Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men (38 page)

"She? Who's she?" Bear ignored Kun's question, setting out along the shoreline at a brisk pace. Kun hollered after him. "Who is she?"

Bear kept moving, disappearing around a finger of the forest that thrust out the shoreline.

"He will go on without us if we don't follow," Spae said.

Kun shot her a dark look and strode after Bear.

John understood Kun's frustration; he wanted to know too. But Bear was being Bear, talking only when he wanted to. John followed too.

They caught up with Bear at a narrow spit of sand, where he was inspecting a small rowboat.

"This is the way we must go," he said when they had gathered around his find.

"I don't like the fog," Kun said again.

Laying a hand on his arm, Spae said, "I think it will be all right this time."

He didn't look reassured.

"Boat doesn't look like it'll hold all of us," Trashcan Harry said.

"Nonsense," Bear said. "She could carry ten men in full war harness."

"Looks leaky," Harry said.

"Goblin courage." Bear shook his head. "Stay here, then. You can stay if you want too, Kun. Jack and I can handle her. Jack, help the others on, then we'll shove her out."

While John was still nodding yes, Kun stepped aboard, saying, "Hard to get separated in a boat."

John helped Dr. Spae first, steadying her as she climbed aboard. Turning to help Faye, he found her whispering to Trashcan Harry. Their conversation stopped as John faced them. Whatever they were talking about, they didn't want to share it with him. She might just have been trying to convince Harry to come along; her expression was unreadable, but the distinctly unhappy look the goblin was giving the boat said he hadn't changed his opinion.

Faye took John's outstretched hand and climbed aboard the boat with superb grace. Trashcan Harry stood fidgeting on the shore. Bear gave him only a brief look before bending to put his shoulder to the bow of the boat. After his own brief glance, John bent to help Bear.

The boat seemed reluctant to leave its berth on the sand. They leaned into it and slowly got the boat moving. The pushing got easier as the water took more and more of the weight.

"Hop in, Jack," Bear ordered.

John scrambled aboard, feeling the keel grate as his weight was added to the craft's load. Bear gave another shove and the boat wallowed free. In an instant he was aboard as well.

"Wait!" Harry shouted as he waded into the water. "Wait for me!"

Bear scowled at the goblin splashing toward them, but he stopped his preparation of the oars and waited for Harry to awkwardly haul himself aboard. Setting the oars into the locks, Bear explained to John how to hold an oar and how to use his legs and back for the power, demonstrating the stroke in the air so John could see. The water's resistance to John's first stroke surprised him, but he bent to with a will. It still took a while before John got the hang of it, but Bear was good enough at it to compensate for John's poor efforts. He probably could have done the job alone.

The rowing put John and Bear with their backs to the boat's bow and the direction of travel. John kept trying to turn around to see where they were going, until Bear told him not to worry about their heading, he was taking care of that. John didn't know how Bear was managing it, but he put his trust in Bear's competence. To his surprise, the job of rowing got easier when he stopped trying to see. Facing the back of the boat, he could see only Trashcan Harry. The goblin looked miserable as he sat in the stern, intermittently dipping his tree limb into the water. When Bear noticed, he snapped at Harry.

"Drop it, or pull it in and keep it in! Otherwise you'll be using it as a raft."

Harry winced and pulled his crutch back aboard. No one said much of anything; the creak of the oarlocks, the splash of the oars in the water, and the rowers' grunts of effort were the only sounds. All around them the mist grew ever heavier, until they could see nothing beyond an oar's length from the boat.

The sense of
something
that John had felt earlier returned, redoubled. He could feel magic all around him. He hadn't felt anything in the fog that had separated all the companions. So why was he feeling it now? Was the magic stronger here? Or had his experience with the knight sensitized him?

The air grew clammier as the fog enwrapped them more closely.

John looked up, searching for the moon. He found it, a faint, pale disk in the misty sky. Something moved across that silver orb, something shadowy. John strained to see what sort of bird flew the night skies of the otherworld. He lost his stroke when he saw that it was not a bird, but a fish.

"Steady, Jack," Bear said. "Keep your mind on the rowing."

He tried, but he couldn't help stealing glances at the sky— if that was what was above them. There weren't a lot of fish in the sky, but schools of them swam—flew?—above the boat. He wondered what would happen if they had to abandon ship. Would they splash down into water, or could they swim away toward the moon?

After a time, Bear threw a glance over his shoulder and grunted with satisfaction. John couldn't resist; he looked for himself. The fog had cleared enough that he could see they were headed for a rocky shored island. A low wall seemed to rise directly from the rocks, and beyond it was greenery. Two concentric walls lay beyond that, ringing a tall, slender tower at what John presumed was the center. John could see the roofs of lesser buildings scattered within the rings. A gate of wrought metal was set in the outer wall, just above a broad set of steps that led to a dressed stone jetty.

Bear pulled hard on his oar, turning them toward the landing place.

"Pull, Jack. We're almost there."

John pulled. He didn't turn his head to look again until the boat's bow bumped against the stone. When he did look, he saw that someone awaited them, an elven lady in a long gown of shimmering silver fabric. Unlike all the elves John had seen, she had golden hair, but there was no doubt that she was an elf; her fme-boned features were of surpassing delicacy and configured in a beauty beyond any he had seen. A belt of intricately wrought gold links girdled her hips and vied for attention with the tall, pointed circlet of gold on her head. The crown said that she was royalty, but John suspected that even without it she would have had the air of a queen.

"I have been expecting you, Artos," she said in a voice as melodious as bells.

