by Mari Mancusi
Sophie scrambled to her feet. “No, it’s not a dream,” she told him. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be in such pain right now if it were.” She turned to examine her grass-stained back. “So help me if I get bruises…”
Stu let out a breath. “Right,” he replied. “Of course. It’s just…well…” He scratched his head, looking around. “If this isn’t a dream then where on earth are we?” he asked. “And why are you wearing that”—gorgeous, beautiful—“weird dress?”
Sophie busied herself brushing off the dress in question and for a moment Stu didn’t think she was planning on answering him at all. Then she looked up, her expression gone from angry to nervous. Stu bit his lower lip, more than a little worried as to what she was about to say.
“Okay, brace yourself,” she began. “’Cause this is going to sound super crazy. But I know you’ve read all the Harry Potter books and everything. Not to mention your ongoing obsession with the Doctor. It’s obvious you want to believe—”
“Believe what?” he interrupted. “Sophie, what are you trying to tell me? Where are we?”
“The question isn’t exactly where,” she said quietly. “It’s more like…when.”
He stared at her. “What?”
“We’re back in time,” she blurted out. “To the days of King Arthur. Well, technically right before the days of King Arthur. In fact today’s the day he’s supposed to pull the sword from the stone and become king of England. Just like in our videogame.”
Stu stared at her, unable to speak.
She continued. “You know that Camelot Code Melvin IMed you? It’s actually a time-travel spell. Merlin set it up. Merlin, who, by the way, is actually Melvin from Camelot’s Honor. Turns out, we’ve been playing videogames with the guy for, like, the last three years.”
“Oh come on, Sophie,” Stu exclaimed, finally finding his voice. “Do you think I was born yesterday?” He scanned the woods for some kind of hidden camera set up in the bushes. Something—anything—to prove what she was saying was all just some stupid joke. ’Cause it had to be, right? There was no way that they’d gone back in time.
“You’d better not be planning to put this on YouTube,” he warned. “Or I’m so uploading that one I have of you in that Pokémon costume.”
Sophie let out a frustrated breath but didn’t reply. Instead she glanced up into one of the oak trees above her. “See, I told you he wouldn’t buy it,” she shouted up at the branch. “You’d better come down now and tell him yourself.”
Stu watched in amazement as, a moment later, a large spotted owl floated down from the branch Sophie had been addressing and settled on her shoulder.
“Who?” the owl said to him, large yellow eyes drilling into Stu.
“Um, Stu?” he replied, realizing too late that he was, in fact, introducing himself to a large bird.
“He knows who you are,” Sophie said impatiently. “Come on, Merlin, transform already. We don’t have much time, remember? And besides, your claws are totally digging into my shoulders.”
Stu blinked as the scenery around him suddenly exploded in a puff of smoke. When the air cleared, the owl was gone, and, to Stu’s amazement, in its place stood an elderly man with a long white beard and blue robe, leaning on a gnarled wooden cane.
His jaw dropped open.
Merlin. A real-life Merlin.
So Sophie hadn’t been messing with him. It was all Stu could do not to fall over backwards. “Hey, Lord Vanquish,” the wrinkled sorcerer greeted him with a toothy grin. “It’s good to meet you in real life at last. I’m Merlin,” he said, holding out a hand. “Though you might better know me as Melvin-Oh-One, your super leet healer from Camelot’s Honor.”
“Uh…” Stu stammered, still staring bug-eyed at the medieval magician. “Uh…” He had no idea how to respond.
Merlin dropped his hand. “He’s much more eloquent in videogame chat, isn’t he?” he remarked casually to Sophie.
Sophie looked at Stu. “Well, you’ve got to admit, it is a lot to take in. I pretty much had the vocab of a two-year-old when Arthur showed up to my prison cell as a bird earlier today.”
“True.” Merlin turned back to Stu. “Sorry about the whole Camelot Code pretense,” he apologized. “It’s just that…well, as Sophie said, time grows short and I had to ensure you’d come.”
