by Matt Phelan
Dedication
FOR NORA
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One Always Board a Magic Boat
Chapter Two An Unusual Occurrence at Sea
Chapter Three Welcome to Orkney!
Chapter Four Bad Playdate
Chapter Five Welcome to the Nightmare!
Chapter Six Thick as Soup and Twice as Deadly
Chapter Seven Knights vs. Villagers
Chapter Eight Of Bloodsucking Fiends
Chapter Nine A Strange Little Lad
Chapter Ten Bi-clops!
Chapter Eleven And Then There Were Four
Chapter Twelve Good Hearts
Chapter Thirteen The Shadowy One
Chapter Fourteen Again with the Monsters
Chapter Fifteen It Takes an Angry Village
Chapter Sixteen A Watery Grave
Chapter Seventeen The Dark Age
A Note from Queen Morgause
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Something lurked in the mist. Something large. Something nasty.
Four knights and one young girl stumbled half blind on the dark, misty moor as well.
“Where is it?” yelled Sir Erec of the Round Table, brandishing his broadsword. “BORS!”
Sir Bors bounded out of the mist, swinging his sword every which way. “There’s more than one! Where’s Hector?”
“I don’t know. Can’t see anything in this blasted mist.” Erec turned sharply. “There! I think—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. An enormous hairy arm with fiendish claws burst from the mist and sliced Erec’s garment.
Bors raised his blade with a deep battle cry. Erec regained his footing and joined the battle.
“Hector! We need you! NOW!” he called.
Elsewhere . . .
Magdalena, the Black Knight, moved slowly, cautiously, a sword in one hand, a dagger in the other. Her eyes, intense and piercing, scanned the impenetrable fog.
She took a single breath.
An enormous tentacle whipped through the mist and wrapped around her legs, knocking her to the ground. She dropped her sword but still held the knife. The Black Knight slashed at the tentacle but could not quite reach it.
The tentacle dragged her across the rocky terrain. A low growl rumbled louder and louder.
Suddenly . . .
An arrow pierced the tentacle. The mysterious beast roared.
Melancholy Postlethwaite leaped from behind a stone wall, a bow in hand, a fresh arrow released in midair.
Mel landed, rolled, sprang to her feet, and helped the Black Knight untangle from the flailing tentacle. But seven more whipped furiously above them. The Black Knight found her sword, drew herself to her full intimidating height, and wiped a strand of hair from her eyes. Mel stood beside her, bow at the ready.
Meanwhile . . .
Bors and Erec soared backward through the air and landed with a thud against a small stone hut.
Winded, they slowly rallied their strength.
The sound of enormous feet crunched toward them.
They froze, eyes on the dark mist. A monster emerged from the gloom. It was huge, terrifying, fierce, and—
“Wait,” said Erec. “Is that a wee mustache?”
In a darkened hall of Camelot, two court minstrels sat by a small fire, tuning their instruments.
“That’s not it,” said the first. “He shouted: ‘We must act!’”
“No, it was ‘wee mustache.’”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
The minstrel shrugged. “That’s the most reliable tale at the moment. Some Scottish peasant came through town the other day. He’d heard the tale from a cousin of a cousin who was there and sent a letter all about it via raven. I heard it from John Muddle, the tinsmith. Who told you?”
“Bertha, the innkeeper. But that’s exactly the problem, you see. It’s all hearsay. Worse, it’s whisper-down-the-lane. How is a respectable minstrel expected to know all the little details?”
“We do what we can, Paul.”
They continued tuning.
“I hear the squire is now quite an accomplished archer.”
“Well, that’s what I mean, John. You hear? From whom?”
“Lionel. Lutist from . . . Devon, I think.”
“Ugh. What a hack.”
“I know. But he has a new song called ‘Melancholy the Erstwhile Squire Who Is Now an Accomplished Archer.’”
“Good title. But Lionel has no sense of melody.”
“Tell me about it. And how difficult is basic song structure? Verse, verse, verse, verse, verse, verse, verse, chorus, repeat.”
The fire crackled. A string twanged into tune.
“I wonder where he heard the archer bit.”
“Who knows? We won’t have the full accurate account, the actual facts of the story, until the Band of the Terrible Lizards returns.”
“They shan’t return.”
A dark figure emerged from the shadows of the hall.
“Sir Gawain. We did not see you there.”
Gawain stood by the fire and poked it slowly. “I have just received word from my brother, Sir Agravaine. Grave news from our home.” Gawain put the poker down and stared at the blazing fire for a moment. “The Band of the Terrible Lizards has met their end. They fought bravely, of course. . . .”
He turned and walked to the door of the hall.
“But some things are unconquerable, even for the greatest of heroes.”
Chapter One
Always Board a Magic Boat
One week earlier . . .
Sir Erec lifted the grail to the light of the candle. He turned it gently, slowly.
An elderly couple stood a few feet away in the dark cottage. They watched Erec with bated breath.
Erec held the grail still. He examined a detail for a long moment.
“No.” Erec tossed the grail casually to his left hand and set it down on the table.
