Destiny of the Last Wolf

by Amy Cross

  Jess

  Today.

  "Something's wrong," says Duncan, pacing up and down at the shore of the lake. "Something's very very very very..." He turns to me. "VERY wrong." There's a kind of wild panic in his eyes, as if he's really starting to get worried. I don't often see this side of Duncan. Usually, no matter what's happening, no matter how bad things seem to be, he's got some kind of plan bubbling away in the back of his mind. That's how Duncan works: as long as he has a plan, even if it's crazy, he feels as if there's a chance. But right now, he seems to have no plan. And as he once told me: "A plan is hope."

  "Well we're here," I say, looking out across the lake. "What do we do now?" The lake is huge, with a small island in the middle. It certainly looks like the kind of place where a sword could be conveniently lost.

  "Of course we're here!" Duncan snaps, almost shouting at me. "Where else would we be? Don't say such stupid things." He pauses. "Sorry," he says finally. "It's just that something's very very -"

  "Wrong," I interrupt. "Yes, you keep saying that. But you haven't said what it is."

  "Thomas Lumic isn't here," Duncan says.

  I stare at him for a moment. "Isn't that a good thing?" I ask. "He's dead, and he's evil. Why's it bad if -"

  "Exactly!" Duncan says. "He's dead! So he should have been with those ghosts. But he wasn't, and there's only one possible reason why that would be the case." He takes a deep breath. "He's not dead. Somewhere, somehow, some fraction of his deranged mind is still alive." he pauses. "And considering that I've felt all along that someone is manipulating us in our journey, I can't help but put two and two together and conclude that Thomas Lumic is behind all of this." He holds the sword up. "Lumic is using us to get to the sword."

  "Lumic's dead," I say. "I saw him die in the Underworld."

  "You saw his body die," Duncan says, "but a creature like Lumic has an endless capacity to surprise. He's survived in some form. It all makes sense. I should have known that only someone like Thomas Lumic could have forced Black Annis to deliver that message."

  I wait for him to continue, but he seems lost in thought. "So now what?" I ask. "We're standing by the lake, and we need a plan."

  Duncan turns to look across the water. "There," he says, pointing at the island. "Do you know what that is? Of course you don't. It's Avalon. It's where the sword has to go."

  I hear a noise behind us, and I turn to find that the ghosts from the forest have joined us on the shore. One of them, the woman I believe to be Anna, steps forward. "Duncan," she says. "You need to listen to me."

  "No I don't," he says coldly.

  "It's me," she insists, walking past me, her gaze fixed on him. "I'm not a phantom, or a ghost. It's just me."

  I can see the pain in Duncan's eyes. Although I still don't know exactly who Anna was or why she meant so much to him, I know she meant a great deal to him.

  "It's not her," I say. "These are all just ghosts."

  "You don't understand," Duncan says, still staring at Anna.

  "I do!" I insist. "These are ghosts. Someone's sent them to try to stop us."

  "That's not how it works," Duncan says, backing away from Anna as she approaches him.

  "Come with me," Anna says to him.

  "I knew you were dead," Duncan says, his voice sounding weak as if he's holding back tears. "I knew it. But to have it confirmed like this..."

  "That's why you have to come with me," Anna says, remaining calm. "Do you think that even in death I could do anything to you? All I can do is love you, Duncan."

  Duncan closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them and he suddenly he seems calmer. "You're very smart," he says. "You're beautiful. You're as strong and as brave as I am. I'd trust you with my life, and I know that there's no way you'd ever do anything that was wrong or impure or malicious. I have absolute, unwavering faith in you. You have to run with me. We have to run together."

  "I will," Anna says.

  "Not you," Duncan says. He turns to me and smiles. "I was talking about you, Jess. Follow me." With that, he switches to his wolf form and carries the sword between his teeth as he runs straight into the lake, swimming out towards the island. I immediately do the same, switching and following as we head as fast as we can away from the shore. I glance back and see the ghosts standing and watching us. It's strange, but I've never gone swimming in my wolf form before, not properly like this, but it's pretty easy. The water's cold and my fur feels heavy, almost dragging me down; nevertheless, sheer force of will pushes me on, and finally Duncan and I both arrive on the shore of the island, dripping wet.

