The Seven Swords (10 page)

Finally she asked, “What was that awful noise I heard last night?”

Dred didn't answer. Instead he slid out another cup. It was full of water, and it even had an ice cube in it. The food door slid most of the way shut again.

Qwon could barely believe it. “Dred,” she asked wryly, “are you going to ask me on a date or something?”

Dred chuckled, but then he sighed. “I shouldn't be doing this.”

Qwon took a full sip of water. It was crisp and cold. “No kidding,” she said, and drank the rest greedily. Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Have you seen that accursed fairy?” Dred finally asked.

“No. She whispers insults to me now and then, and I smell her occasionally, but I never see her. You?”

“No. They're awful things, those fairies.”

“Yeah,” Qwon pretended to agree. “I hope I never see her again.”

More silence. Then, “That sound was my mother.”

Qwon swallowed hard. “
That
was Morgaine?”

“Uh-huh,” Dred said. “Or her sorceress's staff at least.”

“Wow. Was she pissed or something?”

Dred didn't answer and Qwon didn't press him. She realized that as strange as this Otherworld place was, kids still probably fought with their parents.

His silence persisted. A breeze pushed through the portico. Shallot, still invisible, whispered in her ear, “Ask about the king.”

After a few moments Qwon whispered, “Dred, have you heard anything about Artie?”

Dred hissed and said, “I'd rather not talk about him.”

“So you
have
heard something?” Qwon asked a little too eagerly.

Dred's strange answer came almost too quickly: “By the fens, I hate her!”

Then he slammed the little door shut.

Qwon didn't understand why, but she knew perfectly well who he was talking about.

“Sorry if your mom's bugging you,” she said, wondering if Dred was still there. “And thanks again.”

She licked the spoon clean and slid it into her shirt. Then she stood and stretched and walked to the patch of sunlight that was now creeping across the inner yard of the portico.

Free from hunger, she looked to the clouds again. And this time she saw a snake, a skyscraper, a motorcycle, even a perfect unicorn in midjump.

That evening before bed, the food door slid open and Dred wordlessly pushed out a stack of blankets. Qwon stared at them for a few minutes before going to get them.

While she did this, Shallot whispered from somewhere behind her, “It's working. With luck we'll be out of here before the new moon rises.”

Qwon hoped Shallot was right.

15 - IN WHICH MERLIN SENDS OVER A PRETTY SWEET CARE PACKAGE

While Qwon was enjoying her
surprise breakfast of porridge, bacon, and chocolate, Bercilak clanked through the great hall of the court-in-exile carrying a large wooden box. Everyone was at the round table having a big breakfast before heading off to Mont-Saint-Michel. Bercilak joined them and plopped the box down.

“By the trees, Master Merlin packs a heavy crate. This just arrived for you, sire,” the green knight boomed.

“Mind opening it, Bercy?” Artie asked.

“Not at all.” He pulled his giant battle-ax over his shoulder, took a step back, and with a single swing cleanly took the top off the box. Bercilak stowed his weapon and began digging in the container, throwing a mixture of packing peanuts and wood shavings to the floor. A lot of the peanuts stuck to his hands and arms, charged by static electricity.

“My, how I hate these silly things,” Bercilak said. “Such a pain to clean up.”

“What's in there, Bercy?” Kay asked.

“Oh, of course. Let's see.” He reached into the box and pulled out a case of Mountain Dew.

“A case! No way! No one tell Kynder,” Kay whispered excitedly.

“It's cold too,” Bercilak said. “Don't know how he did that. . . .”

“Magic, right?” Erik asked.

“Right,” Artie confirmed.

“Ah, but look at this!” Bercilak said, heaving out a second case.

“Two! Oh, man.” Kay sighed. “I
love
that Merlin. Bercy, toss a cold one over here, please.”

Bercilak peeled open one of the cases and threw a can to Kay. Then he passed cans to everyone else and kept one for himself. He watched as they drank, all
ahhh
ing with delight. Bercilak opened his, held it directly over his helmet, and poured in the entire contents.

