The Eighth Excalibur

by Luke Mitchell

  “What the hell’s a snargladorf?”

  Think of a creature that, while widely admired for its alleged cuteness, is about as small, weak, and ultimately useless as little Copernicus here.

  “Ah. Yeah, nothing says don’t take it personally like comparing a man’s physical prowess to a freaking ten pound corgi. Thanks for that.”

  You are welcome, Nathaniel.

  Nate rolled his eyes and looked around. In his admittedly futile dash to escape the Merlin and the rest of the madness, Nate had ended up several blocks past home base on Irvin Ave, farther south than he normally had reason to venture. Not that it mattered. Going home right that moment didn’t really seem like a valid strategy. Nothing felt like a valid strategy. Not with a persistent voice rattling in his head.

  You might be persistent too, in my position. Imagine you had awoken only to realize your oh-so impressive human power and intellect was to be harnessed by that corgi creature there. Can you not imagine the frustration?

  “Well then maybe your pal Merlin should’ve left me the hell alone if I’m such a disappointment.”

  Fool. The Merlin is wise beyond your comprehension.

  “Wise beyond… You’re talking about the same maniac who almost killed an innocent girl back there, right? The one who was too busy drinking to even stop me from running away just now?”

  I said that he is wise, you sniveling ingrate, not that he is without vice. If he had wanted to stop you, you would not have made it three steps.

  “Whatever.” Nate glanced warily in the direction of home, not sure what his next move was, but pretty sure he should stop standing there talking to himself on the sidewalk like a… Well, like a Merlin.

  Son of a bitch, how had this happened?

  Lady’s Grace if I know.

  “Yeah, I get it, you’re upset,” Nate grumbled, starting around the block on an indirect path home. He checked to see that Copernicus was following, trying at once to figure out what the hell he was going to do next while also refraining from thinking any one thought too loudly for the Excalibur’s waiting derision.

  The end result was mostly a mental log jam, whereby Nate conjured a head full of would-be thoughts that was simply too packed for a single one to make its way anywhere useful. But at least the Excalibur didn’t say anything. After a minute or so of blessed silence, Nate decided to try again.

  “So… snargladorfs and…” He frowned at the next word, somehow feeling both ridiculous for playing along with this madness, and equally silly for even questioning it at all after everything he’d seen in the past twelve hours. “Snargladorfs and troglodans,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s all real?”

  Obviously.

  “Aliens and everything?”

  It astounds me how desperately your kind clings to the belief that, among the hundreds of billions of planets in this galaxy alone, you are somehow the sole organic sentience in the universe.

  “Right,” Nate muttered, kind of wanting to scream just to be sure he was even still real, yet also kind of feeling like it all made perfect sense, in a weird way. It was kind of disturbing, how little it took to completely turn one’s entire grip on reality upside down. Nothing more than a space ogre in the park, a celestial goddess, and a little jaunt across the galaxy.

  “Fine. It’s all real. And what you said a minute ago about ‘harnessing’ your power… What did you mean? What do you do? I mean, aside from tampering with my mental states, and—”

  You left me little choice in the matter, there. I would like to see YOU try assimilating a few petabytes of relevant background data with a sniveling college senior having a panic attack in your face.

  Nate clenched his jaw. “I’d kinda been through a lot at that point.”

  Never before had Nate perceived the silence in his own thoughts to feel so condescendingly judgmental.

  “Whatever,” he muttered. “That still doesn’t give you the right to mess with my head. Do you hear me?”

  Would that I could STOP hearing you.

  “Yeah, well you and me both. Just… Just don’t do that again, okay?”

  Silence.

  How encouraging.

  With a sigh, Nate pressed on. “Can you at least answer my question? If you’re not a sword, what are you? What do you do? Where did you come from?”

  They truly did not tell you?

  Hell no, they didn’t tell me, Nate opened his mouth to say. No one had told him a single goddamn thing. Just threw a freaking ogre at him and then yanked him off on the Magical Galaxy Express. But before he could say a single word, the Excalibur cut back in.

