The Seven Swords

by Nils Johnson-Shelton

  Sami looked at his knife and back at Artie. Then, just to make sure, he quickly sliced Artie again.

  Artie wasn’t ready for this one. “Hey!” he yelped. This cut was deeper and painful, and blood gushed momentarily before the wound shut itself.

  Sami was quiet for a moment and then he said, “You’re from the magic world, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” Artie said. “But enough about me. Why don’t you tell me about the sword.”

  “What sword? I’m a woodsman. I have axes and knives, not swords.”

  “You have that sword over there,” Artie said. “The one in the tree.”

  “Ha! That’s not a sword, it’s a branch. It’s been stuck there for as long as I can remember and a lot longer than that, I’ll tell you what.”

  “Are you saying that you can’t pull that sword out of the tree?” Artie asked doubtfully.

  “No, I can’t,” Sami huffed. This was obviously a sore point with the woodsman.

  “So you’ve tried?”

  “A hundred times. A thousand. It won’t budge. I’ve tried cutting down the tree, burning it, poisoning it. I’ve tried heating the blade, oiling it, freezing it. It’s no use. That tree has a lot of magic, and the sword even more.”

  “Well, we have enough magic to get it out.”

  “You lie.”

  “I don’t,” Artie said with conviction. “And I’ll tell you something else. We’re not alone. We brought friends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are two more of us near the river outside the forest. One of them is an archer—a very good archer. They’ll come looking for us if we don’t return soon. When they do, our archer will shoot you before you even see him.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, these are my woods. No one can sneak up on my camp.”

  “That’s a chance you can choose to take, of course. Or, you can let us go and I’ll give you the thing that heals me. Then, if you happen to get run through the neck with a giant hunting arrow, you’ll probably be all right, although I have to tell you I’ve never put it to that kind of a test.”

  The woodsman said, “So you’re not a witch? It’s something you carry that does this magic to you?”

  “Exactamundo.”

  “And you would just give it to me?”

  “Yep, in exchange for our freedom.” Artie paused for effect before saying, “But . . .”

  “I knew it,” Sami said, rolling his eyes. “There’s always a but.”

  “But—if one of us can pull the sword from the tree, then you have to return my healing thing and let us go. If you do, then I promise you won’t get hurt.”

  Sami flashed a big smile. There wasn’t a man alive—let alone a child—who could pull the sword from the ancient tree. He spit in one of his palms and rubbed his hands together. “All right. You have a deal.”

  He swiped his knife at the rope that held the net. Artie, Kay, and Erik fell to the ground in a painful crash. They stood and untangled themselves from the webbing, their bodies sore.

  But not so sore that Kay wasn’t going to try to kill Sami!

  Less than ten feet separated them, and she erased this distance in a flash, Cleomede leading the way. She didn’t want this guy to get Artie’s scabbard, and she wasn’t at all happy about being trapped.

  But just as Cleomede’s blade was about to run through Sami’s barrel chest, he clapped his hands around it. The sound echoed into the boreal canopy. The sword, and Kay behind it, came to a screeching halt.

  Holding the blade flat between his leathery hands, Sami leaned to one side and twisted Cleomede out of Kay’s grip. She cried out as her wrists turned. Sami took the sword and tucked it under one of his arms.

  “Kay!” Artie exclaimed angrily.

  As she rubbed her wrists, she said, “What? You know I don’t let bullies get away with being jerks.”

  Artie looked at Sami. “I’m sorry about my sister. She’s pretty hotheaded.”

  “I understand,” Sami said, eyeing Kay with a look of bemusement.

  “You have no idea,” Erik said. “I’ve watched her beat up boys twice her weight!”

  “Thank you, Erik,” Kay said as if Artie wasn’t being appreciative enough. She turned to Sami. “When we get the sword in the tree, then you have to give me my sword back too, all right?”

  Sami gave her a nod. “Sure—all I care about is the healing talisman.”

  “Right,” Artie said. He unbuckled the leather straps crisscrossing his chest and lifted the empty scabbard over his head. Then he held it out with both hands, offering it to Sami.

