The Pendragon Codex

by D. C. Fergerson

  Cora held out her arms, presenting herself. “Pretty good description. My turn. How did you know about these artifacts?”

  “Project Phoenix,” he replied. “After you destroyed it, someone had to clean it up. Great deals of credit exchanged hands, and we got a few hard drives recovered from the wreck.”

  Cora stood up from her chair, knocking it backwards. Vincent ruffled his wings. “How much did you recover? I aimed to destroy everything.”

  Michael nodded, raising his hands to calm her. “You did. It took a forensic team the better part of a month just to pull the first location. Less than 12% of the data is workable, and most of that is garbage. Matching names and artifacts and locations was a task Lucius built an entire facility for. We have one hacker in a small room with a scorched hard drive.

  “The truth is,” he said, stepping toward her. “We probably would have reached out to you sooner, but caution is paramount. Lucius is constantly watching you, and we can’t have you leading him to Camelot.”

  “Camelot? Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” Cora snickered, shaking her head.

  Michael didn’t share her humor. “It’s no joke, Miss Blake. Julian is a blood descendant of Arthur. He wields Excalibur, as he was meant to. A great war is coming against the dragons, and Lucius is well ahead of us.”

  Cora watched his eyes for the slightest tell, anything that would betray his story, but he was steadfast. He believed in this fantasy like a zealot, enough that she wanted to believe, too. The world after The Awakening was riddled with myths and legends come to life, and creatures of horror and fairy tale alike walked the earth as if they always had.

  “What about you?” she asked. “You said you’ve had memories from that bow for ten years. I only found out about artifacts a few months ago. Were you the first?”

  Michael shook his head. “No. We believe Lucius knew the moment he woke up back in 2056. Julian was groomed to wield Excalibur long before I met him.”

  “Groomed?”

  “It’s...difficult to explain, even if you believe in all this,” Michael said. His trepidation hid another fantastical revelation. “He had a teacher, the same teacher that’s served his family for over a thousand years.”

  Cora couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of her own mouth. “You mean Merlin.”

  He nodded. She almost wished he hadn’t. If he was a raving madman, he did a convincing job of bringing her into his delusions. Cora blew out a long breath.

  “Okay,” she said, setting her chair upright and taking a seat. “Since we’re on the subject of teachers, my powers have been...developing, for lack of a better term. I understand there’s a person that could help me, but Lucius has him imprisoned.”

  “That’d be Professor Robert Crowley,” Michael replied. He shrugged, letting his shoulders fall slack. “His name and location were in the recovered Phoenix data. I’m sorry, Miss Blake, but we toyed with the idea of breaking him out before accepting that it’s a suicide mission.”

  “I’m really good at those,” she replied. “So, how do I get my team in front of your team?”

  “Not going to happen,” Michael said, shaking his head. “Julian is too protective. He’d want to meet you and vet you personally, even if I said you were Saint Nicholas reincarnated.”

  Cora leaned back in her chair, relaxing into it. “Well, that’s the price.”

  “Price?” Michael cocked his head.

  “You were arrested for trespassing Native lands with a fake ident-chip,” she replied. “That charge is going to stand. You want out of here, a meet with Julian is the price. The clock is ticking on that offer, by the way. Once I hand you over to Native Security, you’re out of my hands and what they do with you is up to them.”

  Michael stepped forward, wrapping his fingers around the bars with both hands. With gritted teeth, his face became a mask of disgust and anger. “You dare blackmail me? Julian would sooner watch me executed than put Camelot in danger. That’s what we agreed to.”

  Cora sucked air through her teeth. “See, that might be the first lie you’ve told me. If I had to guess, you’re Julian’s right hand. You came here because you’re the only one he could trust with bringing someone else into the fold. More than that, he wants me there, maybe even needs me there.”

  The corners of Michael’s mouth turned down. She hit the nail on the head. She stood up and stepped forward, only inches and metal bars between them.