  We both switch back to our human forms. We're still soaking wet, but at least we're away from the ghosts.

  "Was that Anna?" I ask, deciding to approach the subject head-on.

  "Never mind," Duncan says. "I need to think."

  "We're here," I say. "Where do we hide the sword?"

  "I don't know," Duncan says. "Just let me think for a moment." I know what he's doing: he's trying to come up with a plan. Once he has a plan, he'll feel more confident. "We were sent to find Excalibur, but it was a trap and after we found Excalibur, I realized we should have left it buried. Now we're trying to bury Excalibur again, but..." He pauses. "Those ghosts are too obvious."

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  "Thomas Lumic is a smart man," Duncan says. "If he really wanted to send ghosts to trick us, he'd do a much better job. He hasn't suddenly become an idiot, so why send ghosts that are so obviously not real?" He looks at the sword. "Oh," he says finally.

  I wait for him to continue. I don't understand what he's talking about, and it seems like every time he thinks he knows what's happening, he realizes there's another layer of the puzzle to peel back. "Oh?" I say eventually. "Is there any chance you might explain to me what 'Oh' means?"

  Duncan keeps on staring at the sword, and finally he looks over at me and smiles. "Oh," he says again. "I get it."

  "And?" I ask.

  "And it's simple," he says. "The sword wants to go home. It wants to go back to where it came from. Think about it. When Darla showed up, was she a ghost? No. She was real, or she was supposed to be real. She's flesh and blood, with our memories of Darla imprinted on her. But the ghosts are something completely different." He takes a deep breath. "Thomas Lumic sent the fake Darla, but he didn't send the ghosts. The ghosts were created by the sword."

  "So..." I pause, trying to work it out. "Lumic sent Darla, or Karla, or whatever her name is right now. And the sword conjured up the ghosts because..."

  "Because the sword wanted to scare us and make us hurry to the island." Duncan holds the sword up, letting sunlight reflect from the blade. "It's such an old, old thing, this sword. Thousands of years old. It should have been destroyed when Arthur died, but Constantine decided to keep it. That was a terrible mistake. Ever since then, the sword has been keen to come home. I think it misses Arthur."

  "So where does Lumic fit into all this?" I ask.

  "Lumic wants the sword," Duncan says, "but for some reason, he can't just come and take it. Maybe he's weak. Maybe he's still gathering strength, in which case we have to strike while there's still a chance. Thomas Lumic isn't the kind of person you allow to grow to full power." He smiles. "Come on!" he says, turning and walking along the shore.

  "Where are we going?" I ask as I follow him. "This island doesn't look very big. There's can't be much room on here."

  "There's not," Duncan replies, "but there's something the sword wants."

  "And what's that?" I ask.

  "Him," Duncan says, stopping and pointing at a pile of bones on the shore ahead of us. He turns to me. "That's Arthur."

  1,668 years ago

  His bones aching, Constantine struggles even with the simple walk from his bed chamber to the dining room. It's late at night, and all the servants are sleeping. For Constantine, this means a rare chance to be alone at night. During the day, everyone is fussing over him and trying to help him; only when the sun goes down and e
veryone goes to sleep, can Constantine truly be himself and make his own way around the castle. He savors these moments, because he knows he's dying.

  "Was it worth it?" asks a voice from the shadows.

  Constantine turns to see who has joined him, but he sees only the dark outline of his visitor. "Who goes there?" he asks.

  "Nice try," the man says, "but I don't reveal my name to anyone, least of all you."

  "Ah," Constantine says, smiling, "so it's you."

  "It's me," the man says. "I thought I'd pop in one final time, to say goodbye."

  "Are you leaving us?" Constantine asks.

  "No," the man says, "but you are. Everyone in the kingdom knows that you're old and dying. How much longer have you got left? A day? A week?"

  "Not long enough," Constantine says. "Whatever it is, I want more."

  "Sorry," the man says. "Not everyone can live forever. But you didn't answer my question. Was it worth it?"