“Come?” Stu repeated. He couldn’t be more lost if he tried. “Come for what?”
Merlin ran a wrinkled hand through his shock of white hair. “Well, you know that sword in the stone quest you wanted me to run your character through?” he asked. “What if we…well…what if we did a real-life run-through? It won’t level you, of course. But it would definitely save my life. Not to mention the future of the world.”
Stu listened, wide-eyed as Merlin explained the situation they were in. The missing scabbard, along with a missing Arthur.
“So let me get this straight,” he interrupted when Merlin paused for breath. “King Arthur—the once and future king—is wandering around somewhere in the twenty-first century. Maybe even at our school?”
Sophie nodded. “Which means Merlin doesn’t have anyone to pull the sword from the stone this afternoon,” she explained. “And if the sword doesn’t get pulled and Arthur doesn’t get crowned king, we’re all in for some really bad, life-changing, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it type stuff.”
“The future could spiral into an alternative reality of unknown evil,” Merlin added gloomily.
“Yeah, I’ve seen Back to the Future,” Stu said impatiently. “What I don’t get is what any of this has to do with me. Why did you bring me here?”
Sophie dropped her gaze, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. It was a look Stu knew all too well. “Come on, Soph,” he said. “Spill.”
She gave him a sheepish look. “We want you to be King Arthur.”
Stu stared at her. Speechless.
“I mean, just temporarily,” she added hastily. “You know, until I can go back to the future and convince the real King Arthur to go home. Which I’d do, ASAP. You’d probably only have to be king like for a day…or two.”
“But why me?” Stu asked. “Surely there’s got to be someone already here in the middle ages interested in this kind of gig.”
“I would imagine so,” Merlin agreed. “But I cannot trust them as I can you. They may have their own political ambitions. Refuse to give up the throne once Arthur returns. And who knows how they’d use their power? Perhaps they would declare war on the neighboring kingdoms instead of uniting them in peace as Arthur is meant to do. They could wind up changing history forever.”
“Not to mention, you know more about the whole Arthurian legend and Camelot than anyone here,” Sophie chimed in helpfully.
While Stu appreciated her confidence, he wasn’t sure in this case it was exactly warranted. “All I know about medieval England I’ve learned from a freaking videogame,” he reminded her, panic fluttering in his chest. He looked around the clearing, still overwhelmed at just being here. “This is…real life.”
Sophie’s eager face fell. He’d disappointed her. Great.
“To be honest, I thought you’d be kind of psyched,” she confessed. “I mean, it’s not every day that you get to play the part of a living legend. That’s cool, right?”
“That’s one word for it…”
Merlin grabbed his arm. “Come here, my boy,” the magician commanded. “Let’s talk man to man.” He turned to Sophie. “Excuse us, my dear.”
Stu allowed the sorcerer to lead him to the other end of the clearing. Once they were out of Sophie’s earshot, Merlin grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Merlin asked incredulously. “This is your big chance and you’re completely blowing it.”
“Huh?” Stu squinted at him. “What do you mean?”
The magician released him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Think about it for a moment. You have a chance to become a real life hero here. To become
King Arthur in the flesh. Imagine how impressed she’ll be when you pull that off.”
“Um, who will be impressed?” Stu stammered. He stole a glance at Sophie. Was he that obvious?
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t even try to pretend with me, boy,” he admonished. “It’s clear you’re in love with the girl.” He snorted. “Well, clear to an old man like me, anyway. Don’t worry. I think she’s still in the dark.”
Stu let out a sigh of relief. That was something, at least.
“Okay, let’s hypothetically say I might possibly want to consider impressing someone,” he rationalized. “What if I end up failing? Falling flat on my face. Screwing it all up. Then she’s going to think I’m an even bigger loser than she probably does already.”
