The Broken Sword (38 page)

T
he television cameras caught
it all. A bevy of reporters from news organizations all over the city had arrived on the scene in time to film what they called a "street-tough motorcycle gang" on their knees in prayer around a dying old man. And when Taliesin had come to and then leaped up to embrace them, every edition of the next morning's news had its lead story.

"People here are calling it a miracle," a woman shouted, thrusting a microphone in Taliesin's face. "What do you have to say about what happened to you?"

"Why is it so blasted bright here?" the old man groused, squinting into the camera lights. "Go away, all of you."

"Forget him," another reporter said. "Get the boy."

The lights shifted to Arthur. "What's your name, son?"

"Buzz off," Hal said. Lugh growled. For a moment, millions of television sets throughout the Tri-State area were filled with his snarling visage.

"I am Arthur," the boy said calmly, "and these are the Knights of the Round Table."

"Cut!" one of the reporters yelled. "The kid's cracking jokes. It'll wreck the human interest angle."

The lights swiveled back to the excavation, where the police and emergency crews were pulling out still more bodies. Only one reporter, the woman who had arrived first, kept her cameraman trained on Arthur. He spoke to her.

"The time of horror is past," he said somberly. "This is a new era, and in it we will find peace and hope and true brotherhood."

The reporter exchanged glances with the cameraman. He shrugged, but kept the tape rolling while Arthur continued.

"This will not be easy for many of you to accept. You have lived in fear and pain for so long that distrust has become natural to you. Violence has become ordinary. Evil has become acceptable. But this will change. Slowly, and with effort, you will lose your fear, you will heal your wounds, and you will walk in the light of your own perfection. This is my promise to you."

He walked away toward the knights who were waiting by the motorcycles. The reporter's mouth hung open slackly.

Zack, who had been listening to the boy speak, ran up behind him. "Arthur, I heard you," he said earnestly. "I mean
really
heard you."

The boy kept walking.

"Look, I know you think I might have had something to do with this because I knew Aubrey, but I swear to you I didn't."

Arthur turned back toward him.

"Kate just told me what happened in there." The words dried up on his lips as the earth around the building shifted, whirling in a slow circle.

"The ground's giving!" the police captain shouted. "Get away!" Hundreds of people obediently scrambled onto the street.

On the site of the fallen building, tall mounds formed and erupted in the ground. Pieces of metal and wood and sparkling shards of broken glass churned as if they had been spat out of the mouth of some underground monster.

Then a hand shot out to the surface.

In it was a metallic sphere.

"The cup," Taliesin said, closing his eyes in despair. "He has the cup."

"Yes," Aubrey said, dragging himself out of the filth. "I have it still, despite your paltry efforts." He shambled out of the pit, his bare feet treading on slivers of glass that left no wounds. His long black garment was burned to tatters in places, yet his face and body were unmarked. No one spoke as he staggered past the crowd to face the boy.

"So you're Arthur," he said.

"I am."

Aubrey laughed. "All this trouble, for a child whose neck I could have broken with one hand."

Hal and Launcelot stepped in front of the boy, but Arthur pushed them aside. "What do you want?"

"Oh, didn't your tame sorcerer tell you? He's seen to it that as long as the boy is alive, the cup will always come back to him." From the folds of his sleeve he took the curved dagger he had used in the ritual of sacrifice. "So, naturally, he can't remain alive."

Kate screamed. The knights got into formation around Arthur.

Twenty policemen drew their weapons. "Hold it or we'll shoot!" the captain warned.

"Fire away," Aubrey said, his eyes never leaving Arthur's.

The policeman fired. Aubrey winced as the bullet entered his body and left it, leaving two holes that healed almost immediately. The other officers emptied their cartridges into Aubrey's back. His garment flew apart to hang in ribbons at his waist, but he remained standing. When he turned to face them, the wounds closed before their eyes.

"Jesus Christ," the police captain muttered. Then, collecting himself, he called out, "Take him!"

When the officers rushed toward Aubrey, he raised one arm in their direction.

Tendrils of smoke poured from his fingertips. It flowed out of him in streams, puffing into billows. The policemen stopped in their tracks, gagging, as the foul cloud engulfed them.

