by Ben Zackheim
His mission was slowed when he found himself on a cobblestone path with a spectacular view of New Camelot, from castle to village to lake. The colors of the fair had almost mesmerized him, when...
“What do you think of New Camelot?” A man stood right next to Simon, his hands lying calmly on the ledge, as if he’d been standing there longer than Simon. He was red-haired, with pock-marked skin and small, dark eyes.
“Sorry about that,” the man said with a smile that could do with some teeth. “That was an indelicate way to break the ice.”
Simon came up with his best small talk. “Uh… Looks like people take the fair really seriously.”
“Oh, they do indeed. It’s where the merchants make most of their money every year.” The man started to walk and Simon got the distinct sense that he was expected to follow. “It’s also where new talents get discovered and young love blossoms. Everyone waits all year for the fair, from the moment it ends.”
“That’s cool.” He thought this guy was laying it on a little thick, but he seemed harmless enough. “I’m Simon.”
His hand was grasped firmly and he was given a deep bow. “Everyone knows who you are, Simon. I’m Dergh, from Yonhaven, conclave of the elven guard.”
“Elven?” Simon asked, before he could stop himself. He took a second look at Dergh and realized that his features were more pronounced than normal. One ear was poking through his straight red hair, pointy as an arrow. Come to think of it, Simon noticed quite a few people nearby had the same look. Dergh laughed. The awe was all over Simon’s face.
“Yes. I’m an elf. We’re unseen by humans outside New Camelot, but we make up a good portion of the populace around here. Enough to make trouble.”
They strode through the castle gates and into town, where they were instantly surrounded by folks in the middle of fair prep hysteria. Simon moved out of the way of an old lady lugging a cart of thread spools.
“Sorry, Dergh, I didn’t mean to stare…”
“No, I must apologize,” Dergh said. “I know that your world thinks we’re myth. But we’re not, I assure you. Our plight is all too real.”
“Plight? What plight?”
Dergh offered a friendly grin. “Would you care for a drink? I can tell you all about the elves.”
He gestured to a small building with a creaky, swinging sign over the door that read “The Cattle Gut.”
THE INSIDE OF the pub was as inviting as the outside, meaning not the slightest bit inviting at all. The tables were jammed up against the walls and the customers were doing their best with the chairs provided. One grumpy fellow had the fourth leg of his chair propped on a box so he didn’t tip over. Another man sat on a pile of saddles. Simon decided that this was a fine place to practice the ancient art of standing.
Dergh bought a couple of apple ales in dirty old mugs that hadn’t been cleaned since the days of King Arthur. The elf shooed away a couple of other elves from a table. He grabbed a chair, flipped it, and sat down facing Simon, gesturing for him to have a seat. The whole thing seemed staged, as if Dergh had been waiting to get Simon’s attention for a long time. And now that he had it, he was going to keep it.
“The elves have been living on the edges of the human world for eons. Once we saw your kind coming, we went into hiding. As it turns out, that was a fortunate move, with all of your warring and pillaging and the like. Your distrust of each other is second only to your distrust of anything new. We got exceptional at watching you from a distance. You found fire, you made spears, then bows and arrows. You even figured out plumbing earlier than expected. But none of that impressed us. Certainly not enough for us to jump out of the shadows and invite you to dinner. Some humans actually stumbled upon us once in a while, which led to a number of the myths you enjoy today. Are you following me?”
Simon was in the middle of a gulp of cider so he almost coughed it up. “Yeah,” he managed. “So far.”
“Excellent. So…” Dergh started scanning the room. “It’s not only elves on the fringes.” The elf left the comment hanging in the smoky air for a moment. Simon followed his gaze and began noticing the other occupants in the pub.
Some short, stout guys sat at a table singing loudly, and badly.
“Dwarves,” Simon said. “And Caradoc is a troll.”
