The Seven Swords (12 page)

“Me too,” Kay said.

“But Merlin is supposed to be
my
wizard, right? I know I'm just a kid, but I'm the top dog here. I feel like we're the ones helping him, not the other way around. I don't know. Sometimes I feel like we're being taken advantage of—Bedevere just lost a freaking leg—and it's starting to piss me off!”

Kay had never seen Artie like this before. “All right,” she said soothingly, “we'll talk to him when we get back. I'm with you, Art.”

A loud and unexpected clap of thunder rocked the air. Artie jumped and his spear fell to the ground. When he bent to pick it up, he said, “Well, lookie here.” Kay leaned over Artie's shoulder and saw one of the crossover stones lying in the dirt.

Artie called the other knights and they gathered around. He located the other stone and got out the pommel. This time Kay anchored one side while Artie did his thing on the other.

“
Lunae lumen!
” he commanded.

As before, the pommel swirled with a blue glow, and a beam of light shot from it, arcing over and into the crossover stones. Then a gossamer curtain dropped down, and when it touched the ground, a shock wave of silence shot out in all directions. They'd opened the crossover of Mont-Saint-Michel.

Artie stepped away from the portal. “I'm not going to bother going through. It's open and that's good enough for me.” He looked at Lance, the moaning Bedevere slung over his shoulder, and said, “You ready to go to the court-in-exile?”

The archer nodded.

“
Lunae lumen
,” Artie said wearily to the pommel, and a moongate slid open. Lance hustled through, carrying their fallen knight. Erik followed. Artie took a deep breath as Kay slumped against her brother. “We're never coming back here,” he said definitively.

“Good,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Side by side, they stepped through and were gone.

18 - IN WHICH BEDEVERE IS PATCHED UP

Lance carefully placed Bedevere on
the round table. Bercilak ordered the court-in-exile's three servant trolls to fetch warm water, linens, and bandages. Artie put an emergency call in to Merlin.

He paced as the iPad rang and rang. No answer. He disconnected and tried again. Nothing. He disconnected and tried
again
. Third time had to be the charm.

After two minutes Merlin finally accepted, and his tattooed face flickered onto the screen. “What is it?” he asked impatiently. Pushed onto his forehead was a silver eye mask with the words
Let Sleeping Wizards Lie
embroidered on it in a purple, flowing script.

Artie lost it. He flipped to the iPad's other camera so Merlin could see Bedevere. “
That's
what it is, Merlin. Bedevere's lost
another
limb.” Then Artie caught Merlin rolling his eyes. “Merlin—did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“What? Of course not, sire.”

“Yes you did,” Artie said loudly as the other knights turned in his direction. “Don't ever let me catch you doing that again,” he ordered, sounding more like an adult than he ever had in his life.

“Now wait one minute. I am Merlin; I won't be spoken to like that by a . . . a . . .”

“A child?” Artie asked, finishing the wizard's obvious train of thought.

“Well . . . ”

Artie seethed. “You're the one who brought us here, Merlin. You're the one who keeps telling me I'm king. You're the one we
helped
, for Pete's sake. You—Merlin, the greatest wizard ever—are the one who sent us into that horrible giant's lair, and you are the one who is going to haul his butt over here right now and fix up my friend.”

“I will not be spoken to—”

“Yes you will. I am your king. Start acting like it.”

Everyone was speechless—except for Bercilak, who said so quietly that only they could hear, “You tell that Wilt Chamberlain!”

Merlin pulled the sleep mask from his head and said, “Yes, sire. Of course, sire. Right away, sire.”

“Good,” Artie said. “And don't patronize me either.” He slid his finger across the screen and ended the chat without saying good-bye.

He stared at the iPad for a few moments. “Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” Artie asked his knights, who still looked startled by his outburst.

“No,” Kay said after a pause. “He was being a real turd.”

“No kidding.” Artie walked up to the table. “How you doing, Beddy?” he asked.

“I'm fine, sire,” Bedevere answered bravely.

“He's stable,” Lance said. “But he needs blood.”

“Or some of Merlin's magic healing,” Kay said. “I hope you didn't make him
too
mad, Art. We still need him, you know?”