“Hmm,” he said. “I have to admit, it's quite good. Tell me, Artie, from which mountain is this dew collected?”

“Mount Pepsi, I think,” Artie answered seriously as Kay shot him a wink of approval.

“Well, if I ever have the pleasure of visiting your side, I hope to visit Mount Pepsi and sample its dew alfresco,” Bercilak intoned.

“That'd be great, Bercy. I'll join you,” Artie said. “Anything else in there?”

“Hmm . . . yes! A tube for Sir Lance, a small box for Sir Bedevere, and a soft paper package with a tag on it that says, ‘All.'”

Bercilak handed out the packages. Lance opened his first. “Let's see . . . three arrows and some kind of necklace with a nasty yellow tooth on it.” He turned the tube upside down and a tiny tag fell into his hand. He squinted at it and said, “Man, Merlin sure can write small.”

“What's it say?” Kay asked.

“‘Three limitless arrows. Will travel any distance and always hit their mark. Use wisely.' Wow,” Lance said as he tickled one of the arrows' feather fletchings. He continued to read. “‘Tooth on necklace belonged to Sir Geoffrey Mallory, last rightful bearer of Orgulus. Wear this talisman and Orgulus will be yours.' Sweet!” he said, and pulled the necklace over his head.

“Sir Geoffrey Mallory, did you say?” Bercilak said.

“Yeah. You know him?”

“I know
of
him. He was an inveterate rapscallion in his day. Got into tons of trouble. Master swordsman, of course, and a fairly able writer, if I recall.”

“Cool,” Artie said. “What's in yours, Beddy?”

Bedevere tore open his package and pulled out a plain copper ring about seven inches across. Tied to this was another minute note. He read, “‘I present your phantom limb, Sir Bedevere. Will magically fit your stump. When activated (“Phantoma!”), it will conjure a superstrong, ghostlike arm that will last two minutes. Needs an hour to fully recharge, and will do so on its own.' A phantom arm . . . ,” Bedevere wondered.

“That's awesome! Try it out!” Artie said.

Bedevere rolled up his sleeve and pushed the ring onto his stump. As promised, it was a perfect fit. He moved what was left of his arm around, looking at the ring, and finally said, “Phantoma!”

A hazy, barely visible appendage grew from his stump. Bedevere moved it through the air, turning it over. He ran his real hand over it and then swiped right through it. “Amazing,” Bedevere said.

“Can you feel it?” Erik asked, his mouth full of eggs and bacon.

“I can. It's kind of like . . . like my old arm,” Bedevere lamented.

“Sorry, Beddy,” Artie said.

“Don't worry about it, sire. Besides, it doesn't feel
exactly
like my old arm. This one feels better. And it can't be chopped off!”

Bedevere grabbed the edge of the round table with the phantom limb—
and then lifted the table clear off the ground
!

“By the trees!” Bercilak exclaimed. “I had to move that last year, and it took me a full hour to drag it ten feet! What a wonder! Wilt Chamberlain sure is a fancy wizard!”

“So that leaves one more package, Art,” Erik said. “What's in it?”

Artie took the remaining gift from the table and tore it open as Kay peered over his shoulder.

“Shirts?” she asked dubiously as she stared at the package's contents.

Artie picked up the tiny note that sat on top of the clothes and read, “‘Special armored shirts depicting your respective coats of arms. Each contains three million bonded sheets of graphene, an experimental lattice of carbon that will not tear. Wonderful stuff. Try it!'”

Kay passed them out. Blazoned across the front and back of each was a large, shield-shaped coat of arms. Artie's was blue with three golden crowns; Bedevere's was black with a red castle; Erik's was blue with a yellow tree; Lance's was red-and-white diagonal stripes crossed by a pair of black arrows; and Kay's was blue with two white keys. There was one more, adorned by a white field with a red fist sticking up its thumb, which was for Thumb.

They pulled the graphene shirts over whatever they were already wearing. Each fit perfectly. More magic, no doubt. They smoothed them over their bodies and checked each other out.