  Sami inspected the scabbard and asked, “Where’s the blade that goes with this?”

  “I lost it,” Artie said curtly.

  “That’s fitting. You’re going to lose this too,” Sami said. “How does it work?”

  “You just wear it, you freak,” Kay said wearily.

  Sami gave Artie a questioning look as he strapped it on and then placed the blade of his knife along the back of his forearm. He pressed down and drew it across his flesh.

  Sami barely winced as blood instantly coursed around his arm, and then just as quickly stopped. Sami dropped the knife and wiped the blood away. With widened eyes, he searched for the cut.

  But it was gone.

  “Wow!” Erik said, also having witnessed the scabbard’s healing power for the first time.

  Artie shrugged. “See? Nothing to it.”

  “Amazing,” Sami said.

  Artie stepped forward. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain. Will you keep yours?”

  “Of course. I am a man of my word,” Sami said, leading them to the tree.

  As they got closer to Gram, they saw that the sword was buried nearly to the hilt in the thick trunk. It looked to be in pretty bad shape. The exposed part was weatherworn and rusted and covered in several layers of calcified muck and splotchy lichens.

  Sami slapped the hilt and it didn’t move. Then he grabbed it in both hands and pulled on it as hard as he could, even going so far as to plant both feet on the trunk so he could push away from it like someone rappelling down a rock face.

  It didn’t budge.

  “Give it your best shot,” Sami said, stepping aside.

  Artie looked at Kay and Kay looked at Erik and Erik looked at the ground.

  “Kay, why don’t you try first?” Artie suggested

  Kay shot her brother a look. “What, me?”

  “Yes, you.” Artie liked the idea of working up to Erik’s big moment.

  “Fine,” Kay said.

  Kay went to the sword and pulled at it halfheartedly, making a very fake grunting sound. As she stepped away she mumbled, “Yep, it sure is stuck.”

  Sami laughed quietly.

  “Great; thanks for trying, Kay. Way to put your back into it,” Artie said sarcastically. “My turn.”

  “Have at it.”

  Artie stepped up to Gram and took it with both hands. Before he pulled, he thought about Cleomede and how it had been stuck in the stone and how he, Artie Kingfisher, had freed it. He started to pull. He pulled harder and harder. He got up on the tree like Sami had and pulled with all his might. Finally he stopped and took a deep breath. He looked at the sword. Nothing.

  Artie walked to Erik and put a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this,” Artie quietly insisted.

  Erik looked at Artie nervously. His eyes asked, But what if I can’t? Artie squeezed Erik’s shoulder and smiled.

  “Go on,” Artie said.

  “All right,” Erik whispered.

  He marched to the tree. There was no way. Still, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt, closed his eyes, and pulled.

  And nothing happened.

  “Ha! I told you,” Sami exclaimed.

  “Try again; use both hands!” Artie suggested, his heart pounding.

  Erik did. And then his body started to jitter. This grew to a shake. This amplified
to a vibration that made the edges of Erik’s body blur. The energy coursed through the hilt, to the blade, and into the tree. In a matter of seconds, every branch and leaf began to tremble and flutter. For an instant Erik was joined to the tree and vice versa, the sword their conduit.

  Then he stepped back and twisted his shoulders, and with him came the legendary dragon slayer Gram. The part of the blade that had been embedded in the tree was bright and silver and sharp. He stepped away from Barnstokk and uttered a proclamation in Swedish that he didn’t even understand. It was like the sword was speaking through him.

  Artie beamed and Kay yelped, “Woo-hoo!” while Sami fell to his knees and bleated, “I can’t— How?”

  Energy continued to run through Erik’s body like a freight train, rising from his feet, through his legs and chest, around his head, and then back down through his arms and finally out through Gram. The weapon shook so violently that Artie couldn’t understand how Erik managed to keep hold of it. Finally the blade lit up with a red glow, and a stream of light flew up and away from its tip. As the beam passed the tree, its branches shook one last time and then, all at once, it dropped all of its leaves save the highest one.

  Erik stood there, panting, in a shower of copper beech leaves. The forest was quiet, as if the trees themselves were staring down in wonder.

