The Dragon King (18 page)

Kynder came to Artie’s room
that night, intending to talk him out of the surrender plan. But Artie told Kynder everything—even that the unfortunate and unwitting traitor was Erik—and Kynder left feeling that maybe Artie was right. If Merlin had somehow used Erik to spy on their strategy session, then Artie had a chance. “Besides,” Artie added as Kynder left the room, “I think we can beat him. Remember, we have the dragons on our side. That’s not nothing, you know?”

“Yes, but even dragons can be killed,” Kynder said, and then left.

The next morning was bright and crisp. Artie went outside extra early, greeted the dragons, and wasted no time: he opened a gate to Leagon, and one to Fenland, and one to Sylvan, and King Artie’s army poured into the courtyard at Tintagel. Here came the bears; the dragonflies; the wolves; the saber-toothed tigers; and Shallot, with Chime, the golden dragon, at the head of a line of thirty fairies. As the forces arrived, the dragons took off and turned a multicolored wheel in the sky. The other knights arrived, and Artie assigned tasks to everyone: Kay briefed the fairies; Sami took charge of the war bears; Dred managed the dragonflies; Thumb, mounted on a new dog-size bunny from Sylvan, rallied the wolves; Bedevere attended to the sabertooths; and Lance and Erik handed out the last pieces of armor to whoever needed them.

While this happened, Artie consulted with Numinae, Pammy, and Kynder, pinpointing Bercilak’s—and therefore Merlin’s—location in Wales. Then Artie opened three huge moongates onto a Welsh bluff a mile south of the place called St. David’s Head, taking care to hide them in a depression. Artie dispatched Sami, three bears, and the blue dragon, called Azur, to keep watch. If Merlin showed any sign of an ambush, they would report back and everyone would spill through to fight.

So far, though, the coast had stayed clear.

During the night, Numinae and Dred had labored tirelessly to disguise the Sword of David, which had not been a walk in the park. Since it was going to stay sheathed until the last minute, they worked hard on the hilt. Dred stripped the Sword of David down to the tang and built the hilt back up to look just like Excalibur’s, and were lucky enough to get a glass bauble from Bran that looked exactly like Excalibur’s pommel stone. They then went to work on the scabbard, which wasn’t too hard to deal with: both were worn and unadorned and made of ancient leather; the Sword of David’s just needed a few tweaks here and there to make it convincing. When they were finished, the sheathed swords were dead ringers.

Artie was talking quietly with a group of knights when Numinae approached, holding out the blades he would carry.

“Here you are, sire. Avoid all temptation to draw it in battle.”

Artie took the Sword of David and slung it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to die from stupidity.”

Kay and Erik laughed. “No way,” Erik said. “You wouldn’t want the kids at school to learn that’s how you went down.”

Kay punched Erik. “Ha! School. That’s a good one, Erikssen.”

“What? We
are
going back there, right?”

Artie clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Yes. We are. We’re fighting for a lot of things today, but that’s a big one. In my book, anyway.”

“Sweet,” Erik said. He turned to the lord of Sylvan and, nodding at the sword in Numinae’s hands said, “Keep Excalibur safe, Numinae.”

“I will, Sir Berserker.” And then Numinae repeated the painful-looking trick of pushing the sword—sheath and all—into his leg, leaving the hilt and pommel exposed just above his hip. “Just in case,” Numinae said with a wink.

Artie scanned the yard. “Guys!” he announced, his voice sounding deeper than he ever remembered. The army came to attention. “Dragons!” He yelled into the sky, and all of them stopped cruising and pulled into low-altitude hovers. He thought of all the comics he’d read, all the heavy-handed stories in RPG video games, even a bunch of his favorite books. He was about to give a speech, and it had to be a good one.

“Thanks for coming to Avalon! It’s an honor to have you here. We’ve been through a lot to get to this point. Some of us have been enemies”—he eyed the wolves and dragonflies and war bears—“others have always been friends. Now we will be united in war! Now we have to fight Merlin Ambrosius!”

A general roar of fury at the wizard’s name.