“And fairies in the Amazon. The gnomes mostly live in Bakerville, just north of London, at least since 1601. And orcs — some in New Camelot I’m afraid. In fact, many of your mythical creatures are very real. And most of them are under our protection.”
Simon spotted small people in black cloaks sitting at a table across the room. The hoods were thrown over their heads, casting their faces in darkness. They seemed to be watching him and Dergh.
“Why do they need your protection?” Simon asked, trying to banish the feeling he was being sized up.
“They saw the humans coming, too, and they didn’t like what they saw either. Unfortunately, none of them is so fast on their feet as us elves, so most of them didn’t make it. They need us as scouts, to keep our eyes open for danger. And they need our magic to hide their homes. Merlin won’t take time out of his day, so someone needs to, right?”
“Where do elves live?” Simon found it all hard to believe, but it was tough to deny what was sitting right in front of him.
“Here. All over, really. The remotest parts of the world. We’ve been in hiding for so long that we’ve become quite accomplished at advancing our culture, even while we’re limited to small areas. Some say we’re better off without being a part of the world at large. Better to mind our business and let humans live and die alone.”
“That sounds like a wise move to me.” Simon was impressed with his own worldly cynicism. His father would be proud.
“Really?” Dergh asked, frowning. “You think feeding and clothing our people is easy with the fear of being spotted looming over our heads? You think worshiping as far out of sight as we can get is an appropriate way to speak to our gods? Perhaps our inability to tell humans that their latest swath of houses is wiping out an ancient burial ground, or a hidden water source, is preferable?”
Simon could tell Dergh was upset. His face had turned a light shade of purple and the friendliness was wiped away, replaced by a frown that cut right through Simon.
In fact, Simon thought, Dergh had started to look a lot like Rukkush. It occured to Simon that Merlin’s old apprentice was an elf too.
“I’m just saying… “ Simon said, trying to recover. “Humans wouldn’t want you around. They, you know, they wouldn’t understand.”
Dergh’s expression softened. He tapped the table with his long fingers as if to pat down his temper.
“I know. You’re right. For the most part. Except…” He lifted a single finger and his warm smile reemerged, much to Simon’s relief. “It may surprise you that there was once a time when we were accepted. I’d like to bring us back to that time, Simon.”
“You’re talking about Camelot.”
“Correct, my astute young friend. It was a wonderful era, and all too short. King Arthur was one of the few who discovered us and, recognizing our plight, he quickly promised and delivered protection. Humans learned to live with us because of his leadership. And because we knew enough magic to make Merlin cringe. Of course, there were some bad seeds on both sides, and those are the tales you usually hear about. But it was a peaceful time. It lasted for the duration of Arthur’s reign and died with him.”
“Until he returns. According to the legend.”
“Well said, again. Yes, Arthur will one day return to save the kingdom in its greatest hour of need.”
“Is that what I’m doing here?”
“Perhaps. Merlin has never brought a Lancelot heir to New Camelot. You’re the first. It may signal the prophecy.”
“Wait a second. He’s been bringing heirs to New Camelot for a long time? How long?”
“Oh, yes, a very long time. He’s constantly rebuilding the army of Arthur. He keeps a close e
ye on everybody. At first, he was able to restrict everyone to a small area. But as time passed people moved on, no matter how he threatened. He lost contact with some families, including Gawain’s, for a number of years. He found them, of course. No one can hide from Merlin forever.”
“Yeah. I heard,” Simon said, remembering Merlin’s boasts in the dungeon.
“So our chance to coexist with humans is still there. And this is what I tell those who want to keep hiding. We may have been able to avoid living with you a hundred years ago. But the twentieth century happened and you’re everywhere now. Even the elves won’t be able to protect the Odders for much longer.” Dergh saw Simon blink. “Sorry, the Odders are what we call ourselves. The people of myths, cast into the darkest caves, the highest mountains, and the deepest forests.”