  “The UK has already acknowledged the Native Free Lands as a sovereign nation in the UN,” she reminded. “You just created an international incident getting caught here, and I’m pretty sure your country is looking for you. You know what’s going happen if your name or face hits GNN or NeuralNet.”

  “Alright, alright,” he replied, throwing his hands up in surrender. He backed away and paced the floor. “Christ, you’re difficult to deal with. For all that leverage you have over there, why don’t you bend me over the mattress and bugger me with a rusty nail while you’re at it?”

  “You’re not my type,” Cora replied. She turned over her shoulder. “Gideon, could you come here?”

  With the enthusiasm of a puppy, the hacker rushed to her side. Cora returned her attention to Michael. “I’m assuming you’ve been using a dropbox on NeuralNet to send encoded reports to Julian?”

  Michael sighed and nodded.

  Cora pointed to Gideon with her thumb. “Gideon will send the message for you. Let him know we’re coming. I have a plane to prep.”

  Welcoming Party

  Even if she believed she could trust Michael, Cora couldn’t rest easy until she had finished handcuffing his ankle to his seat at the back of the plane. She walked to the front, past Johnny and Gideon playing a game on a holographic screen. The luxury Learjet had only taken to the skies minutes ago, but Giovanna already sat reclined, a sleeping mask over her eyes. Cora pushed past the curtain to the cockpit and took a seat in the copilot’s chair.

  She knew the day would come when she’d need to fly back to Europe, although she always feared it would be Germany. Her pilot, the nine-foot, dark-skinned troll Derk feared this day, too. For him, it was an end to his stay in the Native Free Lands, throwing money around to impress Native women. His fetish for the exotic women made Heaven’s Crest a paradise, even if he usually went home from Dottie’s Diner empty-handed.

  “How are we doing, Derk?”

  The troll grumbled, betraying his normally jovial demeanor. “Derk headed for England. Auto-pilot on.”

  “Something bothering you?” Cora asked.

  The troll shrugged and swept his straight black hair around the horn that curved from his temple to behind his ear. His accent came out thick and difficult to place, but Cora guessed from somewhere in Africa. “Derk like hot Native girls. Two months, Derk never make girlfriend to take back to Berlin.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cora said, patting his massive forearm. “Everyone I talked to said they liked you, though. My uncle said you’re welcome to come back.”

  Derk nodded. “Need to come back. Derk should get to work, though. Long vacation. Daiki probably mess without Derk.”

  Cora tittered. Daiki was Derk’s elven partner in a biker bar called Growl and Roar in Berlin. Derk ran guns from a hidden arsenal in the basement. Where Derk was tough and looked like hired muscle in his sleeveless t-shirt and noisy track pants, Daiki looked like he stepped out of a board meeting with his high-priced suits and practiced professionalism. They were undoubtedly the oddest allies she had, and that was saying a lot with a sleeping shapeshifter six feet behind her.

  “I’m sure Daiki will appreciate you bringing back all the guns on this plane, too,” Cora replied.

  Derk pursed his lips over the two fang teeth protruding from his lower jaw. Troll expressions could be hard to read, but Cora damn well knew that one.

  “Derk? All the guns you brought with you are still on the plane, right?” Cora asked, alarmed.

  “Well,” Derk held out his hands. “Mayb
e Derk not bring all guns back.”

  Cora crossed her arms. She couldn’t wait to hear this explanation. “Why are any of your black market guns still in Heaven’s Crest?”

  “Ugh,” Derk said, grunting as he adjusted in his seat. “Cora so hot when mad. Derk make deal with Native guy.”

  “And what was that deal?” Cora said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Heaven’s Crest has well-armed militia now,” Derk replied with a put-on smile.

  Cora wasn’t buying it. “So, what did Derk get?”

  Derk’s head dropped in shame. “River’s Song.”

  She got up, shaking her head. “River’s Song? I’ve seen that girl in Dottie’s a few times. You could have gotten with her for a whole lot less than a crate of guns. Really, Derk.”

  “Derk have needs, Cora,” the troll cooed.

