by Billy Wong
"We have many great treasures," the male faerie said. "Wondrous magical items of all sorts, and countless masterpieces of art and sculpture besides."
Considering fey did not seem to really have to work, Mildy supposed they would have lots of time to dedicate to the arts. "But what do you have that humans might know about, and desire strongly to attain? I don't mean something aesthetic like artwork. I mean something with real use, whether for its innate power, its symbolic significance, or both."
"Oh! I think I know what you're talking about!" Mildy's heart beat fast with excitement, not only for a possible answer but also the knowledge of such a significant artifact. "The Tail of Helios."
The faeries described a magic flail which burned with the power of the very sun, forged by the Greek gods to slay a revived child of the titans. Mildy smiled, wondering if the faeries could be persuaded to let her use it. She figured Ares, too, was feeling rather nostalgic at this reminder of home.
"How the hell would that get all the way up here?" Ares asked incredulously. Wales was far from Greece.
"Maybe whichever hero used the Tail came here and died. But what can it do?" Though Mildy was intrigued, she wouldn't blindly assume the enemy sought it.
"Make light while you fight," the male faerie said. "It used to do more, but its power's faded over time."
"That's all?" Mildy frowned, unimpressed. "That sounds... not so valuable from Arthur or Nimue's perspective. Isn't there anything else you have that might be of more general interest?"
"The Mirror of Rebirth, which can wipe away the memory of a willing subject."
"Maybe a really guilty sinner could make use of that, but I doubt any ruler or mage who wants to stay one would. Next?"
"The Mantle of Freedom, a cape which renders one impervious to possession and exorcises demons."
"Next?"
"Gog's hammer, a great maul ten men can hardly lift."
"If ten men can't lift it, how would anyone use it? Next..."
They went over several dozen items less than likely to motivate a large campaign, until Mildy finally sighed and said, "This isn't going anywhere. Is there anything you used to have, that would be of enough significance to demand such attention?"
The lady faerie frowned. "Once, our people held the greatest of treasures, which they passed from village to village for all to share in its magnificence. But one day, a great evil happened upon the village where it was at the time, and took it along with the lives of all its people. Thus was it lost to us."
"And this greatest of treasures was?" She fully expected it to be a fishing rod which made its own bait, or some such trifle.
"It was the Holy Grail."
Mildy exchanged knowing looks with her friends, and considered revealing their secret to the faeries. Then she decided further thought would be prudent before making such a major decision. They could always tell the truth later, but for now it would be best to hold their silence.
"But it's not certain they did it for the Grail," Ares said.
No, but it was their best theory so far. "We'll have to find out where these knights come from, and ask their master about his objective." She turned to the faeries. "You have any idea where they'll attack next?"
"Human friends tell us one group has set up a base in the town of Claer to the west, and there are only two glens nearby."
"So what have you done about it?"
"We've warned the faeries there to leave, and seek refuge elsewhere."
Of course. These fey never seemed much for a fight. "How many knights are in this group?"
"We have heard five."
Mildy glanced over her friends. "Two, two, one... Ares, think you can handle one?"
"I can probably hold him off until you two are done."
"Then let's go wait for these knights."
"There are two villages," Galahad reminded her. "You don't mean to split us up, do you?"
"No, even I'm not eager to face five knights alone. But if we pick one glen, we've got an even chance at catching them."
"Yes," Ares said, "let's take that chance. I hope they aren't Arthur's men."
"Me neither. I'd rather it be someone we might actually have a shot at stopping."
They set off at once, and a short ways from the faeries' glen Galahad asked, "And if it really is Arthur, and he's after the Grail?"
Mildy hesitated, then said reluctantly, "We'd have to give it up, I suppose." Her choices there were rather limited. She could hardly leave the fey to be slaughtered by Arthur in his ignorance for the sake of keeping her secret.
Galahad did not seem displeased.
