But then the Lady thrust her away, and the light disappeared. Instantly Ariane felt the cold embrace of the water again, up to her knees now, pulling and sucking at her calves. Her teeth began to chatter.
“Go!” the Lady cried. Her once-perfect form dripped and sagged. “This place will soon cease to exist! Go! Accept the power! Find the shards of Excalibur! Stop him!” She turned her dripping face toward the boy. “I charge both of you with this quest! You must help her!”
“Both of us?” Ariane shot a startled look at the strange red-headed kid, but he was already splashing toward the exit, his malfunctioning phone lost beneath the water. Ariane followed, but she paused at the dissolving archway. She looked back, hoping for a farewell: a final charge or a benediction.
Instead, she saw the figure of the Lady melt away. One moment she was there; the next, a column of water splashed to the floor of the chamber, raising a wave that raced out and lapped around Ariane’s waist. Ariane stared, then fled, splashing up the stairs through the descending torrent like a salmon swimming upstream.
~ • ~
Merlin raised his aching head from the surface of the desk and ran a shaking hand through sweat-soaked steel-gray hair. His racing heart began to slow. It had taken all his strength, but he had driven the Lady’s consciousness back into Faerie, out of this world – his world – once more.
But had it been in time?
Two and a half years ago, the last time she had tried this, had been his moment of greatest peril. He had been weaker then, his thin-stretched web of magic able to sense what was happening but unable to transmit any of his sadly diminished power to put a stop to it. But for whatever reason, the Lady failed to bestow her power on the human woman she had called to herself, her heir in this age. He didn’t know why. Nor had he been able to discover who the woman had been, though he had tried.
Now the Lady had made a second attempt. This time a thread of his magic had been close enough that he had not only sensed her presence but had been able to respond swiftly. But had he been swift enough?
And to whom had she attempted to give her power? The same woman, or someone else?
He frowned. If the Lady had succeeded, if some mortal now had the Lady’s power, then he faced a potentially dangerous adversary. In Faerie, the Lady had had some skill with water; on Earth, she ruled over water like a goddess. And though she could never return to Earth in her own body – the door between Earth and Faerie would have to swing wide for that to be possible, and the Faerie Queen and Council of Clades would never permit it – anyone she had given her power to would have far more magic to draw on than he did. His magic came entirely from Faerie, and with the door so nearly shut, he could draw on only a sad trickle of the vast might he had once wielded. But the source of the Lady’s power was all the fresh water of the Earth. From Faerie she drew only the ability to use that power.
One day, with Excalibur in his hand, he would force that door open from this side, regain his full strength, and march through at the head of a mighty army to unite both worlds under his reign...as should have happened long ago...but until then...
Of course, had they been able to, the Queen and Council would have long since closed the portal between the two worlds completely, cutting him off from Faerie, tearing away the last vestiges of his magic, and sentencing him to live, and soon die, as a mortal man. He rubbed the ruby stud he wore in his pierced right ear, and smiled. But they could not close that door completely. He had seen to that. And so he still lived – as did his vision of a united Faerie and Earth.
Few in Faerie now shared that vision, but once, many had.
Not least, the Lady of the Lake.
The thought brought a familiar pang, like the twinge of an old injury. Time had numbed but never fully healed his grief at the loss of the love and friendship they had once shared as brother and sister, he the Lord of Clade Avalon, she his strong right arm. If only she were still at my side...we would be invincible!
He shook his head, dragging his thoughts out of the distant past. “Would-haves” and “should-have-beens” were a waste of energy. The cold, sword-sharp fact was that the Lady had turned against him, agreeing to carry out the edict of the Queen and Council that he be eternally imprisoned “for the good of Faerie.” His lip curled. For the good of Faerie? For her own ambition! With him trapped on this side of the portal between the worlds, she must have become sole ruler of Avalon.
But her position could never be completely secure while he still lived and wielded power. And so she had attempted, once again, to raise up a new version of herself to fight him. And once again, she had done so in, of all places, Regina.