  Of course they did not tell you. I can see now that their words would surely have been wasted.

  Nate scowled at the sidewalk. “What’s that supposed to mean? That I wouldn’t understand because I’m such a stupid little human?”

  Silence.

  “I’m not a simpleton, asshole.”

  More silence. And this time, Nate could’ve sworn he felt a kind of subtle amusement radiating from somewhere within his own head—amusement that was definitely not his own.

  “I’m a goddamn IT major, okay? I might not be an Einstein, but I know four computer languages, and I can solve differential equations.”

  I know over ten-thousand languages and might well possess more total computational power than this entire backwater planet. Shall we compare phalluses next?

  Wonderful.

  Clearly, it hadn’t been enough to have Todd and the rest of the world dishing out daily reminders of Nate’s many inadequacies. Now he had an even bigger alpha asshole living in his head. And the Merlin hiding in the bushes. And freaking aliens. And Earth’s allegedly numbered days. And—

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he latched onto that familiar feeling with a focus that was half weary relief, and half drowning man reaching for a life raft.

  Splendid, the Excalibur said as Nate fished the phone out. More complications.

  “So sorry I had the audacity to have a life before I was sucked into this freak show unawares,” he muttered, glancing at the lit screen and the new text from Gwen at the top of the long list of notifications he’d missed since last night. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that he was actually buying this giant crock of crazy, or that, despite all the world-shattering revelations, he still felt that little nervous flutter at the sight of Gwen’s name on his phone.

  He hesitated on the unlock button, sure that now wasn’t the time, and more than a little put off by the thought of the Excalibur listening to his thoughts while he read whatever Gwen had sent him last night, before she’d apparently decided to just say screw it and come looking for him at the house.

  Rest assured, I read that message within minutes of our merger, right along with every other digital transaction you’ve had with Miss Pearson. And with pretty much anyone else. Ever.

  “You can… read what’s on my phone?”

  Did I mention that my phallus is bigger than yours?

  Nate looked down at the phone, absentmindedly studying his own stupefied expression in the black mirror, trying to process the entirety of what the Excalibur was telling him.

  Oh blackened hands, would you just get on with it? Or should I simply narrate the correspondence to you? The Excalibur’s voice shifted to something seductively feminine, and disturbingly similar to Gwen’s. Do you want me to tell you it’s all gonna be okay, Nate?

  Nate clutched at his temples, feeling like his head might actually explode this time. “Please never do that again.”

  On the sidewalk beside him, Copernicus gave a little whimper, wagging his tail and clearly concerned about whatever Nate was going through.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Nate said, bending down to pat the corgi’s head before unlocking his phone. “I’m just gonna read this highly-sensitive text message while the asshole voice in my head tells me what a hopeless waste I am.”

  Copernicus made another less-than-happy sound, his ears flattening.


  You are both being melodramatic.

  Nate ignored the Excalibur as best he could, and tapped the notification with Gwen’s name on it. He read the most recent message first.

  Gwen: “Hey, you make it home okay last night? We were worried about you.”

  He moved to the message from the night before.

  Gwen: “Just tried to call but seems like your phone is off. I’m sorry about what happened tonight. I know you said you’re fine, but can I buy you a peace-offering drink anyway? Just left INN.”

  He looked at the time stamp. It couldn’t have been sent more than ten minutes after he’d stormed out on his own quest for a bag of rice and a life in someone else’s shoes. She’d left. And while he’d been sitting in Zeno’s, choking on a whiskey and inviting this madhouse intergalactic bullshit straight into his life, Gwen had been out there looking for him. Which he would’ve found out, had he simply gone straight home as he’d known he should’ve.

  He could’ve kicked himself right in the groin.

  I find that anatomically improbable.

  “Goddammit, can you just stay out of my head for five minutes?!”

  There was a stretch of pregnant silence.

  Would you prefer I lie?