“We look like a motley soccer team or something,” Artie said.

“Who's gonna try one?” Kay asked.

Erik shrugged. “I will. Bercilak, would you do the honors?”

“I'd be delighted to!” Bercilak said, removing his ax from his shoulder again.

Erik held out the front of his shirt like he was going to catch something in it. Bercilak tried to cut it with the edge of his ax, but nothing happened. “Go ahead, give it a whack,” Erik said as he steadied himself.

Bercilak held up his ax and brought it down hard. Erik teetered but didn't fall as the shirt was knocked out of his hands. Then he held it up again and examined it.

Nothing.

Artie took his dagger and tried to punch a hole in his own shirt with its point.

Also nothing.

“Sweet,” Kay said.

“I'll say,” Artie agreed. “I might never take mine off!”

Kay stuffed Thumb's shirt into the infinite backpack and said, “Thank goodness for Merlin.”

“Amen to that,” Lance said.

“Kay, can you grab the iPad?” Artie asked. “I want to see what it says about Orgulus. Plus we need to get a bead on this Mont-Saint-Michel place so we can gate there.”

“Roger that,” Kay said as she handed the tablet to her brother.

Artie fired up the sword app and touched the Orgulus icon. The screen went dark before fading in on a twirling animation of a long, thin rapier. Artie read the words that appeared below the picture:

“‘The name Orgulus comes from an Old French word meaning “pride,” and this blade is certainly full of it. Of the Seven Swords, it is by far the youngest. Forged from a sangrealitic alloy by a heretic Christian monk and blacksmith on Mont-Saint-Michel in 1440, it was indisputably the first weapon of its kind. The monk, Emmanuel del Espada de Loja, was a direct forebear of its last rightful owner, Geoffrey Mallory. Orgulus has never lost a duel. It is blindingly quick, and can bend like a reed in the wind but never break. The ornate cage protecting the hand can punch through anything.'”

“Cool,” Kay said. “Cooler than Cleomede's bug-shooing power, anyway.”

Artie gave his sister a small smile.

“All right, let's see. ‘Orgulus is hidden in the bowels of the Mont-Saint-Michel abbey in an ancient crypt. The crypt is guarded by strong magic, so you will have to gate to a cistern in the lower section and work your way up. When you are done, you must exit the castle through a large drainage tunnel, located in the same cistern. This leads to the woods on the northern side of the island. Make sure to open the crossover in these woods before returning to the court-in-exile.'”

Artie held up the iPad so everyone could see as he flicked through the screens showing the floor plan of the abbey and a map of the oval-shaped island. It was almost completely covered with a huge castle/church, a dark patch of woods blanketing its northern section. Finally a picture popped up. The castle was massive. It had everything a castle ever wanted, from a snaking curtain wall to dozens of turrets to countless archways to a high, reach-for-the-heavens spire set right in the middle. Everything about it looked grand and foreboding. No wonder it was such a tourist trap.

“Man,” Kay said. “Now,
that
is a castle.”

The others agreed as Artie flipped back to the Orgulus entry. He finished, “‘Don't forget to mind the giant. Avoid it if possible. It is a cunning and mischievous brute.'” Artie put the iPad on the table and leaned back in his chair.

“Aw, it'll be fine, dudes,” Lance added. “What's one giant against the five of us?”

“
Five
of you? Am I to stay here again, King Artie?” Bercilak asked.

“Yeah, I think you should,” Artie said apologetically. “We have to know that we can come back here whenever we need to, and you're so good at keeping it safe, Bercy.”

Bercilak bowed and said, “Of course.”

Kay pointed at the Mountain Dew and added, “Keep that safe too.”

“Why, Sir Kay! I'll guard the dew of the mountain with my life!”

Artie stood and slapped both hands on the table. “Well, guys, let's get out of here as soon as possible. We've got to keep going. Qwon is counting on us.”

16 - IN WHICH ARTIE AND CREW VISIT A LOVELY OLD CRYPT

“Lunae lumen!”

