by Mari Mancusi
Definitely not the Holy Grail.
A furious growl escaped her throat. She reined in her horse, scanning the arena. All around her people were cheering and jeering. Clapping and waving their fists. Where was the Grail? It had to be here somewhere! And where was the real Merlin? Had she been tricked into coming here? Were those children in the woods cleverer than she’d thought?
But no. The tracking spell could not lie. The Grail had to be here. Somewhere.
“Get her!”
Men poured through the tunnel. Some dressed as knights. Others in some kind of official-looking blue outfit with a matching hat. In a moment she would be surrounded. They would take her captive. They would lock her up.
Giving the real Merlin time to steal the Grail away again.
Desperate, she reached out, grabbed the imposter Merlin by the collar, and yanked him up onto her horse. He cried in protest, thrashing around to fight her. She pulled a knife from her belt and pressed it against his side.
“Quiet,” she told him in a low voice. “Or I will gut you and feed your entrails to the dogs.”
His face drained of color and he stopped struggling. The rampaging soldiers stopped, too, giving one another wary looks, as if to say, What now?
Morgana smiled. This was more like it. She turned to the audience, lifting her voice. “I seek the Holy Grail,” she called out. “I know it is here somewhere, in this room. Whether it be cup or chicken—I care not. Bring it to me, or this man will die.”
Stu stared down into the pit, a big bite of chicken stuck in his mouth. Until this moment he hadn’t been paying a ton of attention to the show; he’d been too stressed out about Sophie. But suddenly his eyes were glued to the field below. A terrified shiver tripping down his spine.
“Is that…?” he whispered. “No. It couldn’t be.”
But it was, of course. He would never forget that face. Those purple eyes. Those red lips.
Morgana.
His mind flashed back to the last time he’d laid eyes on the sorceress. The two of them battling to the death in the depths of her dark castle. She’d struck him down with a mere wave of her hand. If it hadn’t been for Merlin’s healing, he would have died then and there.
Instead he had killed her. Though by the looks of her now, it hadn’t exactly stuck.
Morgana galloped around the arena, not-Merlin held tightly in her grip. The rest of the audience, of course, thought this was all part of the act. They leaned forward in their seats, rapt expressions on their faces. Some were booing. Some were actually cheering. Stu turned to Sophie and Ashley.
“What are we going to do?”
“There you are!”
Stu’s head whipped around to find a boy and a girl around his own age running down the stairs in their direction. They were dressed in long robes and looked as if they could have been part of the show as well.
“Nimue!” Sophie cried, rising to her feet, clearly recognizing them. “Emrys! What are you doing here?”
Wait. Nimue and Emrys? Stu squinted at the pair. From Merlin’s cave? How did they get here? This was getting crazier and crazier by the second.
“It’s a long story,” the girl—Nimue—told her. “Where is the Grail?”
Ashley pointed to herself. “He’s in here,” she said, motioning to the little dragon snout peeking out from her jacket.
“You didn’t turn it back yet?” Nimue cried, looking horrified.
“Also a long story,” Sophie said. “But we’re working on it.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Stu pointed out. “Morgana clearly thinks she’s looking for a cup. Or a…chicken, for some reason?”
“Don’t ask,” muttered Nimue.
The five of them looked down into the arena. Morgana still had not-Merlin by the throat. A knife pressed to his side. She’d stopped at the front of the castle set at the far end of the tilt yard, where the “king” and his daughter were looking down in concern. Clearly they knew, if no one else did, that this was not part of the show.
“Give me the Grail!” Morgana screamed, sounding less patient this time. “Or I will kill him!”
The audience booed excitedly. “We have to help him!” Stu cried.
“And protect the Grail,” Nimue added.
Sophie turned to Ashley. “Take Spike back to the room and lock the door. I’ll text you when it’s safe.”
Thankfully, Ashley didn’t argue. She zipped the dragon into her jacket and ran out of the arena, not looking back.
“Okay. Now what?” Sophie said.