  “My life is over,” Nate muttered, more to himself than to the Excalibur. Not that the distinction seemed to matter all that much.

  Yes. You were only chosen out of the blue to represent your entire species on the intergalactic stage—a privilege many would die for, by the way. But do go on about how hard and unjust your life is.

  “You do understand not everyone wants to be a…”

  A what, exactly? A Knight of the Leaky Pockets? Nate still didn’t even understand exactly what the hell he’d been conscripted for.

  You are an Excalibur Knight. Or you may become one, at least, with the proper training, and perhaps a minor miracle or two.

  “Okay,” Nate murmured, staring unseeingly at Gwen’s texts. “And what does an Excalibur Knight do, exactly?”

  A true Excalibur Knight stands as a beacon of hope for all sentient life in the galaxy.

  Nate tucked his phone away, blinking at the empty air, waiting for more. “Suppose I’m not entirely sure what that means…” he finally said.

  He swore he felt the equivalent of a mental sigh from the voice in his head. A true Knight stands as representative, envoy, and warrior in service to the Lady and her loyal Merlin, and to all of the assembled civilizations of the known galaxy. A true Knight wields the power of an Excalibur as both sword and shield against the darkness that, left unchecked, would swallow this galaxy whole. A true Excalibur Knight knows his duty, and embraces it gladly, without fear of death or torment. A true Knight does not sit and snivel like a soft-willed fool, pitying himself for the honor of his planet’s fate resting on his shoulders.

  Nate was too busy trying to wrap his head around the scale of the thing—and particularly around the whole all the assembled civilizations of the known galaxy bit—to even process the last string of insults.

  “That all sounds… big,” he croaked.

  The biggest.

  Nate hadn’t really noticed he’d sat down on the Allen Street curb until a forest green hatchback zoomed by a little too close for comfort, and the startled driver over-corrected with a swerve and an indignant honk. Nate just sat there on the curb, feeling like he was floating ten thousand feet above his body—ten thousand light years across the galaxy. Just floating there, amid the clouds of all the assembled civilizations of the known galaxy, with the planet’s fate apparently crushing down on top of him.

  Kind of explained why he couldn’t seem to breathe.

  “What’s coming for Earth?” he heard himself ask ten thousand feet below.

  At present? I cannot yet say, in full. But I feel the Beacon’s call even now, and I will not be the only one. When the troglodans come… Well, I have been too long in hibernation to speculate as to the current disposition of the Greater Troglodan Empire, but the Merlin does not appear optimistic. It is safe to assume they will come with a planetary strike armada.

  Nate stared through the pavement, buzzing with the magnitude of the words. It was too much. Too much to even comprehend. “This is… too big.”

  Not for a true Knight.

  “Take it back then,” he said immediately, looking around as if he might actually spot a handhold in the mess, or at least the specter of the Excalibur. “Un-choose me. Go back and tell them they got it wrong.”

  Would that I could. Alas, there is only one way this compact is to be broken, and it does not involve you walking away with your life.

  “Then what am I supposed to do?”

  That is for you to choose, Nathaniel Arturi, and for you alone.

  Nate stared numbly into space until Copernicus nudged into his side with a soft whine. He absentmindedly scratched the corgi behind the ears, realizing as he did that Emily Atherton now knew exactly who had her dog. He was entirely too tired to care. Too acutely aware of every scrape and bruise on his aching body. His ankle was positively pulsing now. He still wasn’t sure how it wasn’t broken, or how he’d conjured the strength to stop that bike. Wasn’t sure he even wanted to know, or that it especially mattered. He didn’t feel strong now. Just weak, and afraid.

  “I just wanna go home and forget any of this ever happened.”

  Then fly home, little hobbit, and let us see how long that works for you.

  14

  Roomies

  Marty was halfway to crisis mode.

  That much was clear as soon as Nate’s foot touched the front stoop and his friend darted out from their happy yellow-paneled house with the kind of jittery air that seemed to declare he’d been waiting right there ever since Nate had left for the park… what, an hour ago? Had it only been an hour? It felt like he’d been gone multiple lifetimes.