  Cora rolled her eyes. “Yes, Derk bang. I know.”

  She excused herself from the cockpit. Derk was sweet under his indecipherable accent and relentless come-ons, but he came on so strong that she could only take him in small doses. Even if she was a tad curious about him, there wasn’t enough alcohol on the plane to ever take him up on his offers. She moved to a seat across from Gideon and Johnny.

  “What are you guys up to?” she asked.

  Gideon glanced up from the screen between them. “Chess. The old man is hard to beat.”

  “You’ve gotten me a few times,” Johnny conceded, staring at the screen with intensity.

  Cora shifted uncomfortably. The very idea of returning within a thousand miles of Lucius stressed her out.

  “Everything alright?” Gideon asked, perking up.

  She sighed. “Yeah, I think I just need to relax. I’ve been trying to take it easy on the booze, but screw it.”

  “You made it through breakfast and all the way here,” Johnny said with a dry smile. “You earned it.”

  Cora got back up and motioned to Gideon and his screen. “Kick his ass for me.”

  She walked past Michael to the bar beside him. With a bit of rummaging through cabinets, she eventually retrieved a bottle of Jack, her old friend. She started walking off with it when she caught a disgusted scoff from Michael. She turned around, her brow furrowed.

  “What?”

  Michael looked her up and down. “You’re not even going to get a glass?”

  She laughed to herself, setting the bottle down on her chair. As she walked back to Michael, she reached behind her, fetching a switchblade from her back pocket. She snapped it open, startling her guest as she stalked toward him.

  “It’s nothing to stab me over,” he said, shifting in his seat.

  Cora rolled her eyes and pulled up the cuff of her bomber jacket, exposing her bare forearm. She pressed her knife against the skin halfway up and swiped across. She seethed as the blood trickled around the curve of her arm. Michael went from wincing at the sight to a mask of horror and confusion.

  She brought her arm close to him for inspection. Using her thumb, she smudged the blood at the wound, massaging the slash over and again. With each pass of her thumb, the wound bled less, then stopped altogether, then sealed and vanished.

  “What in the hell, woman?” Michael gasped.

  “I regenerate,” she said. Michael’s lips parted, surprised. “See? There’s something your recon missed. It started back in Berlin, and it’s been growing in power ever since. If I want to get a good buzz going, I have to drink hard enough to stay ahead of it. So, you’ll have to forgive me if I think it’s a waste to dirty a glass.”

  “I’ve never heard of that kind of ability,” Michael replied. He raised his eyebrows. “You’re full of surprises, Miss Blake.”

  Cora took her seat, staring back at him. She took a pull from the bottle, enjoying the fiery, earthy liquid that promised some peace. “What kind of surprises can we expect when we touch down?”

  Michael shrugged and blew out a deep breath. “Julian is hard to predict, with one exception: whatever he does, he goes all the way. If he’s decided he’s better off without you, the reception will not be warm.”

  “Well, let’s hope my sparkling personality wins him over,” Cora replied, reclining in her chair. “So, what’s your story?”

  “Mine?” Michael asked, his accent making every question sound like an accusation. “Your hacker pulled my file. Everything I am is in there. I was the quintessential good boy, from a good home. Played football in high school, joined the Army, now I’m here.”

  “No wild stories about life in Robin Hood’s house?” she asked with a sarcastic smirk.

  “Laugh if you will,” Michael replied, trying to sit tall and proud in his seat despite the limited mobility of being handcuffed to it. “I didn’t ask for the memories, but I heard the call and I won’t back down from the challenge.”

  Cora pulled from her bottle and shook her head. “That’s the part I don’t get. How does a good boy like you turn traitor to the crown and follow Julian into a break-in at Buckingham Palace?”

  Michael took a deep breath through his nose, staring into space as he thought it out. “Our war is more ancient than any bureaucrat will ever understand. The current politics and how Lucius has positioned himself as the unspoken ruler of the EU, no nation is going to stand against him. Tetriarch made it so anyone in the world can get implants. They changed the course of human evolution.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Cora shook her head, the thought of being carved open starting to turn in her mind.

