Cavall in Camelot #1

by Audrey Mackaman

  “Well, well. The legend himself makes an appearance.”

  Cavall looked up to see Anwen and the other hounds coming over to greet him.

  “Legend?” Cavall asked. He felt a bit intimidated as they all gathered around him, the dozen or so dogs from the hunt yesterday. Their smells were still new to him, and he didn’t know all of their names yet, but he had to remind himself that this was his new pack. His new family.

  “So . . . what was it like?” Anwen prompted. “What was it like to spend the night in your person’s room?”

  “It was great,” Cavall answered. The other dogs murmured in agreement, and that made Cavall feel a little less on edge. His tail wagged, and Anwen’s tail wagged faster in response.

  “What was the room like? What was the bed like?”

  “Have you not seen them?” Cavall looked to Anwen, and then the other dogs. They all shook their heads. “None of you have seen your people’s rooms?”

  “It’s a great honor,” Anwen said with a wistful look in her droopy eyes. “The fact that you were invited so quickly is . . . it’s incredible. You must have really impressed the king. So, tell us what happened. I heard you fought off a bear.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say fought off.”

  “Modesty is a fine quality,” one of the dogs spoke up, “but you don’t have to pretend for us.”

  “Yeah, tell us,” a wiry-haired dog agreed. “We want to know what happened.”

  The other dogs all began talking in unison, asking if the bear was three or four times the size of a person, if it had gotten any good blows in, how fast it had run once it realized what it was up against. They were all eager for a bloody story, but Cavall didn’t have one that would please them.

  “All right, all right, enough,” Anwen said. “Give the hero some space.” She put herself between Cavall and the other dogs. Even though she was the smallest one there, they all kept a respectful distance. “Let’s go get some breakfast, legend.” She escorted him across the room, staying close by his side. Once they had left the others behind, she said, “You know, I sent you out to fetch your brother yesterday. I was a bit miffed when you didn’t come back.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Well, I was miffed, until I heard what you did for your person. I don’t know all the details, but by all accounts, it was very brave of you.” She looked from side to side, conspiratorially. “You know, you can tell me what happened.”

  Cavall thought for a moment. She wanted an interesting story, but he wasn’t clever enough to come up with one. He decided to tell the truth. “I just talked to her, is all.”

  Anwen cocked her head. “You fought off a bear by . . . talking to it?”

  “I told you, I didn’t really fight her off. We were fighting, yes, but then we realized that neither of us really wanted to fight.”

  “As easy as that?” Anwen asked in amazement. She scrunched up her face as she considered that. “I guess it’s like Edelm always told me when I was a pup: ‘There is honor in an elegant solution.’”

  Cavall wasn’t sure what that meant, but it did remind him. “Have you seen Edelm today? I wanted to ask him some questions.”

  Anwen looked around the great hall. “If he’s not here, he’s probably in the library.” She made a slow turn—her back legs took a while to catch up with her front ones—and jerked her head for Cavall to follow. “If you can hold off on breakfast, I’ll take you there.”

  They headed for an archway Edelm had not shown him the other day. It led to a long, dark hallway. The faint smell of stale water hung in the air and grew stronger as they passed an alcove off to the left. Cavall poked his head in.

  In the center of the alcove, the steps of a stone stairwell vanished downward into the darkness below. The bricks were worn smooth, held together with mossy mortar. They looked older than anything in the castle. So old that they had remained forgotten for many years. Cavall stepped nearer. If he listened very carefully, he could almost make out sounds. Footsteps? Voices? They seemed to echo off the ancient stones and fade away. Wind whistled up from the stairs, setting all the fur on his back on edge.

  He jumped when Anwen nudged up beside him. “This way.” She nodded back toward the hallway.

  “What’s down there?” Cavall asked.

  “The catacombs,” she answered with a dismissive shake of her head. “Underground tunnels. Nobody goes down there. Come on.”

  Cavall looked down the stairs one last time but couldn’t see or smell anything, so he hurried to catch up with her.