He would investigate further. Not in person, of course. Once, magic could have whisked him instantly to the prairie city, no matter how far he would have had to travel. No longer. But no matter. Even in the old days, he had far more often used servants to carry out his designs than done the work himself.
For a moment he toyed with the idea of calling on the demon he had summoned and enslaved long ago, breaking innumerable laws of Faerie in the process, but he rejected the notion at once. Controlling the treacherous creature was exhausting, weakened as he was. Besides, I may have more need of it later. For now, I think an earthly servant will do.
He rubbed his aching temples. The Lady might be able to control water, but his skill had always lain with controlling people.
It was a basic principle of magic that everything had a True Name, a magical name that, if learned and spoken, could be used to command it. In Faerie, those Names were jealously guarded, and to discover a handful had taken him many years. But on Earth...!
On Earth, True Names were easily discovered by those who knew where to look, and the limitless power flowing through the open portal from Faerie in those early years had enabled him to make free use of them. In short order, on first arriving on Earth, Merlin had learned the Name of lightning, and how to call it as he willed. He had learned the Names of many birds and animals, so that he could see through their eyes, hear through their ears, and use them as his agents and spies. And he had learned the Names of many, many men and women he could use as pawns in his games of intrigue.
Because he knew the Names of some humans, he knew a little piece of every human’s Name, enabling him to Command ordinary mortals to sleep, or forget, or fail to see what was right in front of them, so that he had once walked unnoticed and unhindered wherever he wished.
Most of those powers had deserted him now. He still knew the Names of wind, fire, and earth, but without the full power of Faerie to draw on, he could not make them obey him.
But he could still Command mortals if need be…and he knew just the mortal to Command.
Keith Pritchard.
He reached out a hand and touched a glowing yellow button.
“Gwen,” he said, “please get our district sales manager for Regina on the phone.”
CHAPTER THREE
“The Power Be Yours”
Wally struggled up the water staircase, feeling as if he were trapped in a nightmare. The stairs were still there, but losing their form. And they were as slippery as ice – with every step Wally felt in danger of sliding back down to the bottom, into that impossible chamber under the water, with that impossible talking statue made of water. The Lady of the Lake? he thought incredulously. Really?
But disbelief took a back seat to his most immediate problem, which was that he didn’t know how to swim.
The water, clear as crystal a moment before, turned brown and began to foam. The rectangle of sky he’d been struggling for was an arm’s length above him. He was almost out...
And then the steps vanished, the walls disappeared, and Wascana Lake roared in to fill the void.
Wally floundered in foul-tasting water. He kicked frantically and managed to pop his head above the surface for an instant, catching a glimpse of the boulders by the parking lot before the weight of his clothes dragged him under again. A strangely detached portion of his mind
noted that his earlier question about whether the lake was deep enough to drown in was about to be answered.
Another kick. His head burst into the air again, and he desperately gulped a breath, then managed to squeak out, “Help...!” But the water sucked him under again, and this time, when he kicked and flailed, he couldn’t find his way back to the surface in the foam and scum and brown muddy soup created by the collapse of the magical chamber.
His lungs cried out for air. I’m drowning, he thought, disbelieving. I’m drowning in Wascana Lake...
...Mom and Dad will sue them for making it deeper a few years ago...
...and then something grabbed him. Panic-stricken, he clutched it, pulling it down with him. When he realized it must be Ariane, he forced himself to go limp. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it a moment longer, his head broke through the surface. Ariane struck out for the shore, and within seconds both of them were belly-down in the mud by the parking lot boulders, coughing and spitting.
“Thanks,” Wally choked out. “I can’t swim.”
“I noticed.” Ariane rolled over, sat up, and stared at the lake. Wally followed her gaze. Aside from a spot of water muddier than the rest, there was no sign of the Lady’s underwater lair.
Maybe I dreamed it, Wally thought. Or hallucinated it. Maybe it was a...what’s that old hippie phrase?...a “bad trip.”