“What do you mean, Sir Erec?” the aged man asked. “It is surely the Holy Grail you seek.”
“It’s a nice grail, truly. Great grail. But it’s not the grail.”
“How can you tell?” demanded the lady.
Erec turned by the door.
“Because it doesn’t . . . glow or shimmer or . . . vibrate slightly. I’ll know it when I see it.”
Sir Bors leaned against the door. He rolled his eyes and huffed as Erec walked past him. Bors followed Erec outside the cottage.
“What a surprise,” said Bors. “I’m utterly shocked.”
“I feel the same as you, Bors. You can save your sarcasm.”
“Sarcasm and disappointment are the only things I’ve gained from this so-called adventure,” grumbled Bors.
“Well, King Arthur wants to find the Holy Grail, so on we search.”
“Along with every other Knight of the Round Table, including the most pathetic ones.”
Erec stopped and faced Bors.
“Are you suggesting we are above the other knights of Arthur’s Round Table?”
Bors stepped closer and leaned into Erec.
“We fought the mightiest creatures in history. Face-to-face, sword to tooth. The terrible lizards. And we were victorious. Yes, Sir Erec, I do believe we are above the other knights. We are meant for bigger things.”
Erec held Bors’s gaze. He sighed.
“I agree.”
A hundred yards away, Mel was carefully taking aim with her bow. Magdalena, the Black Knight, stood by her side.
“Take a moment. Hold your breath. See only the
target. Forget the bow, the arrow, and everything else around you.”
Mel concentrated. She held her breath. She released the arrow. It soared straight and true, hitting a two-inch knot on a thin tree branch.
“Good,” said Magdalena.
Mel rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder. “Thank you.”
She started to string another arrow, then paused and turned to the Black Knight.
“Thank you for everything, Magdalena. The training, the skills you have taught me.”
“Thank yourself. You did the work.”
Mel smiled. “Yes, but . . . thank you for believing I could do the work. For believing that I could be more than a squire. I never would have dreamed I could be an archer, let alone a full member of this company.”
Magdalena looked up into the sky, watching a bird soar overhead.
“It was not such a great leap. You were an exceptionally skilled squire with a keen instinct, Mel. Moreover, you demonstrated great intelligence and stealth, posing as a boy to conceal your identity for so long.”
Magdalena glanced across the field as Erec and Bors made their way from the small hut. Bors stepped in a pile of manure, muttered something, and dragged his foot along the grass for a bit.
“Even if it was mostly Bors who you were fooling,” said Magdalena.
Mel laughed.
“Yes, I suppose that was not as challenging as it might have been. However,” Mel continued, “whether you want to hear it or not, I owe you a great deal, Magdalena. I was not meant to be a squire. Perhaps now I’m becoming what I was always destined to be.”
Magdalena turned and walked after Erec and Bors.
“I do not believe in destiny, Mel. Good or bad.”
Erec and Bors followed the path through the gate, past a row of bushes, and down to the bank of a wide river. Sir Hector was sitting at the edge of the water, knife in hand, observing his reflection in the water.
“Was it the Holy Grail?” Hector asked as the two approached.
“No. Not even a little bit,” said Erec.
“Can’t say I’m surprised, fellow knights. Every day it’s the same thing. I suppose tomorrow it will be my turn to inspect the local cupboards. Anyhoo . . .”
Hector stood and faced the knights with a beaming smile.
“Notice anything?”
“It’s a river,” said Bors. “We knew that already.”
“No,” said Hector. “Notice anything about me?”
“I try not to,” said Bors, sitting on a rock.
“New tunic?” asked Erec.
“No.”
“Weight gain?”
“No!”
Hector twitched his lips and flared his nostrils.
“You shaved your mustache off,” said Erec.
“Not off,” said Hector petulantly. “It’s still there. It’s less ostentatious. It’s rather dashing now, don’t you think?”
“Dashing?” asked Bors.
“Yes. Rakish even.”
“You are a dunderhead,” said Bors.
“Here now!” said Hector, stomping over to Bors.
“What’s the matter this time?” asked Magdalena, as she and Mel joined the others.
Erec tossed a stone into the river.
“I would say the trouble is that since defeating creatures taller than trees and mightier than dragons, the biggest excitement we’ve had is the fact that Hector has a tiny new mustache.”
“Rakish!” piped Hector. “I thought a change would liven things up a bit.”
“We’re wandering,” said Erec. “We need a proper adventure. Grail hunting is not even close.”
They fell into silence.
A fierce wind blew.
And a long, sleek ship sailed silently around the bend in the river. They all watched as it drifted up to the bank and paused, as if docked. No one was onboard. The boat was beautiful: deep green and black with a fine crimson sail. It was not large, but it could easily hold five people comfortably.
“Ho, ho,” murmured Erec.
They all stood and admired the strange ship.
“Well then,” said Bors, climbing aboard.
Erec and Hector followed. So did Magdalena.
Mel hesitated.
“Um, should we maybe . . . I mean, perhaps we shouldn’t immediately board a crewless boat that we know nothing about? Just a thought.”