“First of all, she’ll admire you for trying,” Merlin assured him. “For putting yourself out there and risking it all. That’s what heroes do. And second of all,” he added, “you won’t fail. I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. I’ll make you look like a medieval rock star, I promise.”
“Of course you will.” The guy had obviously thought of everything.
“Look, like Sophie said, it’s only for a day or two,” Merlin reminded him. “Then Arthur will be back. And who knows, you might even like it. It'll be just like living in your own personal videogame.”
Stu considered this; he had to admit, it definitely did seem like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Stepping into the shoes of a legend, seeing medieval England with his own eyes. Sitting on a throne, commanding subjects and servants who would have no choice but to bow to his will…
Then again, what if something went wrong? What if there was a battle and he got wounded? And his wound got infected? He was pretty sure penicillin had not yet been invented.
He shook his head. Get a grip, Stu. No wonder Sophie didn’t see him as boyfriend material. He was a complete and utter wimp. He glanced over at his dream girl, who was standing on the other end of the clearing, watching them intently, wringing her hands. She caught him looking, capturing his eyes with her own wide blue ones and not letting go.
Help me, Stuart, she seemed to beg with those beautiful eyes. You’re my only hope.How could he refuse?
Stuart swallowed hard and squared his shoulders, resigning himself to his fate. “Well, then what are we waiting for?” he said, turning back to Merlin. “Let’s go get that sword out of the stone.”
Chapter 14
“Get out of the road, you idiot!”
Arthur leapt back, horrified, as a metal monster roared past him at frightening speed. He swallowed hard, watching the monster’s glowing red tails stream down the road in a puff of smoke, disappearing around a bend. He let out a shaky breath. The beast would have trampled him to his death had he not stepped out of the way. What a dangerous world, this twenty-first-century future was. He felt completely unprepared.
After falling into the Well of Dreams, he'd found himself in the same large, deserted field he'd seen in the waters. It was not unlike a jousting tiltyard back home—except there were lines and numbers painted onto the grass. Metal stands rose on either side, apparently meant for seating an audience. And though it was night, the place was lit by strange yellow glowing orbs, set atop tall wooden poles.
At least there was one thing he recognized. The scabbard had been lying only a few feet away from where he’d landed. He grabbed it and tied it securely to his belt, not wanting to lose it again.
But how to get back home? He searched the area for a second Well of Dreams, but found only a puddle of mud. After jumping in it a few times and only succeeding in dirtying his leather breeches, he reluctantly gave up, deciding to follow the line of lighted poles to see where they led. At the very least, he needed to find shelter till morning, when the sun would rise and make it easier to search.
He came across a road coated in some kind of hardened tar. But instead of horses and wagons, this road was alive with strange metal creatures with white glowing eyes and red glowing tails that howled at him angrily as he attempted to cross the road. He resigned himself to walk alongside it instead, on a smaller side path that paralleled the monsters’ domain, praying they would not jump the barrier.
It wasn’t until a few monsters had passed and one had shouted at him that he realized they were not monsters at all, but strange horseless litters with humans sitting in their glass bellies. He felt stupid for being afraid.
As he walked, limping a little from wearing one shoe, he passed a number of buildings—some short and squat, others rising several stories to the sky. They advertised strange wares like “donuts,” “tires,” and “ATMs,” and while none of them seemed to be particularly fine establishments, even the most decrepit had real glass in their windows, which impressed Arthur quite a bit. Even more impressive? The smells drifting from some of these buildings. Particularly the one called “pizza.” Arthur found himself drooling as he passed, wishing he had coins to exchange for food.
Then he saw it. A castle—a real castle—rising high and mighty on the side of the road. White stone walls, stained-glass windows, and brightly colored flags waving from multiple turrets. Arthur rubbed his eyes before daring to take a second look, thinking perhaps his exhaustion had made him delusional. But the beautiful building was still there when he opened them again, standing tall and proud, its drawbridge lying open, as if welcoming him home.
