. But he couldn’t exactly tell his mom to put all talks of moving on ice until he finished saving the world.
“Wow, your mom texts more than mine!”
Stu jerked his head in Ashley’s direction. “What?” he stammered, quickly turning his phone over so she could no longer read the screen. Had she been peeking over his shoulder? Had she read his mom’s texts? He glanced over at Sophie, who was thankfully leaning down to check on Spike, whom they’d stashed under the seat.
“Uh, she just…wanted to have dinner tonight,” he blurted out, his heart beating furiously in his chest as he tried to remember if his mom had said anything about the move in her long series of texts. Something Ashley might have seen.
“Well, she looks like she’s freaking out.”
“Who’s freaking out?” Sophie asked, peeking her head back up.
“Stu’s mom,” Ashley answered helpfully. Stu’s face grew tomato red.
“I thought you were staying with your dad this week,” Sophie said, puzzled. And for good reason. Stu’s mom made it a rule never to text during Dad Week. Unless it was an emergency. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Stu said, sweating bullets as he clutched his phone with white-knuckled fingers.
Sophie frowned. “You should at least text her back. You don’t want her to start to suspect something and call your dad.” She reached for his phone. “Here, I can do it for you—”
Stu leaped from his seat, jerking the phone out of her reach. One of the flight attendants gave him the evil eye. “Seat belt sign is still on,” she barked at him.
Stu reluctantly slumped down in his seat, keeping his phone firmly in his hand, screen down. Sophie folded her hands in her lap.
“Sorry!” she said, sounding a little offended. “I was just trying to help.”
His phone chimed again. He gritted his teeth.
“I know,” he said. “I just—”
Thankfully, at that moment the plane’s engines died. The seat belt sign blinked off.
“Finally!” Stu cried, leaping up again and shoving his phone into his pocket. He practically dove into the aisle, only to get stuck behind a dozen people doing the exact same thing. From behind him, he could feel Sophie watching him, puzzled.
“Don’t forget you-know-who!” Ashley broke in, reaching under the seat to pull out the pet carrier and handing it to Stu. From behind the bars, Spike blinked at him sleepily.
The line of people started to move. Stu walked behind them, followed by Sophie, then Ashley. Hopefully Spike would stay sleepy until they got out of the airport and into the hotel. Then they could let him out—give him some food maybe. Did dragons really love tacos? He could go for a taco himself. Maybe it would even stop his stomach from churning.
As they stepped into the airport, his phone buzzed again.
“Argh!” he cried. “Leave me alone!”
Sophie put her hands on her hips. “Stuart Mallory, what is going on here?” she demanded. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes! Everything is awesome!” Stu blurted out, unwittingly channeling his inner Lego
guy. From behind him, Ashley snickered.
“Are you sure?” Sophie pressed. “You look kind of pale. Was that your mom again?”
He sucked in a breath and turned to face her. “Actually,” he declared, with as much bravado as he could muster, “it was the fun police. ’Cause we’re about to have too much fun!”
“Um…”
“I mean, Vegas, baby!” he cried, shoving Spike’s carrier at Ashley, then grabbing Sophie’s hand and twirling her around. “Can you believe we’re in Vegas? Just look at this place! Wild!”
Sophie looked around, a little bewildered. “We’re still in the airport.”
“And have you ever seen an airport like this? Look at the slot machines! Any of them could spit out a million dollars at any second!” He skipped over to a series of signs advertising the Vegas sights. “And check out this dolphin lagoon! How cool is that? And look at that huge Ferris wheel. We should totally ride that while we’re here. Or I will anyway. I know you and heights.”
“Um, sure? Maybe?” Sophie stammered, looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. Still, Stu thought, at least she’d stopped asking about the texts. “But first we need to find Merlin. We’re on a mission, remember? This is not some vacation.”
“Speaking of fun police,” Ashley muttered under her breath.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing! Last one to the cab stand is a rotten avocado!” She took off running. Sophie groaned and fell into pace behind her. Stu pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said with a sigh, then ran off to join the others.
Five minutes later they were in a cab, heading toward the famous Las Vegas “strip.” Stu watched out the window as the driver pulled onto a street filled with bright lights and skyscraper hotels, many shaped like real places from around the world. There was an Eiffel Tower at the Paris hotel. A bunch of skyscrapers representing New York, New York. A Roman palace called Caesar’s.