by Mari Mancusi
Chapter 16
“Hey, you, get up!”
Arthur groaned and rolled over. Was Mistress McCready harassing him about the dishes again? He'd had such a strange dream last night, it felt as if he'd barely gotten any rest at all. Traveling to the future to find a magical scabbard. Being chased out of a castle after defending injustice at a joust. Falling asleep outside a . . .
“I said get up!” This time, the voice was accompanied by a swift kick in the direction of his leg. Reluctantly Arthur sat up and rubbed his eyes. Then he opened them and saw, to his surprise, not Mistress McCready at all, but a craggy faced man, tunic tucked and belted, standing above him with a stormy frown.
“You kids. Staying up all night, playing your blasted videogames. Can't even stay awake for school.” The man shook his head. “Now get up and get inside. First bell's already rung. If you don't make it to homeroom in time for the second, I'm going to give you detention.”
Arthur stared at him, horrified. So it wasn't a dream. He was still here in the future, the scabbard still tied to his belt. He scrambled to his feet, wondering what on earth he was going to do.
“Sir, could you please tell me where I am?” he asked the man. Perhaps he could help him locate a Well of Dreams so he could return home.
But the man's face twisted into another scowl. “Oh that's cute. Real cute. What, do you have amnesia? Do you need to see the school nurse?”
Arthur scratched his head, trying to figure out what the man was saying. He was pretty sure he was speaking English—but he had no idea what he was going on about.
Deciding it was perhaps best to just walk away from this hostile adversary, Arthur stepped to the right to move past him. But his opponent side-stepped him quickly, effectively blocking his path. “And where do you think you're going?” he demanded. “I told you—get to homeroom now.”
Arthur swallowed hard. Was this man dangerous? Would he chase him down if he ran? He scanned him for weapons. Didn't see any obvious ones, but still.
“Believe me, I am trying to get to my home . . . room,” he replied, trying to use their futuristic language to explain himself. “But it is quite far from here. And I'm not sure how to—”
“Cute. Real cute. Maybe that works on your parents—you spoiled brats get away with everything these days. But it's not going to work on me.” He grabbed Arthur by the shoulders and started hurtling him toward the building. Arthur wrestled away, jumping back and holding up his hands, ready to defend himself against this crazy man. If only he'd brought a sword.
The man's eyes flashed his fury. “Why you little—”
“Art! My man! There you are!”
Both Arthur and his attacker whirled around to find Lucas standing in the doorway of the building. He strolled down the steps and grabbed Arthur by the arm. “I was looking all over for you!” he exclaimed, giving Arthur's attacker an apologetic look.
“You know this student?” Arthur's enemy demanded.
“Yes, Mr. Moody,” Lucas replied. “Art here is from England. He's transferring to our school and I'm supposed to show him around.” He paused, then added with a big smile, “My stepdad said it was okay.”
The man narrowed his eyes, glaring at Art, then at Lucas. He let out a frustrated breath. “Fine,” he growled at last. “I guess if Mr. Mallory says it's okay, then it's okay. But get him to homeroom. I don't care what they do at those English schools. Here in the good old U.S. of A we don't go around taking naps on the school steps.”
“Of course, of course,” Lucas replied breezily. “Come on, Art. Let's go.” And with that, he grabbed Arthur by the tunic and started dragging him toward the building.
“Hold on a minute,” Mr. Moody called out suddenly. “Stop right there!”
Lucas's shoulders slumped and he turned around again. “What?” he asked in an exasperated voice.
Mr. Moody pointed to the scabbard tied to Arthur's waist. “What is the meaning of that?” he demanded.
Arthur clutched at the scabbard, his heart racing with fear. Could this man of the future have recognized the scabbard and its value? Was he going to try to steal it away? Oh, why oh why had he left it out in plain view?
“It's nothing,” he stammered. “Just a scabbard.”
Mr. Moody looked at Lucas, then at Arthur, his face turning a distinct shade of purple. “I don't know what they let you kids in England get away with,” he snarled, taking a menacing step forward, causing Arthur to wonder if he should try to run. “But here at Sacred Mary's we have a zero tolerance policy on bringing weapons to school.”
