King Arthur lifted Excalibur from Irene’s shoulder and then handed the blade to an old man who stood uneasily at his right side. The sword maintained its faint white glow, strong enough to illuminate the wrinkled hands of the older man, yet it seemed no more than the brightest candle among the dozens that lined the inner court of the king’s palace. When the older man slid the sword into its sheath, the ornate scabbard swallowed the glow, allowing the candlelight to spread throughout the room.
The two men stood on a raised platform, not as high as a stage, but high enough to display the honor and authority of anyone who would sit on the throne at its center. Arthur lifted a scroll that had rested on a table at his side. “For your protection, I have entered your names as Reginald Bannister and Tabitha Silver in the official records as my adopted son and daughter. Hide your identities well, for if your enemies discover them, you will be chased by bloodthirsty hounds for centuries to come. I suggest choosing different surnames for yourselves for the time being, though you may return to Bannister and Silver to protect your inheritance when a safer time comes.”
Jared lifted his eyes toward the king and slowly stood up. “Sire, I humbly accept your gracious bestowal of your good name. May I always bring the name of Arthur honor and a good heritage.”
Irene stood at Jared’s side. “I, too, am honored, Your Majesty.” She rubbed her hand across her bare forearm. Her skin seemed to radiate silvery white. “Having shorn my scales, and with them the dignity of a dragoness, I feel clothed once again with the integrity, nobility, and heritage that your deeds have inspired. May I wear this livery well.”
King Arthur’s solemn face broke into a proud, fatherly smile. “Well spoken, my friends. I trust that I will be able to live up to my duty and keep you safe in your new skin. Have the other dragons taken the necessary steps to secure their safety?”
Jared glanced at Irene and then back at the king. “The ladies have taken new names and blended into life in the nearby villages, as you instructed. We do not know, however, what has become of Irene’s brother, Valcor.”
The king’s brow lifted. “The other male dragon?”
“Yes. With Gartrand’s death, he and I are the only remaining males. He disappeared soon after our transformation.”
Arthur stroked his short, graying beard. “Hmmm. Perhaps his secrecy is for the best.”
Irene nodded. “That is what we thought. Devin will never be able to learn his whereabouts from us, even through torture.”
“Very true. And speaking of Devin, now that our ceremony is complete, we must make haste.” He turned to the man at his side. “Merlin, is there any new word?”
The older man raised a long staff and set its end on the platform floor. He placed Excalibur on his chair and cleared his throat. “No, Sire. My counsel stands. Devin’s traitorous band could attack at any moment. I have arranged for your knights to secretly assemble at Blood Hollow, so I suggest that you leave through your escape route at once to convene with them. Gawain will meet you at the tunnel exit and escort you to the other knights.”
Arthur strapped on his armor and weapons, then took his sword from Merlin’s seat.
Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist. “But you must leave Excalibur.”
Arthur pulled away from the prophet’s grip. He lifted Excalibur, extending his arms to display the sheathed sword in his palms. “Go into battle without the sword?” He strapped the scabbard to the belt around his waist. “I should say not!”
Merlin held out his hands. “I have more need of it. Devin’s tiny army is counting on surprise to win. When you arrive, your forces will crush him like a shoe on a cockroach. Should you come late, Excalibur is my only hope for survival.”
Arthur placed his hand on Excalibur’s hilt and hesitated, while outside the door the distant sound of clanking steps shattered the evening’s quiet meeting.
“There is no more time,” Merlin urged, his hands shaking. “Trust me! Leave Excalibur and fly to Blood Hollow. Gawain will have a sword for you.”
Arthur unfastened the sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and handed it to Merlin. He then scrambled to a door at the corner of a nearby wall and shut it behind him. The secret door disappeared from sight when its edge met the perfectly matched wall.
Jared hurriedly put his arms through the sleeves of a purple robe, not Arthur’s formal council robe, but one that the king often wore during evening meetings. “Should I put on the crown?”
Merlin helped him straighten out the sleeves. “No. Your hair is a close enough match, so the robe should be sufficient. Just keep your back to the door. I expect Devin to enter at any moment.” He turned to Irene. “You may face the door, kneeling before our ‘king.’ Can you make yourself cry?”
Irene shook her head. “Not without provocation. I have not yet learned all the ways of women.”
“Then try to look sad, as though entreating the king for someone’s life.”
Within seconds a servant came to the inner doorway of the court. “Sir Devin to see His Majesty.”
Merlin nodded to Jared, who spun around toward the back of the room. Irene dropped to her knees and extended her folded hands toward him, twisting her face in counterfeit pain. Merlin stepped to the entryway to intercept the quickly marching Devin. “His Majesty has a guest, Sir Devin. May I give him a message for you?”
Devin looked over Merlin’s shoulder at Irene and squinted for a few seconds. “Is the lady ill? She seems to be having intestinal distress.”
“Not sickness; her entreaty is a private matter. We will be in prayer for her for the next half hour, and then I shall escort His Majesty to his chamber if he wishes to go.”
Merlin noted a hint of a smile in Devin’s otherwise stoic expression. Devin bowed and spoke in his most formal and reverent voice. “Please give His Majesty my blessings, and I will spend the entire half hour on my knees as well.” Devin gave Merlin a polite nod. “Good evening to you, Master Merlin.” The knight left the court with the same quick march that brought him in.
When the door closed Jared turned around. “Do you think it worked?”
“I think so. A man who is not trustworthy rarely trusts anyone, yet, I believe that our ruse has convinced him that King Arthur is in this room.”