  "What?"

  "Keeping the sword."

  Constantine pauses. He knew, somehow, that one day he would be asked this question. In keeping the sword, he went against Arthur's express dying wish, yet Constantine knows that without the sword he would never have hung on to the throne of England. "Yes," he says finally. "With the sword, I was able to keep the nation united following Arthur's death. No man could have achieved that without the aid of Excalibur."

  "But the deaths, Constantine?" The man steps forward from the shadows. "Did you have to kill so many people, so gleefully?"

  "What would you have me do?" Constantine asks. "Would it have been more acceptable if I had regretted each and every death? If I had torn myself apart with anguish? I did what I had to do, and I found ways to help myself deal with it, and I stayed strong. It's easy for a man like you to hide in the shadows and occasionally emerge to cast moral judgment on the actions of others, but if you had been in my position, you would have done the same. Or would you rather sit on the throne of the nation and marvel at your own honor while chaos envelops your subjects? I gave myself, and my soul, so that -"

  "But you enjoyed it," the man says. "I was there when you killed Memnon and his brother. I was in the shadows, watching, and I saw the smile on your lips."

  "If I experienced any joy that day," Constantine replies, "it was because I knew that their deaths would greatly aid the cause of the nation."

  "And Arthur?"

  "Arthur was a great leader -"

  "Which is why you killed him?" the man asks. He waits for a moment, knowing that Constantine has no way of arguing the point. "Everyone, including Arthur himself, assumed that it was Mordred who cast the fatal blow. But we both know, do we not, that you had far more to do with the matter."

  Constantine pauses. "Arthur was a great leader, but his time was over. He was starting to make mistakes. His death in battle came at an opportune moment, but beyond that I do not think it wise for one such as yourself to speculate idly about what happened. I saw Mordred attack -"

  "You and only you," the man says. "The way I remember it, two men died that day by your blade. Only one of them was Mordred. And then you became king."

  "Why are you here?" Constantine asks, becoming angry. "I'm an old man, close to death. Why do you come to torment me?"

  "For my own amusement," the man says, "and because I feel that you have lived a long life untroubled by truth. It interests me to confront you with your own deceptions, and to hear your contortions as you try to wriggle free. But the greatest question is yet to come. What of Excalibur?"

  "We both know the power of the sword," Constantine says.

  "Exactly," the man replies, "and we both know that it should have been destroyed after Arthur died. Instead, you have kept it alive and now it is out there in the world. Who knows what kind of man will get his hands on it next? You've allowed a dangerous weapon to survive. I imagine there'll be consequences."

  "I'll be long dead," Constantine says. "It will be for other men to resist their temptations in the future. I..." He pauses, feeling his chest tightening. "Now?" he asks, before dropping to his knees. He clutches at his left arm, his body convulsed with pain, and finally he drops dead to the floor.

  "Don't worry too much," the man says, stepping over to Constantine's body, "I'll clean up most of the mess you left. Might take a while, though. I've got some things to do, but one day I'll get around to sending that pesky sword back to join Arthur's body." He kicks Constantine's body, rolling it over. "Long live the king," he says quietly.

  Jess

  Today.

  "Good old Arthur," Duncan says, as we stand looking at the bones. "We had our differences from time to time, but he was a cut above the rest. A really good king, especially when you consider he was only human. Even the werewolves on the English throne have never matched him."

  "Werewolves?" I say. "On the English throne?"

  Duncan puts a finger to his lips. "Ssshh!" he says, smiling. "I doubt any of them would be amused if I named names." He looks back down at Arthur's skeleton. "This is Avalon. This is where Arthur was brought after he suffered mortal injuries in the final battle against Mordred. He was set down here, and he breathed his last as Excalibur lay beside him." He pauses. "That's the official story, anyway." He looks up. "Do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

  "How long ago was this?" I ask.

  "Thousands of years," Duncan says. "I don't know exactly. I know someone who was there, but he doesn't keep a detailed diary and his mind's going a bit funny." He pauses. "Well, that's a lie, slightly. I was there myself."