The knights found themselves in a pitch-black room. The air was cool and damp.

“Kay, can you get our headlamps?” Artie asked, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“Sure.” Kay fumbled in the infinite backpack and pulled out the lights. She turned one on and passed out the others. They put them on, and beams of light shot from their heads like horns.

They were in a windowless stone room. A small metal door was set high on one wall, and across from it was a round opening about five feet wide.

Artie pointed at the door. “The map showed that leading to the hall that would go up to the crypt.” He swung around and indicated the opening. “And that's the drain that lets out into the woods. So if we—”

“Oh my god!” Kay interrupted, brandishing Cleomede in front of her.

“What?” Erik asked, standing next to her.

Kay repositioned her light and said breathlessly, “I swear that wall was just covered with, like, a million bloody handprints.”

Artie stepped forward, but the wall was blank. “Looks fine to me,” he said.

“You know I wouldn't lie about something like that.”

“Yeah, I know, but . . .”

A grating sound echoed through the room and silenced Artie.

“Sire, I think we should get out of here,” Bedevere said as they became aware of a low, persistent hiss.

“Totally,” Artie agreed. “Beddy, open that door. Lance, give him a hand.”

“Got it,” Lance said. He moved into position so Bedevere could climb onto his shoulders. While they worked on the door, Artie noticed a line of small holes surrounding the top of the cistern; the hissing sound seemed to be coming from these, but what was making it?

And that was when the sound became extremely loud and morphed from a hiss into a thousand little squeals.

All of their headlamps flickered briefly as Kay said frantically, “Artie, look!”

“Rats!” Erik cried.

Artie joined his light with Kay's, and sure enough, dozens of gray rats were falling from the holes into the room. Artie gagged and closed his eyes.

He hated rats.

“Oh god, Beddy, hurry up!” Kay implored. Her light now lit the floor, which was quickly coming to life with furry gray rodents.

Kay hated rats too.

But not Erik. Using the flat side of Gram, he hit any rat that came near him like a golf ball. Some exploded on impact; others sailed to the wall and smacked into it with a sickening
splat
!

Artie and Kay moved next to Lance and Bedevere as Erik went to town on the rodents. “Beddy, please open that thing!” Kay begged again.

The rats started crawling over their feet, and Lance began stomping, trying to shake them off.

“Hey, stay still,” Bedevere ordered.

“You want to switch?” Lance shot back.

Just then, four plump, musky rodents plopped directly onto Kay's head, getting immediately tangled in her long red hair. She screeched as their claws dug into her scalp.

“Oh, forget this,” Bedevere said, abandoning his effort to open the door's lock. He reared back and said, “Phantoma!” The magical arm shot to life, and he grabbed the iron ring in the middle of the door and simply pulled it off its hinges.

He threw the door to the floor and offered Kay his real arm. “Grab ahold, Sir Kay!” he said. Kay spastically batted the rats from her head and grabbed Bedevere's hand, and he hoisted her through the doorway. Bedevere vaulted forward, following her.

“You're next, kid,” Lance said. Artie climbed onto his archer's shoulders and jumped through to safety. Erik followed.

Lance was the only one left.

Rats poured from every hole. As Artie scanned the room, he realized that most of the little creatures had red eyes, and that their teeth were stained with blood. He also noticed that the walls were indeed covered with hundreds and hundreds of bloody handprints, just like Kay had said.

Now he understood. For a few minutes they had been in the French Mont-Saint-Michel, but now they were in the Otherworld version.

Bedevere was about to reach down and grab Lance when all their headlamps flickered again, and suddenly Lance was alone in the stone cistern. No rats. Not a single one. And no bloody handprints all over the walls.

“You all right?” Artie asked.

Lance huffed and said, “Shoot, I'm not afraid of a few rodents. Beddy, get me out of here.”

Bedevere helped Lance with his superstrong arm and then deactivated it.

“I guess that was that switching thing Merlin warned us about, huh?” Kay asked as they regrouped.