  They continued until they came to a stairwell leading up. Anwen climbed them with a bouncing gait as her tiny legs pushed off each step to propel her upward. Cavall followed.

  “The library is where the people keep their books,” Anwen said over her shoulder.

  “Books?”

  “A book is something a person looks at, and afterward they know things they didn’t know before.”

  How could that be? Cavall wondered. “Are books magic?”

  Anwen paused to think about it. “I think it might just be one of those people things,” she answered. “The people here don’t really trust magic, or the fay who use it.”

  “But what about Merlin?” Cavall said. “He’s a fay and the people in the castle seem to like him well enough.”

  “Well . . . he’s a special case.”

  She looked like she was about to say more, but as they came to the top of the stairs, she stopped abruptly. Cavall almost ran right into her. Instead, with his long legs and her short ones, he walked right over her and saw what had made her freeze on the spot: Gless emerging from one of the rooms.

  Cavall also froze. A half second later, Gless noticed them, and their eyes met. Cavall found his own startled expression mirrored on his brother’s face.

  “Speaking of special cases,” Anwen grumbled, “your troublemaking brother and I have unfinished business from yesterday.”

  Cavall was confused for a moment, but then he remembered how Gless had run ahead of the pack.

  “Can I talk with him first?” he asked. “I need to ask him some questions, too.” Questions Gless would be less likely to answer if he was defensive after Anwen’s scolding.

  Anwen blew out a puff of air from her nose, and Cavall remembered Edelm’s advice not to make her angry. “All right,” she agreed. “But make it quick, would you?”

  Gless glowered at them as they drew near him, though the stone around Cavall’s throat remained quiet as they approached. He watched them warily, pressing himself to the far side of the wall, as if hoping to avoid them. It was obvious he wasn’t going to speak first.

  Cavall stepped forward. “Can we talk about yesterday?”

  “What is there to talk about?” Gless said. “I already told you it doesn’t concern you.”

  Didn’t concern him? Cavall shivered as he remembered Arthur crying out in his sleep and Mordred smiling unpleasantly as he watched his father drink from that pitcher. No, Cavall would not let Gless dismiss this so easily.

  Cavall drew himself to his full height. He’d always been big and clumsy, but standing with his head up and his chest out, he realized he was taller than Gless. Much taller.

  “It does concern me,” he persisted. “Anything that concerns my person concerns me.”

  Gless blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be challenged.

  “The water Arthur drank last night,” Cavall went on, thinking of how his rune had vibrated in Mordred’s presence the night before, “what did Mordred put in it? Was it whatever was in that vial Morgana gave him yesterday?”

  Gless drew his head in and his shoulders up. “You needn’t concern yourself with the vial, Cavall. It’s just as Mordred said, something to help your human’s wound.” His voice had a dangerous edge. “Nothing more.”

  Cavall contemplated that for a moment, trying to recall the events from yesterday. “That can’t be right,” he said. “It couldn’t have been for Arthur’s wound, because when Mordred got
the vial, he didn’t know Arthur had been injured yet.”

  “I’m hurt, brother. Do you really think I would lie to you?”

  Cavall didn’t want to think so. He really didn’t, but the more Gless evaded his questions, the more it seemed like he had something to hide.

  “Okay, then tell me,” Cavall said. “What’s a familiar?”

  Gless glowered again. “It’s none of your business, is what it is.”

  “Familiar?” Anwen repeated from behind Cavall. “That’s a fay word.” Cavall looked down to see the fur on her neck bristling. “Where’d you hear it?”

  “From a fay . . . I think.” Cavall scratched his paws nervously along the stones. “Do you know a person named Morgana?”

  “Never heard of them,” Anwen said, “but I do know that a familiar is an animal who does the bidding of a fay. They say that a familiar and their master can see through each other’s eyes. A familiar can move through walls and trees and can even travel into the fay realms unharmed.”