#
Hiding with Mildy and Galahad in a cramped hut just past the entrance, Ares watched nervously while five knights entered the glen. He picked his target in the smallest of the bunch, who though shorter than Ares still seemed more heavily built and stronger. Hopefully, it was just the armor.
"Where the hell are the faeries?" one fat, thick-bearded knight asked.
Another man, tall and long of face, said, "I don't see any, but there's a unicorn."
The short knight smiled. "I hear unicorn horns are magical. Let's go take it off and see what we can get for it."
They started towards Irethine on the far side of the glen, and when the distracted knights passed the hut Mildy and Galahad rushed out and at them. Ares followed, moving around to the smaller knight's side as he faced the attacking Galahad. Galahad began to exchange blows with two knights, and Ares thrust his shortsword through the back of the larger foe's neck. Not exactly his original plan, but it would do.
Ares saw Mildy struggle against three men who had joined forces against her, and left the small knight to Galahad. He rushed to his mistress' aid, stabbing the long-faced knight through the armpit. Turning to regard the new threat, one of his companions lost his face to Mildy's flail, and the enemies became the ones who were outnumbered. Seconds later, Galahad's man clanged to the ground in a dead heap.
"We need one alive," Ares reminded the others.
"I know," Mildy said. "Do you yield?"
The thick-bearded knight left stood silent for a moment. Then, Galahad joined his friends to surround the lone man. "Yes, I yield," he finally said, dropping his axe.
"Now, who sent you and why?"
His answer surprised Ares. "My lord Percival did, to rid the land of these servants of darkness and free our people of their wiles."
Percival? Ares had met the man once, but only knew of him as a recent addition to the Round Table. "Do you know him?" he asked Galahad.
"I only know he's new among Arthur's elite brotherhood. Often, I've dreamed of being in the same position as he is now. Being on the Table, not faerie-killing, I mean."
"But why would he go after the fey?"
"Maybe he was in some faerie-hating alliance along with Ironheart?"
Mildy frowned. "I don't know, but I'm glad it wasn't Arthur."
"He's one of his knights," Ares said. "He might still be following orders from the king."
"What is this Percival like? I hope he's not another stuck-up noble who I'll have no end of trouble reasoning with."
"No, he probably isn't like that." Galahad smiled with admiration. "He wasn't a noble by birth, but a commoner granted his status by Arthur. The king was extremely impressed by the young Percival's bravery and drive to be a knight, and gifted him with the lands and title of an heirless duke when he died."
"Kind of like me, huh?" Mildy mused. "Granted his knighthood for his deeds—so does this make him some sort of perfect knight, to have so won this honor?"
"No more than you. Arthur is very fond of him, though."
Ares laughed. The king had given Mildy her status to lessen his own knights' shame in losing to her! Obviously, Percival's social advancement hadn't shared such reasons. "So what do we do?"
Mildy quickly found her answer. "We'll go to Percival and straighten things out. He's going to understand faeries aren't devils, one way or another. Hopefully he'll
listen to reason. If not, maybe I can convince him by beating him in a challenge."
"You just want to show off again," Galahad said with a sigh.
"Of course I do. I wouldn't want you to forget who's the best lady knight around these parts!"
#
Lance entered the hallway and frowned as Guinevere ran into his arms, her long blonde hair braided about her head like a golden angel's halo. "What are you doing, Gwen? Are you trying to get us caught?"
"I'm just so glad you came. Arthur's not well."
"Not well? What do you mean?"
Gwen looked at him with frightened eyes. "He's grown paranoid, to the point where he no longer trusts his oldest friend. He ignores Merlin's advice, putting the future solely in his own hands. Not only that, but he favors another knight now. After all you've done for him through the years, he fawns over the one named Percival as though he were his own son."
Lance wasn't Arthur's favorite anymore? It hardly mattered to him, and it had been surprising for it to last this long in the first place. Too, he probably didn't deserve it too much when he was bedding the queen. He'd once been so close to Arthur, kin in all but blood. But while he'd lost his love for his king long ago, ironically he'd managed to fall in love with his wife. He hadn't done it out of spite against her husband; it just happened.
