The Seven Swords (19 page)

28 - IN WHICH KYNDER CHATS WITH MERLIN

Kynder's first dragon ride was
a doozy. Tiberius, whose neck had been outfitted with a double-seated leather saddle, had pulled out all the stops. He whisked them over Sylvan and across the Otherworld Sea, with clouds, sky, and stars streaking by at the speed of sound.

They arrived at a point high over Fenland several hours before dawn, four days before the new moon. Above them was the black firmament, a cosmic sieve perforated with a million points of light; below was a soft carpet of gray clouds. In the east a large storm pulsated with rainbows of lightning.

The dragon, which had not yet spoken during their trip, said calmly, “Hmmph. That tempest moves fast thisaway, and a fog rides swiftly from the other direction on a westerly front. They'll be meet'n at the rendezvous by sunup.”

“Can your sight penetrate the clouds, my friend?” Numinae asked.

“Yeah, can you see Arthur?” Kynder wondered.

Tiberius leaned forward and strained his eyes on the shrouded land below. “Hmmph. They are not here. None are. All is cold and damp.”

“Well, I'm glad we beat them,” Kynder said.

“When do you think Fallown will arrive?” Numinae asked Tiberius. The Leagonese dragon had also been summoned to the rendezvous, just in case they needed help.

“In the last dark before the dawn,” Tiberius said.

“Good,” Numinae said, and patted his dragon's neck. “There's a rock in the sea a mile from the shore. You can land there. When someone shows up, we'll head in.”

“Hmmph,” Tiberius grumbled. “Hold'n tight.”

With no other warning, he folded his wings and dropped headfirst to the earth, piercing the thick blanket of clouds. They emerged more than a minute later only a few hundred feet above the sea. Tiberius opened his wings and gently glided to a stop over a black rock.

Fenland was in the distance, a dark line rising from the water.

They waited in silence. Water lapped pleasantly at their rocky perch. Kynder closed his eyes, and Numinae and Tiberius only spoke sparingly. After a few hours a great bank of fog overtook them. Fenland disappeared as visibility dropped to only a few dozen feet. Numinae pulled a lamp from a saddlebag and turned it on. Its green light gave the fog a sickly hue.

The sea became completely calm. Sounds vanished.

“This sure is a weird fog,” Kynder observed.

Tiberius shifted his weight from one leg to the other and let out a long “Hmmmmph.”

“It is,” Numinae said, hastily extinguishing the lamp. “We're not alone.”

A chill ran down Kynder's back as it hit him: “Merlin's here.”

“Yes,” Numinae said in a fierce whisper. “He mustn't see me yet. I'm sorry, my friend.”

And then Numinae moved out of the saddle and appeared to become one with Tiberius, melding into the green dragon's iridescent skin right before Kynder's eyes.

Before Kynder could say anything, an unseen hand grabbed him by the neck, yanking him from the saddle. Within seconds Kynder was being pulled through the air, his feet dragging along the water's surface. Tiberius vanished in the fog behind him as Kynder heard the dragon snap his wings and surge into the air.

Kynder was being hauled through the mist as if through a maze. The wizard was trying to confuse the dragon, and it apparently worked, because before long Kynder neither heard nor saw any sign of Tiberius.

Which was unfortunate.

But what was more unfortunate was that Kynder was having a hard time breathing. The magical hand gripping him was literally choking the life from him.

Finally he came to a stop over a narrow white-sand beach. A black bluff rose sharply to his left, and to the right was a dune dotted with tall grass. Beyond this Kynder made out the tops of the trees that populated the vast swamp of Fenland.

The sea was at his back, and in front of him was Merlin, still holding Kynder by his neck with some spell.

The wizard was dressed in a black leather robe and had donned a simple linen cowl. Fog billowed from the bottom of his clothing, as if it were the source of the mist covering the sea. He pointed the owl-head of his cane directly at Kynder's chest.

He did not look happy.

“Where is the stone that I gave you?” the wizard demanded.

Kynder clutched at the wizard's invisible hand. He couldn't talk. He was getting light-headed.

“Pshaw!” the wizard spit. He brought the head of his cane down swiftly, breaking the enchantment that held Kynder. A loud
crack
rang out over the beach as Kynder collapsed to the ground, a sickening
snap
coming from his right leg.

