by Ben Zackheim
“It’s usually to celebrate the alliance between humans and the Odders.” Simon seemed confused. “I know, weird that Odders aren’t actually invited anymore. It’s been that way since I first came here. Probably been that way for hundreds of years. They keep to themselves now.”
The crowd was made up of kids and adults alike. Everyone was very well dressed. Simon hid himself as best he could behind Maille until they were in the ballroom, which was the throne hall where Merlin had sat in his gold chair. The two thrones were now flanked by an orchestra. The instruments they were tuning were somewhat familiar, but Simon hadn’t seen several of them before. The most intriguing instrument was a large glass tube with holes along its curvy surface. The lady playing it was both blowing into the holes and tapping the glass with her fingers. It sang a soothing sound that stood out from the others, as if the air around them were exhaling gently.
The room filled up fast. The dance was about to begin. Maille seemed to be enjoying herself already. She walked next to Simon and kept nudging him to stand up straight. He was the focus of a lot of attention, more than he wanted. He did his best to smile through the pleasantries, always making sure Maille was within grabbing distance. He didn’t need to worry, though. She never left his side. He was grateful to have her with him.
Finally, the hall fell silent and people faced the front, where the orchestra sat, waiting for its cue. Merlin emerged near a violinist, though no one could tell from where exactly.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls.” Merlin passed his eyes over Maille and Simon. “Welcome to the annual ball.” Polite applause filled the room, and was quickly squashed by Merlin’s uplifted hands.
“This year is different, I’m afraid. This year marks the end of our tradition.”
Gasps and mutterings drowned out what Merlin said next, which, of course, didn’t please him at all.
“UNLESS!” The crowd went silent. “Unless we prepare for difficult times. There are powers at work against us. Even I cannot sense where they are coming from. I know. I know it’s difficult to believe, but it’s true. Suffice it to say, there’s an army being built with the sole purpose of wiping out Camelot.”
Amidst the muttering crowd, Simon leaned toward Maille.
“See? I told you,” he said.
“Many of you wonder why I’ve brought Lancelot here,” Merlin continued. “I did not do so by choice. But the fact is, it’s time to gather the Knights of the Round Table together again. New Camelot needs them. And they will be ready.”
With this, Merlin glanced over at Simon.
“Of course, what are the Knights of the Round Table, without their leader?” Once again the gasps and the mutterings rose, but this time Merlin did nothing to stop them. Instead, he raised his voice so he could be heard over the din.
“What is Camelot without its iron fist?” There were screams now from the crowd. Screams of delight and disbelief.
“WHAT IS ENGLAND WITHOUT KING ARTHUR?” And with that the room exploded with cheers. Merlin raised his right hand to point to a figure emerging from the stairs above. And there he was.
King Arthur’s heir.
Simon couldn’t see much of him, except that he was also around his age and he was decked out in a pretty impressive outfit. The king gave the crowd a little wave and it became even louder, forcing Maille and Simon to cover their ears. She looked at Simon with a big smile on her face and said something, but what Simon couldn’t hear.
Finally, Arthur walked down the steps. Simon got a good look at him for the first time.
His stomach dropped to his toes.
It couldn’t be. Anyone but him.
It was Chester. King Arthur’s heir was the red-haired school bully, Chester!
There had to be a mistake. Merlin was playing another trick on him. How could a thug like Chester be a king? Simon stood on a chair to find the wizard. He wanted to see that mischievous arch in the old man’s brow. Then he’d know this was all just a twisted joke. But when he and Merlin locked eyes, Merlin’s expression showed none of the growing joy in the room. Instead, his eyes softened, regarding Simon with a touch of empathy.
“What’s wrong?” Maille screamed up at him. But Simon ignored her and watched the spectacle unfold. Chester’s exaggerated stride cleared a wide path through the adoring mob. Unsure of what to do next, the thug offered up his best smile, an awkward thing that made his face crooked.