“We will stick to the plan. Expect anything! Numinae and the dragons will attempt to combat Merlin’s magic, but don’t count on it. He is treacherous! If at any time it looks to me like we cannot win, then we must give up so that I can get close to Merlin.” He held up Scarffern. “If I think we have to do this, I’ll blow the whistle three times, and Numinae will send up a green flare—this is the signal of our surrender.” The crowd grumbled. “But don’t think of that now! Think of victory! As long as I live, and as long as I hold this”—he tapped the hilt of the Sword of David that peeked over his shoulder—“we
will
win! Remember, we’re fighting not only to send Merlin packing, but for the fate of both sides of earth. For mine, which needs the clean energy that sangrealite can provide; and for the Otherworld, so that the sangrealite that Merlin has hoarded can be given back to you and your homelands—so that magic will not die! Now! Be ready! It is a good day for victory!” Since he couldn’t draw the sword from his back, he yanked the cutlass, Flixith, from its sheath and shook it overhead.

The knights yelled out, and the soldiers rattled their weapons, and the creatures lowed and growled, and the dragons flapped their wings in support. Kynder and Pammy clung to each other, staring with a mix of pride and worry at Artie and Kay and Qwon. Both of the parents were staying in Tintagel, and it was clear from the looks on their faces that they wished that their kids were, too.

Artie stood high on his toes. “I
said
—IT IS A GOOD DAY FOR VICTORY!”

And the crowd went wild. Artie beamed; his heart filled; his eyes welled. Kay stepped next to him, Cleomede shining in the morning light. “You’ve come a long way, Art.”

“I know.” Together they looked at Kynder.

“I love you,” their father said loudly, tears in his eyes. “Now go get that wizard. Make his evil side pay for what he did to me—for what he did to us all.”

Wales was cold and lashed
with freezing rain. A stiff wind blew in from the sea, taking their breaths away if they faced it. The clouds were low and dark and spun in a vortex whose center was off to the northwest. Artie’s army gathered in a stretch of open field between a footpath and a low ridge of bald, pockmarked rocks. To the south were emerald sections of farmland; to the east the craggy outlook called Carn Llidi. A mile to the west, past a shallow valley and over a thin stream, was the stony peninsula of St. David’s Head. The land between was open and overgrown with purple scrub brush and green-and-brown grass. Lichen-covered rocks of all sizes—from pebbles to rough slabs as big as school buses—were littered everywhere.

It was harsh but also beautiful. Too bad it was going to be marred by battle in about thirty minutes.

Artie took Kay, Numinae, Thumb, Dred, and Lance to an outcropping to survey the field. Tiberius followed, sauntering along on all fours, careful to keep his head and body as low to the ground as possible.

“Specs,” Artie said, lying on his stomach in the grass.

“You talking to me, Your Royalness?” Kay asked.

“Uh, yeah—the binoculars, please.”

Kay rummaged in the backpack. She passed out three pairs of binoculars and kept a fourth pair for herself.

They scanned the countryside. Over Merlin’s field tent were about a hundred dark, winged creatures turning in the air.

“You guys see Merlin?” Kay asked.

Lance shook his head. “Could be in that tent.”

Artie clicked his tongue. “I doubt it. My bet is that whatever nasty army we’re about to go up against is in there. Probably a bunch of hybrid animals that have been snacking on the kids he stole.”

It was a gruesome image that no one wanted to entertain. “Speaking of nasties—what are those things in the sky?” Kay asked.

“I can’t be sure,” Numinae said a little ominously. “But they appear to be—”

“Hmmmph. Questlings. The wizard has made Questlings.”

Kay looked back at Tiberius, whose eyes were darting all around, looking for signs. “I kinda don’t want to ask, but what’s a Questling?”

“The Questing Beast was a mythical creature from the old days, Sir Kay,” Thumb said. “Head of a snake, midsection of a leopard, hind section of a stag.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Kay said.

“None of those animals have wings, though, Tom,” Lance observed.

“No, lad. Merlin must have added them. And it
was
bad, Kay. It was a magical thing that was nearly impossible to take down—or so the rumor went. Not many ever fought the Questing Beast, though many searched for it.”

“Hence the name,” Artie observed, lowering his binoculars.

