The Dragon King (9 page)

“What is
that
?” Bedevere asked.

A billowing cloud in the sky grew from a speck into a large ball. It got bigger and bigger and bigger.

Morgaine rolled onto her back. “You’re right, sire. I
am
defeated. We all are.”

“Kid, is that who I think it is?” Lance asked, readying a handful of arrows.

Artie’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah . . . it’s Merlin.”

A spike of fire shot from
the cloud, scattering Artie and his knights in all directions. But Morgaine couldn’t scatter. The fire hit her directly in the side and drove through her torso. She tried to scream, but no noise came.

Artie ran as fast as he could back to the zombie head he’d cut off. He fought back nausea as he fumbled to get his fingers around the bloodied Scarffern. He pulled the whistle out of the eye socket with a pop and wiped it hurriedly on his jeans. He looked over his shoulder as more flaming spears shot from Merlin’s cloud. These were random, hitting the yard and Castel Deorc Wæters all over the place.

“Artie, over here!” Dred called from the cover of a stone arch. Artie got to his feet and, as he ran, blew Scarffern as hard as he could.

The sensation was odd: it was as if Artie’s tongue had become as narrow as a worm as his breath wound its way through the convoluted passageway within the tube. What a journey! Scarffern seemed to go on and on and on, tumbling this way and that and turning back on itself before emerging from the far end. Perhaps most strangely, the whistle made no sound at all.

He blew and blew and blew, and as he did, nothing happened.

What the heck?
Artie thought.

He had nearly reached Dred when three flaming bolts landed in the earth, blocking his way. He skidded to a halt.

“King!” a voice boomed, as if spoken through a bullhorn.

Artie turned. High above was Merlin. He rode in a tall saddle strapped to the back of a black housefly as big as, well, a house.

“Merlin,” Artie called.

The wizard slapped the fly with his owl-headed cane, and the insect zigged and zagged as it came closer. It stopped and hovered, its wings audibly buzzing, about a hundred feet away.

They were just close enough that Artie could make out Merlin’s face. His eyes had grown even redder. His mouth had turned completely black, teeth included, as if Merlin had been eating mud since their last meeting.

They watched each other like gunslingers in an old western.

A few moments passed before Merlin simply said, “Good-bye, Artie Kingfisher.”

A flurry of fiery spikes shot from Merlin’s hand, headed right for the king.

Excalibur shook and then, as it had before on two critical occasions, time slowed. Artie slid twenty feet to his left, and as soon as he reached relative safety, time ramped back up.

Merlin bellowed, “Two can play at that.”

A shock wave rolled off Merlin. This was Merlin’s own time-slowing spell, and it affected everything but Artie and the wizard.

Artie’s stomach turned as he held up Excalibur.

“Darkness!” Artie ordered. But Merlin reached out a single finger, and the blackness coming off Artie’s sword frittered and fell to the ground like ashes. “Light!” Artie commanded, but the blinding flash he expected sparkled weakly and failed.

Artie was, after everything, really, really scared.

“As I said: good-bye, Artie Kingfisher.” A ball of energy gathered over Merlin and shot forward. The end was coming.

Artie shut his eyes.

But then the sky lit up in oranges and reds, and the sound of an explosion came as Artie’s face grew hot.

He heard a pair of wings cutting the air and looked: flying toward them was a black dragon of Fenland! Its flammable, oily breath had hit Merlin’s bolts and caused them to explode before they could kill Artie.

If this is Scarm’s replacement, shouldn’t it be helping Morgaine?
Artie wondered. Why did it save me?

And then it dawned on him: Wait a minute, what if Scarffern
had
worked? What if, somehow, it had called this dragon to help
him?

Artie watched as Merlin turned his attentions to the dragon, shooting a wild flurry of bolts at Artie’s unexpected ally. The dragon dodged most of them, sliding through the air like a fighter jet, and ignited others with its breath. The black dragon wheeled and momentarily turned its back to Merlin, and the wizard let out a quick strike that clipped the creature and sent it reeling.

Artie fell to his knees. Merlin was too strong.

But then, from the far end of the yard, Kay screamed a name Artie thought he’d never hear again.

“Tiberius!”

Artie craned his neck—there was
another
dragon! He squinted. Was Kay right? Could it be?

And then the black smoky breath they were so familiar with met Merlin’s attack, turning his bolts of fire into small shards of black rock just as they were about to finish off the Fenlandian serpent.

