The Dragon King (4 page)

The canoe’s keel cut into
the sandy shore and stopped. Artie threw the paddle onto the ground and clambered out. He walked to the bow and pulled the red boat clear of the water. Then he stopped and looked over the Lake.

It was a beautiful scene. In a way, the Lake was the source of his power. It was where Excalibur lived, and this Scarffern thing too, whatever it was. He was a little scared to put it to his lips. What could it possibly do that would make Morgaine respect him? Would it weaken her in some way, or bind her, or make her really small, like Thumb was back on Artie’s side?

What
was
its secret?

Artie shrugged. He’d find out eventually.

He watched as a black swan swooped in the distance and slid onto the water. He stuck his hands in his pockets and pushed down, locking his elbows. “Thank you, Nyneve.”

“Don’t thank her yet, my boy.”

Artie wheeled. Could it be? “Merlin?”

“Yes, child.”

Artie’s palms clammed up. Fear grabbed his stomach and wouldn’t let go. Here he was, exposed—no sword, no friends, no magic—against Merlin, the greatest (and now craziest) wizard ever.

Artie couldn’t show his fear. He swallowed hard and forced his voice to be steady, saying defiantly, “Don’t call me ‘child,’ wizard.”

It was hard not to be afraid, though. Merlin had changed. Artie was nearly mesmerized by the metamorphosis: Merlin’s dark skin, the red eyes, the vitriol rising off his shoulders like steam. It was as if his demon half had merely been waiting to reveal itself.

Merlin smiled. His teeth, white as puffy clouds, stood out against his charcoal gums and lips. “Where is Excalibur? You should not be traipsing around without it.”

Artie fought his fear again and latched on to the next available emotion. This was anger, laced with impatience. He was the king now, and Merlin, in spite of his power, was being impertinent.

And then Artie realized
exactly
what he was feeling. Hate. He would have to be careful that it didn’t betray him.

“Is that a threat?” Artie asked, trying to feature his impatience over naked ire.

Merlin shrugged and said menacingly, “It is a fact, young king.”

Artie raised his eyebrows. “Excalibur’s in Avalon.” He shifted his eyes to the moongate. “Go and fetch it for me if you’re so concerned about my safety.”

Merlin laughed. “Is that an invitation, boy?”

“No.” Both of them knew that the only way for anyone outside of Artie’s group of knights to get to Avalon was to be invited by the king himself. “I wouldn’t invite you there in your wildest dreams.”

Merlin tut-tutted and said, “I thought not.”

“Merlin, what do you want?” Artie demanded.

“What I’ve always wanted. To punish Morgaine for imprisoning me.”

“But you also want Excalibur.”

Merlin cocked his head. “Nyneve told you things, did she? Meddlesome things?”

“Maybe.” The impatience grew in Artie, and his fear subsided. He liked the way he felt. He liked that Merlin was talking to him as an equal.

“Did Nyneve say that the sword wants something from me, perhaps?”

“You could say that.”

Merlin drew a few feet closer, and Artie felt the heat pulsing from the wizard’s body. Melrin’s eyes burned like embers. “Don’t toy with me, Artie Kingfisher. I made you; you owe me the truth.”

Artie spat on the ground. Suddenly, his nerves were gone. The power of the Otherworld ran through his feet and into his body. He might need Excalibur to defeat Merlin but not to stand up to him. “Uh, technically, Morgaine made me. And I don’t ‘owe’ you squat, Merlin. In fact, I think you’re the one who owes me. . . . You
definitely
owe Kynder.”

Merlin’s body shook with rage. “Pshaw! Enough.” He raised his cane. “I should kill you now.”

Calmly, Artie took a slow step toward the moongate. “So you
are
threatening me.”

“Apparently.”

It was time for Artie to leave. This fight would have to happen another day. And Artie thought he’d just figured out a way to make sure that it did. “You know what, Merlin? You probably should kill me. But if you do, you’ll have a major problem on your hands. Which is that you’ll
never
get Excalibur. It will stay in Avalon, since no one but me has the authority to invite you there. You’d have to go through this whole exercise again, engineer another king and everything, just to see the sword.”

Merlin snapped his wooden cane, carved with the head of an owl, to his side in annoyance.