“Yup,” Artie said. “The rats and the bloody handprints were part of the Otherworld castle, but now—”

“We're in the nice French version,” Erik finished for him.

Artie nodded as Kay said, “Let's hope it stays this way. I
do not like rats
!”

Artie noticed Lance standing silently, holding his hand over his chest, where the tooth of Geoffrey Mallory hung on its necklace. “What's up, Lance?” Artie asked.

Lance peered toward the stairs at the end of the hall. “I think this dead guy's tooth is giving me a bead on Orgulus. The crypt's up there.”

“Great,” Artie said. “Lead the way.”

They went up the stairs and were surprised when they ran into a lean Frenchman in crisp slacks and a button-down shirt at the top of the first flight. Judging by his expression, he was pretty surprised too.

His eyes widened as he exclaimed, “
Eh! Qu'est-ce que vous faites?
”

Artie stepped around Lance and held out his hands, which probably wasn't the smartest idea since one hand contained Flixith.

“
Attendez!
” the Frenchman said, backpedaling

“English? Do. You. Speak. English?” Kay said slowly.

“
Anglais?
” the man said before adding nervously, “
Non. Je ne parle que français.
”

What Kay didn't know was that Artie could speak French. He'd taken a year of it at Shadyside Middle School, but really he had Excalibur to thank for his fluency. He cleared his throat and said, “
Nous sommes désolés, monsieur. Mes amis et moi, nous recherchons pour une crypte. Savez-vous s'il y a une crypte près d'ici?
”

Kay shot her brother a look, and he waved her off as the man said, “
O-oui. I-il y a une crypte juste en haut
,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

“He says there's a crypt right up there,” Artie translated. “
Bien, très bien. Maintenant, monsieur,
” he said, but then, right before their eyes, the man shimmered and disappeared!

And the stairway they were in got a
lot
spookier.

They were back in the Otherworld Mont-Saint-Michel.

“Well, this is going to be quite interesting, isn't it?” Bedevere said from the rear.

Artie frowned and said, “Let's move. Lead the way again, Lance. We need to find this thing and get out of here ASAP.”

“Hoo-ah,” Lance seconded, moving back to the front.

They ascended two more flights and found a heavy wooden door flanked by a pair of twinkling fluorescent lightbulbs. On the door was a worn brass plaque with some writing in French. Artie read, “‘
Sire chevalier, parlez doux, pour là-bas est un diable, et s'il vous entend, il viendra vous détruire
.' It means we have to keep it down because there's a devil in there that wants to tear us to pieces!”

“Great,” Kay said.

Artie put his ear on the door. “I don't hear anything,” he said quietly. He carefully lifted the latch and pushed the door slightly ajar. He turned to his friends and gave them a look that asked whether he should open it.

They nodded and he did.

And the darned thing squeaked the whole way.

Artie winced. Lance quickly nocked three arrows and hoisted his bow, waiting for the devil to pounce.

But nothing happened.

Artie stepped into the crypt and checked the corners. It appeared to be all clear.

The crypt was a large chamber with a vaulted Gothic ceiling supported by dozens of stone pillars. A cool, putrid draft wafted through the air. The ground was wet with a thin sheen of water. Weak lights were placed in the arches of the ceiling here and there.

Lance stepped next to Artie. “No giant?”

“Not yet,” Artie whispered, peering deeper into the cavernous room.

They stepped all the way in and took a closer look. The door they'd just come through was set in a long semicircle of columns. About a dozen feet farther in was another semicircle of columns. This served to divide the crypt into an outer section, in which they stood, and an inner section. All of the columns were extremely thick; two very tall men couldn't have joined hands around one. From where the knights stood, they couldn't see into the inner chamber.

“Crypts are for dead people, right?” Erik asked.

“Last I checked,” Lance whispered, poking his nose into the air like a dog following a scent. “Orgulus is in there somewhere,” he said, pointing his chin toward the inner chamber. “You guys ready?”

“You bet,” Artie said. “Beddy, you and Erik watch the door. If we flicker back to the French version of this place, close it. I don't want to deal with any P-Oed guards or confused tourists.”