Later, Simon would wonder why he didn’t think to run as fast as he could. He should have seen what was coming next. He should have known that the bully wouldn’t be happy to see him. And when Chester did spot him, when he saw Simon standing there as if frozen to the floor, he screamed. He lurched in Simon’s direction, shoving young and old people aside, making the crowd grow silent until everyone could hear the voice of the once and future king echo off the stone walls...
“MURDERER! MURDERER!”
24
Simon had seen transparent bodies in the movies before. Hollywood likes to show ghosts with the same old see-through, glowy bodies. But seeing through someone in real life? That was a whole different experience.
Chester intended to pound Simon with two closed fists. But when he reached his prey, he took a wide swing and his hands disappeared into Simon’s head. The details of the bully, his face and clothes and hair, faded as if being wiped away by an eraser. After two seconds, only a flat outline of his body could be seen, like a drawing on canvas. From what Simon could tell, the edges of Chester had become a thin stream of water.
Simon assumed that Merlin had saved his neck with a nifty trick. But it was Maille who held her wand high, glowing red.
The crowd watched in stunned silence. Without a word, Maille followed Merlin into the room behind the orchestra. She saw Simon standing dumbstruck and jerked her head, as if to say, Follow us, you dimwit!
Simon squeezed through the crowd, with Chester still swinging at him like a maniac, unaware of his plight, or unable to process what was happening. The faint, pulsing water lines followed Simon into the room like a donkey after a carrot.
Merlin poked his head from the door and glared at the orchestra, which started playing again.
THE TORCHLIT ROOM had three walls. The triangular space was unsettling, with beamed ceilings and a large square table in the middle. Simon could tell that the room was meant to throw you off, to make you think differently. His guess was that it was a war room, where battle plans were drawn.
The two-dimensional Chester was out of breath and he finally seemed to realize something was wrong. He gestured as if he were going to start screaming again, but Maille dismissively swung her wand and no voice came out. She sat down and sighed deeply, propped her elbows on the table and leaned into her hands, exhausted.
Merlin did not look happy. “Explain yourself,” he said.
Simon opened his mouth to speak. He was going to tell them all about Tillman’s murder. But Merlin shushed him. “Not you, boy.”
“He was going to attack Simon!” Maille yelled. She gestured to Chester, who now jumped up and down, screaming silently. Simon tried not to smile.
“So let him! You don’t believe in Simon’s ability to defend himself from this one?” He flicked his wand at Chester.
“He was trying for a sucker punch. I don’t abide by that,” she grumbled.
“Did it occur to you that I do?” the wizard asked. “Did it occur to you that a fight between these two would be exactly what they wanted out there? Indeed, it’s exactly what these boys need!”
He looked at Simon, who wanted to disagree, but thought better of it.
“Think, Maille!” Merlin said. “For once in your life step away from this emotional bond you make with every living being who crosses your path and consider what happened out there. King Arthur and Lancelot were about to pick up where they left off! The knight who stole the queen away was about to get his just rewards, at long last! They both might have ended up on the floor. But at least the people would see the nex
t chapter unfold in front of them and spread the word that the true heroes are back.”
“I’m sorry, Merlin. I didn’t…”
“Think. You didn’t think. And now we have some awkward moment, frozen in everyone’s memories of this dolt jumping at this dimwit and the word ‘murderer’ resonating off the walls.”
“How did I get to be a dimwit now?” Simon wasn’t going to take the insult silently.
“Oh, sit down.” Merlin waved his wand and Simon sat down, quite against his will. “Simon can take care of himself, Maille. Better than you. Stop helping him at every turn. He’ll need it when he’s in a battle for his life. Now, boy, what is this about you being a murderer?”
“I’m allowed to speak now?”
Merlin pulled out his wand and got ready to take notes in a new wisp of smoke.
So Simon told the story of Tillman’s death. He managed to yank a new detail from the frantic haze that was his memory. The killing blade possessed a black handle with a silver sphere on the end.
When Simon finished, Merlin leaned back in his chair, thinking hard. Either that, or he really disliked the hanging tapestry he was frowning at.