Before Thumb could respond, Numinae exclaimed, “There!” and pointed across the plain.

The others followed Numinae’s finger, bringing their binoculars back to their faces. It took a few seconds to find what he was pointing at, but then they saw it. Bercilak. He had been divided into two sections, which hung on two tall wooden posts twenty feet apart. The arms of his top half and the legs of his bottom half kicked and whirled in pain or protest.

“Poor Bercy!” Artie said.

“Why would Merlin do that?” Kay demanded.

“Why
wouldn’t
he, Sister Kay?” Dred asked. “He’s part demon, after all.”

“Not for much longer,” Artie said. “It’s time to let Merlin know we’re here.”

They slid back down the embankment and formulated a plan of attack. The wolves, bears, and saber-toothed tigers would make a bowl-shaped formation around the fairies and knights. This central column would be flanked by two dragons—Snoll, the black one, and Chime, the golden one. On the front line would be the dragonflies. They would create cover and confusion on the ground, and try to engage the flying Questlings. “I will ride Tiberius,” Numinae said. “The silver dragon, Darg; the white one, Smila; and the other green, Aquilia, will accompany us. Together we will knock those beasts to the ground, if we can’t kill them outright. We have to use the dragons to take and hold the sky.”

“Agreed. Azur, though, will stand guard at the moongates,” Artie said of the blue dragon. “One sabertooth, two wolves, and a fairy will stay with her. I don’t care if we lose the gates, but we have to watch our butts.”

“What about Merlin? What if he doesn’t show up?” Kay asked.

“This is Merlin’s moment, lass,” Tom said. “He won’t miss it.”

There was a pause before Artie said, “No, Tom. This is
our
moment.”

They nodded confidently and then walked down to the other knights. Qwon looked nervous. Erik jumped back and forth in anticipation, ready to go berserk. Bedevere talked quietly with Shallot. Sami sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes closed, as if in meditation.

Artie drew Flixith. “Knights of the Round Table, listen!” They huddled together, the other animals and soldiers itching for action. Artie put his cutlass in the middle of the circle, and the knights’ weapons instantly joined it. “I’ll say it again: our goal is to win today. But until we know what we’re up against, we won’t know if we can. If we can’t, we surrender and I try to get close to Merlin. Remember, dragons: three blows of Scarffern means surrender. If we
do
have to surrender, then we must make it look convincing. Now:
let’s roll
!”

They raised their swords to the sky and screamed. When the war cry died down, Artie said, “Kay, Tom, Numinae, Lance, Dred—relay the orders.” The knights scattered. As the formation came into shape, Artie turned to Tiberius and said, “Give them a shot.”

“Hmmph. M’pleasure, lord kingling.”

Numinae climbed onto Tiberius, and then the great green dragon darted straight into the sky, disappearing for several moments in the clouds before reappearing a few hundred yards away. He hovered over the plain and let out a spine-tingling roar that sounded like a car crash. Black smoke sprayed from his mouth and resolved into little pebbles that pelted the huge tent. The Questlings were tossed into a frenzy and flapped wildly before drawing into a line over the tent.

The swirling clouds crackled with lightning, which was followed immediately by claps of thunder. “He’s in the clouds, Brother,” Dred shouted.

“No more games!” Artie screamed. “Do you hear me, Merlin? I am the Dragon King! No. More. Games!”

A hearty laugh boomed from the sky above.

The other green dragon, Aquilia; the silver one, Darg; and the white, Smila, shot into the air to join Tiberius. The dragonflies buzzed out of the depression where Artie’s army had gathered, their wings making a noise like a thousand pieces of paper being torn at once. And then Artie’s impressive and motley army moved out. They were over two hundred strong, not counting the seven dragons, which counted as a hundred soldiers or more each. Chime and Snoll marched with the ground forces, keeping the formation tight. Behind the dragonflies, Artie walked at the head of his battalion, a general and a king.

This was it. This was the beginning of the end.

The sounds of the advance
were intoxicating. The snorts and huffs of bears. The howls and whines of dire wolves. The roars of tigers. The march of feet. The swish of clothing. The jangle of armor. The staticky hiss of rain across the field.