But he’d never done drugs. And neither dreams nor hallucinations left you soaking wet, muddy, or stinking. Which left only one other possibility:
It had really happened. Impossibly, incredibly, in defiance of everything he knew about science and history, he and Ariane had seen – had spoken to – the Lady of the Lake.
He turned to Ariane. “We need to talk.” He looked down at himself. “And change.” He sniffed. “And shower.”
“I can’t go home looking like this,” Ariane said.
Wally checked his watch, which somewhat to his surprise still worked. Unlike his malfunctioning and now-lost smartphone. “We can go to my house. There won’t be anyone there. My sister always leaves early to meet up with her friends before school. You can change into some of her clothes while we wash yours. You’re about the same size.”
Ariane blinked. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah. You’ve met her.” His mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Her name’s Flish – uh, Felicia. She’s a friend of Shania’s.”
Ariane’s eyes widened. “She’s your sister?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Sorry. You can’t choose your family.”
Her smile surprised him. “You’re inviting me to go into Felicia’s bedroom and borrow her clothes?”
He felt a sudden pang of trepidation. “Uh, yeah, I guess...”
Her smile widened. “Wouldn’t pass up that chance for the world.” The smile vanished. “But what about school?”
“Aren’t you suspended?”
“For you, not me.”
He glanced down at himself. “I can’t go like this anyway.” He looked up again, grinning. “And fortunately, I have the perfect excuse.” He held up his right wrist. “Fencing injury. I have a note and everything. I’m in excruciating pain. Couldn’t possibly sit through classes.”
“You’re not even wearing the bandage you had on in the office yesterday,” Ariane pointed out.
“Well, true, but they can’t see that over the phone.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s at home. I’ll put it on for Monday.”
Ariane smiled again. Wally decided he liked her smile. “If I’m going home with you,” she said, “shouldn’t you at least tell me your name?”
“Wally,” he said. “Wally Knight.”
“Well, Wally Knight, lead on.”
~ • ~
Dripping and making squelching noises with every step, Ariane followed the unexpected Wally as he wheeled his bicycle west along the bike path. The mist had lifted from the lake, and the morning sun sparkled on the water. A few joggers and dog-walkers gave the dripping duo puzzled looks, but Wally just smiled at them and kept moving.
They took the pedestrian underpass under the north end of the busy Albert Street bridge, then walked a half-block before turning left into a cul-de-sac whose street-sign labeled it Harrington Mews. Wally kept a wary eye out for neighbours as they made their way up the front walk of his much-grander-than-hers house – complete with stone lions flanking the steps – then, once they were through the big red door, showed Ariane to the upstairs bathroom. He waited outside while she stripped, then took away the soaked and stinking clothes she carefully passed out through the door before heading for the second bathroom in the basement.
Ariane hesitated before stepping into the shower, remembering the strange hallucination that had gripped her that morning. Don’t be silly, she chided herself. You can’t go the rest of your life without taking a shower. Besides, a mere hallucination seemed almost homey compared to what had happened since.
She got in and turned on the water. Nothing strange happened, and she leaned against the tiles with relief as the hot water sluicing through her hair and down her back washed away the brown residue from Wascana Lake. She stayed there a long time, unwilling to leave her steamy sanctuary and face what she had just experienced.
Part of her wanted to believe it had been a dream. But dreams faded quickly, whereas everything that had happened in the lake was seared in her memory, clear and indelible, right down to the strange phrase she had heard in her mind when the Lady looked deep into her eyes.
Gadewch y dyfroedd byw ynoch, a chi o fewn y dyfroedd. Y p ˆwer yn eiddo i chi. She didn’t recognize the language, much less speak it, but somehow she knew its meaning: Let the waters live within you, and you within the waters. The power be yours.
You have the power to defeat him, if you will grasp it, the Lady had said first. “Him” being Merlin. Apparently they were supposed to keep Merlin from getting the shards of Arthur’s famous sword Excalibur, remaking it, and using it to take over the world.
