by Ben Zackheim
The knight sat on a bench against the stone wall of the courtyard. He smiled.
“How did it feel?”
Simon was thrown by the friendly tone. “I just went along. The sword felt right in my hand, like…”
“Like you’d held it before. I know.” Hector flipped a wood sword in the air and caught it by the hilt. “Lancelot designed them. They’re all crafted to his specifications. They have a weight inserted near the middle that gives the holder a better sense of a real sword, while not adding too much risk to the kid on the receiving end. You did very well out there, Simon. That was my best student you just beat.”
“But he was supposed to be worse than me at my worst. You said so. And I cheated!”
“Gawain is excellent. But he’s not as good as you are. And you didn’t cheat. You used yer surroundings in the battle. That kind of awareness is key to winning. Granted, the students of the Round Table have a code of honor to keep observers safe, but Lancelot always thought warriors were fair game, unless they were injured or unarmed. That’s the blood in yer veins. That’s the Lancelot in you.”
His warm smile gave Simon the sense that everything was okay.
All it took was one glance at his fellow students to see it was all an illusion. They didn’t just distrust him, they didn’t like him. The welcome he’d received in New Camelot had allowed him to believe, briefly, that he might have found a place to call home. But his hopes faded in the heat of the kids’ scowls.
“Don’t worry about them,” Hector said. “The Round Table knights will come around when the real fighting begins, believe me.”
“That doesn’t help me get through lunch.”
Hector laughed, but Simon didn’t know what was so funny.
“Where do you think you are, Simon? School? This is your army to lead. They’re not yer friends.”
“What army? I’m not leading any army!” His voice was loud enough to be heard across the courtyard. Everyone stopped talking. “Can I go, please?”
“No.”
“If I already have the skills, then why should I train?”
“To get better. Now come on.”
As he walked back to the training area, Simon spotted Caradoc the troll on the fringes of the crowd. He towered over everyone else but somehow seemed smaller than he’d appeared on the mountain. Caradoc smiled at Simon and waved. Simon waved back before he thought better of it. This friendly gesture excited the troll so much that he gave an enthusiastic thumbs up and glanced around to see if anyone had seen the heir of Lancelot wave at him.
The rest of Simon’s training was exercise: running, spearing a dummy (which hurt Simon’s arms like crazy), and climbing the walls of the courtyard. By the end, Simon was sick to his stomach. One group of kids sat on a high wall and cackled as he tried to catch his breath.
He sat on the grass, his head down between his legs in the desperate hope that he could avoid vomiting in front of everyone.
Simon heard chatter going on around him one second, and the next second there was a chilling silence. Startled, he looked up.
The courtyard was empty. No trainees, no Hector, no curious onlookers.
Simon stood quickly and lifted his training sword in front of him. He turned in circles for a moment, watching out for any movement. He had a sense that things weren’t right. Something dangerous was nearby.
“Who’s there?” He felt silly for talking to no one. It was probably teatime or something, and he’d passed out and missed everyone leaving. He imagined that they’d stepped over his unconscious body, laughing.
Merlin’s humongous shape emerged from the castle’s shadows. His stick click-clacked on the cobblestones.
“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” the wizard said.
Simon lowered his sword, but his instincts told him not to. Ever since the sword fight, when his muscles had done things they’d never done before, Simon felt heavy, wary. He saw the world as one big adversary.
“Where did everyone go?”
“Oh, I sent them home,” Merlin said. “It’s a clever little trick I picked up in India.” Simon could almost hear the smile in the old man’s words. “You did well today.”
“Yeah. I was real chivalrous.”
“What’s wrong with you?” In an instant, Merlin had turned combative again.
“Nothing… My dad once said that praise from Merlin had a price.”
Merlin chuckled. Simon’s gut relaxed a little. The wizard put his hand on Simon’s shoulder and led him out of the courtyard.
“I do have a reputation for getting my way. But let me give you some context, boy. I’m several thousand years old. That requires a strong body and a strong mind. It would be very easy to go mad after all I’ve seen.”
