Quests for Glory

by Soman Chainani

  Tedros scooted across the cloud, silky white fibers tickling his legs as he moved next to Agatha, who was crying into her palms. Gently he put his hand on her back.

  “I love you, Agatha. No matter how stupid I can be, nothing will ever change that.”

  “I could only bring myself to write one letter—to Hester—and it was full of lies. I couldn’t let anyone know how you were treating me,” Agatha sniffled. “That’s why I didn’t write anyone else or ask about their quests. Six m-m-months. You made me feel so alone.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry about me,” Tedros said guiltily.

  “Y-y-you made me worry more.”

  “I told you I was stupid.”

  “S-s-stupider than a tree s-s-stump,” Agatha piled on.

  “Stupider than a tree stump,” Tedros conceded.

  “Stupider than one of Rafal’s zombie villains with no brains.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that—”

  “It wasn’t a question.”

  Tedros smiled and rolled back his eyes zombie-style, playfully sinking his teeth into her neck. Agatha yelped and shoved him away, but she was snickering now too.

  She leaned against him and clasped his arm.

  “You know, I’m surprised Sophie’s still alive, let alone writing you letters,” Tedros said. “Figured Dovey would have turned her into a pumpkin by now.”

  “Not sure fairy godmothers are allowed to be Evil,” said Agatha.

  “But wouldn’t it be awesome if they could?”

  Agatha laughed: that hissy, throaty laugh he’d missed for so long. He pulled her in closer.

  “Though from Sophie’s letters, it sounds like Dovey is out of sorts,” said Agatha. “She insists it’s because Dovey’s threatened by her; Sophie claims she’s turned Evil into the hot new thing and now all the first-year Evers want to go to her side.”

  “But you think it’s something more sinister?”

  “I’m sure Dovey wouldn’t mind if a stymph dropped Sophie on her head, but I doubt she’d get too worked up over a former student’s theatrics. Plus, you heard what Merlin said. If our classmates are having trouble on their quests, Dovey has her hands full. The Deans are responsible for all fourth years once they leave for their missions. Especially with no new School Master in place.”

  “Wouldn’t Sophie have mentioned something in her letters? She’s Dean too.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, does it?” Agatha agreed. “What do you think is happening out there that has Dovey stressed?”

  “And Merlin worried?” said Tedros.

  “And why would it be connected to you not pulling your dad’s sword?” said Agatha.

  Tedros glanced away, tensing, and he could feel Agatha tighten too, knowing she’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t want to talk about the sword with her. Not just because it made him feel inadequate, but because he didn’t want her pity.

  “I’m still imagining what Lance would look like if Merlin turned him into a girl,” said Agatha, mercifully changing the subject.

  “No way Merlin would go for it,” said Tedros. “Lance would make such a beastly female that it would only call attention to itself.”

  “You were a pretty beastly female yourself, Essa.”

  “Wasn’t I the one who had boys whistling at me in the halls?”

  “Boys who like their girls hulking, hairy, and belligerent.”

  “Now you’re just jealous.”

  “Well, if you want to be a girl so badly, maybe you should plan the wedding,” Agatha teased.

  “Honestly, I found it sexist too at first: the new king focuses on governance, his princess on the wedding,” said Tedros. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized traditions exist for a reason. I grew up in Camelot. The people have known me since I was a baby. You, on the other hand, are brand-new to them. The kingdom knows nothing about you. Planning the wedding is your coronation test.”

  “And I want to pass it with flying colors, not for me, but for the both of us,” Agatha said earnestly. “But I’d rather be helping you.”

  Tedros exhaled. “Help me manage our debts to other kingdoms that will take centuries to repay? Or help me find out where all Camelot’s gold went when the three advisors who handled this gold refuse to speak to me? Or help me fight rampant thieving by the poor, even though it helps them survive? Which would you like to help me with?”

  “All of it. Any of it,” Agatha said. “I know how hard it is—”

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “You can’t know how hard it is to watch your father’s kingdom turn its back on Good.”