Yeah, right, she thought. And anyway, how am I supposed to “grasp” this supposed power? How am I even supposed to know if I want it? Mom didn’t.
She remembered her mother coming back to the house, soaked to the skin, changed beyond recognition. If her mother had seen the Lady that night, Ariane could understand why she had seemed so shaken, not in her right mind. But that didn’t explain why she had denied Ariane was her daughter, or that she even had a daughter – or why she had run away.
Why did she abandon me?
Ariane sighed. Showering wasn’t getting her anything but wet.
She turned off the water and stepped onto the pink fuzzy bathmat – the Knights’ bathroom was a bit frilly and froufrou for her taste – and only then realized there wasn’t a towel to be seen.
“Gee, thanks, Wally,” she muttered as she knelt, opening the cabinets under the sink. She found toilet paper, bottles of Mr. Clean, a scrub brush, and several old bath toys, but no towels. “How am I supposed to dry myself off – just wish the water away?”
And then she gasped and jerked backward, losing her footing and falling onto her bare bottom with a floor-shaking thump.
Her bone-dry bottom. Like every other square centimetre of her – she raised a hand, jerked it back again – even my hair! – her backside was no longer wet.
Wally knocked on the door. “Are you all right in there? Did you fall?”
“I’m...I’m fine...I just...” Just what? “...slipped.”
“Okay.” Wally sounded dubious. “Are you almost done?”
“Yeah, I’m done. But there aren’t any towels.”
“Oh, sorry! I’ll get you one. Just a second.”
Ariane heard his footsteps move down the hall, and she looked around her while waiting. The water from her body hadn’t vanished: instead, it had formed a ring-shaped puddle on the floor where she had been standing. It had...fled, as if she really had wished it from her body.
This day is getting weirder and weirder.
“I’v
e got a towel,” Wally said from the other side of the door. In the reverse of the dance they’d performed earlier when she’d handed him her clothes, Ariane scooted over to the door, positioned herself carefully out of Wally’s line of sight, and eased it open. Wally’s hand appeared, holding out a dark green towel. She took it, closed the door, then wrapped the towel around her as best she could. Although it was on the smallish side, at least it covered the embarrassing bits. Her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket – not surprising, since she hadn’t had a chance to comb it while it was wet.
Using one hand to hold her precarious covering in place, she opened the door with the other and sailed out into the hallway, past Wally. Unlike her, he was at least half-dressed, wearing jeans but no shirt or socks. The ribs stood out on his skinny chest. He blushed waist to crown when he saw her, then after that first glance looked up…down…sideways…anywhere but right at her. “Where’s your sister’s room?” she said.
“It’s...uh...” Wally made a slight gagging sound, as though he found it hard to form words. “Down the hall. Last door. On the right.”
“Thank you.” Using her free hand to hold the back of the towel as low as possible, Ariane walked down the hall with all the dignity she could muster. Once inside Felicia’s room, she let the towel fall away.
The bathroom’s frilly décor must have represented Felicia’s mother’s taste, not Felicia’s. Cool functionality was her style: dark blue carpet, purple bedding, white walls, and, for decoration, a poster of a tattooed and pierced all-girl band Ariane had never heard of. The dresser and desk were utterly bare, everything tucked out of sight.
“A neat freak,” Ariane muttered. “Who would have guessed?” She began digging in Felicia’s dresser drawers and closet for clothes. She didn’t worry about keeping things tidy. By the time she was done, Felicia’s room looked a lot less like a House & Home photo spread and a lot more like a going-out-of-business sale at Teen Fashions R Us. Ariane couldn’t bring herself to wear any of Felicia’s underwear, but she donned a plain white cotton top, a heavy wool sweater, a pair of jeans that probably looked like they were sprayed on when Felicia wore them but were comfortably loose on her, white gym socks, and an expensive-looking pair of runners, only one size too big.
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