He doesn’t know!
Artie realized. He doesn’t know that I am the one who has to strike him down.

Artie smelled a small advantage, but he didn’t want to get cocky so he changed the subject. “Nyneve told me you were half demon. Is that true?”

“Nyneve! That watery tart. She should mind her own business.”

“As guardian of Excalibur, this
is
her business.”

Disgusted, Merlin didn’t say anything.

Artie chanced another step toward the gate, pushing the toes of one of his feet under the discarded paddle lying on the sandy shore.

Fifteen feet lay between Artie and the portal. The wind picked up and Artie’s hair pushed off to the side. “Honestly, Merlin, I’d rather not argue with you,” he said, trying to sound less confrontational. “I sure as heck don’t want to fight you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m
really
pissed about what you did to Kynder, but if I thought you’d leave me alone, I’d be happy to let you have it out with Morgaine, regardless of what Excalibur wants.”

Merlin scowled. “I don’t believe you. Why would you let me be? Surely there must be a price?”

“Well, now that you mention it . . . do you know anything about a crown-shaped key?”

Artie knew this was a great risk, but he wanted to see Merlin’s reaction. Maybe the wizard had a copy, or maybe he knew where the door hidden in the King’s Gate led. Maybe he would slip up and reveal something unexpected.

Instead, Merlin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t just look bad, he looked wicked. “What key is this?”

A brisk wind blew off the water and Artie trembled. “For a door I saw in a dream.”

“Imagine that.” The wizard straightened, his eyes opening wide. “No, I don’t know about a key, sputtering kingling.”

“Disguising lies with insults is bush league, Merlin.” Artie risked picking up the paddle, holding it like a staff. He took two methodical steps toward the moongate. “I’ll be leaving now, if you don’t mind.”

Merlin didn’t move. “Actually, I do.”

Fear returned as the hairs on Artie’s neck raised. Maybe he’d messed up. Maybe Merlin
did
know that Artie was the only one who could kill him. “What happened to you, Merlin?”

It was a genuine question—not one that was asked to gain position, hide a fact, or glean a weakness. Artie truly just wanted to know.

And Merlin seemed content to answer. “Freedom, Artie. Liberty has wakened my darker tendencies. These, combined with the wits of my human side, have made me what I am to the core.”

“And that is . . . ?”

Merlin looked as if the answer was obvious. “Why, the greatest wizard the world has ever known!”

Artie shook his head vehemently. “You’ll never be that. I don’t understand it. You were a cool old dude back at the Invisible Tower. But now . . .”

Merlin started to chuckle, and this grew to a full-throated laugh. He craned his head toward the sky. Artie slid closer to the moongate—one more step to escape—but then Merlin went quiet. Quickly, he flew in front of Artie, blocking his escape.

Artie raised the paddle defensively as a bolt flew from the eyes of the owl carved on top of Merlin’s cane. It hit Artie squarely in the chest, lifting him off his feet. He sailed through the air and landed hard in the bottom of the canoe.

But Artie was alive, saved by the filthy armor he still wore, including one of Merlin’s impenetrable graphene shirts. He writhed and coughed. He thrust his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around Scarffern, pulling it out before Merlin was on him. Should Artie blow it? What else could he do? Merlin wouldn’t be so careless the next time. The next shot would be directed at his head, which was completely unprotected.

Merlin drifted over the bow of the boat. “Ah, I’d forgotten about all of your protective gear.”

The wind screamed. Artie brought his fist just over his mouth, reflexively covering another coughing fit. He was ready to blow Scarffern. Nyneve might not be happy, but he didn’t seem to have a choice.

But then, just as Artie prepared to blow, a massive, ocean-size wave crested over the stern of the beached canoe. Nyneve’s blue-green glow was plainly evident in the wave’s leading edge, her hair tossed in the foam and her dark eyes bearing hard on the wizard. The wall of water was at least thirty feet tall and it crashed down at once. Artie crooked an arm around the boat’s yoke and held on tight. As the boat spun and jerked on the water, Artie slipped, and the whistle came out of his hand and rattled into the bottom of the canoe.

He frantically searched all around but could not find the mysterious whistle.

As Artie searched, Merlin sloughed off water and gathered himself. “Nyneve!” he screamed in anger.