Arthur looked at him, confused. What was he talking about? “But it's not—”
“I ought to call the police you know. Have you arrested.”
“Dude!” Lucas interrupted quickly. “I mean, Mr. Moody! It's just a prop. From the drama department.” He reached for the scabbard. Arthur tried to grab it back, not wanting the priceless relic to leave his side. But Lucas shot him a warning look. “Trust me,” he mouthed. Against his better judgment, Arthur allowed him to take it, praying that Lucas knew what he was doing.
“See?” Lucas said, holding out the scabbard. “It's just a sword holder. Not an actual sword.”
Mr. Moody grudgingly took the artifact and turned it over in his hands, examining it closely. He picked at one of the large rubies on the side and Arthur swallowed heavily.
After a few minutes, Mr. Moody gave a snort. “Well, whatever it is, you don't need to be bringing it to school.” He stuffed it under his meaty arm, then looked up at the boys again. “You can have it back at the end of the day.”
Arthur's eyes widened in horror. “But I—”
Lucas stomped on his foot. Mr. Moody gave the two of them a self-satisfied smile. “Now get to class,” he ordered. “Or I'll ensure you spend your entire visit to America in detention.”
“Yes, Mr. Moody. Thank you, Mr. Moody,” Lucas replied as he hurried Arthur up the steps and into the building. Arthur glanced back at the man wondering if he'd done the right thing just giving the scabbard away like that. If Merlin knew he'd lost it again . . .
Lucas caught his glance. “Seriously, dude, let it go,” he told him. “It's not worth fighting over. You'll get it back at the end of the day, I promise. Moody's a real jerk, but he does keep his word.”
Arthur sighed and reluctantly followed Lucas through a pair of glass doors and into a long, narrow corridor lined with skinny red doors. The floors were made out of some kind of impossibly smooth, shiny texture, while white squares above illuminated the chamber with an unearthly light. All around them boys and girls, dressed in the strangest clothing Arthur had ever seen, bustled around, opening the red doors and pulling out books, each seeming to be in a big hurry to get wherever it was they were going.
“Welcome to Sacred Mary High School,” Lucas said with a grin. “Come on, let's get to the computer lab. I need to get you in the system to back up the whole transfer student thing in case Mr. Moody goes and checks.” Lucas pulled him down an adjoining corridor. “Luckily for you, my stepdad's the principal and I know his password. I'm all access here at Sacred Mary's.”
Arthur had no idea what Lucas was talking about, but followed him into a small, dark room. Lucas closed the door and pressed a button and suddenly the white squares above them started illuminating. Arthur's eyes widened as he realized the room was full of magic boxes, just like Merlin's back in the crystal cave. Lucas sat down at one of them and began what Merlin called “typing” furiously.
“So what's your deal?” his new friend asked, not taking his eyes off the box's window. “I looked for you after you got kicked out of Medieval Manor.” He glanced over at Arthur with a grin. “That was some awesome stuff, by the way! The way you dodged them—you oughta play football.” He turned back to the box. “Anyway, I couldn't find you anywhere so I figured you went home. But you're still in your uniform.” He gestured to Arthur's tunic, which was, at this point, covered in grime.
Arthur hung his head. “
I slept outside last night,” he confessed. “I had nowhere to go.” He wondered how much he should tell Lucas about his situation. He didn't like lying, but at the same time, he didn't want to scare off his only friend here with a wild story of time travel adventure.
Lucas shot him a sympathetic look. “Sorry, man. I didn't realize. I would have invited you to crash at my place. We even had a spare bed. Turns out my brother, Stu—the one I was looking for at Medieval Manor? He ended up staying at his mom's last night. My stepdad got the text while I was out looking for him, go figure. I think he's crashing there tonight, too, if you want to come over after school.” He pressed one more button, then rose from his seat, a proud smile on his face. “There. You are now an official transfer student at Sacred Mary High. And you're in all my classes, too!”
“Um, thanks?” Arthur replied.