“Well, he needs us too, last I checked,” Artie said. “I'm getting tired of putting our necks on the line for him. Seriously, when's
he
going to fight? Aren't wizards supposed to, like, throw down every now and then? Like in video games?”

Before they could discuss it anymore, a moongate opened and Merlin stepped into the court-in-exile carrying his plain canvas bag, which held all his gear, and his owl-headed cane. He was hunched over, and his stride was a little creaky as he made his way to Bedevere.

An awkward silence descended on the group as the wizard inspected Bedevere's latest wound. Finally he turned to Artie and said wearily, “I'm sorry, Artie. Making the blackouts for Fenland has been very taxing. That's why I was sleeping while you were at Mont-Saint-Michel.” He paused before saying, “It's so important that I defeat Morgaine. . . .”

He seemed to mean it, but Artie couldn't help but wonder: Weren't they fighting for so much more than that? I mean, hello, Qwon! And the Seven Swords! Not to mention the whole thing about sangrealite being a form of clean energy and all!

But Bedevere was all that mattered at the moment. Artie waved his hand through the air as if to push those other thoughts aside and asked, “Can you fix him, Merlin?”

“Yes. But please, I need some room.”

The knights retreated several feet and watched as Merlin took his cane with both hands and started to chant. His feet lifted from the ground, and his baggy linen pants began to billow. His tattoos swirled across the surface of his skin.

“Dude,” Erik said quietly, in awe of the scene in front of him.

The closed eye of the owl's-head cane opened, and a beam of white light shot out of it and into Bedevere's mouth. The Black Knight's chest heaved, his back arched, and his body began to convulse. Kay took a step forward, but Artie held out an arm to stop her. “Let him work,” he whispered.

Then the light from the cane got very bright. The fabric of Merlin's pants flapped like a flag in a gale. Bedevere's body calmed before lifting a few inches off the table. Excalibur's scabbard, which was still lashed to his side, began to glow and vibrate and throw off heat. The light's intensity grew so much that the knights had to close their eyes against it.

When they were able to reopen them, Bedevere was wrapped in a white robe, his head resting on a pillow. Merlin bent over him, cradling Bedevere's face in his wizened hands. The cane and the scabbard leaned against the edge of the table. “Thank the trees the witch didn't also get the scabbard when she stole Excalibur,” Merlin said.

“Amen to that,” Artie said.

“So he's okay?” Erik asked, his voice shaking a little. Merlin's healing act was pretty impressive.

Merlin turned, and they were shocked to see that he looked kind of horrible. His tattoos were faded and his skin ashen. “Bedevere will be fine, but I need some things from the invisible tower. An IV bag, type AB blood, and a prosthesis.”

“You keep fake legs just lying around your old basement?” Kay asked.

“Yes, Kay Kingfisher. In a jet-black armoire with a red circle painted on it.” Something about his tone suggested that she not ask why he kept fake legs lying around.

“I'll go,” Artie said. “I know my way around and I can get in and out.”

Merlin gave Artie a weary look and said, “While you're on your side, you need to get a trinket—a monocle—from Qwon's house. The pommel will show you where it is. This monocle will enable you to find the crossover in Japan that leads directly to the katana Kusanagi.”

“Okay,” Artie said. “Lance, come with me. You can bring back the medical stuff while I gate to Shadyside.”

“Roger that, dude.”

“The rest of you chill out here. After tonight, we've only got seven days until the new moon.” Then Artie pulled out the pommel and opened a gate to the basement under the Invisible Tower.

 

The moongate dropped them in one of Merlin's old living rooms. It had red brick walls, a deep chair, and a TV mounted to the wall.

Artie peered in both directions. “I can't remember where the medical stuff is, Lance. You go that way, I'll head this way, and we'll meet back here.”

“Cool,” Lance said.

Artie soon found the IV bags and the blood, but no fake legs. He went all the way to the back room looking for the black armoire. He paused and found himself next to Mrs. Thresher, the little wooden door he'd traveled through the first time he entered the Otherworld, to get Cleomede from the stone. It seemed like so long ago, and even with all that had happened, he could still hardly believe the things he'd seen and done. Everything had been so strange, and difficult, and uncertain.

And also kind of wonderful.