  “Just like you can’t know how hard it is to watch your one true love turn his back on you,” said Agatha.

  Tedros didn’t argue.

  Finally he looked at her, tears gleaming. “You really want to help me, Agatha? Then tell me how to pull my sword out of that stone. Tell me how to pass my father’s test.” He wiped his nose. “Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I knew this would happen. I knew I’d break down and ask you for help. Can’t even finish my coronation on my own. Maybe Merlin’s right. Maybe the sword doesn’t want me to be king.” He slouched into a sealed-off ball. “Not now. Not ever.”

  He felt Agatha’s hand slide across his back and wrap him into her. She tipped his face upwards.

  “Who says a good king can’t get help when he needs it most?”

  His eyes met hers and a wall inside him crumbled, feelings rushing through. How had he gone this long without coming to her—she, the only person who ever truly understood him?

  “I can see him looking at me in my dreams. My father,” said Tedros. “Staring at me as if he knows why I’ve failed. He’s part of this and I don’t know how.”

  Agatha wasn’t listening; she was deep in thought, already pouncing on his ask for help.

  “Let’s be smart about this,” she said. “Merlin had two theories: either the sword wants you to prove you’re king or the sword is being controlled by someone who doesn’t want you to be king. In any case, grabbing at the sword day after day isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  “But loafing around on a cloud isn’t going to solve the problem either,” he said, sitting up.

  “You’re forgetting the most important thing Merlin said. He said it isn’t only our quest that’s run into trouble. It’s our whole class.”

  “That would explain all those strange attacks in the Woods,” said Tedros. “So you think whoever is messing up their quests is messing up ours too?”

  “Maybe Merlin’s two theories are actually one,” Agatha nodded. “The King of Camelot is supposed to be the leader of the Woods. If something Evil is happening out there, you have to go and find it. You have to figure out what—or who—is disrupting our missions and set things right again. Maybe then you’ll be able to pull the sword loose. Maybe that’s your real quest.”

  Tedros’ face glowed with hope . . . then dimmed. “Agatha, a king can’t just desert his people and go questing in the Woods. Not when they already doubt me. Who knows how long I’d be out there? Look what became of this place while I was gone at school. Total chaos. Even if my reign has begun badly, if something happened to me, Camelot would end up in the wrong hands again. Maybe forever this time.” He shook his head. “I can’t go.”

  “But I can,” Agatha jumped in, as if she’d known this would be their conclusion.

  “Agatha, I asked you for help. Not to take over my test,” said Tedros impatiently. “You heard Merlin. This isn’t your quest. It’s mine.”

  “And my quest is to be your queen. Helping seal your place as king is more worthy of a queen’s attention than picking frosting for our cake. All I need is a few knights for the journey. Chaddick will be back any day with a new fleet for your Round Table—”

  “He hasn’t answered my letters in weeks,” Tedros said. Then his face changed. “You don’t think something went wrong on his quest too?”

  “Even more reason for me to go, then, an
d to go right away,” Agatha replied. “I need to find out what’s stopping all of us from fulfilling our missions, Good and Evil. This is as much my test as it is yours, Tedros. You’re not in this alone anymore.”

  Tedros saw the steely resolve in her big brown eyes and suddenly he knew that if he didn’t let her go, she would go on her own.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to butt in,” he muttered.

  “We’re going to be married soon, Tedros,” Agatha reminded him. “I’m supposed to butt in.”

  Tedros said nothing, picking at his shorts. “So how long would you be gone?”

  “A few weeks. I’ll send you letters each night.”

  “A few weeks in the Woods . . . alone?”

  “But I’d see all our friends again,” Agatha pressured. “And it would mean I can get away from Lady Gremlaine.”

  Tedros bit his lip, as if he couldn’t deny her such a pleasure. “Even so, it’s too dangerous,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I survived Aric. I can survive anything.”