  “You should leave well enough alone,” Gless growled. “You might just get yourself hurt . . . along with anyone else you drag into this with you.” His eyes flickered to Anwen without really looking at her.

  Cavall flinched as the rune stone began to hum, ever so softly.

  Anwen bared her teeth at Gless. “I see you’re a bully as well as a braggart and a show-off.”

  Gless arched his back, hackles raised. “What did you say?”

  The stone began to vibrate.

  “Are you hard of hearing as well?” Anwen bounded forward. She craned her neck to stare up at him, her nose inches away from his. “I guess that would explain why you kept running yesterday instead of coming back when you were called.”

  Gless’s lip curled. “Or maybe I don’t take orders from the likes of you.”

  Anwen growled low in her throat. “Then I’ll have to teach you how to take orders.”

  The stone began to ring. Cavall’s heart raced.

  “Please stop,” he begged, looking from one to the other. Their twin glares made him uneasy. “There’s no reason to fight.”

  A tense moment passed.

  The stone continued to hum.

  Then, Gless looked away with a disgusted snort.

  Anwen backed off as well. “You’ll learn to take orders,” she muttered under her breath, “or you’ll find yourself another pack.”

  The stone continued to vibrate, but not as strongly. Cavall sighed in relief.

  But then Gless scoffed, a nasty, dismissive sound. “I don’t take orders from any creature I have to bend down to speak to.”

  In a flash, Anwen lunged, snapping at him. Perhaps Gless expected it, perhaps not, but he snapped back. Teeth flashed and fur flew as their two bodies collided. Cavall didn’t have time to react before they were locked in a full-fledged fight.

  “Stop!” he tried to yell over the sounds of their scuffling. “You shouldn’t be fighting!”

  They either didn’t hear or they ignored him. Their growling and frenzied flailing continued. Anwen bit at Gless’s leg, while Gless grabbed Anwen by the scruff of her neck and shook her viciously. Cavall wasn’t sure what do to. They wouldn’t listen to him and, worse, they looked like they were really trying to hurt each other.

  With one last-ditch effort, Cavall pushed himself between the two dogs. “Enough!” His big frame separated them easily. As he shoved them apart, he realized that he was strong. He’d never felt strong before, not when he’d always lost to Gless in matters of speed and strength. But he was strong. He could hurt either Anwen or Gless quite easily. Instead of making him feel powerful and brave, it made him uncertain. Afraid that he might hurt them without meaning to, he found himself unable to keep them apart.

  As he tried to stop them, pain flashed up his leg. He yelped and jumped back, but so did the other two.

  Cavall looked at his paw, then at Gless, in shock. His brother had bitten him.

  Gless backed away. “I . . . I’m s . . .” He stopped himself short and shook his head. “Watch yourself next time!” Then he turned and ran down the stairs.

  Cavall watched him go, unsure how to feel, even as Anwen inspected his paw.

  “Doesn’t look too bad,” she said, giving it a lick.

  And it didn’t hurt too much either. Mainly it had been the shock of it. Gless had never bitten him before.

  “I’m sorry,” Anwen said. “If I hadn’t lost my temper, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  Sorry. Gless hadn’t even said he was sorry.

  “Thank you, I’m fine,” Cavall said. It wasn’t technically a lie. His paw was fine. It would heal. But he wasn’t sure if his trust in Gless would.

  Chapter 10

  GLESS HADN’T ANSWERED HIS QUESTIONS, BUT hopefully Edelm would.

  Anwen continued to fuss over his paw, until Cavall reminded her why they were here and who they were looking for.

  “Right,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “The library is this way.” She directed him to the door at the end of the hall, the one Gless had exited. Cavall barely had time to wonder what his brother might have been doing in the library, because as he entered, he was hit by the scent of musty paper and old smoke.

  It turned out a library was a room with shelves along every wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. And every shelf was stacked with square blocks of all sizes. These blocks smelled of people and parchment and old, old age. These must be the books Anwen had mentioned.