“My leg! You broke it!” Kynder wailed.

“Did I? So sorry,” Merlin said insincerely.

“What happened to you?” Kynder asked, trying to stay still, afraid to move his leg at all.

“Nothing happened to me. This is who I am,” Merlin said darkly.

“I see,” Kynder said with a note of resignation. “Well, I gave the stone away.”

“To whom?”

“Numinae.”

Merlin made a throaty sound of disgust. “And what, pray tell, did that
thing
have to say about it?”

“He said it was a keeper stone, that it kept me from doing certain things—namely, looking into who
you
are. He said I didn't need it to be in the Otherworld, which is clearly the case. He said you were manipulating me.”

“How . . .
revealing
.”

“And he said you were lying to Arthur.”

The wizard blew out his cheeks. “I did nothing of the sort. I have been faithful to all of you. That's more than I can say of you, Kynder. You should have stayed at the Library. You should have kept the stone.”

Kynder let out a quick breath. “So I could remain ignorant of what really motivates you?”

Merlin waved his cane dismissively through the air. “Ignorance is safety, Kynder Kingfisher. As a father, I would expect you to know as much.”

Kynder shook his head. “Man, you have a lot to learn.”

“
I
have a lot to learn? From whom?”

Kynder's leg began to feel very warm. He tried to see if the bone had broken the skin, but because of the way his leg was bent under him, he couldn't tell. “Maybe from me,” he said. “Maybe from Numinae. But definitely from Arthur. He's loyal. Noble. He
helped
you.”

Merlin chuckled. “Ah, nobility. I was just speaking to Artie about that. It's true that Artie is noble. Nauseatingly so. Trust me, I know noble better than any living thing. Arthur the First was disgustingly noble. And don't get me started on his knights. Gawain, Perceval, Tristan—they were impossible. Please, save me the lecture.”

Kynder felt like he was the one being lectured to but didn't bother to point that out. “And you told Artie you thought he was noble too? Just to manipulate him?”

“Of course. Flattery is an extremely effective motivator.”

“He's a kid, Merlin.”

“I don't care,” Merlin barked. Kynder noticed that the overcast sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was nearly upon them.

“Man, you're ruthless.”

“Yes.”

“And all you want is revenge on Morgaine, isn't that right?”

“Yes!” Merlin said. A powerful crack of thunder rolled over the hill from the direction of the swamp, and the clouds there began to let down a curtain of rain. Merlin cried, “That witch ruined my life. She
stole
it. She and her agents exiled me to the other side of the world. You try being imprisoned for a thousand years and see how you like it. She deserves nothing but death for what she did to me.”

Kynder looked away. “Figures you'd be this way, since you're a . . .”

Merlin narrowed his eyes and asked, “A what? What do you think you know?”

Kynder didn't answer at first. He was preoccupied as his hand gently probed the jagged edge of a tibia jutting from his leg. Finally he said, “I know what your father was, Merlin Ambrosius.”

Merlin recoiled. The fog obscuring his feet thinned, and he drifted to the ground. He leaned close to Kynder's face, eyes red with fury, tattoos writhing like snakes. He was terrifying.

“Don't speak of my father!” he boomed. And then, in a fierce whisper, “The boy cannot know.”

“Of course he can't. He would never help you if he knew that you were a half demon, hell-bent on revenge over everything else.”

Merlin spit an oyster of phlegm into the sand.

“But why Arthur? Why my son?”

“He is not your son! He is an experiment. And I couldn't escape without him.”

“Oh my god,” Kynder said heavily, realization dawning. “That's why she made him.”

“Yes.”

“Because only he could get Excalibur and free you, and she couldn't kill you
unless
you were free.”

“Yes.”

“And you knew this all along?”

“Of course! The witch and I are mortal enemies, but sometimes even enemies must pursue common goals so that one day they may meet.”

“So all this is just to settle some stupid score?”

“Not stupid to me or her. And if it matters to you, she does want to keep the worlds separated. She doesn't care if your world destroys itself.”

“But you don't either.”

“No. Why would I? In truth, your world's atmosphere is already poisoned. It has passed the tipping point. It cannot be saved.”

“But that's no reason not to try! And what about the Otherworld? Won't the Otherworld fall too, if our side falls first?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“And you don't care about that either.”