  Sami gathered himself enough to ask, “How did you do that?”

  Erik looked down on the woodsman, his nervousness gone, replaced by confidence and knowledge. Artie knew that Erik had just experienced something similar to what he had when he’d finally gotten Excalibur.

  Man, how Artie missed his own legendary sword. . . .

  “I did it because it’s mine,” Erik said, striding toward Sami. “And now I think you owe us some things,” he added.

  “Erik Erikssen!” Kay exclaimed, brimming with excitement and even, she hated to admit it, a little bit of admiration. “Wow . . . just, wow.”

  Erik flashed Kay the easy smile of a school-yard crush. Gram had given him confidence in many areas, and he was glad for it. Super glad.

  Artie clapped Erik on the shoulder as Kay spun to Sami and said, “How do you like us now, strongman? I’ll be taking this back, thank you very much!” She snatched Cleomede from the ground and sheathed it.

  Artie stepped next to Kay and held out his hand. “I’ll take my scabbard too, if you don’t mind,” he said calmly. Sami wordlessly unbuckled the scabbard and passed it to Artie, his eyes never leaving Gram. As Artie retrieved it, a wave of relief washed through him. “I told you I wasn’t lying,” he said

  “I . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry I cut you like I did. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Artie said graciously.

  “If I can ever make it up to you, please, let me know.”

  “I doubt we’ll ever be coming this way again, Sami, but if we do, you can count on it,” Kay said for Artie.

  Artie glanced at Erik, who’d moved back to Barnstokk. Gram rested easily in one hand, and his other pressed against the bark of the tree. Very quietly he said, “Thank you for keeping this.”

  The tree shuddered and shed its final leaf. It drifted down, cradling back and forth through the air, and landed gently on the flat of Gram’s gleaming blade.

  Erik turned to the others and said, “What a trip.”

  “Cool, right?” Artie asked. “Getting Excalibur was a major rush for me too.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” Erik confirmed. “A little overwhelming, but cool.”

  Sami’s voice wavered as he said, “Did you just say ‘Excalibur’?”

  “Yes, I did,” Artie said confidently. And then he asked, “You ready to go, Erik?”

  Erik stared at his friend, his classmate, his neighbor. The whole experience of visiting the Otherworld—and meeting a dragon, and going berserk—had been like a dream. But now he had woken up. He understood. He might return to school one day, or he might not, but he knew that his life would never be the same. He was ready for everything. For anything. Erik nodded. “I sure am.”

  Kay joined them. Before they left, Artie said, “So long, Sami of Sweden. Next time consider being nicer to strangers.”

  “Okay,” Sami said weakly. Then Artie, Kay, and Erik started walking out of the camp. “But wait!” Sami called, jumping to his feet. “Who are you?”

  Without turning around, Artie said, “I’m King Artie Kingfisher, and I’m no longer at your service.”

  12 - IN WHICH ARTIE CROSSES PATHS WITH DRED

  “Moooor-dreeeed!” Morgaine screamed over an intercom into his room.

  Man, Dred really hated hearing his mum say his name like that.

  He had given Qwon the spoon that morning and now he was beginning to regret it. Not so much because he thought Qwon didn’t deserve it—in truth, he kind of liked her—but because if his mum ever found out, she would probably kill him.

  Literally.

  So it was with heavy feet that Dred dragged himself to Morgaine’s room. Dred pushed the doors to her chamber open and trudged in. He looked around and didn’t see any sign of his mother.

  “Mum?” he asked.

  She rose like a shot from behind a stack of books and magic knickknacks littering her desk. “What took you so long?” she wailed. A scarlet-tufted jaybird flapped excitedly around her head.

  “I came as soon as—”

  “Come and look at this, snookums,” Morgaine interrupted. “You must see it.”

  Dred approached the desk and found a messy contraption of wires and transistors and colored glass surrounding a thin sheet of sangrealite. On the sheet was a picture of a vast plain dotted with aurochs.

  “Nice snap of Surmik, Mum,” Dred said, relieved that it wasn’t a picture of Qwon eating porridge with her spoon.