Lucas laughed. “I know, exciting, right? But hey, at least you'll get your thingie back later. That's what's important, right?” He started heading to the door. “Next up, we need to get you showered and changed. No offense, dude, but you totally stink.”
Arthur followed Lucas down the hall and into a small room filled with benches and more red boxes. Lucas rummaged through one of them and pulled out a white tunic with a red number 2 on it. He handed it to Arthur, along with a pair of breeches and some white shoes, tied together with string. “Today you're an honorary Sacred Mary's Knight,” he said in a teasing tone.
Arthur's eyes widened and he shook his head. “Oh no,” he replied. “I can't be a knight. I am not noble born.”
Lucas snorted. “That's hilarious, dude.” He handed him the clothes. “Trust me, there's nothing noble about us knights.” He laughed. “In any case, this will hold you over until tonight. Then you can come over to my house and I'll let you borrow some of my stuff.” He walked over to a tiny room, draped with a white curtain. “You can take a shower here, too,” he added.
Reaching into the room, he turned a small knob. Suddenly, to Arthur's amazement, water started raining down from the room's ceiling.
“An indoor waterfall!” he cried before he could help himself. After catching Lucas's confused look, he forced himself to laugh. “Just kidding,” he added, as he'd heard Merlin say in the past.
Lucas rolled his eyes. “You're a weird guy. Anyone ever tell you that?” He headed toward the door. “Take your time. We'll miss first period, but I have a bunch of hall passes I stole from my stepdad's office.” And with that, he exited the room.
Arthur quickly stripped his clothes and walked into the waterfall room. He started laughing in delight as the water cascaded over him. It was so warm! If they had these showers back home, why, he'd even be willing to bathe as much as twice a year.
He finished showering, then got dressed and hurried out to meet Lucas.
“All right,” his friend said with a grin, after checking out his outfit. “Now you look like a real knight.”
Arthur frowned, remembering something Agravaine had said the day before. “Is it not illegal to impersonate a knight?” he asked, not wanting to break any more laws on his second day in the twenty-fist century. After all, what if they threw him in prison? Then he’d never find his way home.
But Lucas only laughed. “You’re too much, man,” he said, gesturing to the door. “Now come on. The bell's going to ring any second.”
Arthur followed Lucas out of the room and around a corner, managing to slam headfirst into a gaggle of women loitering in the hallway. They were all wearing matching short skirts and tops, the same color as the clothes Lucas had given him to wear.
One of the girls stepped forward, her eyes resting on Arthur. He drew in a breath. She had long black hair spilling down her back, sparkling green eyes, full bowlike red lips. He'd swear she was royalty, if it weren't for her darkly tanned skin, something only peasants who worked in the fields had to suffer from. Still, she was a goddess incarnate. Almost as beautiful as Guinevere herself.
Arthur's heart panged as his thoughts fell to the princess. By this time, he'd surely missed the big tournament. Had Agravaine somehow managed to pull the sword from the stone? Had he convinced Guin's father to grant him her hand and stolen her away to an ivory tower where she'd never be heard from again? If only Arthur had been there—he might have been able to stop it from happening somehow. To save Guinevere from a life of misery she didn't deserve.
He realized the girl before him was speaking. “Well, well, well,” she cooed. “Who's your gorgeous friend, Lucas?” She dragged her green eyes from Arthur's shoes to his shirt. “Despite his outfit, I'm pretty sure he's not on our football team.” She turned back to her ladies in waiting behind her. “I'm certain I would have noticed if he were.”
Her ladies tittered, all eyes now on Arthur.
Lucas smirked. “This is Art,” he introduced. “Art, this is Ashley Jones. Our head cheerleader and the most beautiful girl at Sacred Mary’s.”
Ashley blushed prettily. “Oh Lucas, you're too much,” she replied with a small laugh. Then she fixed her gaze on Arthur. “So where do you come from?” she asked. “And why haven’t I seen you here before?”
“England,” Arthur replied. “I’m…” He strained to remember what Lucas had told him. “I'm a transfer student.”