“No.”

Kynder fought back a ball of acid rising from his stomach. “Why do you need Arthur now? Why can't you just kill Morgaine by yourself? A big wizard like you . . .”

Merlin gave Kynder a smart-aleck smile and said, “Because in spite of my feelings about him, Artie is powerful, so why
not
use him if it increases my chances of killing Morgaine? Why not stand against her with the one who wields Excalibur at my side?”

At the mention of Excalibur, Kynder was struck with a revelation. Now he understood why Excalibur wanted Merlin dead!

He also understood that Merlin could not know what he'd just gleaned. The secret was for Artie, and Artie alone.

Kynder forced this revelation from his mind, and tried to distract Merlin by asking, “Taking control of the Seven Swords is as important to you as gathering Artie and his knights. Isn't it?”

“More,” Merlin said, sounding surprisingly honest. “Steel is stronger than flesh.”

“What are you going to tell Arthur when he gets here?” Kynder asked.

Merlin smiled. “What are
you
going to tell him, Kynder?”

“The truth. That he's being used. That you're disingenuous at best.”

Merlin made a
tut-tut
sound and shook his head disapprovingly. “Arthur—yours and the one that came before—is nothing but a vessel. Both were created to be used. Both only exist for purposes at hand. You won't tell him anything. Least of all the truth.”

“The heck I won't,” Kynder said.

Merlin stroked his chin and said with a heavy air of conceit, “Let's see. Shall it be death or amnesia for you, dear Kynder?”

Kynder didn't give him the pleasure of a response.

“I certainly don't need you anymore,” Merlin continued. “You were here to raise Artie Kingfisher, and you did.”

Merlin rose into the air and held his cane in both hands across his body. White wings of fog unfolded from behind him as his power grew, his staff beginning to glow brightly.

Kynder had failed his children, and he felt like a total idiot for it.

“I like you, Kynder, in spite of your defiance,” Merlin continued. He nodded, as if to himself. “Yes. I think it shall be amnesia, perhaps preceded by a rather long coma. To keep you from meddling.”

Kynder couldn't move. His leg was hot now. This was it. Noiselessly, the light from Merlin's cane shot at Kynder's head.

But then, as if from nowhere, Tiberius darted between them. The wizard howled, and for Kynder, everything went black.

29 - IN WHICH THE RENDEZVOUS COMMENCES

Artie and his knights gated
to Fenland just as Merlin grabbed Kynder off Tiberius's neck. None of them knew that Kynder was even there, or that Merlin had snatched him, or that Kynder was in deep doo-doo.

“Man, why can't these
lunae
lumen
s ever put us exactly where we want to go?” Erik complained as he stared at his feet.

They were ankle deep in black muck that made crude sucking sounds as they struggled to get onto firmer ground. The sky was just beginning to brighten, though it wasn't going to brighten much because it was pretty obvious that a storm was coming.

Which made Artie's and Kay's hearts sink a little, since storms usually meant Morgaine.

“Aw, this is nothing, dudes,” Lance said. “You should see Iraq in August. At least it's not a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade!”

Artie stepped onto a pile of rocks, Kay and Thumb joining him, while the other knights gathered at the opposite side of the mud pit.

“Any idea where we are, Tom?” Artie asked.

“Well, definitely Fenland. And we're near the sea. I can sm—”

Lance held up his fist and cocked his ear to the swamp.

“What is it, lad?” Thumb whispered.

Instead of speaking, Lance twirled a finger through the air and pointed at the thick tangle of bushes behind them. Then he quietly nocked an arrow as Erik drew next to him. Artie and Kay stood shoulder to shoulder, and Thumb knelt, the Welsh
wakizashi
fast across his body.

They waited. Artie didn't say anything, but he had an overwhelming feeling that Excalibur was nearby. Could Bors have managed to retrieve his sword?

Finally they heard footsteps. Breathing. The muffled sound of a girl clearing her throat.

Then the smell of the sea left Artie's nostrils. No, not just the sea—
all
smells had been sucked into a void. It was a little disorienting but it didn't really affect Artie so much. Unbeknownst to him, Excalibur's scabbard protected him from the fairy scentlock.

But not the other knights. Their faces went blank and they dropped their weapons to their sides.