  A row of tall, narrow windows illuminated this strange room with warm light from outside. A high-backed chair sat against one of these windows, and seated in this chair—Cavall did a double take—was Gwen, one of the books open in her lap. Whatever was inside that particular book must have been very interesting, because Gwen studied it intently, her eyebrows pulled together in concentration. The white-furred dog lay at her feet. She lifted her head as Cavall entered the room, eyed him for a brief moment, then lay her head back down.

  Cavall stood rooted in place. Should he try to talk to her again?

  Before he had decided, a voice called out, “My lady.”

  Cavall spun to see Lancelot standing in the doorway.

  “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to ask you something.” He stopped when he saw Cavall, then smiled and patted his head. “Funny running into you. Maybe you’ll be able to keep yourself out of trouble for one day.”

  Cavall tucked his tail in embarrassment, but Lancelot quickly turned his attention back to Gwen.

  “And I see you’re keeping my dog company as well.”

  Cavall hadn’t even noticed Edelm lying on the wide windowsill until the old dog raised his head. So, Anwen had been right.

  “Are you busy?” Lancelot asked.

  Gwen looked up from her book. “I . . . no. Just reading.” She stood, turned, and set the book down on the chair. Then she turned to him and smoothed out her gown. “What did you want to ask me?”

  Lancelot ignored her question. “Reading?” He stepped forward, craning his neck to see what she had been looking at. “What are you reading?”

  “Oh, just some old fairy tales.” She strode forward and put herself between him and the chair. “Do you remember when Mordred came to live in Camelot?”

  “Aye,” he responded, raising a single eyebrow.

  “Did he ever . . . ?” She paused and bit her lip. “Does he ever . . . act strangely, do you think?”

  Lancelot shrugged. “Lad grew up in the woods. And with a mother like that, who could blame him. Why d’you ask?”

  She shook her head. “No reason. Forgive me asking.” She took his arm. “It’s a lovely day outside. Shall we take a walk in the courtyard and you can tell me what you wanted to talk about?”

  Lancelot blinked, then smiled and stopped trying to look over her shoulder. “It would be my pleasure, my lady.”

  Gwen patted her side. “Come, Luwella.” The long-furred dog got to her feet and gracefully followed Lancelot and the queen as t
hey exited the library. She passed by Cavall and Anwen without even looking at them.

  Luwella? Was that her name?

  “Snob,” Anwen muttered after she was gone. “Thinks she’s better than us working dogs because she’s the queen’s official companion and follows her around all day. You’re better off ignoring her.”

  Cavall didn’t think that was entirely fair, or even possible, but Anwen continued before he could defend Luwella.

  “Edelm,” she said, wagging her tail. “Cavall was looking for you.”

  “I have some questions.” Cavall lowered his head respectfully. “If you wouldn’t mind answering them.”

  “You are welcome to ask,” Edelm said from the warm little nook; Cavall could see why he would spend so much time up here. “I will try to answer as best I can, but . . .” He lifted his shoulders with a groan. “You will have to come closer. Don’t make an old dog leave his comfortable sleeping spot.”

  Cavall crossed the room, Anwen trailing close behind.

  As they approached the window, Cavall caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. Gwen’s book. A draft caught the pages and flipped them to a stark black-and-white image. It was a picture, like the tapestries in the hallway. He could make out a woman standing over a bubbling cauldron, her hands raised over her head. A dark shape rose from the cauldron, shrouded in smoke and flame. It looked vaguely animal shaped, with four legs and an elongated snout. A single blank eye stared up at him from the page with such a sense of malice that it sent a shudder through his body.

  “Did you have something to ask?” Edelm said.

  Cavall’s head shot up. For a moment, he’d forgotten where he was. Edelm looked at him expectantly, as did Anwen.

  “Er . . .” He hurried to think of the questions that had been pressing on his mind since yesterday in the forest. “Do you know a person named Morgana?”

  Edelm’s ears perked up. “That is a name I have not heard in quite some time.”