“You go find real Merlin,” Stu told her. “We’ll try to hold her off until you get back.”
“But if she sees you, she’ll kill you!” Sophie protested.
“If she doesn’t, she may kill fake Merlin. We can’t let that happen! No matter how annoying he might be.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “We’re Companions, remember? Or at least one of us is.”
Sophie gave him an anguished look, but in the end, she did as he said. He watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest. Sure, he had put on a brave front for her, but inside he was shaking like a leaf.
He turned to Nimue and Emrys. “Does either of you have any magic?” he asked, crossing his fingers for a yes. “Emrys? You’re Merlin’s apprentice, right? Any spells that might work?”
Emrys was clearly distraught. “Merlin’s spell book is out of energy.”
“What does that mean?” Stu demanded. He watched as Emrys pulled out an iPad from his satchel. “Wait, Merlin keeps his spells on an iPad? There’s an app for that?”
“It needs to be attached to Merlin’s magic box!” Nimue explained. “To recharge.”
Stu reached into his own backpack, unplugged his phone from its portable charger, and grabbed the iPad from Emrys’s hands. With shaky fingers, he somehow managed to plug it in. The iPad blinked, indicating it had started to charge.
“Man, you guys really drained this thing,” Stu noted in dismay.
“How long will it take to wake up?” Nimue asked.
“A few minutes.”
“You have ten seconds!” Morgana screamed, as if she had heard them. “Or I will break his neck!”
Okay, that wasn’t good. Stu looked down at the iPad. “Come on, come on!” He shook it. As if that would speed things up.
“We need to do something,” Nimue cried. “Distract her, like you said.”
Stu thought back to the first fight they’d had with Morgana. At the time he had been that distraction. Could he do it again?
He shoved the iPad in Emrys’s direction. “When it wakes up, do your thing.”
“Wait. Where are you—”
But Stu had already dived under the table. Sprinting down the aisle, he waved his hands above his head to get Morgana’s attention. “Hey, witch!” he cried. “Remember me?”
Even as he called her out, he knew how stupid he was to do it. She could blast him with a single shot of fire and he had no armor, this time, to protect him. No healer, either.
Guess that was one way to get out of going to California….
Morgana’s head snapped in his direction. Her purple eyes narrowed in recognition. “You!” she cried. “I should have known.”
She shoved not-Merlin off the horse. He hit the ground hard, collapsing into a crumpled heap. Stu watched, relieved, as a moment later the actor scrambled to his feet and limped to the sidelines. At least he was safe.
Stu, on the other hand, was now in mortal danger. But there was no turning back. He vaulted over the barrier that separated the audience from the pit, grabbing a discarded sword from the sidelines. It wasn’t real, of course. Just a prop sword that hadn’t even been sharpened. But he had a feeling Morgana wouldn’t know that. And maybe that would buy them some time. He held it up in front of his face, as if it were a deadly weapon.
“Come and get me if you can!” he called out.
The crowd was on its feet now. Everyone was freaking out—cheering, screaming, applauding. Some were ro
oting for him. Some actually seemed to be rooting for Morgana. Many had their phones held up. He was bound to end up on YouTube after this. Maybe he’d even go viral like Sophie had. He just hoped his parents didn’t click on the link.
Morgana yanked on the horse’s reins, turning to face Stu. Then she dropped the reins, raising her hands menacingly in his direction. Sparks seemed to crackle over her fingertips. Stu sucked in a shaky breath, willing himself not to look back up at Emrys and Nimue—to see how they were doing with the iPad. If he did, Morgana would spot them for sure.
“Stop,” he told Morgana, making his voice sound as brave as he could, under the circumstances. “Kill me now and you’ll never find your precious Grail.”
She stopped. Set her lips in a straight line. He could practically see the gears turning in her head. She knew he was right. Thank goodness. “Where is the Grail?” she demanded.
He forced a cocky grin. “That’s for me to know,” he said. “And for you to never find out.” Childish, he knew. But kind of satisfying at the same time.