It was! Tiberius! His green iridescent skin, his great horns, his small wings, his rainbow eyes! He snaked through the air toward Merlin, as the black dragon cartwheeled and came to Tiberius’s side. Together these two concentrated their attacks on Merlin, and in seconds Merlin had switched to defense.

Lance emerged from behind a building. “Look!” He pointed away from the action with his bow.

The other knights came out of hiding. A third dragon was arriving!

It zoomed into place and flanked Merlin. His giant fly turned this way and that, confused and frightened. Merlin stood in the saddle, and, just as the three dragons converged on him, he leaped off his mount and disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Another day!” he said, his voice booming through the air. He had escaped, though not his poor fly. The dragons made quick work of it, tearing it to pieces and flinging its chunks to the ground.

The knights jumped up and down, yelling and screaming.

When the dragons were done, Tiberius dived to the ground, a smile on his face. The other two saviors stayed airborne, making sure there weren’t any more wayward wizards who needed to be dealt with.

Tiberius settled in the yard, taking up more than half of it. “Hmmph. Young king. Hello.”

Kay couldn’t help herself. She dropped Cleomede and ran full tilt to Tiberius. She slammed into his scaly neck and dug her fingers into his skin. Tears spilled from her eyes, and Tiberius’s too. A big drop hit the top of her head, soaking her short red hair.

“Hmmmmmmph. Mistress Kay.”

“Oh, Tiberius. How? How are you here?”

“The call wakened me. We dragons are susceptible. Strong’n’ hard otherwise, but weak to the call . . .”

“Scarffern . . . ,” Artie said quietly.

“Hmmmph. The Dragon Horn.”

“The Dragon Horn . . . I thought it was a myth,” Shallot said reverently.

“The words
Dragon Horn
haven’t been spoken in a king’s age, fairy Shallot. Hmmmph. Might as’ll be myth.”

“Can it bring back Fallown?” Shallot asked eagerly.

“Hmmmph. No. I was not quite dead. That is the only reason I am here. Fallown and Scarm—they’re gone.”

There was a brief silence before Lance asked, “What
is
this Dragon Horn?”

“It calls us, archer, and compels us to the king. Anywhere’n’ any time. Breaks bonds. No matter who the dragon calls lord.” Tiberius pointed his tail to the sky. “That black one—Snoll—is in place of dead Scarm. Loyal to the witch, but once Scarffern rings, it must obey. The lords and lordesses of the Otherworld have been served. Now, the dragons serve the king, and the king alone.”

“Cool!” Kay shouted.

“Can they cross over, Tiberius?” Lance asked.

“Hmmmph. In direst need, yes.”

“
Really
cool!” Kay said even louder.

Tiberius smiled. “Yes, mistress Kay.”

Artie turned the whistle in his hand. Such a small thing. In that moment he understood more about the Otherworld than ever before. Fairies and trolls and elves were its people, and sangrealite was its lifeblood, but the dragons were its beating heart.

Control the dragons and you controlled the Otherworld.

Just like Nyneve had said: this was the secret to his power.

“Oh, Tiberius, I’m so glad you’re back,” Kay said, still gushing. Seeing him gave her hope that she would see her father soon, too.

“Me also. Hmmmmph.” He paused. “The wizard has turned.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Artie said.

“And what of Kynder?” A heavy silence fell. Kay shook her head. “Still’s frozen?”

Neither Artie nor Kay could bear to answer. Dred stepped forward. “Yes, master Tiberius.”

Tiberius tilted his head at Artie’s twin. “You are Mordred.”

“Yes. Call me Dred, if you please.”

“Dred. You came and helped the king.”

“I did. He helped me, too.”

“Hmmmph.” Tiberius looked back to Artie. “For Kynder, you’ll be needing the Grail cup.”

Artie nodded and thought, Dragons are always so direct. “That’s right,” Artie said. “Can you help us get it?”

“Hmmmmmmmph.” Tiberius let his head settle onto the ground. “This thing isn’t dragonly. It is for men and the dreams of men.”

And then, from the far end of the yard, Morgaine moaned.

Tiberius looked. “The witch. She is defeated.”

“Yes,” Dred said bitterly.

Artie patted Tiberius. “Come on. Let’s go talk to her before . . .” He led the way, and when he reached the witch knelt next to her.

Dred knelt too. “Mum, why? Why did you betray us?”

“Oh, Mordred,” she said weakly before coughing uncontrollably for a few seconds.

And then, as her body shuddered, Artie did something unexpected. He took her by the hand. “Please, Morgaine. The Grail.”