They stepped into the castle and Merlin grabbed a torch from the wall. “Actually, I have gone mad a couple of times.” His voice softened. “But one thing always pulls me out of the darkness. One thing keeps me focused and strong. Did your father tell you what that is?”
Merlin stopped abruptly and looked at the wall, up and down.
“Do you have a chainsaw?” he asked Simon.
“Um, not on me.”
“Bother.” The wizard furrowed his brow. He raised his staff, held it sideways and shook it. Suddenly, Merlin was trying to stay on his feet as the weight of his walking stick threw him off balance. Except it wasn’t a staff in his hand anymore. It was a chainsaw.
Without a word, the old man lifted the huge thing, yanked on the cord and revved it up. The explosive sound of the tool forced Simon to cover his ears. Merlin shoved the saw into the stone wall.
Except it wasn’t stone.
It looked like stone, but the surface splintered like wood, white chips flying everywhere. Merlin laughed, maniacally, as he carved out a door shape. The whole scene made Simon want to run to his bed and hide under the covers.
Merlin stepped back, turned off the chainsaw and handed it to Simon, who immediately dropped it because of its weight. The wizard stood still in the uncomfortable silence, looking at the large rectangle cut he’d made. His hair was a wispy mess, long strands of it falling over his face and sticking straight up.
“Merl-”
“Sh!”
Then the rectangle fell down into the hall with a thud.
“The door has moved since I last used it,” Merlin said, as if that would explain everything. He slipped into the hole he’d made in the wall and gestured for Simon to hand him his saw back.
Except it was a staff again.
“Thank you,” Merlin said in a way that made it very clear that he was enjoying Simon’s exasperation.
They took a step into a narrow spiral stairwell that curved down into darkness.
“As I was saying. The one thing that keeps me focused and strong is Camelot. My home. It has deserved better for more than a thousand years and now, in the midst of great danger, its time has come.”
“What danger?” Simon asked. But Merlin didn’t answer. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the dungeons. Should be fun.”
That didn’t calm his nerves any. “What’s down there?”
“Someone who is the key to finding our enemy’s weakness.”
“He’s a weird one, though,” came a girl’s voice from behind Simon, startling him. It was Maille.
“Don’t do that!” Simon barked.
“What? What’d I do?” Maille shrugged her shoulders.
“You snuck up on me!”
“I’ve been here the whole time, excuse me very much.” But her cocky smirk gave her away.
“Enough bickering!” Merlin barked. “We don’t want the prisoner to hear. It would give him an edge we can’t afford.” When they hit the bottom of the stairwell, Merlin lit a wall of torches with one wave of his walking stick. They passed empty cells that Simon would not have wished on an enemy, of which he had a number, growing by the hour.
At the end of the long, stone hall was a cell with a small
flame’s light flickering through its bars.
The prisoner was hard to see, just a slight figure in the corner, whimpering like a caged animal.
But Simon recognized Red’s unsure body language immediately.
21
“No!” Simon screamed as Red came to the bars, desperation in his eyes. “Get him out of there right now!”
“I didn’t do nothing, Simon! I was just running from that gargoyle and they scooped me up and took me here!”
Simon glared at Merlin and then at Maille. “Get him out, Merlin.”
Merlin was still as a statue. His dark eyes fixed on Simon. Maille glanced nervously between Simon and her teacher.
“I’m serious, Merlin. I know you have some grand scheme and I can tell you want my help. But I’ll leave today if you keep him in there another minute.”
Merlin’s eyebrows released from their stern position. The old man’s posture relaxed a little, making Maille sigh softly, relieved. He took out a small wand from his robe. Thick smoke emerged from its tip and he started writing in the wisps with the tip of the stick. The letters weren’t familiar to Simon. Was the wizard casting a spell?
“I believe you, boy. I know the blood of Lancelot is hot and ready to do its own bidding, regardless of the consequences. But I’d ask you to hear me out.”