Artie smiled, and Kay did too. “This would be really awesome if it wasn’t so freaking scary!” Kay blurted.

“It’s awesome
because
it’s
scary, Kay!” Artie said.

As Artie’s forces covered the first hundred yards, Tiberius and Aquilia took turns spraying the ground with their breaths, creating short walls for cover here and there. Smila and Darg made circles around each other, waiting for something to happen.

And for a little while, nothing did.

But then, as the ground forces crossed a small stream, half of the Questlings burst forward, and as many dragonflies launched up to meet them.

The dragonflies used their powerful mouths to snap off the wings of several Questlings, sending them hurtling to the ground, but the advantage did not hold. Merlin’s strange creatures used the hooves of their hind legs to kick holes in the dragonflies’ exoskeletons, and the claws on their forepaws to tear into the papery wings, and their long snake necks to wrap up the bugs’ abdomens and crush them like fruit. For a time the fight seemed even, but then three of the Questlings did something unexpected. They broke above the melee and began to breathe a white mist over it. The Questlings were immune to whatever this was, but the dragonflies definitely were not. Their very bodies began to disintegrate, falling to the ground in slimy chunks.

Smila and Darg flew in. They were also immune to this mist and they succeeded in taking out several of Merlin’s beasts, either eating them whole or downing them with their breath attacks—a stream of ice and frost from Smila, and one of jagged stones the size of baseballs from Darg—but the majority of the Questlings broke back to their ranks, which still hovered over the tent.

Artie’s army was much closer to Bercilak’s two halves now, and Artie yelled, “Numinae, get Greenie off those posts!”

Tiberius took off, and as he drew close, Numinae rose in the saddle and shot two jolts of green at Bercilak. His lower half hit the ground running, making its way to the upper half, which lay on its back, its fingers twiddling wildly. When the legs reached the torso, they fell over, and Bercilak’s hands grabbed his hips and pulled his body, such as it was, back together. The knights couldn’t see any of this, but they could see a green flash of light in the brush, and then a few seconds later Bercilak was up and running toward them, waving his arms like a madman.

“Is he trying to call us off?” Dred asked.

Artie frowned. “I don’t know.”

Before they could reach Bercilak, though, the Questlings screeched all at once, and the tent flaps flew open. Artie and the knights could see nothing but blackness inside. But then a dozen very large sabertooth/rhinos, like the one they’d fought in the Kingfisher house, bolted out of the tent and ran full tilt down the slope. Three of them had riders, but the animals were so fast, and their stride so violent, that these riders flopped along more like dolls than soldiers.

“Sami, Erik—go and meet them!”

Sami, who rode the largest bear, kicked his animal. It bolted forward at full speed, followed by six more bears. Erik jumped into a frenzy and grabbed the scruff of a large wolf as it took off, leading a pack of five lupines. Together, the wolves and bears broke through the wall of dragonflies, and made headlong for the onrushing sabertooth/rhinos.

“Double time!” Artie commanded, and the whole of his army stepped faster.

“Show yourself, Merlin!” Artie cried to the heavens, but there was still no sign of the wizard.

And then a light flashed on the far side of the plain, up high on St. David’s Head, forcing the knights and creatures to close their eyes momentarily. When they reopened them, the tent was gone, and finally they saw what they were about to tangle with.

It was an army easily four times larger than theirs, organized into tight squares of foot soldiers. In between the lines of pikemen and swordsmen were columns of more sabertooth/rhinos.

“There’re a lot of them, lad!” Thumb said.

“Sure are,” Lance added. “But at least they don’t look that big.”

It was true. It was hard to tell at this distance, but the human part of Merlin’s army didn’t appear to be all that horrifying. The animals and the Questlings certainly were, but the soldiers just . . . weren’t.

It was at this moment that Bercilak came within earshot, yelling, “Sire, sire, sire!”

“Oh no,” Qwon said, as she peered into the mass of people they were about to engage.

“They’re children, sire! The wizard has enslaved an army of children!”

Artie’s heart sank as he raised the binoculars to his face. Bercilak was right. Artie scanned as many faces as he could, and all of them belonged to zombified boys and girls his age or even younger.