“I had nothing to show you. It was a trap. Only a trap.”

“So that’s it? You’re just a liar?” Kay barked.

Artie shook his head. “Kay, please. She’s dying.”

Kay shuffled. “Sorry.”

Artie ran a hand over Morgaine’s forehead. “Morgaine, if you want us to beat Merlin, tell me if you know anything about the Grail.”

Morgaine’s pupils narrowed. “Yes. There was a key, shaped like a crown. Like the one you asked after.”

“I have seen the door that key opens. I think it leads to the Grail. I need to find it,” Artie said breathlessly.

“Hmmmph,” Tiberius cooed.

Morgaine then grabbed Dred by the hand and dug her fingernails into his skin. “The Grail! If you get it, please, do not use it on me. Let me die now. I will help you—” Her voice faltered and she fell into coughing again.

Dred, breathing fast, repeated over and over, “Okay, I promise. Okay, I promise.” But she didn’t seem to hear.

Artie stroked her back and she stopped hacking. “If that’s what you want, Morgaine, I swear to honor it.”

“Thanks. I’m old. And tired . . .” She trailed off as her face grew paler. “Yes . . . I did lie before. I knew the crown key, long ago. And it will lead to the Grail. Merlin . . . Merlin . . .” Her head lolled to the side and, though still conscious, she lost her train of thought.

Dred fought back tears. Some love still lived in his heart for the Lordess of Fenland. “Go on, Mum,” he said.

She came back to them and said, “Merlin had it.”

“Where?” Artie asked eagerly.

“I don’t—” The coughing resumed, this time worse. When she was finished, blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. “I borrowed it once . . . a copy. Made copy.”

“What copy?” Artie asked.

“Mordred. Mordred, I . . .”

“Where is it, Morgaine? Tell me, and I promise to defeat Merlin. I have the Dragon Horn.”

“Scarffern?” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

“King!” she said weakly, and finally turned her eyes to Artie. “Forgive . . . please.”

“I will. I do. Now tell me.”

She struggled to breathe as she said, “The copy . . . carved . . . ironwood . . . hidden. Merlin stole the container. He didn’t know what was in it. Couldn’t open it. There was another key. Different. An heirloom. Passed down. I gave it to—” She seized for a moment. Artie squeezed her hand harder. “It opened an obsidian chest. Big. A desk. With legs like . . .” Her eyes rolled into her head.

“Mum!” Dred called.

Artie unslung Excalibur’s scabbard and pressed it into her chest.

“Legs like what?” Kay pleaded.

The knights surrounded Morgaine as her body went limp.

Dred stroked her cheek. “Like what, Mum?”

Her irises spun back into view, one brown, one purple. She was close to passing out. It took every ounce of energy for her to say, “Legs like a horse’s. The key for the door. The door for the king . . .” All color drained from her face and fear flooded her eyes. “Please, my children, my sons . . . Let me be. . . .”

And then she faded.

Artie snagged the scabbard and stood quickly. “Tiberius, stone her.”

“Hmmmph. Are you certain?”

“Yes. We’ll do what she asked, but we can’t leave her like this—Merlin might come back for her body. If you stone her we can bring her to Tintagel and keep her safe.”

They formed a circle around Morgaine. Tiberius lowered his head over the witch and let out a thin stream of smoke. The black basalt unfolded around her waist, moving over her stomach and back.

Dred looked at his mother, full of confusion. “Artie, how are we going to find this chest?”

“Don’t worry, Brother. I know where it is.”

“
What?
” Erik asked.

“The Invisible Tower,” Kay said quietly.

“Yep, the Invisible Tower,” Artie confirmed.

“But I don’t understand, kid,” Lance said. “The Grail was right under Merlin’s nose that whole time?”

“No. But if Morgaine is right, the crown-shaped key was. And that will open the door that will lead us to the Grail. I’m sure of it.”

Tiberius stopped breathing smoke as the witch was finally encased. Artie turned to his dragon. “Tiberius, I invite you to Avalon. Can you get there?”

“Yes, lord king.”

“I invite all of the dragons to Avalon. Can you gather them?”

“Hmmmph. You have blown the Horn. So yes, lord king.”

“Go. Tell Numinae and Tom—they’re in Sylvan. Meet us as soon as you can at Castle Tintagel. Take Morgaine as well, and put her with Kynder. Bercilak will show you where.”

“Yes, lord king.”

Artie looked over his friends. “Knights—time for us to return to lovely Cincinnati, Ohio. To the Invisible Tower. Where all this nuttiness began.”