“Don’t listen to him, Simon,” Red said.
“SILENCE!” Merlin hollered, and Simon felt as if he should be silent for several hours to be sure he didn’t have to hear that voice again. “Now, as I was saying. I know it’s difficult to find a friend of yours in captivity. But I don’t imprison people who don’t belong here. The reason for this is simple. I can find anyone at any time and bring them to justice so swiftly that every step they take is like being in a prison cell. You’ve seen a small part of my power, but you know this to be true.”
And he did. Something in Simon’s gut told him that Merlin was telling the truth. His heart sank as he saw where the wizard was going with all this.
“So assuming that’s true,” the old man continued, “the only reason I would keep someone in captivity is if I had little confidence of finding him when I needed him. Your friend falls into that category. But why would a small boy like this pose a problem for me?”
“Because he has protection from you,” Simon said. He couldn’t meet Red’s stare. His anger and determination was fading after only ten seconds of smooth talk from Merlin. Imprisoned here was the one guy who had helped Simon escape from an angry mob at school. Now Simon was going to throw him under an oncoming wizard.
Simon felt weak. He felt like the worst friend in the world.
“Precisely,” Merlin said, pleased as can be. He scribbled some more in his hovering cloud of smoke as he spoke. “The sharpness of Lancelot rears its head! And there aren’t many on this planet, nay, in the history of the world, who could offer protection from me. I know of three, all dead.” He paused. “Last I checked, anyways. Until we know who cloaks this boy’s presence from me, we must keep him here.”
“It’s all lies, Simon. I’m just Red. I don’t know what’s going on here, or who these people are.”
Simon wanted to believe his friend. He owed him that. But could he ignore his own doubts? Red’s sudden outburst near his Uncle Victor’s mansion had disturbed him. But he’d desperately wanted to like Red, the only student who gave him the time of day. The only guy who went out of his way to help him.
As if she’d read his mind, Maille said, softly, “Do you remember that day outside Victor’s castle, Simon? On the road?”
“Yeah. I remember you running at me with a bat. Not Red.”
“I wasn’t running at you, Simon Sharp. I summoned a Popper. It blinded Red before he reached you. He was going to attack you from behind.”
“I don’t remember doing anything like that!” Red realized he’d made a mistake right after he said it.
Merlin pounced. “Exactly. You don’t remember. Which makes you twice as dangerous.”
“He’s like a loaded gun,” Maille added.
“Thank you, Maille. I knew there was a modern term I was reaching for.” He put a giant hand on her shoulder and looked down on Simon. “My apprentice also took out one of those nasty gargoyles for you,” he said, proudly. “It was flying right at your plane window when she blew the thing to dust. Fine shot!”
“That was you on the wing?”
“All the way from New York, for all the thanks I’ll get.” Maille crossed her arms and glared at him some more.
“You know how daft this whole thing sounds, right, Simon? Please tell me you don’t believe in magic,” Red said with disdain.
“You and I have both seen enough to make us rethink things, Red.”
“Oh, come on! They keep asking me about threats to the kingdom! As if I know what kingdom they’re talking about,” Red said.
Simon steeled himself for a question that would devastate Red. “Do you?” he asked. Red took a step back. His last hope of escaping the dungeon was slipping away. Simon tried on his most reassuring tone. “I mean, is it possible that the same thing that’s protecting you from Merlin could be hiding your own actions from you? Is that possible, Merlin?” Simon looked up at the old man, hopefully.
“It is possible, yes. But that doesn’t help us get closer to finding answers. His own ignorance of his plight would only make him more dangerous to us. As a friend, he could do immense damage at any time.”
“Fine. Let him out and keep an eye on him, then,” Simon pleaded.
“We don’t have the resources. Every man must train. Until we know who controls him, he must remain here, where he can do no damage to us. Or to himself.”
Red sat down in a dark corner of his cell and covered his face with his hands. Simon felt like protecting him, but was helpless to do so.
“Come, Maille.” The wizard walked back toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Simon asked.
