The Dragon King (17 page)

Team Grail tumbled into Tintagel’s
yard in a heap, Numinae heavily and uncomfortably landing on top.

“Bercilak! Why Bercilak?” Kay whined as she and the others pulled out of the pile.

“Better him than the king,” Bedevere observed.

“Well obviously, but—omigod! The backpack!” Kay spun in a circle. “Artie, the backpack!”

“This backpack?” Artie said with a grin. He sat on the ground, the bag between his legs, his arm in it all the way to the shoulder. “There you are!” He pulled out the Grail and let it fall in his lap.

Kay dropped to her knees. “Man—we did it, didn’t we?” Artie nodded, a big smile on his face. “But we need to save Berc—”

“He’ll be fine,” Artie said, cutting Kay off. “Merlin chose him on purpose.”

“Yes,” Numinae said. “The wizard is sly.”

“What are you talking about?” Bedevere asked.

“Bercilak is a knight of Sylvan, Sir Kay,” Numinae explained. “And since I am the lord of Sylvan, he and I are connected. Wherever Bercilak goes, I will be able to find him—even on your side.”

“Merlin
wants
us to find him, doesn’t he?” Kay asked unenthusiastically.

“Aye, lass.”

“The others!” Bedevere said, pointing at the main building of Tintagel.

“Artie! Kay! You’re back,” Qwon called, running full tilt, Dred right behind her.

Artie waved as Kay slung the backpack over her shoulders. The two groups rushed toward each other, and as they did, Artie noticed the dragons. Six were perched along the walls, looking down on the knights like uncaring statues. There was Tiberius; another green dragon from Sylvan; the silver one, Darg; a black one, Snoll, plus a blue one and a white one.

The sight of the dragons pumped Artie up, but it also made him a little more scared. Things were coming to a head. They had the Grail, the dragons were here, and the others had made it back from Turkey—presumably with the Sword of David.

Which, of course, they had. Everyone was safe, and most of them were there—although Shallot had gone to Leagon with the golden dragon (making seven total) to gather the fairy platoon. To make up for her absence, Erik had returned with Sami, and when Artie saw the giant Swede, he gave him a huge hug.

“I was wondering when you’d call,” Sami said. “This outfit needs a big man like me.”

Artie laughed. “We’ve been fine without you, actually. But Merlin—we’ll definitely need you when we go up against him and his minions.”

“Can’t wait.”

Kay tiptoed over. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering . . . Artie, should we—”

“Dad.”

“Yeah. Dad.”

The Kingfishers turned toward the pair of black stones in the middle of the yard.

“Should we do it now?” Artie asked, his gut churning with sudden nerves.

“I think we should.”

“You
absolutely
should,” Sami said, eyeing the plain cup that Artie casually held. “No reason not to.”

Numinae appeared next to Sami and placed a hand on Artie’s shoulder. “I agree. The Grail is here. It should be used.”

Artie turned to the group. “Everyone, please.” The hubbub of storytelling and catching up subsided. “We’re going to revive Kynder—now. There’d be no better way to celebrate getting the Grail and the Sword of David.”

A hush fell over the group. Even the dragons became more solemn.

“Dred, you’re the Pure Knight, and you need to be the one to do it,” Artie said, holding out the Grail. “Are you up to it?”

Dred swallowed hard, conveying some trepidation. Artie understood—if for some reason it didn’t work, Dred might blame himself, which would be a terrible thing. Still, Dred said resolutely, “Of course I am, Artie.”

“Then let’s do this.”

Artie and Kay led everyone to the stones. As they walked, Artie gave Kay a warm smile. But she did not smile back. “Artie, I’m so . . . scared.”

“Me too.” He squeezed her hand. “It’ll be fine.” And for maybe the first time in his life, Artie Kingfisher felt like he had helped his sister Kay, who was always so strong, to be stronger.

It felt awesome.

Tiberius came down from his perch and landed on the far side, while Numinae, Thumb, and Dred joined Artie and Kay next to the rocks. The others kept some distance, arranging themselves in a semicircle. Qwon held on to one of Pammy’s hands with both of hers, as if she would fall over otherwise. She had begun to cry.