“England?” Ashley's eyes danced with excitement. “I love England. My parents are English. We came over on the Mayflower, you know. Direct descendants of Miles Standish and Priscilla.” She stuck out her hand. “It's great to meet you, Art. We hardly ever get quality boys like you at Sacred Mary's.”
As any real knight would do, Arthur reached out and took her hand in his. Then he bowed low, pressing his lips reverentially against the back of her palm. “I am most honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Ashley,” he murmured in his best chivalrous tone.
The ladies broke out into excited giggles. Arthur beamed. He was finally getting the hang of this future thing.
“My, my, you are the knight in shining armor,” Ashley cried. “I do hope you'll be at the game tonight.”
“Game?”
“Yeah, man. There's a football game tonight,” Lucas explained. “Sacred Mary Knights versus the Woodbury Celts. It's the last game of the fall and supposedly some college coach is coming to check us all out—so everyone's super riled up.” He grinned. “You can come watch if you want. Hang out with the team on the sidelines. You’re already dressed the part, after all,” he added, pointing to Arthur's shirt.
Arthur nodded, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. But it seemed he was stuck here in this futuristic world until he figured out how to get the scabbard and how to get back home. Why not learn all that it had to offer?
Chapter 17
“Lords and ladies of the joust, may I have your attention please?”
The roar of the crowd dulled to a low murmur as all eyes lifted to the wooden dais high above. Merlin stood upon it, regally dressed in rich purple robes, trimmed with ermine. A commanding presence, he’d bathed and brushed his beard, Stu noticed, removing the twigs that had tangled in his snow white hair during their recent journey to the castle where the joust was being held. The match had just finished and now the annual sword in the stone competition was about to begin.
“For ten years—since the tragic death of High King Uther Pendragon—Britain has gone without a true leader,” the sorcerer continued. “Battles led by ambitious lords have assaulted our land, drowning the kingdom in bloodshed and civil war—all while barbaric Saxons hungrily lap at our shores.”
Stu shifted from foot to foot, trying to pay attention to the history lesson, all the while feeling itchy and uncomfortable in his new body. Arthur’s body, to be precise. Just after they’d arrived, Merlin had done his magic thing, transforming the twenty-first-century gamer geek into the spitting image (at least according to Sophie) of the once and future king. Stu was still trying to get used to the insta-muscles and had already tripped three times over his now size twelve feet.
“It becomes imperative tha
t we find a ruler to lead us,” Merlin continued to his rapt audience. “One blessed by the gods and destined to rid the land of the barbarian invaders, ushering in a time of peace and prosperity once again.” He paused dramatically, then added, “Who here thinks he could be that man?”
The crowd erupted in excited discussion and men stepped forward. It seemed quite a few of them felt they were up to the challenge of becoming king of all England. But Merlin cut them off with a simple wave of his gnarled wooden staff.
“Now, now, you all know the prophecy as well as I,” he scolded them. “Only he who can pull the sword from this stone can rightwise be crowned king of England.”
He made a sweeping gesture to the sword in question, embedded in a large boulder in the center of the courtyard. The audience oohed and ahhed as light gushed down from the heavens, illuminating the weapon with an otherworldly glow.
Excalibur. The legendary blade of King Arthur himself. Stu drew in a breath. The sword was even more majestic in real life than it had been in the videogame.
“Who amongst you shall be first to try your luck?” Merlin asked the crowd. “Perhaps meet your destiny this day?” Stu caught a glint in the old man’s eyes as the eager knights stepped over one another fighting to be first in line. The sorcerer was nothing if not a showman. Stu was half-waiting for him to offer a set of ginzu knives to the first five sword-pullers.
“Allow me!” A giant of a knight, dressed in a bright yellow surcoat, successfully made his way into the circle. “I am Sir Sagramore,” he introduced himself. “Your humble servant, Lord Merlin.”
Merlin nodded curtly. “Very well, Sir Sagramore, please go ahead.”
The crowd watched as the beefy knight stepped up to the sword, wrapping his meaty, calloused hands around the steel hilt. Anchoring his foot against the base of the stone, he drew in a large breath and pulled.
The sword stuck fast.
He pulled again and again, his further efforts jeered by the now rowdy crowd.