On cue the sprite rose from the water. She no longer looked like a child. She now appeared as a woman in the prime of life. Her muscles were sinewy and powerful, her face determined.

A crackling sound like a barn on fire erupted from the shore as Merlin encased himself in a ward of flames, burning the ancient chestnut tree in many places, singeing the ground and causing the water’s edge to boil and steam. Nyneve cried out in pain. Merlin laughed.

“Hold on tight, my king,” Nyneve exclaimed. She let out a warbling cry, and Artie could hear something on the other side of the Lake awaken and take to the sky.

The water beneath the boat churned, and before Artie knew it the canoe was rising on top of another wave. Merlin’s flames burned in a rainbow of colors, and the chestnut tree popped and hissed. The canoe was aimed straight at the moongate. Artie crossed his fingers, hoping the wave would push him through it to safety.

The boat hurtled toward its target, but Merlin floated in front of it and blocked the way once more.

Artie wasn’t going to make it.

Just then the sky darkened. Artie’s heart lifted as the old wizard’s face went blank. Bearing down on him was a huge flock of passenger pigeons, arranged in the shape of an arrow.

“Now!” Nyneve cried. Merlin raised his hands, and thousands of birds shot down like darts. They plowed into him, pecking his body all over, and threw him clear of the moongate.

Then Nyneve’s wave catapulted forward and launched the canoe. Artie held on. The Lady of the Lake receded into the water as the pigeons spun in the air like a great school of fish and shot over the burning chestnut tree. Artie shut his eyes at the last moment, Merlin screaming, “Go home! See what you have wrought! See what gift I have left in your precious Shadyside!”

The canoe flew through the
air and landed loudly, scraping along and finally coming to a stop. Artie opened his eyes and crawled desperately around the bottom of the boat, looking for the little whistle, but it was nowhere to be found.

He sat up, a knot tying his stomach. He was in the Royal Chamber, the canoe resting on top of the Round Table. No one else was there. He could still smell the remnants of the food from the meal his friends must have eaten while he was gone, but they had all cleared out.

He slapped his forehead. I’m such a klutz! he thought. How could I lose the most powerful thing in all the worlds?

“Artie, is that you?” His heart lifted as Qwon called from behind him. “Guys, guys! It’s Artie! He’s back!”

He turned. Qwon jumped onto the Round Table and ran across it, her cheeks lifted in a smile. But before she reached him she stopped short, bent, and picked something up. She held a long silver tube. “Artie, did you—”

“Omigod, Qwon! You found it!”

She resumed walking toward him, a puzzled look on her face.

“I thought I lost it.”

Qwon handed Scarffern to Artie, who stuffed it deep into one of his pockets. “What is it?”

“Not sure exactly. I’ll tell you what I know later. Just don’t tell the others, all right? Not yet?”

Qwon shrugged. “Whatever you say, Artie.” Then she held out her arms and they hugged. Artie lost his balance, since he was still standing in the boat, and he awkwardly leaned on Qwon. She kept him from falling over and helped him onto surer footing.

“I’m glad you’re back. We were starting to get worried. We didn’t know where that portal had taken you. It
was
the King’s Gate, right?”

“Yeah, it was crazy.” They walked over the table toward the throne. “How long was I gone?”

“Just a couple hours.”

“Where’re the others?”

“They’re here. Kay was really worried about you, so she started bossing everyone around.”

“Ha. Maybe she should be the king. . . .”

They reached the edge of the table and jumped to the floor. “Naw. You’re better at it. Oh, the Green Knight dude and the kid with one arm and a prosthetic leg are here, too.”

Bercilak and Bedevere.
“Great. We’re all together. Let’s go. I got things I need to tell you guys.”

Together, he and Qwon went to the others, and there was much rejoicing.

The knights reassembled in the Royal Chamber, now joined by Bercilak and the too-long-absent Bedevere. Numinae was back as well, and Lance was up and at ’em enough to sit in his chair—the one situated before the banner of none other than Sir Lancelot. Sami, however, had left. Kay had taken a moongate coin out of the infinite backpack—the same coins they had used to gate around before Artie had mastered Excalibur’s pommel stone—and opened a portal back to Sweden.

“He missed his camp too much,” Erik said.

Artie understood perfectly. “Will he come back if we need him?”