“We’ll leave you to talk to your friend. I trust you to not give him any information he could use against us. Please, assume what you say goes right to his puppeteer’s ears.”
“Don’t forget to sync, Merlin,” Maille said.
“Ah yes, thank you apprentice.” With his fingertips, Merlin pulled out a second wisp of smoke from his wand, cupped both clouds in his hands and then slapped them together. The smoke slithered into his robe like a snake.
Simon watched the two of them walk up the stairs, feeling the hard stare of Red on him the whole time.
When Simon found the guts to glance up, he knew the truth. Red was innocent as far as Red was concerned, but he was indeed a danger. The intensity in his eyes was desperate, yet scheming. Simon feared that Merlin was right.
“I’m sorry, Red. Is there anything you can tell me that might help us?”
“Like what? I don’t even know what we’re talking about.” Simon understood the confusion his friend was feeling. He tried to keep his tone level, calm, like a life jacket for Red to hold onto.
“Well, have you met anyone new recently, for instance? A stranger you didn’t trust? A guy in a long robe maybe.”
“Besides you and yer cronies, you mean?”
“I’m trying to help.”
“Then get me out of here without wimping out!”
“I didn’t wimp out. What if Merlin’s right? If he can’t sense you, then someone’s hiding you. I know you don’t know who, so we need to figure it out.”
“What if he’s lying? What if he can ‘sense’ me fine? And let’s say this is all true, maybe my ‘puppeteer,’ or whatever, is the good guy. You ever think of that?”
“Yeah, that’s possible. But I can’t get you out by whining about it. Merlin is a really powerful guy. I’ve seen him do stuff that makes a fistfight between a troll and a gargoyle look normal. We need to think here, so please help me.”
“Fine. No. I haven’t met anyone.” Red was pouting now, but Simon would let him pout all he wanted. He was the one in the cell,
after all.
“That was a troll that we saw?” Red asked.
“Yeah,” Simon answered. “A smelly one, too.”
Red grinned a little bit. Simon let the calm moment be.
Then he broke the silence. “Do you sleepwalk?” Simon asked. Red’s eyes went wide.
“How did you know that?”
“I figure if someone had some control over me, I’d find myself someplace I don’t remember going. When’s the last time it happened?”
“I dunno. Weeks ago. But I’ve always walked in my sleep. Since I was a kid.” Somehow, that wasn’t much comfort to Simon.
“Do you...” Simon started. He stopped himself. He wasn’t sure this was the right path to go down.
“Do I what?” Red said.
“Do you know why you’re so afraid of Uncle Victor’s castle? I mean, when you walked me home you got pretty freaked out, like you were in a nightmare, and ran off.”
Red shrugged. “I dunno...”
There wasn’t much more to say. The silence of the dungeon rang in Simon’s ears.
“I’ll make sure they treat you okay. You could use some light, first of all. Anything else? Food?”
“The food’s okay. No.” He sat on a stool and slumped his shoulders. “Thanks, Simon. Sorry I lost my temper.”
“They’re playing around with me, too, Red. Everything’s all hush-hush until they need something, and then I’m just supposed to be willing to go along. But nothing like getting put in a cell.”
“Not yet, at least,” Red said. Simon wasn’t going to consider that. He was already paranoid enough.
“Hang in there.” Simon said. He cringed. What kind of thing is that to say to a guy stuck in a dungeon? “We’ll get you out.”
But as he walked away, the empty echoes of the room behind him were matched only by the empty promise he’d left behind.
22
Simon had no idea how he could help Red. He couldn’t even find his way around the castle yet. He felt powerless. But he was also determined. The first order of business was to track down Merlin to tell him about the sleepwalking.
He didn’t see anyone familiar when he emerged into a large courtyard that overlooked the town. So he started rushing through the castle grounds. It was brimming with kids gossiping in the gardens and strolling to their apprenticeships. Some even trained on their own time. Simon couldn’t imagine a world where he’d follow a lesson with Hector with even more exercises.