Dergh had finished his plea. He sat back and lit a pipe. He seemed to be studying folks in the room through the thick smoke. Simon didn’t know what to say. Everything he’d been told was incredible, unbelievable, and left him with nothing but questions.
“So why are you telling me this?”
“Because Merlin plays so many sides of the game that I can’t tell if he’s on board with us. We all know that something is brewing with your arrival, but things are never, ever what they appear with Merlin. All I… all we want to know is, do his grand plans allow the Odders to live amongst humans again?” Dergh took a puff of his pipe and let out a blast of smoke. “My hope is you can keep him on track.”
“Me? He doesn’t listen to me. He barely talks to me!”
“Trust me. When the time comes, he’ll need you for guidance on a number of things. You won’t know you’re in the lead because he’s a master at appearing to be in control. But once you find yourself doing the things you’re most comfortable doing, that’s the sign you’ve taken the reins. And that’s when you can see what he’s up to.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “That’s when you can just ask him what the plan is! That’ll throw him off!” He laughed and finished his ale in one big gulp.
Which was when the trouble started.
Apparently, while Dergh was giving Simon a history lesson, most of the clientele in the pub had taken sides in an argument. The fight started with a booming voice.
“You’ll find yer head in a snakepit afore I admit he cheated on a thing!”
Simon turned to see a large man take a swing at a stout dwarf. The brawl that followed was man against elf. Elf against dwarf. Some dwarves were on one side, some on the other. Same with the elves and the humans and the gnomes (who, as it turns out, were the small ones in the cloaks).
Simon ducked in time to avoid an airborne chair chucked by a man half his size.
“Ah, wonderful! A fight!” Dergh leapt to his feet and dived into a ruckus between two gnomes. In between parrying low blows to his thighs, he turned to Simon and beckoned. “Come join the fun!”
It didn’t look like fun to Simon. But when a stray punch landed upside his head, he shoved back and found himself right in the middle of it.
He did pretty well for a fourteen-year-old, until he fell under the foot of a giant of a man who appeared to have every intention of putting a boot in his face.
But right when he expected to feel the kick, a loud CRACK split the air around them.
Everyone stopped mid-swing.
Simon opened one eye to see the soles of a boot and not much else. He glanced around the smelly foot to see a short, fat man on a rickety, old stairway. He had a stick in his hand that Simon assumed was a wand. Smoke wafted from its tip. The man’s eyes pierced right through the settling dust and glared at the combatants.
“I told yeh teh keep it under wraps, gents, but yeh constantistently disregardzitating the warnings. At yer peril! Now out with yeh! And don’t let me spot a single of yer mugs for the day or yeh’ll not be welcomered back!”
Curiously, the man who was about to stomp Simon’s face helped him stand up instead, and all the customers filed out of the pub like humiliated schoolboys. Even Dergh’s head was bowed a bit as the sun hit his slightly bloodied face.
“That was fun! You held your own, lad. Well done.”
Simon’s face ached. He rubbed it and wasn’t too surprised to feel a big lump on his lower lip.
“What was that all about, anyway?” Simon asked through the pain.
“HA! You, of course.”
“What? How could it be about me? I was just sitting there!”
“One half of that crowd back there thought your victory at training this morning was illegal. Pushing your opponent into onlookers could be described as cheating in certain circles. Others thought it was brilliant. A typical Lancelot maneuver.”
Simon didn’t know what to say. A bunch of people fighting over something he did or didn’t do did not sit well with him.
“What do you think?” Simon asked Dergh.
The elf smiled his most genuine smile yet. “Oh, I thought it was like watching the sun rise for the first time in a thousand years, Simon. That shove you gave was the start of a new era.” They walked for a moment in silence. “Darn mayor, always breaking up a healthy tussle.”
“That fat guy who talked weird was the mayor?” Simon asked.