  Tedros grimaced at the name of Lady Lesso’s sadistic son. “Questing in the Woods alone is a death sentence, Agatha—”

  “Then I’ll take someone with me. Like . . . Willam.”

  “Willam? The altar boy? He can’t even look me in the eye, let alone fight.”

  “Do you make it a habit of looking altar boys in the eye?”

  “All I’m saying is—”

  “The matter’s settled. I’ll leave tonight,” Agatha declared. “And I suspect that’s what Merlin wanted all along, because he dropped a clear hint of how I could escape the castle without anyone knowing. . . .”

  Baffled, Tedros started to ask what this was, but Agatha added: “The only question is who will take over wedding planning.”

  She looked at him hopefully.

  “You’re joking,” said Tedros. “I have enough on my plate, thank you.”

  “I could hire someone.”

  “With what money?”

  “Someone who would do it as a favor to the kingdom.”

  “And this someone would have good taste, be as invested in the wedding as you and me, manage all facets of a royal occasion that has to go off without a hitch, and also work for free?” said Tedros incredulously.

  “I should think so.”

  “It will take months of searching to find such a person, Agatha. If such a person even exists.”

  “Mmm, not really.”

  Tedros cocked his head. “You have someone in mind?”

  “Do you trust me?” Agatha asked, eyes twinkling.

  “You know I do.”

  “And I can pick anyone I choose?”

  “Of course. You’ll be queen soon.”

  “Then promise me this is my choice and no one else’s.”

  “I promise, but honestly—”

  “Good,” said Agatha, climbing into his lap, “then I’ll pay her a visit on my first stop into the Woods.”

  Tedros peered at her, mystified. “Pay who a visit? Who’s ‘she’—”

  He choked.

  “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMNED MIND!”

  “You said it yourself. We can’t just cut her off,” Agatha replied, hands sliding up his chest.

  “Not we! You!” Tedros shouted. “You think I’ll let her plan our wedding? I’d rather eat glass for a month—I’d rather drown myself in hot lava—no no no no no—”

  But now she was clasping his cheeks and kissing him, long and slow, and it’d been so long since she’d kissed him that suddenly he could think of nothing else . . . only her soft lips on his and his beautiful, brilliant bride-to-be . . .

  “I love you, Tedros,” she whispered.

  “And I love you too,” he breathed. “But no.”

  “If only a king’s promise wasn’t stronger than a prince’s,” she said, smiling like a cat.

  “A promise doesn’t count if you tricked me!”

  “And does that mean your trust doesn’t count either?” Agatha asked intently.

  Tedros gawped at her, knowing he’d been beaten. “But . . . but . . .”

  He barked with frustration and kissed her again, hard and deep, because he couldn’t possibly think about everything he’d just agreed to. He kissed her so long they ran out of air until Agatha pulled him backwards, dragging him off their perch, and they fell through clouds, the two of them still kissing, tangled in each other’s limbs like interlocked stars.

  7

  CHADDICK

  The Liege and the Lady

  He had been stabbed twice in the back and once in the flank, but he was still alive.

  Concealed behind a white wall, Chaddick listened for his attacker, but all he heard was a faint crashing of waves. Blood leaked through his shirt into his lap. He felt no pain, just cold, prickly shock.

  It had happened so fast.

  Five minutes ago, he’d been riding his horse on the snowy shores of Avalon, searching for the entrance to the Lady of the Lake’s castle. He’d bought a map of the island from a nosy beaver, but the map only seemed to take him round in circles. At last, when he was frostbitten and ready to give up, he’d found it: towering iron doors as high as a mountain, guarded by two stone lions, concealed in shadow on either side.

  He didn’t expect the gates to open for him. They opened for no man except Merlin and the King of Camelot. The stone lions would devour anyone else who tried to enter.

  But Chaddick hadn’t come to enter the gates. He’d traveled long and hard across the Woods for only one reason: to make sure that these doors were still sealed tight. That no one had breached the Lady of the Lake’s realm. That his fears were unfounded.

  But as he’d approached, he’d seen his fears had come true.