“And you thought you’d share this with us when, exactly?” Merlin asked.
“Right about now,” Simon said.
“It’s missed details like that that will lose this war for us. Don’t you forget it, either, Mr. Sassy Pants. It’s going to take some getting used to, working with you again, Not-Lancelot. Release him, Maille.” Merlin said, with a dismissive wave at Chester. The apprentice swung her wand and Chester fell to the floor, back to normal. He held his head as if he had a splitting headache and glared at Simon.
“Even think about it and I’ll make you pee your pants, Chester,” Merlin said.
He was serious, too. And if his glare weren’t enough, then Maille’s sour puss kept the kid in line.
“I don’t care what he says,” Chester growled. “He killed Tillman.”
“So you saw him do it, then?” Maille probed.
“No. I didn’t see it, but I saw him standing over his body and he was looking all high n’ mighty and proud of himself, like he’d won the World Cup or something n’ he was probably going to try for me next, if it hadn’t been for me big fists n’ the fact that half the school caught him bloody handed n’ he…”
“My, my, you’re a talky one, aren’t you?” Merlin threw in. “Your impeccable deductive skills are impressive.”
“Yeah. I got those in spades.” Chester clearly had no idea what ‘impeccable’ or ‘deductive’ meant. But he wasn’t about to admit that in a room full of people he wanted to beat up.
“I can assure you, our little friend here didn’t do it,” Merlin said. “Frankly, Simon isn’t capable of killing like that. He’d have neither the nerve nor the skill to pull off such a deed without the victim setting off alarms or putting up a fight. But if you want to give him more credit than he’s worth, that’s your decision.”
Chester was staring at Simon differently now. He had that smirk on his face that Simon was accustomed to. It meant Chester didn’t fear him, or hate him. No, Chester thought he was better than him. Simon wished he’d go back to thinking he was a murderer.
Merlin stood, pushing his chair back. “Now, while I do some digging, I suggest you all enjoy yourselves out there.”
As the kids got up to leave (none of them able to ponder a scenario in which they’d have a good time) Simon yelped in pain, followed by a holler from Chester. They held their faces as if someone had hit them. Suddenly, or more precisely magically, Simon had a bloody lip and Chester, a black eye.
“You boys work out who won between yourselves. May the best liar win!” Merlin winked, stuffed his smoke-notes in his robe and left quickly through a side door.
Maille looped her arm through Simon’s and led him out. Chester followed, his head high.
When they emerged, Chester was consumed by crowds of people. They wanted to talk to him, greet him, and be close to him. Simon was thankful to be out of the limelight, but it irked him that Chester was enjoying all the attention.
“You okay?” Maille seemed worried. She patted Simon’s arm gently and gave him a smile.
“He’s probably telling them he beat me up.”
“He is the king. Apparently. Can say what he wants to.”
She sneered, disapprovingly. She obviously found it hard to believe this guy was Arthur’s heir, too. “He’ll always have people’s attention. But if you two ever do have it out, they’ll all see the truth with their own eyes. Don’t worry about it too much.”
Considering all that had happened, the night didn’t end up half bad. Simon tried to corner Hector to ask questions about why he had been posing as a chauffeur. The knight, however, was talented at dodging him. But Simon did enjoy meeting a few folks from town, most notably the mayor, Durdle. He was kind, especially with some ale in his gut. He gave Simon a big slap on the back when Maille introduced him. And he was embarrassed when he discovered Simon had been in the fight in his bar.
“I shoulda known that was ye. A naturaltastic fighter. Imaginate! A young’un in one of my bar fights! Thoughts ye was one of those Little Men!” Durdle’s laugh was much larger than he was.
Before saying goodbye, the mayor invited Maille and Simon to his booth the next day. He reminded them that it was fair time, so his selection of drinks, even kids’ victuals, would be extra special. Most endearing to Simon, though, was that Durdle believed Simon when he said there had been no fistfight with Chester.