Artie handed the Grail to Dred, who looked most nervous of all.

Numinae knelt. “Do not fret. This is going to work. It has to.”

“You got that right,” Kay said, immediately trying to guard her emotions.

Artie squeezed her hand again. “It’s okay. Everyone here is family.”

It was true. They’d been through so much together.
Too
much. Kay stood frozen for a few seconds and then did the most improbable thing ever: Kay Kingfisher started to bawl.

Everyone was shocked. Artie wrapped her in a hug. Fighting through his own tears, he whispered over and over, “It’s going to work.”

Finally Kay stopped and they pulled apart. “We’re ready,” Artie said. “Are you?”

Dred held out the Grail. “Yes.”

Artie looked at his dragon. “Do your thing, Tiberius.”

“Hmmph. As you wish, lord kingling.” Tiberius stooped over Kynder and began to lick the rock away. After several minutes Kynder’s body revealed itself in bits and pieces. Numinae stepped forward, cradling Kynder’s listless head. Tiberius kept working. A few minutes more, and Kynder Kingfisher was there, on the ground, just as he had been in Fenland: his leg broken, his skin ashen, his breath nonexistent.

Numinae ran a huge hand over Kynder’s head. “Now, Sir Mordred. Artie, bring Excalibur’s scabbard.”

The twins stepped forward and the other dragons began to hum eerily. Artie pulled Excalibur from its scabbard. The steel hissed. He handed the leather sheath to Numinae as Dred held the Grail directly over Kynder. Numinae put the scabbard on Kynder’s leg and then reached down, repositioning the broken limb, pushing the bone back into place with a gnarly snap.

One minute passed. Two. Two and a half.

Kay fidgeted. “What’s hap—”

“Sh!” Thumb hissed, grabbing Kay’s hand.

The dragons’ humming grew louder, and a flock of small dark birds burst into the sky beyond the castle wall.

Three minutes. Three and half. Four.

Dred looked inside the Grail. It was still empty. Dred shook his head slowly.

Artie stared at Kynder’s unseeing eyes. It wasn’t working. Frustrated and scared, Artie said, “It’s me, Dad—it’s Arthur.”

The dragons went suddenly silent.

“There!” Numinae whispered.

Dred leaned over the Grail. A few drops of red liquid—blood? wine? cranberry juice?—seeped from the bottom of the cup. Then, very quickly, it filled.

“Give it to him, Dred!” Numinae implored.

Dred and Artie knelt at the same time, like mirror images. Artie parted Kynder’s lips, and Dred tipped the Grail. The liquid poured in, filling Kynder’s mouth. Artie stroked his dad’s hair. Kay fell next to him and grabbed Kynder’s hand.

And then his body seized. It shook so violently that Artie, Kay, and Dred had to hold it down. Numinae slipped one of his long wooden fingers between Kynder’s teeth so that he wouldn’t bite his tongue off. Kynder foamed at the mouth; his eyes shot open; his voice returned in a harsh rattle.

“Come back to us, Dad. Come back!” Kay begged through tears.

“It’s me, Dad. Your son.”

Then Kynder’s body froze and went completely limp. Artie and Kay ran their hands desperately over his face and body. There was no breath, no life. Dred stood, full of fear and shame, the Grail slowly slipping from his fingers. “I . . . I . . . ,” he stammered.

The Grail fell to the ground. When it hit, a great sound rang over Tintagel, like a huge church bell had been struck.

Kynder’s mouth opened wide as he inhaled fully. His pupils contracted and his hands gripped those of his two children. His chest began to rise and fall, and his skin filled with living color.

“Dad!” Artie and Kay yelled. Numinae pressed the scabbard hard onto Kynder’s leg wound. Blood flowed from it for a few seconds before the skin and muscles magically closed and reformed around the exposed bone.

Kynder’s kids fell forward, and the three of them locked in a tight embrace. Dred jumped up and down and pumped his fist. Pammy and Qwon ran forward, followed by all the others. When Pammy got there, she dropped to her knees, pushed Numinae out of the way, and grabbed Kynder’s head. She stroked his hair and planted a huge kiss on his forehead.

