Rise of the Fey

by Alessa Ellefson

  “At least I’m not parading around like some useless peacock,” I retort, before speeding down the hallway.

  “Blood’s thicker than will,” Jennifer shouts after me, “and your demon side will always come out on top. And, mark my words, I will stop you from spreading your evil.”

  I engulf myself into the dim staircase and Jennifer’s cries of rage die out. Within seconds, I’m wrenching Arthur’s bedroom door open, practically tearing it off its hinges again.

  “Weapon, weapon, weapon,” I chant to myself.

  My eyes lock on a broadsword, oghams covering its basket hilt from the pommel to its double-edged blade. I hurry to unhook it from the wall, then pause as a vicious-looking, steel-spiked mace catches my eye. Perhaps that would be useful as well, if he does end up facing a dybbuk….

  I struggle to detach the massive weapon from its perch, but the mace is much heavier than I’d expected and it slips from my grasp. I wince as its spiked head smashes into the floor with a dull ring, chips of stone blasting out from the impact.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asks, staring in horror at the large hole now adorning his floor.

  “Just picked your sword,” I say, holding the broadsword out to him by its scabbard. “So many choices,” I add with an apologetic smile.

  Arthur lets out a defeated sigh and grabs the sword from me.

  “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” he says, attaching the weapon to his belt. He then picks out a long, serrated-edged dagger hanging by the door and straps it onto his leg. “I don’t want to find you’ve been lynched on my return.”

  “There’s no need to worry about that,” I say, trying to keep my voice within a normal range—I need to give him the impression of being calm and collected, not a vengeful madwoman, “because I’m going with you.”

  Arthur frowns at me. “No you’re not. You’re not ready.”

  “Squires are supposed to go into battle with their knights,” I retort. “You said so yourself.”

  “You’re completely untrained for the battle front,” Arthur says. “My decision is final.”

  “But look!” I say, pulling my torn shirt up to uncover the side where Hector stabbed me. “I healed right away! I’ll be perfectly fine up there with you guys. Besides, I could prove useful.”

  “This is not a game, Morgan,” Arthur says, pulling my shirt back down with a faint blush.

  “I saved you from Carman,” I say, using my trump card.

  I see him hesitate.

  “Besides,” I add, pushing my advantage, “if you don’t bring me with you now, I’ll find a way up to the surface on my own. You know I will.”

  “Fine,” Arthur says. “But you’ve got to stay away from the front line. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir!” I say with a mock salute.

  Unless my father’s killer happens to be around, I silently add. In that case, all bets are off.

  Outside, the air is heavy with the sharp tang of oncoming rain. The sky-lake has turned a dark grey, the shapes of large fish visible along its domed surface like ominous clouds, as if the creatures are huddling at the bottom of the lake to avoid a tempest.

  We meet up with the rest of our crew by the landing docks. Lance is already there, along with a few faces I don’t recognize—a couple of serious and tough-looking girls, and a whale-sized knight who’s still got traces of sauce dotting his dimpled chin that his scrawny squire is trying desperately to remove.

  “There are about three hours until sundown,” Lance says, checking his pocket watch, “but due to the storm, visibility may be quite limited.”

  “They’re getting more and more brazen if they’re now attacking in broad daylight,” one of the girls says gruffly.

  Arthur nods. “Means we need to be extra careful too,” he says. “Not only do we have to deal with the threat, but we ourselves won’t be able to benefit from the cover of night should laymen be around.”

  “I’ve asked Safir to set up a perimeter around the area and scramble all electronic devices within it,” Hadrian says, trotting over with Keva at his side. “Though if Fey activity’s that important, all the computer signals will be garbled anyway.”

  “Is everyone here?” Arthur asks, looking over our group.

  “We’re still missing one person,” Lance says as a figure makes its way up the hill.

  “Why are you here?” Keva blurts out as Daniel reaches us.

  “I’m a knight, aren’t I?” Daniel says, wiping his sweaty brow.