Unfortunately, no one else knew the truth. Simon got condescending glances for the rest of the night. He overheard one boy tell his date, “It’s what you get if you show a lack of respect for the king.”
But the comment that really got to him was from an elderly man to his wife.
“I hear Arthur’s accusation of ‘murderer’ was referring to Lancelot’s betrayal of the king. The fact that Arthur was forced to kill so many people to get revenge on Lancelot makes it the knight’s fault. He put the blood on the king’s hands.”
Simon stopped short, ready to argue.
“Don’t bother,” Maille said, grabbing his arm. “The tale’s been twisted seven different ways by now. There’s no stopping it.”
Making new friends and steering around the king’s adoring fans was enough to wear both kids out. At 10pm they shuffled off to the boys’ quarters together.
“Don’t forget the fair tomorrow,” Maille said. “It’ll be fun, trust me.”
“As long as what’s-his-name doesn’t go, it should be.”
“With an attitude like that he’s already won,” she said. “I bet he’ll have a great time. Imagine what people would say if you didn’t.”
“They already made it clear they prefer him. Who cares what people say anyway?”
Maille opened the door to his room. It was packed with a dozen other boys wrapping up their day.
“They care,” she said. “Don’t let them down.” And with that she slammed the door, leaving him alone with the other young soldiers.
“Hi guys,” Simon said. A few of them waved politely and some even smiled. He noticed a couple of the bigger ones scowled, and he may even have heard a growl from a bunk on the fifth level.
Gawain, the kid he’d defeated on the field earlier, was in bed, pretending to be asleep.
25
Simon woke to the sounds of rattling steel and heavy boots stomping out the door.
“What’s going...” he said, half-asleep. The darkness of the room was barely interrupted by the moonlight that crept through the high, slim windows of Wellwoven.
“Been trying to wake you for five minutes, Simon,” Russ said, as he followed Josh out the door. “Better not be late again. Hector doesn’t like us making the same mistake twice.”
“Thanks,” Simon said. He threw on his armor as best he could, but it wasn’t so natural to him as it was to the others. He ended up running after the second-to-last boy out, still
rearranging some straps that, for the life of him, he couldn’t find a use for.
He followed the flow of kids down the hallway until the sound from the waterfall surrounded them. But before they reached Tapper, the boys and girls turned left to walk down a set of wide stairs. Everyone filed into a large circular dining hall.
Simon had never seen anything like it.
Large posts reached high to the arched ceiling, which was buttressed by equally massive beams. They must have been made from the biggest trees ever, Simon thought. Fireplaces burned the chill out of all four corners of the hall, casting a warm glow over everyone seated at the table.
And the table! It was the most impressive of all — a single giant, round surface with dozens of slightly curved benches around it, most filled with kids talking with their mouths full of breakfast. Along the walls were several arched windows, lined with ivy. They framed the grounds outside and the mountains in the distance. The first sign of the sun poked up behind them. It was going to be a beautiful morning.
Dozens of castle employees scrambled about, keeping the plates piled high with bacon and the cups filled to the top with juice. One lady kept the staff motivated, barking out polite but firm orders like, “Section 8 is drowning in eggs, while 6 hasn’t even smelled them yet, dear!” The servers bowed slightly as they passed her. She was an impressive woman, three hundred pounds if she was an ounce. Her face was kind but her eyes had a focus to them that kept everyone on their toes. She saw Simon staring at her and gave him a nod and a smile.
Simon spotted Russ and Josh waving at him. He waved back, which seemed to get a lot of attention, because the chatter began to quiet down. The boys and girls stared at him, some whispering. Simon felt like turning around and going back to bed, but he forced himself to step forward. The floor was smooth cobblestone that clicked under his boots. By step number three, it was the only sound in the hall. He slipped into a spot on Josh’s and Russ’ bench as fast as he could. He smiled and shrugged, not sure what to say.
“Well that was awkward,” Josh said. Simon laughed and some other boys joined in.