Artie doubled back, putting the IV bag, blood, and an ice pack in a Styrofoam cooler, and stopped in the living room. Lance hadn't returned, so Artie sat down in the comfy chair and turned on the TV.

It was tuned to CNN, and Artie wasn't prepared for what he saw.

It was an aerial shot of the Swedish plain they'd been to. Grazing on the cold, scraggly field was a sizable herd of giant cows—the aurochs.

A little box wedged into a lower corner of the screen contained the talking heads of an interview. The confused male reporter asked, “So these aurochs—you're saying they're extinct?”

“Yes. Well, they
were
,” a woman answered. A subtitle said she was a zoologist.

“So they're
not
extinct?”

“I guess not,” the zoologist said, shaking her head in disbelief. “We were certain that there hadn't been aurochs anywhere on earth for over four hundred years.”

The reporter made a Very Serious face. “So where did these aurochs come from?”

“No one knows.”

“Could they have been living in the wild up there and no one knew about it?”

“That can't be ruled out, but it's very unlikely. Remember, Bob, this isn't the only instance of extinct animals showing up. There were those passenger pigeons in Ohio last month. And then there were those strange red-tufted jaybirds in Pittsburgh a week ago, which as far as anyone can tell is a new species altogether. A new bird hasn't been found in such a heavily populated area in a very long time.”

The reporter shook his head and said, “Fascinating. Just incredible stuff. Thanks for your time, Beth.” The reporter switched cameras. “There you have it. Is it a new era of animals returning from extinction? Where do they come from? And could all this have anything to do with the strange weather occurring in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and now northern France?” He turned to yet another camera. “When we return, more on the unsubstantiated reports of a band of armed children roaming the bowels of the abbey of Mont-Saint-Michel. Stay right here with CNN.”

Artie muted the commercials. Lance had come back to the room during the newscast and stood behind Artie. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Artie said, standing up. “Looks like opening the crossovers is having some side effects.”

Lance shrugged. “The worlds haven't been joined in a long time. I suppose there's bound to be an adjustment period.”

“I guess,” Artie said, his brow furrowed. “Opening the crossovers was supposed to be good for the two worlds, but right now it just feels like one huge mess.” Artie pointed at something under Lance's arm. “You found it?”

“Yup,” Lance said as he held out a thing that looked a little like a huge boomerang.

“That's it?” Artie asked.

“Yeah. It's called a parabolic leg. This is some state-of-the-art stuff. Couple buddies of mine from Iraq got ones like this. You can run in them. Really fast. The curve in the plastic kind of acts like a spring.”

“Cool,” Artie said. He handed Lance the cooler with the IV bags and the blood and said, “Take this stuff and look after Beddy.” Then he got out the pommel and opened a gate back to the court-in-exile. Before Lance stepped through, Artie said, “Don't mention that news report to anyone. I want to talk to Merlin about it first. The more things happen, the more questions I have. . . .”

Lance smirked. “I can pretty much guarantee that it's all part of being king—sire.” It was the first time Artie could remember Lance calling him that. But before he could comment on it, Lance stepped through and disappeared, the moongate shutting behind him.

Artie stood in silence and thought.
What am I doing?

He was bringing extinct animals back to life. He was apparently responsible for strange weather. He was helping a wizard get even with a witch. He was angry with the same wizard for having a crummy attitude. He was waiting to hear from a fairy spy that would soon be air-dropped into Fenland. He was trying to get to Avalon so he could become King Arthur.

He was putting himself, his sister, his friends, and his father in danger.

He was doing these things, when all he really wanted to do was go and save Qwon.

And then a surprising—almost horrifying—realization came to him: when Qwon was safe, Artie Kingfisher wanted to go back to school. He wanted to go back home. To Shadyside.

Not the Otherworld.

He looked at the pommel and made a decision. Before doing anything, he would wait to hear from their spy, Bors le Fey. Then he would get Kusanagi. Not because Merlin had ordered him to, but because it belonged to Qwon.

And then, he would go and free his friend.

Artie wrapped his fingers around the pommel and pictured Qwon's house.

“
Lunae lumen
,” he said, and the gate whisked him away from Merlin's lonely basement.