Around the knights, the smoke thickened to form a solid wall encircling them, creating a barrier between them and the outside world. Inside that barrier there was no street, no city, no time. The air was still, and charged with magic.

"I thought we'd like some privacy," Aubrey said, smiling.

Preparing to charge, Lugh broke away from the others. "No, that's what he wants us to do," Hal said, wrestling him to a halt. "We can't leave Arthur open. Back up." He looked past Lugh to the others. "All of you."

The phalanx of knights, with the boy in the center of them, moved quietly toward the motorcycles, where Taliesin had stationed Beatrice. The two children would be safe there.

"Don't bother trying to hide him from me," Aubrey said casually, stroking the curved blade of the dagger. "This was forged from Mordred's sword. Do you remember him, Merlin?"

The old man's jaw clenched. In his mind's eye, he could still see that final, mortal blow that had set the world back by a thousand years. "Oh, gods of the sky," he whispered. "Gods of the sea and earth..."

"Go on, wizard, try your magic. Do you think that because you gave them what they wanted, they will rush to protect your boy-king who rules from behind the backs of his flunkies? Did they protect him at Camlan?" He chuckled. "No, Merlin, they did not, and they will not. This fight is Arthur's, not yours."

Taliesin's hands shook. The magician was right, he knew. Arthur had chosen to lose at Camlan, and the gods had been pitiless.

As your reward, you have only yourself
, the Innocent had said.

The gods would give Merlin nothing for resurrecting them from death. After his great feat of magic, even the great wizard had been left with only himself.

Just as Arthur, in the end, would have only himself, now and always.

"Nothing could stop that sword from finding its way to you, little king," Aubrey taunted. "Do you remember its sting as it pierced your heart?"

Arthur's shoulders hunched, making him seem even smaller than he was.

"It will find you again," the magician whispered as he positioned the dagger.

"We'll see about that," Dry Lips said, squaring his shoulders.

Lugh lowered his eyes, and Taliesin knew what the soldier felt. Lugh had been beside the King on that last, terrible day. He had watched with horror as Mordred's sword flew past him with its own evil will. For all their courage, the knights would not be able to stop that blade.

"Yes," Aubrey agreed, "we'll see." With a quick, practiced motion, he let the dagger fly.

"Get down!" Hal shouted. Arthur crouched. Following the trajectory of the dagger, every one of the knights expanded his chest, hoping to be the one the blade struck instead of the boy.

Zack was the only one who saw the sudden swoop of the weapon in the air, careening suddenly so low that it would pass between the knights' legs, directly to where Arthur was.

"Arthur!" he screamed, throwing himself to the street. As he hit the pavement at the knights' feet, the dagger struck him squarely in the chest.

His eyes opened wide in reflex, then slowly began to close. Kate rushed to his side, shrieking as she pulled the knife from his body. "Help! Someone help him!" She cradled his head in her lap, her tears falling on his face. "Oh, Zack, please don't die! I love you, I love you so much… Medic! Where's the ambulance?" she screamed into the wall of smoke Aubrey had created. But group was completely enclosed. All the others—the reporters, the police, the emergency crews—were somewhere beyond the barrier of dark magic, unable to reach them.

"Shh," Zack said, lightly resting his hand over hers. "It's all right."

Arthur crawled out from behind the knights' legs. "You saved my life," he said.

Zack smiled. "Then you believe me?" A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"Yes," Arthur whispered. “I misjudged you. Forgive me, my friend.”

Hal grabbed the boy's collar. "Get back here," he said.

"No." Arthur wrenched away from him. Aubrey was walking toward them, his eyes blazing with anger and madness. The boy walked out into the now-empty street to meet him.

"Highness!" the knights rushed forward, but Arthur stopped them with a gesture.

"Enough of you have died for me," he said. "I'm done hiding."

Taliesin held his breath.

"Bravo!" Aubrey clapped his hands together as he sauntered forward. "How brave you are. We'll all tell our children about you." He splayed out his fingers, and two sharp blades appeared in each of his hands. "Are you ready to fight me, Arthur?" he whispered, flicking his wrists.

The boy stopped. "I'm ready," he said.