  Fair enough, probably, seeing as he’d been across the galaxy and back.

  “Dude,” Marty hissed, splaying his hands in a clear, What the hell happened?! as Nate ascended the old paint-chipped steps. Before Nate could even begin with the excuses, Marty glanced back over his shoulder, as if expecting Kyle and Zach might be watching from the paneled living room windows. Which they actually were, Nate realized with an uneasy feeling, trying to mask his slight limp.

  Lady’s Mercy, don’t tell me you are afraid of these little piglets.

  Nate’s mouth was open, the first words on his tongue, before he remembered that he couldn’t just tell the Excalibur out loud to shut up, and that he didn’t know how much he could safely tell his friends at all before they decided to call psych services on him.

  Bah, the Excalibur growled, apparently getting the gist anyway. You worry like a frightened hare.

  Nate took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to fire back. Marty was already giving him a strange look. Nate put on his best business as usual face, and waved at Zach and Kyle in the window. The two traded a look, then Kyle made his own business as usual masturbatory hand gesture, and they went back to whatever they were doing inside. Saturday morning Battle Royale, if Nate had to guess.

  “Dude, what happened?” Marty asked, shuffling down from the stoop to pet Copernicus and give Nate a closer looking over. “Why do you look like you just ran a half-marathon in jeans? And are those fresh scrapes?”

  This one worries like a mother hen.

  Nate barely contained the burst of manic laughter that tried to escape, in part at the doe-eyed naïvety of Marty’s questions, and in part at the fact that, for once, Nate actually agreed with the critical voice in his head. But what was he supposed to say? The truth?

  “I had a run-in with Emily Atherton,” he said, indicating the scrapes on his hands and elbows. They were nothing compared to the hot, deepening ache in his ankle, but his friend didn’t need to know that part quite yet.

  “Oh.” Marty looked down at Copernicus, then confusedly back to Nate’s scrapes. “Was there light wrestling involved?”

  Nate fail
ed to smile and instead settled for recounting the accident to his friend as best as he safely could, leaving out the bits where Emily had in fact been pushed by a drunk wizard who’d consequently thrown Nate through a portal to the other side of the galaxy where he’d ostensibly become the second coming of King Arthur—sans backbone, skill, or talent, and apparently tasked with preventing Earth’s first extraterrestrial invasion, which might just be touching down any week now, by the by.

  Marty’s eyes were already wide enough without the extra bits. Which seemed kind of funny, given that Nate was barely even aware of the words leaving his mouth.

  “So you, like, full-on saved Emily Atherton’s life?” Marty asked, when Nate had finished. “And you’re acting like this is no big deal because…?”

  “Because no one got hurt, I guess,” Nate said with a forced shrug, unexpected irritation prickling up. Was that the Excalibur’s irritation, he was feeling? “And I guess because I’ve had some time to cool down.”

  He needed to get to his room. Needed to think.

  “And that’s where you’ve been?” Marty asked, clearly dubious, but politely trying to hide the fact. “Cooling down?”

  Part of Nate was a little taken aback by how readily his bobbing head nodded its way into the lie. The rest—the part that was a thrice-jabbed bundle of raw nerves—just wanted his best friend to shut the hell up and get out of the way.

  “Yeah,” he said, still nodding. “I just needed to take Copernicus for a walk.”

  Just a nice cool-down stroll with the stolen doggo. That’s all. No drunken wizards or magical talking swords or anything.

  “And Emily was cool with that?” Marty asked, pointedly looking down at Copernicus.

  “Yeah,” Nate said automatically. Then he remembered all the amateur cinematographers on scene, and realized with an unsettling jolt that he didn’t have any damned clue what he was going to do if and when his friends caught wind of what had actually happened. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  What if they saw the way he’d stopped that bike?

  Jesus, what if they saw him flicker off of the goddamn planet?