“Oooooo. Don’t let him hear you say that. He’s very particular about his weight and the conveyance of said weight. Yes, Durdle’s the mayor of the kingdom. A politician to the core. Merlin cast a spell on him decades ago that makes him talk oddly. Besides the pub, he doesn’t actually run much, since Merlin is the one truly in charge. But Durdle has the respect of the people because he spins one hell of a deal every once in a while for their benefit. Usually at some cost to the big, bad wizard.” Dergh winked at him. “And that makes the mayor even more popular.”
Simon spotted Maille breaking through the crowd, bat in hand. She walked up to them, frowning like a disapproving den mother.
“And where have you been?” she asked Simon. “What happened to your face? Who’s this guy?”
“This is Dergh,” Simon forgot the other questions. He wasn’t in his right mind after the blow to his noggin. “He’s an elf.”
“I can see he’s an elf! And?”
“And… how are you?” Simon asked.
“Where’ve you been? Why is your lip the size of a melon?”
Dergh was enjoying all of this a little too much. “Oh. Sorry. We were in a fight.” Simon smiled. He didn’t know why he smiled. It wasn’t funny. But he couldn’t help himself. Maille was not pleased. Her eyes closed to slits and she walked right up to Simon and poked him in the chest.
“You should NOT be getting in fights, considering you just arrived! And you’d better watch who you hang around with or the old man is going to be all over you like a blanket on a baby.”
“Ow. Okay, okay. Dergh’s all right. Right, Dergh?”
“I think I’m excellent, actually.” He gave Maille a smile and bowed a tad.
“You’re an elf. You think the world of yourself.” That knocked the smirk right off Dergh’s face.
“Now see here…”
“Simon, pick your lower lip up off the ground and follow me. We have to get you checked out good and thorough. You look like you’re a screw short.”
23
Simon waved goodbye to Dergh who gave him one last mischievous grin before turning on his heels.
“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Maille huffed. “Anyone else woulda found themselves in a new place, with weird people, and tried to stay as close to home as possible. But you up and wander off to the far reaches of the castle and get in a fight.”
“Sorry.” They walked in silence for a moment. She didn’t answer and Simon couldn’t see her face from that angle because of her hood. If she was so hellbent on being a sourpuss he wasn’t going to talk her out of it. He heard a giggle come from under the cloak. Maille threw back her hood and laughed.
Simon was miffed. “What did I say?”
“It’s like you belong here! Yer a real piec
e of work, Simon.”
“Thanks. If there’s anything I like more than being jerked around by a creepy old man, it’s being laughed at. Where are we going, anyway?”
“To heal those wounds,” she said. “We’re going to Merlin’s cave.”
She let out a heavy sigh. Simon didn’t know Maille that well, but he could tell that a trip to Merlin’s cave was something to worry about.
“The wounds aren’t that bad,” Simon said, not really knowing if it was true.
“Did I say this trip is optional?”
Simon got the hint and decided, if he was a captive, he’d take in the sights. Besides, he’d been searching for Merlin before Dergh distracted him with that fistfight — and enough useful information to keep his brain busy for a week.
THEY WOVE THROUGH narrow cobblestone streets with stone buildings on either side. The thatch and tile roofs started low, casting comfortable shadows over the fair booths, and then shot up at extreme angles. Simon and Maille worked their way down some steps and came to a wide dirt road that hugged the tall wall surrounding New Camelot.
Here, the terrain changed dramatically. They’d left the town behind and were walking through farmland. Farmers wrapped up their day, gathering bounty in baskets and strapping them to horses’ backs. The air seemed fresher here than he’d ever breathed before. He enjoyed the stroll, especially as they allowed the downward slope of the road do most of the walking for them.
After a few minutes they came to a small door in the wall surrounding the kingdom. Maille put her hand on it and whispered. The door opened on its own. They walked through, and into thick forest around the kingdom.
Simon heard a loud crack from somewhere nearby.
“What’s that noise?” He was uneasy about walking into a dark forest with violent splitting sounds coming out of it.