"This Percival, is he young?"
"He's little more than half your age. I feel like my husband's trying to replace the son we never had, as if he's acknowledging my inadequacy..." She paused. "I fear I'm losing him, Lance. It's almost like he's shedding his old life. Will I be next?"
"It doesn't matter, Gwen. We have each other, and I love you. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together."
She hung her head. "I know, but we aren't everything, not even to me. I love him too, and I don't want to lose that. He saved me from slavery when I was little more than a child, and he's protected me since. I will never forget that."
Lance didn't know what to say. For the most part, he did want her to lose her feelings for Arthur, to be totally free to love him and him alone. But she wouldn't be as happy as she was loving the both of them, and he also wanted the best for her.
"It's not up to us," he finally said. "Just hope for the best, and maybe God will hear your wish."
"I hope so, Lance. But let's forget that now, and enjoy ourselves like we planned." She eased open her door and smiled coyly before disappearing inside. Smiling himself, he followed.
#
Mildy and friends arrived at Percival's home, a small, stark keep around which a bustling log-walled town rose. Received promptly by the young lord, they introduced themselves. Percival invited them to eat, and they joined him at his long table to dine on endless venison and ale. They engaged in small talk at first, mostly Galahad and Percival sharing casual banter on warfare and women. Mildy grew rather bored.
"Why do you think faeries are servants of evil?" she eventually asked.
Percival frowned at her disapproving tone. "They are, aren't they? They seduce innocents into the forests from which they never return, and trick good folk out of wealth, family, and dignity. They must be stopped!"
Same argument as Ironheart. "But where did you learn this?"
"It's common knowledge. Happens enough times in old tales."
"But what prompted you to begin your recent campaign against the fey?" Galahad asked.
"Merlin did. He told me of their plot against him, and what good I could do by ridding the land of their evil."
Mildy exchanged looks with Galahad. "But isn't Merlin missing?" To Percival, "Why would he suddenly do this, when he was such a friend to the fey?"
"Because they turned on him, and that is why he entrusted me to help him against them."
"A glamour," Ares recalled. "The faeries mentioned that someone could have adopted his guise with a glamour."
"So why did you come here, to convince me Merlin was wrong?" His voice turned cold. "You ride a unicorn. It's obvious you're a friend of the fey, maiden knight."
She shook her head in exasperation. "That's true, but it doesn't change the fact they're not all evil." There were cruel fey, she knew, but those also tended to be more well-hidden than the ones Percival targeted. The Unseelie, Morgan had called those fiends.
"It's your word against the famously wise advisor's."
"He might not be the real Merlin, but another disguised with magic. The faeries told me that Merlin always talked to them, but stopped shortly before you started attacking them. When did Merlin tell you to do this?"
"About a month and a half ago. Why?"
"He was already missing then."
Suspicion lingered in his voice as he asked, "And who told you all this, the fey? I wouldn't think to trust them so easily—or you yourself, for that matter."
"Please, Percival, you're hurting innocents. I can't let that stand."
"And what would you do about it?"
Mildy held his gaze and said in a steady voice, "I'll fight you, if I have to."
"It'd be a worthy battle. I suppose God would tell us who is in the right then, wouldn't He?"
She nodded. "Why not do it now? If you win, you keep at the faeries. If I win, you swear not to bother them anymore."
"Are you challenging me?"
"Yes, I am. Let's go."
"We'll fight to first blood, then. I have no desire to maim a lady. May God show you the error of your ways."
They went to Percival's courtyard and positioned themselves opposite one another. The male knight stared when Mildy took her trusty flail in hand. "I thought we would use swords?"
And shift the odds against her? Oh, well. She did not fear a challenge, and it wasn't as if she hadn't started her fighting career with a longsword. "Fine. Lend me one?"