“Yep, all we have to do is ask,” Erik answered with a grin.

That made Artie feel better. Everyone sat and Artie told them about the trip through the void, going underwater to talk with Nyneve, and confronting Merlin. Bercilak broke out a twelve-pack of ice-cold Mountain Dews, and the knights enjoyed some well-earned soda pop as Artie broke the news that if they wanted more info on the Grail, they’d have to pay a visit to Morgaine. This was not a popular idea. Artie also described Merlin’s appearance. “He’s definitely gone over to the dark side. Very Darth Vader. Creepy.” He took a sip from a frosty can and sighed.

“It’s the sangrealite,” Thumb said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story, lad, but the gist is that Merlin rubs liquid sangrealite on his skin.”

Bedevere, Numinae, and Bercilak gasped as Shallot exclaimed, “
Liquid
sangrealite? But no one knows how to liquefy sangrealite. It is ancient knowledge, forgotten, impossible.”

Thumb shook his head. “Not for Merlin. It nearly drove him mad figuring it out, but he did. He had a small key of pure sangrealite at the Invisible Tower, and he changed it, like an alchemist, into a dark tincture. That’s where all the tattoos came from. That’s why no one but people and creatures from the Otherworld could see them.”

“But I could see them,” Kay said.

“That is because you’re special, lass. Surely you know that by now.”

Kay looked down, trying not to let the others see that she was blushing. She loved Tom Thumb, even if he was a shrimp, and it was a nice thing to hear.

“Anyway,” Thumb continued, “Merlin ran out of the stuff when he sent the three of us to retrieve Excalibur from the Lake. Now he must have more. Much more. It is what makes him so powerful—but it also corrupts him.”

“As if being half demon weren’t enough,” Qwon observed.

Kay rolled her eyes. “Seriously.”

Dred clapped his hands. “It’s the sangrealite he stole from Fenland, isn’t it? That’s what he’s using now?”

“I’d wager, lad,” Thumb said.

Lance leaned forward, his blue eyes bright and clear. “Where does he keep it, Tom? Where’s he holed up?”

Thumb shook his head. “I knew once, but I’ve forgotten—although I’m certain it was on your side, sire.”

“My side?”

“Yes. It wouldn’t be safe for him anywhere in the Otherworld—not with you as the king and Morgaine still trying to figure out where he is.”

“C’mon, Tommy. Try to remember!” Kay pleaded.

But Thumb shook his head. “I don’t know. . . . I’m sorry. It’s like a hole in my memory. . . .”

“A hole the wizard put there, no doubt,” Bedevere said, the thick scar drawn over his cheek wrinkling as he spoke.

“No doubt,” Thumb confirmed.

Artie clapped his hands. “Well, on that point maybe I have some good news. The last thing Merlin said at the Lake was, ‘Go home! See what you have wrought! See what gift I have left in your precious Shadyside!’”

“Could be a trap,” Qwon said.

“Yes, it sounds squirrelly, sire,” Bercilak added, his giant suit of green armor clattering.

“Maybe—but what choice do we have? If Merlin left something there—anything—maybe it’ll have some clue that will help us track him down.”

“Makes sense to me,” Shallot said. “But there is no way you will convince me to visit your side, sire. I’m sorry. I am a fairy, and I belong in the Otherworld.”

“That’s all right, Shallot. Believe me, half the time I don’t think I belong over here.”

“You’re doing fine, sire,” Shallot said with a wry smile.

Artie shrugged. “Thanks. But who
does
want to pay a visit to the old crib?”

“I do,” Erik said eagerly.

“I’ll go with you,” Bedevere said. “It may sound crazy, but the only thing I hate about my injuries is that they’ve kept me out of the mix. You’re stuck with me, sire. I don’t plan on missing any more action.”

“I should probably stay here, kiddos.” Lance looked wistfully at his still-healing leg. “Numinae says I’ll be back in shooting form in a couple days, but at the moment I’m plowed. Speaking of shooting—while you’re there can you grab my spare bow? It’s in the trunk of my cab, which I left parked in your driveway.”

“You got it, Lance,” Artie said.

Kay stood. “You know I’m in, Bro. A shower in our bathroom sounds like winning the lottery at this point.”

“Ditto,” Artie said.