  The doors weren’t sealed.

  One was hanging off its hinges, the other splintered into pieces.

  Who could splinter iron?

  He’d gazed at the stone lions, motionless and piled with weeks of snow. If someone had broken in recently, they’d done so untouched.

  Why would the lions let an intruder through?

  Moving quicker, Chaddick had dug an iron shard into the snow and tied his horse to it before he’d cautiously stepped between the lions and onto castle grounds, scanning the towers and cliff rock for signs of Evil—

  His attacker had come from behind.

  Chaddick had tried to turn but his assailant jammed his cheek to a rock with one hand, the other on the boy’s back. Even in his wrestling matches against Tedros, Chaddick had never felt such strength.

  “Who—are—you—” Chaddick had choked.

  But his attacker just hissed in his ear.

  Dead calm, he’d slipped Chaddick’s sword out of his belt and stabbed him in the back while Chaddick screamed with pain. As he’d stabbed again, Chaddick kicked with primal instinct, his boot connecting with bone. His attacker buckled and Chaddick broke free, limping past Avalon’s towers until he’d found a place to hide.

  It had all happened in five minutes.

  Now he waited behind that white wall, listening to the echo of waves, stab wounds soaking his shirt red. Panic set in, his muscles slacking. He was losing too much blood.

  Chaddick tensed.

  Footsteps.

  Coming down the path.

  Crackle, crackle, crackle against the snow.

  They stopped.

  Chaddick held his breath.

  He squinted up at the circle of pearl-white towers, coated in snow, for it was always winter in Avalon. The towers had no windows or doors to sneak through. The best he could do was dart from wall to wall like a hunted deer.

  Rising from his crouch, he saw zigzagging staircases ahead leading from the towers down to a calm lake.

  He had to get to the water.

  The Lady of the Lake would hide him.

  Just like she’d done for Guinevere and Lancelot.

  Run for it?

  He’d be in the open for his attacker to spot him. The stairs were slick with snow. His
bloody shirt would be like a flag to a bull. And he didn’t have his sword.

  Chaddick stripped off his shirt. The frigid air flayed his skin as he tried to wipe clean. But the gash in his ribs kept gushing and he didn’t even know where the blood on his back was coming from. Shock wore off, giving way to soul-crushing pain. Hands shaking, he scraped snow off the ground and packed it into the wounds to staunch them. It didn’t work. Pain throttled from every direction now. He couldn’t breathe—

  Crackle, crackle, crackle.

  The killer was coming.

  Without thinking, Chaddick darted from his hiding spot and sprinted to the next tower, diving behind its wall.

  For a moment, there was silence.

  Then a soft, hissy laugh.

  Crackle, crackle, crackle.

  Tears stung Chaddick’s eyes.

  Two weeks earlier, he’d sent Dovey a note by crow: he’d been seeing strange things in the Woods. Ever and Never kingdoms attacked . . . unrest and fear spreading everywhere . . . classmates’ quests sabotaged . . .

  Something was happening.

  He knew he was supposed to be collecting knights for Camelot. But he was Tedros’ liege and a knight himself. If he could find out why things were going wrong in the Woods, maybe he could find out why Tedros’ sword had gotten stuck too. . . . Maybe he could help Tedros free Excalibur and seal his crown. . . . Tedros would be so grateful to him. It would be Chaddick’s first step to becoming a legendary knight, as precious to Tedros as Lancelot once was to Arthur . . . well, until a girl had come between them.

  He’d be better than Lancelot, then.

  Except Dovey had appeared via her crystal ball. “I received your note, Chaddick. And I see from my Quest Map you’re already deviating from your quest without my permission,” she’d declared through a wobbly bubble in the sky. “Go back to your quest. Do you understand? Leave the rest to me and Merlin.”

  Chaddick had ignored her. It didn’t matter that Dovey had assigned his quest. A knight’s first loyalty is to his king. That’s why he’d spent the last two weeks following clues in the Woods. That’s how he came to discover everything.