Lance, Bedevere, Erik, and Sami stood abreast, their arms thrown over the next man’s shoulder. They laughed and cried all at once, without a dry eye among them. Sami got so caught up that he squeezed Erik’s shoulder a little too hard, and Erik had to remind him not to crush his arm.

Kynder’s eyes darted over the group before landing back on his children. “How long . . . Who . . . What . . . Where’s Merlin?”

Artie said, “Merlin’s not here, Dad. You’re safe.”

Kynder nudged his kids off his chest. He was equal parts happy and confused and desperate. “Arthur—I have to tell you something. I realized it right before I . . . I . . . Did I die?”

“Almost, my friend,” Numinae said. “But Tiberius preserved you. It nearly killed him, too.”

Kynder’s gaze swept the yard. “Thank you, Tiberius.”

“Hmmmph. My pleasure to’ve done it. Thanks be to the kingling for calling me back.”

Then Kynder sat bolt upright, as if stricken by something. “Arthur—you have to confront Merlin.”

“I know, Dad. We’re going to. Tomorrow. We had to bring you back first.”

“He’s half devil, Son.”

“We know.”

“And Excalibur—”

“We know, Dad,” Artie said. “Excalibur wants to kill him. And I have to be the one to do it.”

Kynder shook his head. “No, Artie. Not exactly. The sword doesn’t want to kill him. It wants to
free
him.”

The knights stared at Kynder with wild eyes.

“You have to cut the devil out of him, Artie. You must save Merlin—from himself!”

Artie frowned and let his fingers rest on Excalibur. The sangrealitic metal of the blade buzzed at his fingertips, as if to verify Kynder’s words.

“Of course!” Thumb yelped. “Why couldn’t I see that?”

“He enchanted all of us,” Kynder said.

There was a moment of silence, and then Numinae took Kynder and, with Artie, helped him to his feet. The other knights welcomed Kynder back, giving him hugs and handshakes and a few more kisses. Finally, Kynder looked to Artie and said, “Arthur, not to ruin the mood, but I’m starving.”

Artie laughed out loud. “I am too, Dad. Come on, everyone, let’s eat.”

Bran had gone all out
and made quite possibly the best platter of mac and cheese in the history of mac and cheeses. It was smooth and buttery on the inside, flaky on top, and crunchy at the edges where the cheese and pasta pushed against the roasting pan. For dessert each got a custom-made ice-cream sundae. Most were typical flavors—chocolate, vanilla, butterscotch, strawberry—but Numinae’s was green and brown and sprinkled with dirt and leaves. “Whatever floats your boat,” Kay said as the forest lord dug in.

As they ate, they told each other the gritty details of retrieving the Sword of David and the Grail. Since Team Sword had gotten to Tintagel first, and since they were super anxious waiting for Team Grail to arrive, they had busied themselves.

Along with Shallot going to Leagon on the newest golden dragon, Dred had taken the black dragon, Snoll, to Castel Deorc Wæters to gather some war bears and dragonflies. He did all right on the insects—he got a contingent of 143—but he could find only a dozen able bears. Tiberius had done a similar thing in Sylvan, rounding up two packs of dire wolves and three saber-toothed cats, including Bedevere’s. All of these groups were ready, and they would take moongates opened by Artie directly to Tintagel, where everyone would muster before heading off to Wales.

Naturally, they were thrilled that things were going so well.

After dessert came tea, coffee, and an endless supply of Mountain Dew. While the knights drank, Dred went to the far side of the room and showed off the Sword of David, forbidding anyone else to even come near him. “It works,” Lance confirmed. “It works
really
fast.” They toasted the poor guard who’d had the misfortune of pulling it from the scabbard, and Artie promised that he would not have died in vain. Kay wondered if it would work as quickly on Merlin, and Numinae answered, “Doubtful, because his magic is so strong. But it will compromise him. All we have to do is convince him that it’s Excalibur.”

“But how?” Sami asked. “If he’s as powerful as you say he is, won’t he know what we’re up to?”