  Keva snorts. “Sure you are.”

  “You all know the area we’re headed to,” Arthur says, interrupting their bickering with an irritated look. “We’ll rendezvous in the woods off Fritse Park by US 41, where the trees should give us some cover. Gauvain will update us on the situation when we arrive. Any questions?”

  “No, sir!” everyone shouts.

  “Then let’s get going,” Arthur says, motioning for me to come close to him.

  “Wait!” someone shouts, and I see Sophie crest the hill, somewhat out of breath. “Lady Jennifer wanted to speak with you.”

  “We’re out of time,” Arthur says sharply.

  “I know that, Arthur darling,” Jennifer says, coming up behind her squire. “But I’m not here to see you.”

  I look questioningly at Lance, but to my surprise Jennifer turns instead towards Daniel.

  “Y-yes, your l-ladyship?” Daniel stammers, crimson-faced.

  Jennifer smiles at him while unfolding a bright yellow handkerchief from around her neck. She dips forward, giving the whole lot of us an ample view down her loose shirt, and ties the bandanna to Daniel’s right arm.

  “A knight always needs a lady’s favor,” she says.

  “Sh-shouldn’t Sir Arthur have yours?” Daniel asks, looking like his eyeballs are going to pop out of their sockets.

  Jennifer straightens up. “Arthur’s used to battling,” she says. “It’s the only thing he’s good at, really. Whereas this is your first true battle, and I want to make sure you come back here in one piece.”

  “O-Of course, your Ladyship,” Daniel replies, sticking his chest out proudly.

  I watch Jennifer saunter back down towards the school. Her stiff back tells me Arthur’s reaction, or lack thereof, was not what she had anticipated, and I would find it rather amusing if I didn’t first see Lance’s pained look. Catching me staring at him, Lance immediately schools his face into his usual robotic mask. Then, without waiting for anyone, he hurtles himself into the sky like a green shooting star.

  “Hang on tight,” Arthur says, grabbing me by the waist and holding me close.

  I barely have the chance to latch onto his shoulders before we launch into the air. I instinctively hold my breath as we shoot through Lake Winnebago’s murky waters, scaring a couple of saugers17 on our way up, then break through the thick ice at the surface.

  “Good thing a storm’s on its way and none of the usual ice fishers are around,” Arthur says, his warm breath tickling my ear as he angles us towards North Asylum Bay’s shore. “We’re not being very discrete today.”

  A chill not due to the frigid November wind courses down my spine as Island Park’s dark outline reveals itself in the distance. I can still picture Carman as she surged from the earth in a scorching mass of darkness, like a Venus rising from hell. I blink as light flashes in my vision.

  “Did you see that?” I ask.

  “See what?” Arthur asks back without slowing down.

  I peer intently at the island, but there’s nothing to be seen beyond the line of brown trees and the snow.

  “Never mind,” I mutter, annoyed at myself for panicking so easily.

  But as I start to look away, light flickers to life on the island’s furthest edge, as if Carman’s still inside her stone circle, beckoning me over.

  “No,” I whisper as my ears start to buzz furiously.

  Blinding light suddenly fills my vision and I gasp as pain slices through my mind. I’
m dimly aware of my grasp loosening from around Arthur’s shoulders and Arthur yelling my name before blackness enfolds me.

  “Your time has expired.”

  A long, narrow room bathed in red light comes into focus, the walls tilting dangerously outward at the base. As my vision clears, I realize I’m inside a tent, rows of strange instruments lining one side of it, tables full of computer screens on the other.

  I try to turn around to get a better look, but find that I can’t move at all. Have I been drugged?

  “Help,” I try to murmur, but not a sound emerges from my unmoving lips.

  A wave of panic twists my insides as the woman speaks again, “If you exceed your exposure limit today, you’ll be discharged.”

  “Just let me finish this,” a second, muffled voice says. A man.

  “Did you find something?” the woman asks with a point of excitement.