Aubrey tapped his cheek with one of the long blades growing from his hands. "Dear, dear," he said with mock concern. "I can't help but think it's not quite fair this way. Perhaps you should have a weapon." He looked up suddenly. "Of course! Would you like your sword? I found it, you know."

"It wouldn't do you any good."

"Yes, that's true," he said with a sigh. "Perhaps it will serve you better." From around his waist he tugged at a small pouch suspended there by a black silk cord until it snapped, then threw the pouch at Arthur's feet. "Here it is," he said smoothly. "Or what's left of it. It didn't travel well."

The boy emptied the contents of the pouch into his hand and examined the dull bits of melted metal. "Excalibur," he whispered.

"Well, now I suppose we might as well begin," Aubrey said. He crouched down on all fours. From deep in his throat rose an inhuman growl. Before he leaped, Hal rushed forward, head down, arms extended.

A fireball shot out of Aubrey's mouth. It blazed through the air toward Hal, hitting him in the belly. With a scream Hal flew backward under its weight, landing on the pavement with a thud, his clothes scorched.

"By the gods, he's a demon!" Dry Lips rasped. Launcelot crossed himself.

"Anyone else want to try?" Aubrey asked, moving his head in spasms from side to side.

"Don't move, any of you!" Arthur snapped.

The magician beckoned to him, blinking his eyes lazily. "Come, boy. I'm hungry." He pointed to the dagger that lay on the silent street beside Zack, and it moved to his bidding. The blood-slick blade snaked along the pavement, then flew into his hand.

In answer, Arthur held up the pieces of the broken sword.

Aubrey laughed. "What are you going to fight me with? Marbles?"

The boy gazed steadily at him. "Faith," he said softly.

Moonlight struck the desecrated pieces of the ancient weapon. For a moment they sparkled like water. Then, while Aubrey rushed at him, the scraps of metal in the boy's hand danced upward into the shape of a shimmering cross of gold and steel, the living sword Excalibur, raised for battle.

"Go back where you belong!" Arthur commanded. "There is no place for you among us. Go!"

In the sky, a bolt of lightning shot down to touch the great sword. It shimmered, incandescent and perfect, the glow of its magic surrounding Arthur like a nimbus. He was the heart of the fire, and Excalibur its soul.

The magician sprang, Mordred's dagger pulsing in his grip. Then, with a shriek, he was lifted up high off the ground as if he were suspended on strings.

"I will not go back!" Aubrey screamed as he struggled in the air, his spindly legs jerking like an insect caught in a spider's web. A formless cloud, darker than the starless night, engulfed his flailing body. "Not there! Not again!" His voice sounded thin and flat. He grew smaller with each terrified breath. "I will not..."

Then he was gone.

The void that had swallowed him spun and collapsed in on itself, creating a wind tunnel on the street below. The wall of smoke Aubrey had created blew away in the sudden gust. With a sound like popcorn, the glass in the surrounding buildings cracked. Suddenly the street was filled with the noise of wailing sirens, snarled traffic, and screaming bystanders. Lights from the television crews smashed against the walls, and the vehicles parked on the street careened willy-nilly. Swept off their feet, the people at the scene rolled like dandelion puffs into the gutters and alleyways. The debris from the magicians' coven swirled overhead, planks and stone and crumbled mortar, leaving in its place only a flat expanse of earth blown clean by the wind.

In another moment, the cloud dissipated as unexpectedly as it had come. Through it all only Arthur had remained standing, the glow from Excalibur radiating into the night.

F
rom the faraway dot
where the void had taken Aubrey Katsuleris, an object bright as a comet tumbled through the blackness of the sky. Grasping the sword in one hand, Arthur held out the other, palm up, to receive this gift from the unknown places.

With infinite gentleness it gave itself into his possession: the cup of eternal life, the gift not even the vacuum of the dark gods could keep from its master.

Arthur knelt beside Zack. He was still alive. Kate had gone for the paramedics, who had been blown down the street along with the ambulance they'd come in. Two of them were running toward Zack now, while a third was maneuvering the ambulance through traffic.

Zack's eyelids fluttered weakly as he tried to focus. "I saw what you did," he said in a harsh rasp. His tongue was covered with blood. "You... you were an agent of God."