He tossed her an admirably crafted and balanced blade—at least he wasn't trying to cheat her there—and asked, "You don't carry a sword at all?"
"My other weapon's an axe." She had nothing against swords, but her style lent itself to weapons more readily capable of defeating armor. She had little patience for the slow process of a swordfight in plate.
They met in a few steps to batter away at each other's shields, splinters flying at the touch of their sharp blades. Now and then, a sword found its way past the wooden hunks to impact on armored bodies. Mildy ignored each jarring hit as best she could, her pain now nothing compared to the many real wounds she had endured before.
She breached armor first, a slash tearing a plate from over Percival's hip. He grunted and retaliated with a flurry of cuts, pushing her back. Soon the blows completely destroyed her shield, leaving only useless slivers of wood still strapped to her sore arm.
"You're good," she said while she gripped her hilt with both hands, and split his shield in return.
"So are you." He too took his sword in both hands. "But are you ready to suffer?"
It would be tough to withstand the pounding of two-handed blows soon to come. They clashed again, and this time their armor did not spare them much. They stood close and fought, neither willing to retreat from the bruising exchange. Flashing steel crunched into metal and came perilously close to finding flesh, both warriors trying to parry each other's blows but unable to avoid them all and fight back too. Sweat dampened Mildy's undershirt and flowed down her back and legs, and its stink reached her nostrils. She sucked great gulps of air through her mouth, and her legs began to quiver with fatigue.
But Percival was suffering as badly as she, or even worse considering she had landed more and stronger blows. The fight slowed as their armor fell apart and their focus shifted partly to defending their vulnerable spots, but he seemed to be weakening faster. Mildy smashed his blade aside with an upward parry, then cut down into his shoulder. His sword tumbled from his hand, and she kicked him to his back.
"You're bleeding," she said.
Percival clutched his wound, frowning at the touch of gushing blood. He looked up, eyes disappointed but calm. "Yes. You win."
Mildy released him and limped over to where Ares stood waiting. He helped her out of her armor, and hurried to check her for broken bones. Percival's servants ran to attend him, lifting him onto a stretcher to carry him from the field.
As he passed by her, Mildy grasped his arm. "Swear."
He sat up with difficulty, groaning while he did. The floor where he had lain was covered with blood. "My God, you're strong. I suppose I must. I swear I will no longer wage war against the fey creatures of Britannia."
She wanted to ask him more about Merlin's behavior, but he looked like he might soon faint. "Thank you, Percival. That was a good match."
"Yes, it was. Are you badly hurt, Mildred?"
"Of course not."
"I'm glad for that. Farewell, then."
The servants bore Percival hastily away, and the three friends headed to town for drinks. Mildy winced as she gingerly seated herself at a creaky table near the center of the tavern, then burst into an ironic giggle. "That was surprisingly easy."
"Easy?" Galahad asked. "You're covered with welts."
"I meant we didn't have to fight an army, or anything crazy like that. Or kill Percival."
He smiled, relief emerging in his eyes. "That would have been rough, considering how much Arthur likes him."
"Now we just need to find out what's going on with Merlin," Ares said.
Mildy nodded, chugging down her ale with unladylike zest. "Sure. Let's go back and check on Percival, once I'm drunk enough that walking doesn't hurt so bad."
Ares and Galahad laughed, adding to her pain when they patted her back. They looked up as a cacophony of noise rose outside. "What's going on?" Ares asked. "Seems like there's a commotion."
A man ran into the tavern, his face red. "Woe, good people, the duke is dead! Percival is dead!"
#
It turned out that shortly following Mildy's duel with Percival, he'd fallen into a swoon and died. Mildy was aghast. Her slash to his shoulder had gone deep, and she supposed he had lost more blood than he could take. The friends hurried out of town before anything regrettable could occur.
"God, do you know what you just did?" Ares asked, voice on the verge of panic. "You killed Arthur's favorite knight!"