A storm cloud flashed over Morgana’s face. “Take care, child. I may not be able to kill you,” she ground out, “but I can make you wish you were dead.”
Stu swallowed hard, his bravado fading. She had a point. A not-deadly but likely very painful point.
He squeezed his hands into fists, trying to stop his whole body from convulsing with fear. What was he going to do? How was he going to hold her off? If only Sophie were here. Like when he faced down King Lot. It had been her magic that had turned the tides in his favor. But now…
Don’t back down, he scolded himself. Everyone’s counting on you. Time to channel your inner King Arthur.
He squared his shoulders. Lifted his chin. Looked Morgana in the eyes. “Go for it,” he spit out. “Give me your best shot. Just make sure you don’t knock me out. It would be a real shame for me to go into a coma and take the Grail’s whereabouts with me.”
Or, you know, to go into a coma in general. And maybe never wake up….
Oh man, what was he doing? What if she called his bluff? What if she—
Morgana’s face twisted. She flicked the reins of the horse, charging in his direction. Stu stumbled backward, horrified at the deadly look he saw on her face. All his words had meant nothing. She would kill him and figure out how to get the Grail later. He wouldn’t be moving to California, because he would be dead. Maybe his mother would bury him in California. Or scatter his ashes in the sea—
BOOM!
Purple smoke exploded through the arena. Everyone screamed.
And the lights went out.
Emrys groaned, clutching his head in his hands. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around, no idea where he was. Last he remembered he was scrolling frantically through Merlin’s iPad after it had finally loaded up, looking for a spell. Something—anything—to defeat Morgana. Or at least make her temporarily disappear.
At last he’d stumbled upon a banish spell, which would cast her out of this world. It wouldn’t be a permanent fix—she’d be sure to figure out a way back. But at least it would give them some time.
He’d uttered the Latin words, probably not very well. There had been a flash of light. A loud popping sound, and then—
“He’s awake!”
Emrys’s head snapped in the direction of Nimue’s voice. He hadn’t realized anyone else was in the room. But there she was, standing by his bedside, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He blinked and ran his hands over his body. He was sore all over—and his head was throbbing—but nothing felt out of place. “I think so.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief. “I was so worried! You looked like you were dead. We had to drag you out of the arena. You’ve been out for some time.”
He swallowed hard. “And…Morgana?”
“Gone,” Nimue declared. “As if she had never been here to begin with.” She squeezed his shoulder. “All thanks to you.”
Emrys felt a warm feeling rise inside him. All thanks to him. Which meant he’d done it. He’d actually done something good for once in his life. His magic had worked—in the way it was supposed to. He’d stood up to a great sorceress and he’d lived to tell the tale. Just like the heroes in his mother’s stories.
Maybe he wasn’t so useless after all….
“You useless, blithering dolt!”
Or…maybe not. He looked up, his heart pounding in his chest, to see Merlin storm into the room, blue robes flying out behind him. The wizard’s eyebrows were furrowed and a dark frown slashed across his face. As his heavy steps ate up the distance between them Emrys shrank back in bed.
“Hey…Merlin,” he cried, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “Um, it’s good to see you?”
But it was not good. Not good at all. His mind flashed back to all he had done. All the rules he’d broken. The stuff he’d touched that he’d promised to leave alone. Sure, he may have saved the day just now. But the day wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place had it not been for him.
And Merlin clearly knew it.
His mouth went dry. What if Merlin wouldn’t accept his apology? What if he refused to keep him on as an apprentice and sent him home in shame? Emrys cringed at the thought of returning to the farm. To see his mother’s disappointed face. His father’s smug grin. Having to admit to his brothers that he’d failed yet again.
Not such a hero after all.
Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, staring him down. “Do you have something to say to me, boy?” he demanded.
Emrys’s face was now burning hot. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I never meant to disobey your orders. I just—just—”
“Turned the Holy Grail into a Holy Dragon! That’s not exactly adding too much salt to the soup.”