“We’re about to face a bunch of
Otherworld
gamers!” he yelped in disbelief.

“You’re joking. That’s an army of Dr Pepper heads?” Kay asked.

“Yes,” Artie said. “Bercy, head to the moongates, near that blue dragon. Help her guard our flank, and find a weapon.”

“Yes, sire. Thank you for coming for me, sire. The wizard is—”

“Don’t mention it. Now go!”

Bercilak took off for the moongates. Artie turned his attention back to the battlefield and saw Sami and Erik fighting the sabertooth/rhinos. Sami jumped from his bear and skidded into the ground, punching two of Merlin’s creatures square in the nose and sending them soaring, their faces crushed. Erik launched from his wolf and flew into an immediate rage, and pieces of tiger and rhino went flying too. The bears and the wolves attacked ravenously. Their teeth flashed and their hides shook as they went about taking down their much larger but slower adversaries. The second skirmish of the day would belong to Artie and his knights.

In the breakaway group of sabertooth/rhinos, Artie could just make out the three riders who he now knew to be children. Their movements were clumsy but harsh as they swung great swords and spears in all directions. Sami disarmed two, and another got caught in Erik’s rage before cartwheeling out of the melee.

“Don’t hurt them!” Artie yelled.

“
What?
” Shallot asked. “How are we supposed to fight?”

“Numinae! Relay the message!” Artie shouted. “These guys cannot be hurt! Anyone who kills or seriously hurts one of these kids will have to answer to me personally! We are responsible for them, do you understand?”

“Yes, sire,” Numinae hollered, and then he and Tiberius moved out to spread the order.

Just then, Merlin’s army let out a war cry and broke into a dead sprint.

“Smash it!” Shallot said in protest.

“The animals, the Questlings, and Merlin are fair game,” Artie shouted. “Immobilize the children, but, I repeat, do not hurt them! They’re just innocent kids!”

“Fairies, come,” Shallot barked, running to Chime and vaulting into the saddle strapped to her neck. “Take the wolves and meet these poor souls. Full-up scentlocks! Nothing moves! All animals die! Go!”

Before Chime could make a break for it, Kay jumped behind Shallot and wrapped an arm around the fairy’s ultra-slim waist. Shallot gave Kay a hard look, but Kay didn’t care.

“Don’t worry, sister. I’m going to stuff my nose good. Scentlock away. Now let’s fight!”

Shallot cooed at Chime, and the golden dragon, which was by far the most beautiful of all the dragons, spread its slender wings and glided into the air.

Qwon and Dred fell in close to Artie and jogged up the incline. Sami and Erik had regrouped with the bears and wolves and ran across the field to meet the others. When Tiberius and Numinae were done informing everyone not to hurt the children, they broke toward the front line, Aquilia joining them. As soon as they got in range, the two green dragons sprayed the kids with their black smoke-rock breath, freezing them in basalt midadvance. These children would be fine. The rock breath didn’t even hurt, and being frozen had the added benefit of protecting the kids from whatever craziness might happen once Merlin showed up. Smila and Darg, their attacks more purely offensive, refused to engage the children at all, and darted forward to meet the Questlings.

The black dragon snorted and reared fifty feet to Artie’s left, plainly eager to join the fight. “Stay with us, Snoll. We’re going to need your strength!”

And then the two armies crashed together.

The sounds of marching and lashing rain and wind were gone, replaced with steel on steel and tooth on tooth and claw on claw. Qwon raised Kusanagi and slapped away sword after sword, knocking several children onto their backs with the blunt end of her katana. When she reached a little clearing in the action, she planted her feet and asked Kusanagi for wind, fierce and howling. The blade blew out and away, and she sprayed the kids and beasts with a gale, disabling scores in one fell swoop.

Dred planted his back against Qwon’s, wielding the Peace Sword to disarm children and slice the legs off as many sabertooth/rhinos as he could.

Lance, riding high on a bear, shot arrow after arrow into the eyes of Merlin’s creatures. Many died; many others were struck blind and sent into furies that set them on their fellow creatures. These were dangerous, as they posed a threat to the children, so Lance finished them off immediately. When he was greeted with lulls in the action, he placed flashbang arrows in the crowd, knocking some of the smaller kids unconscious and diverting animals toward Qwon’s gale or a hovering dragon, which would pick the creatures up and tear them to pieces.