  “There’s never going to be a ‘right’ time,” he said. “We move now and hope to keep pace with Lucius, or we find out too late how far ahead of us he’s gotten. Julian is the only one with the kind of vision for that.”

  Cora turned in her seat, staring him right in the eyes. “Do all of the soldiers that took off with him share your loyalty?”

  “To the last,” he replied.

  Satisfied, she adjusted herself forward in the seat. “Try and get some rest.”

  Cora drank her Jack in cheek-puffed mouthfuls, getting a kick out of the occasional reflexive tingle coursing through her. Many times, she brought herself to the edge of bliss, her mind wandering into a meditative trance as the ceiling of plane swirled around in her mind. She had to be mindful to avoid lingering in the feeling too long, needing more from the bottle to keep it elevated. After over an hour of chasing nirvana, she was left with a mild headache and drowsiness she couldn’t fight. Her eyes shut, opening randomly to the crinkling of Johnny’s candy bar wrapper and a light snore from Michael behind her.

  In the twilight space of her sleep, fleeting images passed through her mind. She dug herself from the choking soil, out of her grave. The scent of death hung in the air around her, yet she only reeked of fresh earth. She heard the gurgling, throttled moans of the dead shuffling around her. She tried not to dwell on the visions, uncertain if she recalled the memory or if she was dreaming them again. It frightened her as much as she wanted to understand it.

  “Cora,” Gideon said, his voice panicked.

  She startled up. The world was motionless outside the windows. Shaking the cobwebs, she looked into Gideon’s creepy bionic eyes, servos turning within his irises like a mechanical clock.

  “What’s going on? Why are we stopped?” she said.

  “I can go out and talk to them,” Michael spoke up behind her.

  Cora rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She spun around, then back to Gideon. “Talk to who?”

  Gideon pointed his head at the window. “We’re at the location. We’ve got two dozen guys out there with big guns, and they don’t look like they’re in a talking mood.”

  “Did he give them some kind of code?” Cora asked, pointing her thumb back to Michael. She stood up, pulling her Apex Predator pistol from the holster at her hip. “What did you tell them?”

  Gideon put his hand on Cora’s shoulder. “I read every word of his communication, Cora. If he ordered Julian to kill us, it would have come from a private code word or something. There was no
thing encoded into the message.”

  “I swear, it’s not like that,” Michael said, raising his hands in surrender. “He’s not going to fire on me. Let me talk to him.”

  Cora raised her pistol on him and waved him over with it. “Check out the window. Is he even out there?”

  Michael got up and tried to walk to the window, the clack of the cuff around his ankle snapping taut threatened to trip him. With a quick hop to recover himself, he grabbed hold of the back of a chair and leaned to the window. He shook his head.

  “I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t talk to him,” he explained. “These men were hand-selected to be his knights. Every one of them has abandoned the Royal Army, their careers, and risked a lifetime in jail to stand beside him. Let me talk to them.”

  Johnny stepped beside Cora, his strong hand resting on her forearm, nudging her to lower her Predator. “We’re surrounded, Cora. We couldn’t fight them even if we wanted to. We’re here, now we have to sit back and let it play out.”

  “Derk got guns,” the troll’s voice came from behind her. “Derk got grenades.”

  Cora turned around, eyebrows raised. Giovanna stood beside the massive troll at the cockpit door. She pointed to Derk and crossed her arms. “I’m with him, patatina. I don’t think I like the welcoming party.”

  “Ugh, you North Americans and your lost causes,” Michael huffed, rolling his eyes. “Look, this isn’t a blaze of glory moment. Need I remind you that we are on the same side?”

  Cora pointed her Predator at the window. “Tell them that.”

  “I will, if you’ll let me,” Michael insisted.

  Cora shook her head and lowered the Predator. She dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans, fetched the key for Michael’s cuffs, and threw it at his chest. He went about unlocking his ankle. He took a knee and gave it a brief massage before walking past Cora for the door.