Artie’s palms went clammy as he said, “You’re right, Sami. He might figure it out. We just have to hope he doesn’t. As to how—this is how.” Artie was nervous because he knew that Merlin had done something to Erik, something that, Artie guessed, enabled Merlin to see or hear whatever Erik did. And now it was crucial that Merlin heard what Artie was about to say. Everything hinged on it—it was essential.

“Merlin will expect me to have Excalibur, the sword he wants more than anything. We have to fight and really try to beat him, but if we can’t, then eventually we should surrender.”

“
What?
” a few of the knights asked together.

“Arthur,” Kynder said, leaning forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Artie held up his hands. “I know it doesn’t sound smart, Dad. I saw what he did to you on that beach, but hear me out. If we surrender, then Merlin will want to speak to me. He’s too much of a jerk to just kill me. He’ll want to say something all evil-wizardy, rub defeat in my face and all that. Trust me. I know how bullies operate.”

“Artie,” Lance said, “I think your dad’s probably right.”

Artie took a sip of black coffee. “Let me finish, Lance. So as a last resort we surrender, and Merlin and I, we’ll be close to each other. Merlin will take my sword, thinking it’s Excalibur, and try to cut my head off with it.” A chorus of startled breaths went around the table. “Wait—think about it: there are a million ways for him to kill me, but what better way than to do it with my own sword? It’s—what do you call it—poetic justice, right?”

“Or irony, lad,” Thumb said glumly.

“Right, or that. But here’s the thing: it won’t be Excalibur! It’ll be the Sword of David, disguised to look just like Excalibur. I’ll have it strapped to my back in battle just for show, but I won’t use it.” Artie’s hands were shaking now, and he slid them under the table to hide his nervousness. Erik, and Merlin, who was using him, had to understand this point perfectly. If not, the whole plan would fail.

Kay, who was one of three who knew about the traitor, even though she was still ignorant as to
who
was the traitor, leaned forward. “Artie, that’s crazy. If you don’t fight with Excalibur, then that means no scabbard—and no scabbard means no healing power! You’re going to go into a full-on boss battle without that? Would you ever do something so stupid in
Otherworld
the video game?”

Artie shook his head. “Of course I wouldn’t. But this isn’t a video game, Kay.” Artie realized in that moment that truer words had never been spoken. “None of
you
have a scabbard like Excalibur’s. It’s not fair to you guys if I can get healed on the spot. You’re putting your necks on the line too.”

“Yes, lad. But you’re the king!” Thumb protested.

Kay threw up her hands. “Artie, this is stupid.”

Artie planted his hands on the table. “It isn’t. Once Merlin draws my sword—the one he thinks is Excalibur but is actually the Sword of David—he’ll be weak. He’ll strike out for me, and then, at the last minute, I’ll hit him with Carnwennan, which I’ll hide in my sleeve. This won’t kill him, of course. Only Excalibur can do that. So at that moment, Numinae will bring me my sword, which he will hold safe for the entire battle, and together Excalibur and I will free Merlin. Just like you said, Dad.”

There was a silence. “It sounds like a good plan,” Erik said. It was the first thing Artie could recall him saying all evening.

“Thanks, Erik,” Artie said, his heart racing. “Dred, Numinae—will you work on disguising the sword tonight?”

“Gladly, Brother,” Dred said, uneasy about the whole idea.

“Yes, sire. We will do an incomparable job of it.”

“I still don’t like it,” Kay said, playing along a little to help sell this idea to the traitor. “I mean, maybe I’m being the protective big sister and all, but it sounds crazy risky. Outside of the fact that he’s been stealing kids, and mashing sabertooths with rhinos, we have no idea what Merlin is planning.”

Artie stood. “Maybe not, but it’s all been moving to this moment. All of it, from the very beginning, even before Dred and I were born.” Which was true. Artie understood now that while he was a king, and a boy, he was also a cog in the machine of fate. They all were. Even Merlin. “We’ll find out what Merlin has planned soon enough—just as
he
will find out what
we
have planned for him. He told us: no more games, and he’s right. We’re not playing anymore.” Artie paused. “Now, if you don’t mind my giving an order: except for Dred and Numinae, I need all of you to go get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, at seven sharp, we gather the troops—and then, we go to war.”