The Dragon King Read online

  He blushed a little, and the Lady gave him a comforting smile.

  “Not perfectly, but I can comprehend the direction of them.”

  Artie’s thoughts swung helplessly to Kynder and Kay and all of his friends. Then he thought: I need the Grail, Nyneve. I need the Grail to save my dad.

  “Yes, I will tell you about the Grail in good time. But first I must warn you of the wizard.”

  Merlin?

  “There is a thing you must know about him, Arthur.” She paused and retreated a little on the currents. “The sword wants him dead.”

  Artie knew it was crazy to think that a sword could want something, but this was Excalibur they were talking about—and Excalibur was anything but a typical sword.

  I kind of want him dead too, Artie admitted halfheartedly. Merlin had given Artie strength and self-confidence and even purpose, which was a tall order for a twelve-year-old boy. But he’d also taken a lot from Artie. He’d lied throughout this whole thing, and he’d practically killed Kynder. The thought of that alone filled Artie with rage.

  Nyneve smiled. Her teeth were as white as pearls. Her eyes twinkled with something between satisfaction and desire. “Good that you wish him dead too, for the only hand that can wield Excalibur in slaying the wizard belongs to you. Arthur, you alone must strike down Merlin Ambrosius with Excalibur!”

  Artie’s body shook. He’d seen what Merlin could do in battle; Artie did not dig the idea of fighting Merlin up close and personal. He wondered, Why me?

  But he knew the answer.

  “You are the king,” she said matter-of-factly. “Pray, Arthur, has Numinae told you of Merlin’s soul?”

  Artie frowned. Huh?

  “It is part demon. This, in sum, is why the firebrand wishes him dead.”

  A demon! Artie thought, his head spinning. Really? If true, that could explain a heck of a lot.

  “It is true. Confronting the wizard will be unavoidable, Arthur. Excalibur is risen for this purpose. Do you understand?”

  Artie nodded unenthusiastically. Yeah. I get it. Me versus a sorcerer. A sorcerer who, not that long ago, I looked up to. . . .

  Great.

  He shook his head and thought, But the Grail . . .

  Nyneve held out both hands. “If you must have the Grail, start with the witch. She knows things I do not.”

  What? Artie had just defeated Morgaine—now he had to ask her for help?

  Nyneve didn’t offer an answer. “The magic sustaining you is weakening, sire. Before you leave, I ask you to receive a gift. The king of the Otherworld is due one last tool. This is exceedingly powerful, one of the most potent items the worlds have ever seen. Few know of it. Arthur the First possessed it, and in all his years never found occasion to use it. Wait here.”

  Where else would I go? Artie wondered.

  Nyneve drifted away. As her glimmering body drew closer to the wall, it revealed a cutout in the stone. It was lined with a silvery metal, throwing Nyneve’s luminescence in all directions. She reached in and worked out a small something that Artie couldn’t see.

  She returned, her hands cupped together. In them was a thin metal tube, no longer or wider than a finger.

  “This is Scarffern.”

  Artie looked at it dubiously. That was one of the most powerful things ever? What was he supposed to do with it?

  “Blow it, sire. You must discover its spell for yourself. Excalibur is the symbol of your power, Arthur Pendragon the Second, and it is a swift and cunning blade. But Scarffern is the secret of your power. Properly wielded, Scarffern will make the lords and lordesses of the Otherworld respect you, even if they despise you.”

  Morgaine, Artie thought.

  “Yes, sire.”

  Artie held out his hand, and Nyneve dropped the little tube into it.

  “Keep it safe.”

  Artie looked into Nyneve’s eyes. Thanks, Nyneve, for watching over this. Excalibur too.

  “It is my duty, my liege. Now, our time is up. Since you haven’t Excalibur with you, I’ve opened a moongate by the chestnut tree. It will return you to Tintagel.”

  In that instant Nyneve disappeared and the grotto went completely dark. And then Artie started to rise—fast. He clenched Scarffern in his fist as the water rushed around his body. As he rose, he found that he could no longer breathe. His heart quickened, his chest tightened, and within ten seconds he broke above the surface like a submarine blowing out its bellows.

  Red-faced, Artie gasped and got control of himself.

  He was treading water in the middle of the Lake, close to the buoy he’d visited with Kay and Thumb back when they were first there to get Excalibur. Moored to the buoy was the red canoe.

  Artie swam to the boat. He climbed in and collapsed, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts. He stared up at the Otherworld sky. Every now and then a pigeon flew by. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the angular silhouette of a red-tufted jaybird—one of those Fenlandian creatures loyal to Morgaine—as well.

  The sun was fading and the air was starting to cool. He was still wet. He needed to get back to the castle.

  He pushed the mysterious Scarffern into a front pocket of his jeans. He untied the canoe’s line, positioned himself in the rear seat, and began to paddle. He easily sighted the chestnut tree and navigated toward it.

  He paddled hard, and it felt good. His heart rate rose, his chest warmed. Sweat gleamed on his forehead. As the boat glided through the water, he watched the shore grow closer and closer. Then he caught sight of the shimmering light of a moongate. He was nearly there. He was nearly back with his friends.

  But what Artie didn’t know was that just above the moongate, perched on a large branch, was his old friend and new enemy, the wizard Merlin.

  5

  IN WHICH MERLIN GETS HEATED

  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.
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br />   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!”

  6

  HOW ARTIE AND HIS KNIGHTS PLAN TO GET THEIR QUEST ON

  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?”