Several tense moments passed before the grass parted, revealing two of the strangest-looking people Artie had ever seen. Both were incredibly thin, and the proportions of their long-limbed bodies were practically alien. Their pulled-back hair was pink with black streaks. Both had bright blue eyes, but the boy's were ridiculously blue. The girl was so beautiful Artie had a hard time raising his spear to her.

But he didn't have to because they didn't attack.

They were the fairies, Shallot and Bors le Fey.

Artie peered past them. Standing in the grass was Qwon Onakea, who had a couple of giant wads of cotton stuck in her nostrils.

“Qwon!” Artie yelled.

“Artie!”

Artie dropped his spear and Qwon dropped some kind of mace, and before either of them knew it, they were locked in a really big hug.

Artie had never felt so good.

And neither had Qwon.

“I'm sorry I couldn't save you,” Artie whispered directly in Qwon's ear.

“Aw, don't sweat it. I wouldn't have believed any of this stuff if you had.” Then she grabbed Artie by the shoulders and pushed him away and asked, “Are you okay?”

The fairies stepped forward, their faces twisted by curiosity. “You
do
look just like the Fenlandian,” Shallot marveled quietly. Bors reached out and touched her arm as if to say she shouldn't bring it up.

“Huh?” Artie asked. Shallot
was
beautiful, but her teeth, which were jagged and pointy, were just nasty.

“I told you,” Qwon said.

“What's she talking about?” Artie asked.

“It's a long story, Artie,” Qwon said.

The girl fairy pointed one of her weapons at his chest and said, “So you're the king?”

Artie smiled and said, “Yep. And you must be Shallot le Fey.”

“I am. But I'm a bred warrior. You look like a . . . a . . .”

Qwon smiled proudly at Artie and said, “Yeah, he's a nerd all right. Or was, anyway, until he beat up Frankie Finkelstein on the first day of school.”

Shallot rolled her eyes. Artie bumped Qwon's shoulder and said, “Thanks, Q. Shallot, are you guys freezing my knights?”

Bors stepped forward with an apologetic look. As if on cue, the others started to come back around.

Qwon pulled the cotton from her nose and said, “They call it a scentlock. His is odorless, and Shallot's smells like the awesomest bouquet of flowers ever.”

Artie raised his eyebrows. “Cool. You must be Bors, then.” The fairy nodded, and then suddenly knelt before him.

Shallot looked away slightly and said, “He's nicer than me.”

“Bors is a mute,” Qwon said. “And we wouldn't be here without him.”

Artie bowed to Bors. “Stand up, dude. I may be king of the Otherworld, but I can't thank you enough for bringing my friend back.”

Bors stood and nodded deeply to Artie. Artie nodded back. He already liked Bors.

Kay, free from the scentlock, ignored the fairies and ran to Qwon, yelling, “Q!” The girls gave each other a big hug.

“What happened to your hair, Kay?” Qwon gasped.

“Oh, I cut it off,” Kay said flippantly. “This Japanese guy made me do it.”

“Hey, Qwon,” said Erik from across the mud pit.

“Wait,
Erik
?” Qwon squeaked.

“Yeah,” he said proudly, standing up extra straight and showing off Gram a little.

A million questions ran through Qwon's mind.

Thumb pulled up next to Artie and nodded at the fairies. “Qwon, this is Tom Thumb,” Artie said.

“
Tom Thumb?
” Qwon asked dubiously.

“That's right, lass,” Thumb said.

“Okay, if you say so,” Qwon said slowly.

“I almost forgot—I have something for you, Qwon!” Artie reached into his belt and pulled out the ancient Japanese katana.

At first Qwon didn't understand what she was looking at. But then everything her grandfather Tetsuo had taught her about swords and her heritage and Japanese folklore washed over her. She glanced back and forth between Artie and the weapon and finally asked, “Artie, is that . . .
Kusanagi
?”

Artie nodded and Kay said, “Sure is, Q.”

She reached for it and began to ask, “But how did you . . . ?”

Artie said, “That's a long story too. I'll tell it to you after you tell me yours.” He flipped the sword around and presented it hilt first to its rightful owner, Qwon Onakea.

She held her hand around the hilt before gripping it. The sliver of air between hand and sword tingled with electricity.