“Got it,” Erik said as Bedevere nodded.

Artie, Kay, and Lance walked toward the middle of the crypt as quietly as they could, which because of all their stuff and the acoustics in the place was hardly quiet at all.

But still, no sign of the giant.

“Maybe this whole monster thing is bunk, right, Art?” Kay whispered hopefully as they entered the central chamber of the crypt.

“Uh, I don't think so,” was all Artie said as he came to a stop.

The crypt's inner chamber opened up before them. A large archway on their right led into a darkened hallway. Immediately in front of them a hot cauldron hung from a tripod of iron rods over an extinguished gas burner. It seemed as though someone—or something—had just been there.

Three piles of white bones were arranged in the room. Two of the piles were small and looked to be made up of foot or hand bones.

But the third was very large. It rose to the ceiling and dominated the room.

“Oh, shitake mushrooms,” Kay said.

“Are those
leg
bones?” Lance asked.

“Yeah,” Artie said in a sinking tone.

Kay flipped her headlamp on. “Call me crazy, but are the pillars covered in blood?”

“Yeah,” Artie said again.

“And . . . are those
beards
?” Kay asked, pointing at the far wall.

It was hard to tell, but it certainly looked like five different-colored beards—very much separated from their owners' faces—were pegged to the wall.

“Looks like it,” Artie said gravely. “Remember what Merlin said about how the old giant used beards to make his clothing? I guess this one does too.”

“Wow,” was all Lance could manage. He had a nice little five-o'clock shadow going and did not want to lose it—or his face—to some beard-clad monster.

Kay turned off her headlamp. “All right, Lance, let's get this Orgulus and skedat. Like, now.”

“Roger that,” Lance whispered, and moved toward the far wall. He sidled along it, moving his hands up and down, pausing a couple of times before shaking his head and continuing on. “It's behind here somewhere. I can feel it.” He lowered his hands to the base of the wall. “Here.”

“Kay,” Artie said, “can you cut us a hole, please?”

“On it.” Kay knelt and began carving away the stone with Cleomede. It was easy enough but, unfortunately, it was also pretty loud. Finally she exclaimed, “There!” and pried a chunk of granite away from the wall.

The threesome leaned forward, and sure enough, in a little recess in the rock was the ornate handguard of a sword!

“Nice work! Now grab it, Lance, and let's get out of here,” Artie ordered.

Lance got down on his knees and asked, “Where's the rest of it?”

“You know how it goes, Lance,” Kay said easily. “All of these things are stuck in something or being watched over by some chick in a lake or whatever. You've got that guy's tooth, so I'm sure you can just yank it out.”

“Yeah, give it a shot,” Artie said.

But before Lance could do anything, a loud
clang
reverberated through the room, followed by a faint, far-off huffing, like a thing out of breath.

“Come on, Lance, you've got this,” Artie said encouragingly, trying to ignore the noise.

Lance slid his hand into the hole and grabbed the hilt, giving it a hard pull. Nothing happened. He leaned back with all his weight, but still nothing.

A sound that was half roar and half wail echoed through the room. Artie looked at the big archway and said, “You're going to have to cut it out, Kay. Quick!”

Kay pushed her sword farther into the rock and jiggled it. Half the stone encasing the rapier turned to gravel and sand. She pulled Cleomede out and said, “Try again.”

Lance tried. “Still stuck!”

They began to hear the slap of bare feet smacking on stone. The giant was moving fast.

Kay hastily cut away more rock as a loud “Arrgh!” echoed outside the archway to their right.

This time when Kay yanked Cleomede free, she pulled Orgulus with it a little. Lance knelt and was finally able to pull it out the rest of the way. He expected some kind of revelation like Artie had gotten from Excalibur and Erik from Gram, but there was nothing. It was just a sword, caked here and there with some calcified granite.

Sure, it looked pretty cool, but still, it was kind of a bummer.

Lance didn't have time to be too disappointed, though, because just then the giant crashed through the archway.