“Yeah, you do kind of reek, Artie,” Erik observed.

There was a pause, then Qwon said quietly, “I’d like to go home too, Artie.”

They fell silent as Artie looked at Qwon. Of course she wanted to go home! Hadn’t that been what he’d wanted too until this whole Avalon whirlwind? “I know. I promised your mom I’d bring you back, and I will.” He looked from knight to knight. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Bercilak shot his arm into the air. “Ooh, sire! Can I come too?”

Lance turned to the Green Knight. “Uh, I’m not sure that’d be such a hot idea. A walking, talking, empty suit of plate mail isn’t exactly
normal
, sorry to say.”

Bercilak lowered his hand tentatively. “But . . .”

“He’s right, Bercy. Let us check it out first,” Kay said. “Then we’ll bring you over for a nice meal of Mountain Dew and Big Macs. Real American junk food. You’ll love it.”

Bercilak shook off his disappointment and said, “I’ve waited this long, what’s a little longer?”

“That’s the spirit,” Kay said.

Artie turned to Dred. “What about you?”

Dred beamed. “Of course I want to come to your side! You
are
my brother.”

“While you’re in Shadyside, I’ll go to the Library,” Numinae said, “and do some of my own research on the Grail.”

Thumb jerked his head. “I’ll join you, mate.”

“Splendid.”

Kay clapped, “Well, let’s do this!”

Artie pulled Excalibur from his scabbard and led them to the yard and, finally, back to Shadyside.

Artie opened a moongate that deposited them smack in the middle of the Kingfishers’ backyard, and he, Kay, Dred, Qwon, Bedevere, and Erik crossed over. It was a dark night in Pennsylvania—no moon, no stars. Barely visible over their fence’s edge, a streetlamp flickered weakly, as if the bulb was dying.

Artie drew a breath through his nostrils. The air was crisp and fresh, but also tinged with an acrid waft of garbage. It must be pickup day tomorrow, he thought. People here were going about their daily lives.

He didn’t say it, but he was jealous. He wanted a daily life, too. One that wasn’t so dang nuts.

He looked to his house. “Well, here we are. Castle Kingfisher.”

“What time is it?” Kay asked.

Qwon illuminated the face of her pink digital watch. “Two seventeen a.m.”

Dred spun in a circle. He took in the tall trees of the suburbs, the Kingfishers’ nice but modest home, the large yard, and Kynder’s neglected vegetable garden. “It doesn’t look
that
much different from the Otherworld.”

“It is,” Bedevere assured him. “Cars, planes, too many people. Food is better though. And they have this thing called TV, which is like a sangrealitic picture machine. It’s pretty—what do you say, Kay?—dope.”

“Sure is, Bedevere. We’ll make a regular teenager out of you yet.” Kay shivered. “But let’s go inside. It’s
chilly
.”

Kay kicked along the grass toward the patio, fallen leaves crunching underfoot. The others followed; Artie and Dred brought up the rear. As Kay crossed the deck, Dred stopped and put a hand on Artie’s arm.

Artie stopped too. “What is it?”

“Artie, if we have to go to Castel Deorc Wæters to see Morgaine, you should know that the place we were born is . . . well, it’s pretty messed up.”

Artie frowned. “More messed up than riding a dragon, or being dragged underwater to chat with an aquatic fairy, or fighting an army of dudes on bears?”

Dred smiled. “Maybe not. But the experiments Morgaine did to make us . . . they’re pretty gruesome.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dred. It takes a lot to surprise me these days.”

Kay opened the back door with a key from under the mat, and she and the others went inside. From the corner of his eye Artie noticed the light in the kitchen go on, and then the one in the den.

Dred continued, “The lab where we were made is horrible. Full of these glass canisters with
things
in them. Dead things. Babies, kids, and men who look just like you and me except that they’re missing limbs, or they have no eyes, or their skin is turned inside out.” Dred thought for a second. “I guess those ones don’t look anything like us.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. I just thought you should be prepared. I sure wasn’t. If someone could have warned me, I would have appreciated it.”

“I do. Thanks, Dred.”

“No prob—”

They were interrupted by a scream. Artie felt Dred’s nerves jostle, and vice versa. The brothers drew their swords and rushed headlong from the dark into the Kingfisher house, and toward trouble.