Then she grabbed it.

Qwon's eyes widened and her mouth broke into a large smile. Her free hand automatically joined the one holding the sword. Kusanagi was doing its thing, just like Excalibur had for Artie and Gram had for Erik. Whole histories coursed through Qwon's mind, and her bones and muscles twitched with the sudden knowledge of sword mastery.

She was officially a kick-butt swordswoman.

“You guys all right?” Lance called from the other side of the mud pit, breaking everyone's reverie a little.

“Yep, we're fine,” Kay said. “Qwon and Kusanagi just met, so they're having a moment.”

“Cool,” Lance said.

Artie said, “Lance, this is Qwon, Shallot, and Bors.” They exchanged greetings and then Artie said, “So now that we're all here, do you think it's safe to go to Castel Deorc Wæters and grab the remaining Seven Swords?”

Bors nodded.

“Wonderful. Ready, guys?” Artie asked. Now that he'd found Qwon, he was looking forward to getting out of there. Being on Fenland gave him the willies.

But before anyone could answer, a loud noise echoed through the swamp.

“What was that?” Kay asked.

“It came from over there,” Lance said, pointing toward the sea.

The party mucked through the swamp and started downhill. The ground became sandy, and eventually they reached a tall grass-covered dune. Lance led the way as they charged up it. Right before reaching its top, he dropped to his stomach and crawled to the edge. The other knights did the same. Lance grabbed his bow and got an arrow ready. In the day they had to regroup, Lance had trained with Orgulus—it was a pretty sweet sword—but his instincts still led him to his bow and arrows.

A few hundred feet away, in the middle of a crescent-shaped beach, were two people, one on the ground and another standing on what looked like a column of mist. The figure on the mist had its back to Artie and his friends.

“Artie, is that . . . your dad?” Erik asked.

“I think it is!” Artie said breathlessly. Kynder was sprawled on the ground and did not look good. “What's he doing here?”

“Who's that other guy?” Kay demanded.

“Oh, no,” Thumb said. “That's Merlin,” he said ashamedly.

“
What?
” Artie said, shocked.

“I recognize his cloak. He used to wear it a lot back when he was more . . . disturbed.”

“What do you mean, ‘disturbed'?” Artie asked. Kynder and Merlin were definitely arguing about something.

“Merlin is old, and has not always been well,” Thumb tried to explain.

Kay couldn't believe it. “Isn't that, like, important info, Tommy?”

“I thought he was better. I swear it. These past few hundred years, he's been a different man.”

Another crack of thunder rolled through the sky.

They watched in horror as Merlin leaned close to Kynder.

“Did that jerk just
spit
at Dad?” Kay said, starting to get up. Thumb grabbed her by the hand and pulled her hard back into the sand.

“Should I—should I shoot him, Art?” Lance asked as if he couldn't believe his own words.

“I—I don't know. Tom?”

“I don't know either, lad,” Thumb said. “I can't believe this. . . .”

They watched as Merlin rose into the air and held his cane across his body. The mist gathered behind him in the shape of two great wings.

“Lance, I think you
should
shoot Merlin,” Kay said hollowly.

“Yes,” said Artie. “Shoot him, Lance.”

“But that's Merlin! Our Merlin!” Lance exclaimed.

“Shoot him!” Artie ordered.

A bright light gathered in front of Merlin. Kynder glared up at the wizard in defiance.

Thumb steeled himself and said, “Do it now, archer! Don't miss!”

Lance stood. He emptied his head and then imagined the spine, the lungs, the heart of the wizard Merlin.

His fingers slipped from the arrow's fletching, and the bowstring jumped. Just as the arrow took off, Shallot pointed into the fog over the water and yelled, “Look!”

Darting out of the mist was their friend Tiberius, and right behind him was the golden dragon, Fallown.

Tiberius snaked between the wizard and Kynder, and the bolt of energy shooting from the wizard's staff split and hit them both. Kynder flew back several feet and landed in a shower of sand. Tiberius crashed hard into the ground headfirst, while Fallown overshot the attack and rose back into the mist.

In the same instant, Lance's arrow hit Merlin squarely in the back. The wizard howled in pain and spun around. He scanned the dunes, searching—and quickly spotted those who had attacked him.

He did not look pleased.