  "Seriously? You were there?" I say, shocked. "How old are you?"

  "Old enough," Duncan says.

  "I thought you were quite young?"

  He pauses, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's embarrassing. I don't like being old. Excuse me for occasionally knocking a few years off the birthday cake."

  "A few years?" I say. "Sounds more like a few centuries, or even -"

  "Point made," Duncan says, "but also rather irrelevant."

  "And you really knew Arthur?" I ask.

  "I was knocking around," he replies. "I bumped into him a few times. I never came to Avalon, though. Not until today. Arthur wanted Excalibur to be returned to the place it came from, but Constantine decided he'd hang onto the sword for his own purposes. I tried to put things right, but Constantine was a tricky old bastard." He kneels and places the sword next to the skeleton. "Constantine is responsible for Excalibur being loose. Even as he died, the old fool wouldn't admit that he'd done anything wrong. Excalibur went out into the world and caused untold damage. At least now it's in the right place."

  "So this is where Excalibur came from?" I ask.

  "Almost," Duncan says, pointing out at the surface of the lake. "There, to be precise. No-one really knows what happened, but the story goes that a lady emerged from the lake and gave the sword to a man who happened to be fishing. The sword ended up wedged in a stone, and that's where Arthur enters the story. He was just a child back then. Hard to believe it, really. That's another problem with getting old. People around you start to die."

  "Shouldn't we give the sword back to the lady, then?" I say. "I mean, just throw it into the lake?"

  "It doesn't work like that," Duncan says. "You can't just toss the sword into the lake. You have to put it where it belongs. Watch."

  As Duncan steps back, I sigh, figuring that this is just another of his silly ideas. But suddenly, the bones on the ground start to move and - right before my eyes - the skeleton stands up, holding the sword.

  "Magic!" Duncan says, grinning. "Right out of a Ray Harryhausen film! Absolute bloody magic!"

  "Bit creepy, no?" I add, fighting the urge to turn and run. I lean closer to Duncan and whisper in his ear. "We don't need to be worried about this, do we?"

  "Not at all!" Duncan replies. He seems so happy, as if he's been waiting for this moment for a while. "Thomas Lumic might want that sword, but he can't have it, not now. It's going back where it belongs!" />
  The skeleton steps towards us, its bones rattling, and slowly flesh starts to appear all over its body. Soon, the image of a man seems to have overlaid itself against the bones. "Thank you," he says.

  "Jess, this is Arthur," Duncan says. "Arthur, Jess. I'd give you a hug Arthur, but I think that'd go wrong. Same with a handshake. But it's very nice to see you again."

  "How long did I have to wait?" Arthur asks.

  "Oh, just a couple of thousand years," Duncan says. "Sorry, I got distracted, things got complicated. You know how it is."

  "Constantine is dead?" Arthur says.

  "He is," Duncan replies. "To be honest, he was a bad king. A very, very bad king. You could have picked someone better for the job. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but I think you overlooked someone who could have been a much better king."

  "Is England united?" Arthur asks.

  "Tough question," Duncan says, turning to me. "What do you think?"

  "I guess," I say. "I mean, Cornwall and Yorkshire can be a bit funny sometimes, but everything's hanging together pretty well."

  "Exactly!" Duncan adds. "It's a shame you can't pop down to London with us, Arthur. Take a spin on the London Eye. See Tate Modern. Go on the Tube. Pop into Forbidden Planet. A lot of stuff's changed."

  Arthur stares at Duncan.

  "Don't worry," Duncan says, "I guess most of those words don't mean much to you. Maybe it's time you just carry old Excalibur back down to the bottom of the lake."

  "Before I go," Arthur says, "I would ask you to kneel, Duncan."

  Duncan glances at me, looking a little worried. "You would?" he asks. "Arthur, are you still mad at me for some reason?"

  "Kneel," Arthur repeats.

  Duncan takes a deep breath and gets down on his knees.

  "For my last act," Arthur says, "I anoint you as my successor. You shall serve as King of England for as long as you shall live." He slowly touches the sword against one of Duncan's shoulders, and then the other.