Emrys bowed his head in shame. “But I thought…” Then he trailed off. Because what good would it do? All the explanations in all the world wouldn’t excuse what he’d done. He didn’t deserve Merlin’s forgiveness.
The wizard gave an exasperated sigh. “This is exactly why I told you to stay away from magic to begin with, you know.”
“I know.”
“Come on, Merl. Give the dude a break.”
Emrys startled at the sound of the new voice. In his humiliation, he hadn’t realized their audience had grown. Now he realized that Sophie and Ashley and the boy who had faced down Morgana—Stu?—stood by the door watching them. Wonderful. His fall from grace would happen for all to view.
“A break?” Merlin blustered, turning to Stu. “A break, you say?”
“Uh, yeah,” Stu replied. “I mean, come on, man. We all mess up. Remember that time I jumped in the river to save Elaine from drowning and my King Arthur illusion wore off?”
“And remember when I told Arthur to go play Camelot’s Honor,” Sophie piped in, “thinking it would convince him to go back home? Instead it made him want to move to the twenty-first century full-time.”
“Yes, yes,” Merlin grumbled. “But those were honest mistakes. This—”
“Also, he did just kind of save my life out there,” Stu added, walking over to Emrys’s side. He slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Emrys mumbled, staring down at his lap.
Merlin threw up his hands. “Yes, it worked out this time! And I’m glad it did! But what if it hadn’t?” His eyes locked on Emrys. “Is it so wrong that I don’t want you to get hurt?”
Emrys folded his hands in his lap. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to get hurt, either. And I don’t want to get anyone else hurt. No more spells,” he said, and looked up at the group. “Not until I learn how to use them properly.” His eyes locked on Merlin. “Not until you say it’s okay.”
Merlin’s stern face vanished, replaced by a toothy smile. He slapped Emrys on the back, with a little too much force. “That’s my boy!” he cried.
/> Emrys felt relief wash over him. Merlin would forgive him. He wouldn’t send him back home. As long as he didn’t manage to muddle anything else up, all would be okay.
No more magic, he told himself. No matter what happens.
Merlin cleared his throat. “Now I need to finish that potion. If you’ll excuse me…” And with that, he exited the room, leaving the four of them alone.
Nimue turned to Sophie and Stu. “Now,” she said, “back to the real problem at hand. Why is the Grail still dragon-shaped?” She gestured to Spike, who was sitting on the other bed, clawing at a dirty spot on the blanket. His mouth was tied up with some kind of string, Emrys realized. Probably to keep him from breathing fire?
“Yeah, about that,” Sophie said. “Turns out your little mission was a bit more complicated than we thought.” She filled them in on the latest, ending with their planned trip to the land of Faerie. Emrys listened to it all, his chest sinking when she came to the part where they’d have to risk their lives again. All because of him.
Maybe Merlin should have sent him home. He didn’t deserve to be a wizard.
Nimue listened solemnly. When Sophie had finished, she nodded. “You are very brave to do this for us. Most would turn their backs.”
Sophie looked embarrassed. “It’s my job,” she said. “I am a Companion, after all.”
“And we’re her loyal followers!” Stu declared, patting himself on the chest. Emrys caught Sophie giving him a weird look, and wondered if there was something else going on between them. Not that it was any of his concern.
“Well, I am a druid of Avalon,” Nimue chimed in, making the symbol of the Great Mother—an open cup—with her hands. “I have sworn to protect the Grail with my life. I would be honored to aid you in your quest.” She looked down at Emrys. “Are you with us?”
He shifted on the bed, feeling all sorts of uncomfortable. Did they really want him? Or were they just trying to be nice? He couldn’t bear it if this was a pity invite.
“Are you sure you want me?” he asked quietly. “After all I’ve done?”
Nimue’s eyes grew stern. “I would not ask if I did not.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed lightly. “We need you, Emrys. You are as much a part of this as the rest of us.”