Arthur approached cautiously, still feeling as if there must be some kind of trick at play. What was a castle doing in twenty-first-century America, a place where Merlin himself had insisted there were no kings and queens? And why was it sitting here of all places, on the side of a common road, with no gate or moat to protect it from siege? A sign affixed to a metal pole proclaimed it MEDIEVAL MANOR and Arthur prayed Lord Medieval would be a kind man who would agree to take him in for the night.
A guard, surprisingly dressed in a simple tunic and tights instead of proper chainmail, stood at the far end of the drawbridge, eyeing him curiously. “Are you the new guy?” he asked, giving Arthur a disapproving once-over. “A little young, aren't you?” It was only then that the boy realized his attire was likely filthy from his trip. He blushed.
“I am Arthur,” he introduced himself, forcing his voice to sound as noble and confident as possible. “A stranger to these lands. Do you think your lord would be kind enough to grant me shelter and a bite to eat?”
To Arthur’s surprise, the guard rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’re one of those,” he said with a snort.
Arthur cocked his head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Look, dude, just ’cause I’m stuck working here doesn’t mean I’m into the whole LARPing thing,” he replied. “But hey, whatever floats your boat.” He waved Arthur through the doorway. “Last show’s going on now, but I’m sure Mr. Applebaum will get you started on the paperwork as soon as the crowd clears out.”
“Show?” Arthur asked curiously.
“Yeah, feel free to check it out if you want. We’re not a full house tonight so sit wherever you find a spot. It’s down the hall, past the bar, and through the blue curtain. Just follow the cheering. You can’t miss it.”
“Very well.” Arthur turned to go, then remembered his manners. He pivoted and bowed low to the guard. “Thank you, good sir,” he said. “You are gracious to show such kindness to a stranger.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever dude,” the guard replied, shaking his head as he turned back to his post. “I knew I should have taken that job at Burger World,” Arthur heard him mutter under his breath.
Arthur walked inside the castle and down the hall as the guard had instructed. He found the curtain and ducked behind it, into the castle's great hall. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. It was perhaps the biggest room he’d ever seen—an indoor tiltyard, set up for a jousting tournament. Horses dressed in colorful tack pranced around the sandy field, ridden by knights in full armor. Surrounding the field were risers, stretching up to the ceiling and filled with people feasting behind long row ta
bles. At the very end of the field, high above on a dais, an old man sat on a throne, crowned with gold and draped in purple. Lord Medieval himself? Beside him stood a beautiful maiden with long, flowing golden hair. His queen? His daughter?
As Arthur watched in excitement, a knight, dressed in a green and yellow tabard, tapped lances with another, dressed in red and blue. The two men got into position, then charged down the barrier, lances out and shields held tightly to their chests. A moment later, the lances each struck their opposing shields and splintered, the impact causing the red knight to fly from his horse and roll onto the ground. Oddly, to Arthur, it almost appeared as if he’d jumped on purpose. He must be new to jousting.
“Hey, are you the new dishwasher?” A black-haired woman in a long red peasant dress and apron approached Arthur, shoving a tub of dirty pewter plates and mugs into his arms. “Get a move on. We’re piling up out here.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest but the woman had already turned and continued down the aisle. He looked down at the bin of dishes and sighed. It seemed as if he was determined to live out the same destiny, no matter what time period he found himself in. Still, he supposed, he was here seeking food and shelter from Lord Medieval—cleaning a few dishes would indeed be fair trade for that, so he gathered them.
He followed a lad carrying a similar load down the hall, through a doorway, and into a large kitchen. Unlike the main jousting hall, where the trappings seemed mostly familiar, here Arthur found a confusing array of completely unrecognizable shiny metal gadgets. He searched the area, trying to locate something he recognized and finally unearthed a large tub of soapy water. Perfect. He could wash the dishes in that. He walked over and set his bin down on a nearby side table and grabbed his first dish.