  Morgaine slapped him hard on the back of the head.

  “Hey!” Dred blurted. “That hurt.”

  “Look closer. Did I not raise you to pay attention?”

  Dred rubbed his head and leaned forward. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him. But then one of the aurochs loped across the image, only to disappear into thin air!

  Dred jumped back. “Is that a crossover point? One that’s just been left open?” Dred said with a sinking feeling.

  “Yes,” Morgaine said. The scarlet-tufted jaybird then landed on the table next to the picture machine. He had a small green gem affixed to the front of his neck, which Dred knew allowed him to gate around the Otherworld.

  “This is Eekan,” Morgaine said. “He was attached to a dragonfly regiment on Sylvan. A decimated dragonfly regiment.”

  The jay made a guttural click and bowed his head. His plumage, mostly dark purple and black, was streaked on the wings and crown of his head with bright red. Dred knew that Eekan was a spy.

  “What happened?” Dred asked earnestly. He might have been sick of his mum, but he still believed that the Otherworld’s sister world had to remain closed off under all circumstances.

  The jaybird explained (every Fenlandian boy and girl learned Jaybird in school) what had happened to the dragonflies when they’d tried to capture one of the special knights in Sylvan. As the dragonflies were beaten, Eekan hid in the forest, carefully avoiding the keen eyes of Tiberius, and waited. He surreptitiously followed the boy-king and four others, including the boy-king’s sister, through a moongate to Surmik. He then hid in a herd of aurochs and watched as the group found and opened an ancient crossover point—and went through.

  “So it’s as you feared, isn’t it?” Dred asked when the bird was finished.

  Morgaine stared hard at the image on the sangrealite screen. “It is. And what’s worse, I can tell that the sword Gram has been retrieved. The boy-king is moving.”

  “How are you feeling, Mum?” Dred asked, knowing that open crossover points were bad for her power.

  “It’s just one crossover. So long as the King’s Gate stays shut, I’ll be fine.”

  “Good,” Dred said. Then he asked, “Where does
that crossover let out?”

  “I checked the ancient maps. Some place called Sweden. Surely it’s awful,” Morgaine said. “Mordred, we must redouble our efforts.”

  “Is the wizard with them?”

  “No.”

  “Then we should go and meet them. We can try to stop them as they cross back.”

  Morgaine frowned. “Mordred, my child, there’s hope for you yet. Gather thirty men and leave at once. Don’t harm the boy-king. Kill the others. Bring me Gram and the sword carried by the girl.”

  “Yes, Mum.”

  “Now go!” Morgaine ordered. “Eekan will show you the way!”

  The jaybird took off. Dred followed him down to the barracks, and then onward as they gated to the barren slopes of Surmik.

  Lance and Bedevere were relieved when Artie, Kay, and Erik finally emerged from the boreal forest.

  “How’d it go?” Lance asked after they’d shimmied across the rope bridge.

  “And how does it feel to have that?” Bedevere asked, pointing at Gram.

  Erik turned his new ancient sword in his hand and said, “Weird. Really weird. After I got it out of the tree, it, like, downloaded a bunch of stuff into my head.”

  “Such as?” Lance wondered.

  “Well, it taught me how to control myself when I’m in one of those berserker rages. I also think I can determine when I go berserk, although I could be wrong about that. I may still fly off the handle without warning.”

  “Time will tell, I guess,” Lance said.

  “What else did it teach you?” Bedevere asked.

  “A bunch of swordsmanship stuff and Norse mythology. It also taught me a ton about the Otherworld. I don’t think I’ll be so freaked out there anymore.”

  Artie pointed up the slope toward the crossover and asked, “Anything happen up there?”

  “Negative. A few more aurochs wandered through is all,” Lance said.

  Artie called his spear, which flew across the river and landed at his feet, and untied the rope. Kay coiled it and packed it up, and then they headed back up the hill to the crossover.

  When they got there, Artie inspected the portal and proclaimed, “Looks good. I think it’s here to stay.” Then he walked through to the Otherworld.