  A figure appears before me, dressed in a yellow hazmat suit. I want to scream, run away, but my body is not responding.

  “Arthur,” I vainly try to say.

  “Something’s growing inside,” the man says. “The scanner revealed fissures spreading from its center before the machine broke down again.”

  “I’ll have the technicians look at it,” the woman says distractedly. A second hazmat suit comes to stand next to first one. “Are you sure about what you saw?”

  The man reaches to the side and when his hand comes back into view, I see that he’s now holding a large circular saw, the blade’s teeth looking dangerously sharp.

  “How could anything grow inside it?” the woman asks, as the man draws closer to me. “The readings didn’t show any signs of insertion.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon,” the man says, looming above me.

  I let out a silent cry of terror.

  Morgan!

  My guardian angel’s voice booms inside my head just as the blade touches me. My vision fragments, swathes of green reflecting off the sharp blade’s surface before everything goes dark again.

  My eyes snap open and I sit up, feeling my body for any cuts. When I’m secure in the fact that I’m still whole, I realize that Arthur’s sitting right in front of me, looking livid.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I ask, too relieved to notice the furious glare in his eyes.

  “What’s the matter with me?” he barks back. “What’s the matter with you! You’re the one who passed out for no reason, forced me to land ASAP, and then nearly died on me!”

  “Really?” I ask distractedly, my thoughts trailing back to that strange vision. Was it all a dream?

  “I really thought I’d lost you there,” Arthur says with a strained voice. “I couldn’t feel any of your vitals.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” I say, realizing that if I don’t calm him down now, he may decide to send me back down to Lake High. “I…I just saw Island Park, and it reminded me of…you know. Maybe I have some bad PTSD associated with the place, but I swear I’m good now!”

  Arthur casts me a suspicious glance before staring out over the frozen lake in the direction of the island.

  “Shouldn’t we get going?” I ask, standing up. “The others are probably wondering where we are.”

  For a moment, I fear that my distraction hasn’t worked, but then Arthur gets back up. I extend my arms towards him, ready for him to hold me.

  “What are you doing?” he asks with a note of derision in his voice.

  “Uh…getting ready for takeoff?”

  “The car’s over there,” Arthur says, pointing south towards the hospital. “We thought that would be a more discrete way of traveling.”

  I feel myself turn a bright, traffic light red and hasten down the snowy path after Arthur who, most annoyingly, can’t seem to stop laughing.

  Moments later, we’re heading down County Highway Y, heat blasting through the car’s vents, the rolling clouds overhead so low they look like they’re going to suck us right in. As we turn onto US 41, I catch myself thinking about what’s waiting for us up north, and who.

  I fidget about my seat, rubbing my hands together nervously. What if my fire-generating ability won’t be enough to take that Shade down? What if I can’t even make the fire happen at all?

  Fear squeezes my insides, gnawing all my courage away.

  I close my eyes against a sudden, mounting nausea, but all I can see is Agnès’s eyes bulging in her black, swollen face.

  “Having second thoughts?” Arthur asks. “’Cause I can always pull over and drop you off.”

  “No,” I say, forcing my hands to lay flat on my knees.

  I can’t chicken out now. I need to focus on my father, on the happy family life I would have had with him if he hadn’t been stolen away from me, not on the fact that in a few minutes I may be facing my own, very probable, and most definitely gruesome death.

  I look at Arthur’s sharp profile, gauging his mood.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I say.

  He throws me a quick glance, his face taught with worry. “What is it?” he asks.

  “Can you tell me more about my parents?” I ask, trying to push my anxiety to the back of my mind.

  “I really don’t know much about them,” he says readily.

  Too readily, like he’s rehearsed. I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ve been told to tell me that, haven’t you?”

  Arthur’s cheek twitches as he clenches his jaw. “No, Morgan,” he says. “I can understand that you don’t trust me, but I’m done.”

  “Done with what? Me?”

  “With lying to you,” he says.