The others stared blankly at Mel.
“Mel, when a mysterious vessel pulls up, every knight knows exactly what to do,” said Erec.
“Instinct,” said Magdalena.
“All right then,” said Mel.
She adjusted her quiver, swung her bow across her back, and leaped aboard.
The wind picked up and the vessel sailed away.
Chapter Two
An Unusual Occurrence at Sea
The mysterious ship sailed on. They glided down the river and eventually out to sea. The ocean was rough and choppy. The conversation onboard was similar.
“All I’m saying is that we could use a Tyrannosaurus rex or two to break up the monotony,” said Bors.
“That’s not an option, Bors. Unless you want to ask Merlin to send us back to the land of terrible lizards,” said Erec.
“Gladly,” countered Bors.
“Hold on a minute,” said Hector. “Let’s not get carried away.”
“Magdalena,” called Erec. “Anything you care to add to this conversation?”
Magdalena sat near the prow, gazing out at the mainland. She merely glanced at the knights before resuming her brooding stare.
“That’s what I thought,” said Erec.
Mel crossed the deck and stood by the Black Knight.
“Is everything all right, Magdalena?” asked Mel.
Magdalena did not answer.
“I wonder where we are now?” Mel tried.
Magdalena responded without turning. “Scotland.”
“Oh. Do you know it well?”
Magdalena fell silent again. Mel waited, but a response was not forthcoming. The Black Knight was not one to be pressed or pushed.
So Mel slipped back to rejoin the others, who were attempting but failing to make progress in their conversation.
“Two of the large spiky-headed ones charging full steam, plus, say, four of those smaller fast ones with the ankle claws,” said Bors. “My first move would require a battle-ax—”
“But this is pointless, Bors,” interjected Erec. “There are no terrible lizards in Britain. We need to be practical and we need to focus. A direction. A plan.”
“We just jumped onto a boat because it pulled up beside us. That’s not really a plan, Sir Erec,” said Mel. “We have no idea where we are going.”
“At least we are going somewhere,” observed Hector.
The ship lurched on a large wave. Hector grabbed hold of the side, looking a tad green.
“Although I wish we were doing so on land,” he added.
“The boat was a sound move,” said Erec. “As leader, I stand behind it.”
“As what now?” asked Bors, looking up from a complicated knot he was trying to tie with some spare rope. “Leader? Who?”
“I am,” said Erec.
“Since when?”
“Well . . . always. The terrible lizard adventure was due to me,” said Erec.
“You instigated it, perhaps,” said Hector. “But you didn’t lead it per se.”
“Even Hector can see that,” laughed Bors.
“What do you mean ‘even Hector’?” Hector asked loudly.
Thunder boomed. Lightning streaked across the night sky. Dark clouds roiled overhead, and the sea churned and raged. The conversation drifted into silence. The hours dragged on. They were far out to sea now. Eventually Erec sighed.
“Well, so far this magical boat ride has been rather disappointing.”
“Patience, fellow knight,” said Bors from the stern of the ship.
“Bors is advising me to be patient. Everything is topsy-tu
rvy. Perhaps that is the magic. Bors has become sage and reflective.”
“Not reflective. Never that,” said Bors. “And your patience will not be required for long, I’m happy to report.”
“Why is that?” asked Hector.
“There appears to be something in the water.”
Magdalena and Mel looked up. They joined Hector, Erec, and Bors at the rear of the boat.
“I don’t see anything,” said Erec.
A tremendous wave splashed on the band as a gargantuan creature rose from the depths. It was as tall as the mast, with a face that resembled a perturbed trout mixed with an incensed parrot.
The knights and Mel tumbled across the deck, trying to regain their balance on the slick surface.
“What is it?” yelled Mel.
“I believe it is a kraken, Mel,” offered Hector as he was tossed from one end of the deck to the other. “I read about them in a book once. I’m not sure, of course. I would need to check the book again.”
“I applaud your optimism, Hector,” said Erec, gripping some rope. “But curling up in your library with a good book is unlikely to happen unless we deal with this kraken. NOW.”
The kraken lifted the ship and gave it a good shake. The crew held on to whatever they could grab as the kraken pitched the ship through the air. It landed hard in the water, splintering on impact.
“New plan!” shouted Erec. “Salvage anything that floats!”
The knights began to hack at the ship with swords and axes, pulling up chunks of the ruined deck.
The kraken dove.
“Hurry!” shouted Magdalena.
They all threw the best bits of salvage and barrels overboard and leaped from the ship into the sea just as the kraken surfaced. A massive wave swept the company up and away. They clutched their makeshift rafts and watched as the kraken rolled over the remains of the ship again and again.
The knights and Mel drifted into the darkness and mist, lost at sea.
Chapter Three
Welcome to Orkney!
I t was a long night. Exhausted, the band clung to whatever salvage they had taken from the ship, holding on for dear life in the cold, relentless sea.
Mel’s strength was fading. The pull of the ocean was strong. The waves pounded into her brain. Come, they whispered. Her grip loosened, and she slipped off the mast into the current.