Bear sprang to the jetty, leaving the boat rocking behind him. "I don't intend to stay this time, Lady."

"I understand."

As he helped John to maneuver the boat alongside the stone landing, Kun whispered to John, "I thought he hated all elves."

"So did I."

Bear waited until they had all come ashore before making introductions.

"This lady is Viviane,
Domina Lacorum,
Until recently she was my hostess."

"The Lady of the Lakes," Spae whispered.

The elven queen turned her blue-green eyes to Dr. Spae and smiled, inclining her head slightly.

"Come inside," she said. "If you will."

Holger had read about the Lady of the Lake in the briefing folder about Arthur; or, more correctly, the Ladies of the Lake. The legends as they had come down suggested that it was more an order of priestesses than a single noble entitlement. "Viviane" had been one of the names in the folder, but Holger couldn't remember whether that name had gone with the bad witch or the good witch. This Viviane might not be the same person in any case. Still, she bore watching.

He didn't want to be here at this odd palace, but Spae was here and so he was here, like it or not. Protecting Spae was more than business now. The thought of forever reliving the day Mannheim had died chilled him beyond all reason, and she was responsible for their escape from the beast. He owed her.

The gates that opened as they approached didn't make him feel any better about the place. He couldn't spot any proximity sensors. So what had been used to open them? He supposed there might be a servant concealed somewhere watching the gate, opening it, then scurrying away. Somehow he didn't think that such an explanation, however rational, was the right one. He didn't want to admit magic was involved, but he was sure he was getting deeper and deeper into places where magic replaced logic.

The grip of the Viper was hard and reassuring under his hand.

The Lady led them to a building within the second wall that looked to John like some sort of Greek revival temple on the outside. The inside was totally different; the best description he could think of was a cross between an airport lounge and a museum gallery. The interior was subdivided into areas of varying levels separated by no more than a half-dozen shallow steps. Railings and room dividers of stone separated some of the areas, while plants and glass cases demarcated others. Exquisite paintings hung on the walls, and sculptures in many sizes and materials were scattered about. Antiquities of various sorts occupied some of the cabinet shelves or stood in the open, on pedestals or, in the case of what looked like a Roman chariot, directly on the floor. The decorator's fee for the place would have beggared a major corporation; the cost of acquiring the contents would have done in a megacorp.

"Feel free to look about. There are refreshments by the reflecting pool. Please indulge yourselves."

Spae was the first to oblige, taking the two steps down into a carpeted area. The doctor stopped at the first case with an exclamation of surprise. She bent over to study whatever had caught her attention, blocking John from seeing it. Trashcan Harry went past her, heading for the reflecting pool. John was torn between seeing what treasures were here and heading for the food; it seemed that rowing had worked up an appetite. He'd just about made up his mind to follow Harry when he noticed that Bear was standing still, arms folded, and staring at Lady Viviane. Bear cleared his throat to attract her attention.

"Lady?"

She favored him with a smile. "Still no patience, Artos."

"When necessary, Lady."

"And you do not find it necessary to indulge me?"

"I came with a purpose. I know that you have it near."

"And so I do."

A shaft of light appeared in one of the darker areas halfway across the chamber. Impaled within the beam stood a block of what looked like ice. A sword hilt protruded from the block.

Calibum.

John moved toward the sword almost unconsciously, noting the details of its appearance as he drew nearer. The long, tapering blade was visible through its crystalline sheath; it was pitted and corroded, stained dark with rust. It looked like one of the older blades in the Woodman Museum's collection, one that had been in the ground for a dozen centuries. The hilt was in better shape, its grip wrapped with dark leather above the simple crossguard. The best-preserved part was the disk-shaped pommel decorated with an engraving of a dragon coiled about itself.

It didn't look like a legendary blade, but...

"That's Calibum?"

"It is," Bear said solemnly.

The sword was a puzzle, leaving John both awed and distressed. He could feel the power residing in it, lying dormant like the sleeping dragon on the pommel, but the sword looked so .. . battered. How could this tarnished relic be the fabled sword?

He looked to Bear for an answer, but couldn't ask when he saw the anguish on the man's face.

"Caliburn is a mirror of the land," the Lady said.

Artos nodded sadly. "This, then, is the peril for which I was awakened?"

"The land must be healed," replied the Lady.

Bear bowed his head, and it seemed to John that his shoulders bent under an invisible burden. But only for a moment. Bear raised his head and stepped forward, hand reaching for the hilt.

His fingers never touched it.

A thunderous sound shattered the peace of the chamber. Bear's hand jerked away from Caliburn as some force spun him around. Arms flailing, he slammed into the glassy column. Man and block crashed to the floor.

CHAPTER

24

John stood stunned as Kun launched himself into the air, firing his machine pistol. He slammed into Dr. Spae and the two of them tumbled to the floor behind one of the couches. Automatic-weapon fire ripped into their shelter, sending puffs of upholstery and splinters of wood flying.

John couldn't see who was shooting, and realized that they must not be able to see him either. That was all that had saved him while he stood there like an idiot, looking down at Bear's sprawled form and the red stain spreading across his shoulder and onto his upper chest. Belatedly he moved, grabbing Faye and pulling her down behind one of the cabinets. She squawked when they landed and he was afraid he'd hurt her, but as soon as he rolled off she was up and peering through the glass. He joined her, trying to see what was going on.

From his new angle he could see a hole hanging in the space between two of the columns of the north colonnade. A
hole
? What else could you call a circle, bounded by an eye-searing rainbow of colors, whose center seemed to be somewhere else? Though where that someplace else might be, the swirling, pearly white of the hole gave no clue.