Near Lance, Bedevere and his own saber-toothed tiger fought alongside a pair of Sylvanian she-wolves. Bedevere hadn’t wasted any time activating his phantom arm. He used it freely to punch children this way and that, knocking them out cold on contact. With his real hand he expertly wielded his devastating claymore, slaying any animal that got too close to him. The she-wolves likewise concentrated on the creatures, slicing off noses and biting into necks.

The children, in spite of their zombie state, were decent fighters. It was not easy for the knights to exercise restraint in fending them off, but they tried their best. As for those who suffered an errant blow, or found themselves underfoot of a blind hybrid creature, Tiberius would freeze them in basalt, preserving their lives until the battle was over and they could get help.

After several minutes of frenzied fighting, Lance reached the bottom of this quiver. All he had left was an infinite arrow—which literally had Merlin’s name on it, since Lance had whittled it into the shaft during the muster—and three fireballers. He looked over the battlefield. The fairies had driven a wedge into Merlin’s ranks, leaving whole platoons frozen in strong scentlocks. Chime sprayed any Questling that got too close to her with her glitter breath, and the unlucky monstrosities disintegrated into showers of fairy dust that blew away on the wind. But the Questlings fought back. Around half seemed to possess breath attacks of their own, and these came in many different varieties. There were fire and ice and smoke, as anyone would expect, but also oil and spikes and thorns and shrapnel. Darg and Smila were trying to deal with these, but there were so many Questlings that it was difficult.

At one point, as these two dragons broke into the clouds to regroup, a flock of Questlings giving chase, Lance saw an opportunity. He pulled his bow back and called, “Snoll, light it up!” The black dragon swung its massive feathered head as Lance aimed his fireballer, and let it fly. When the arrow exploded among a group of breath-enabled Questlings, Snoll shot a huge ball of black oil at them. The sky detonated in oranges and yellows and blues. All of the Questlings in this area burned to a crisp, and fell wailing and dying. Several more also caught fire and began to whirl around in a panic, but the rush of air only fed the fire and made their burning worse. Snoll used these as targets for more oil balls, and when they hit, each Questling burst like a winged bomb overhead.

“Lance—there!” Artie yelled. Up the hill a few fairies were engaged with the two largest sabertooth/rhinos, each animal easily as big as a double-size elephant. Lance strung his penultimate fireballer and pulled the bow extra hard. The arrow raced over the field and went into the soft side of one of the creatures, stopping somewhere in its guts. A few seconds passed and then the thing just blew up, sending blood and skin and bone all over the place, and catching the other sabertooth/rhino off guard. This attack provided just enough time for the fairies nearby to gather themselves and finish it off.

After ten minutes of fighting this way—an eternity in close-range, hand-to-hand combat—Artie was able to take a break. He was covered in blood and sweat and grime. His body ached. The graphene shirt had taken more than twenty hits. His nose had been broken along with at least two ribs. “Thumb!” he called. The little man bounced here and there, checking on the well-being of felled children. “Have we won this round?”

Thumb stopped. “Aye, lad. We have.”

There were still about a hundred children farther up the field, but the dragons and fairies had broken their ranks. Qwon’s storm also was doing a lot of work, cutting a wide swath up the middle. Artie realized that Kusanagi was the most powerful of all the Seven Swords, Excalibur incuded. Not only was it simply an awesome sword, but this storm thing was the bomb.

As Artie thought this, Qwon let the storm go. It rose from the ground into the clouds and disappeared. As soon as it was off, she joined Dred to check on the hapless kids, helping those who needed assistance. Merlin’s earthbound creatures, almost to the last, were either dead or maimed. Wails of dying things echoed over the landscape as the dragons picked off whatever was left. Darg, the silver dragon, had suffered a cut on his wing, and he lumbered over the scrub and rocks spraying his breath where it was needed. Chime, too, had a bad gash along the length of her tail, and as she flew overhead, blood trailed from it like fuel leaking from a plane.