  I let out a fat, moist snort. “Let’s pretend I believe you. What is it you do know then? Apart from the fact that Gorlois—my dad—got excommunicated for stealing that sword?”

  “He was a great knight,” Arthur says, his brow creasing as he concentrates on the road. “One of the best we’d seen in ages, and very forward thinking. Too forward-thinking, in fact. People thought he’d lost his mind after his first disappearance. Had him tested and all.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  For a moment, Arthur doesn’t respond and I fear his moment of truth has burned out. “He wanted us to form an alliance with the Fey,” he says at last. “And, well, you know what we do with people who’ve had unusual Fey encounters….”

  I nod glumly—they’re locked up in an asylum. A lump forms in my throat as I recall the Spartan building before it got burned down, its inhabitants speaking nonsense if they weren’t foaming at the mouth. And I can’t bring myself to imagine my own father among them, the same glazed look Owen had in his eyes.

  “So he took Excalibur with him and fled,” Arthur continues. “He didn’t show up again—”

  “—until a year later, with me in his arms,” I finish for him.

  Arthur nods. “He was already dying from the black-vein poison. There was nothing anyone could do.”

  I let out a long, shuddering sigh.

  “You think he’s going to be there?” I ask after we’ve driven for a while in silence.

  “Who?”

  “The one who killed my father.”

  Arthur shrugs. “I doubt it. He seems like a lone-wolf type of Fey, and our messengers reported that there was a much greater number of them than usual.”

  I lean back in my seat, the leather creaking under me, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. This would have been the perfect opportunity to get my hands on that Shade. Especially since I doubt Arthur will give in as easily to my pleas the next time I ask to accompany him in battle.

  The sign for Oak Ridge Drive crawls past my window when a thought strikes me. “Now that I think about it,” I say, “you were awfully quick at letting me join the fight this time around. You’re not planning on using me as bait, are you? Hope Carman’s going to show up because she wants me dead?”

  “What are you babbling on about?” Arthur asks, his tone of voice rising to match mine. “You’re the one who insisted on coming w
ith me. Now you’re blaming me for it?”

  “You just played another one of your mind tricks on me!” I exclaim, jabbing at his arm. “You knew how I would react, you did one of those…reverse psychology numbers on me.”

  Arthur throws me a disgusted look. “Please, I don’t need to work anything on you, you’re dumb enough to get yourself into trouble without any help.”

  “Ha! So you do admit that you’re taking me towards trouble?”

  “It’s a battle, Morgan, of course there’s trouble! What did you think this was going to be? A ride down lover’s lane?”

  I open my mouth to shout a reply when the meaning of his words hits the two of us and we both look away. Before we can come up with something to fill the awkward silence, headlights flood our car from behind in rapid bursts then we hear the blaring sound of a horn.

  We both look over as a car whizzes by us, the driver flipping us off.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, glad for the diversion.

  “Probably a drunk,” Arthur says.

  But when another car barrels past us honking like a madman, I get suspicious. I lean over to stare at the dashboard.

  “Arthur, you’re going thirty in a fifty-five zone!” I exclaim. “I thought this was an emergency?”

  “It is,” Arthur says, “but ever since Carman’s return, things haven’t been quite as safe around here, and the government’s instated a curfew. I don’t want to draw their attention on a couple of teenagers, especially considering what we’re up to. Besides, they shouldn’t be driving that fast in all this snow, especially not with that storm brewing.”

  “Well, couldn’t we just, you know, pfft?” I ask, mimicking us taking off.

  “In front of laymen, and with all those radars around?” Arthur asks. “Are you crazy?”

  “Yeah, I’m crazy all right,” I retort with a huff. “It’s genetic, so sue me.”

  But as we near the exit to our rendezvous point, the scene that greets us ahead erases our petty squabble away.

  “Percy’s already at the site with the others,” Lance says the moment we get out of the car, the sky lit up in flaming golds and reds above him, the acrid smell of smoke thick in the air. “We’ve also already had to send a number of wounded knights back down for urgent care.”