Irene stood and approached Merlin. “Then how soon will he attack?”
“He believes he has a half hour, so I would guess we have only half again of that before he strikes.” Merlin bent down and knelt on the platform, and Jared and Irene joined him. “We should pray, as I told Devin we would, but not for the lady’s entreaty, rather for the king’s quick return with his men.”
After a few moments of silence, Merlin stood and pulled Excalibur from its sheath. The sword blazed, and Jared jumped to his feet, his heart pounding at the sight of its brilliant, unearthly glow. Irene’s eyes widened to take in the beauty. It shone much more brightly than when its gentle flat side dubbed them Arthur’s adopted heirs. Now it looked ready to sever the heads of a thousand hardened soldiers.
Merlin waved the blade slowly, and a blinding beam of light shot from its tip and burned a hole through the ceiling. “It will cut boulders and oaks for any warrior that wields it,” he said, “but its greatest power is reserved for the hands of the holy.”
Merlin tilted his head upward as though talking to someone suspended in the air. “I am now certain that the king will not arrive in time. I will have to use Excalibur to extinguish the enemy, and in the process, I will conduct my greatest experiment.”
“Experiment?” Jared asked.
Merlin cast his gaze on Jared and Irene. “Excalibur does not merely cut,” he continued, “it transforms. It changes matter into light energy; it transluminates. If I wield it to kill, its radiance will shatter a man’s bones into shards of flashing luminescence, and his remains will be absorbed into a candle’s breath or crushed by the ignorance of a dark shadow. And his soul? If it is not somehow trapped on the earth, it will be sent straight to the judgment seat of God.”
Jared stared, enraptured by the old man’s explanation, while Irene stood equally transfixed, frozen in fear on the cold stone floor.
“Jared, you and Irene must enter the tunnel door for safety. When Excalibur’s power fills the room, all who remain will be transluminated, perhaps even you, though you now wear the king’s name. Since I bear the sword, I think I will not die, but since I am not of Arthur’s lineage, I am still vulnerable. I believe I will be changed.”
“Changed?” Irene asked. “Changed into what?”
“As with the rest, my body will likely become light energy, though I think I will survive. Whether I will live on in spirit or not, I cannot say. Perhaps I will come back in another form, as another person, restored to physical matter.”
“Reincarnation?” Jared asked. “As the heretics teach? May heaven forbid!”
“Not at all like reincarnation, Jared, but I am impressed. You have learned your theology well in such a short time, though you may need to learn to express it with a bit more grace. I’m hoping my adventure will be as Jesus taught when speaking of John the Baptist, ‘et si vultis recipere ipse est Helias qui venturus est.’”
“I . . . I do not understand.”
“Neither did his disciples, even when it was spoken in their own tongue, for they did not have ears to hear. You, on the other hand, have not yet learned Latin. It means, ‘And if you care to accept it, he himself is Elijah, who was to come.’” Merlin picked up an old book that rested next to his chair and showed Jared and Irene the back of the title page. “Can you read this?”
They looked over Merlin’s shoulder. “Yes,” Jared said, “The words are quite clear.”
Irene nodded her agreement. “I do not understand the riddle I see, but I am able to read the text.”
Merlin turned the page. “And now?”
Jared smiled at Merlin. “Is this some kind of jest, Master? The page is blank.”
Merlin put one hand over Jared’s eyes. “It is as though a veil is covering your eyes.” He then lifted his hand and waved it over the page. “And now, Jared, son of Arthur, can you read it?”
Jared stared at the book’s crisp, clean page, and this time dark script appeared, beautiful handwriting, phrases cut into poetic lines. For some reason, however, he could not bring them completely into focus. “I see the writing, but it seems to float, as though I am seeing it through a thick dark glass. I cannot read it.”
“Before this day is over,” Merlin said, “the words on this page will become clear.” He placed the book into Jared’s hands and picked up Excalibur. “This is my perpetual diary. Guard it with your life. In some ways it is more dangerous than the great sword, but only a wise man will glean from its counsel. To understand its wisdom requires the brightest of lights and the greatest of the abiding gifts.”
They heard the sudden clanking of soldiers’ weapons and marching footsteps. Merlin pushed Jared and Irene toward the corner door. “Go! Go!”
They hurried to obey. Jared knew he had no place in this matter. Having become a human only a few weeks before, he understood neither his standing nor his responsibility in the domain of men. Holding the treasured diary in his arms and seeing Irene to a safe place in the low hallway, he shut the door almost completely. He left a crack, just enough to watch the action, but not enough, he hoped, to allow Excalibur’s lethal radiance into the secret chamber.
Two armed men broke down the door and stretched loaded bowstrings back to their ears. Merlin stood tall, holding the great sword in both hands, its point straight up. The men stopped, mesmerized by the brilliant glow, while six others poured through the door, each halting as they beheld the sword.
Jared searched through the faces but couldn’t locate Devin. Would he come later to try to assume the throne?
The slimy worm! Letting his lackeys take the brunt while he prances on daisies out in the garden!
When a band of twelve or so had arrived, Merlin waved the sword in a great circle. The treacherous soldiers seemed rooted to the stone floor, their legs trembling like saplings in a storm’s fury. A single beam from Excalibur’s tip multiplied into hundreds, flashing in all directions until they joined together into a massive tidal wave of light.
The luminescent surge washed through the court, and particles of sparkling light buzzed through the traitors like starving locusts. Their bodies melted away, and only swirls of twinkling effervescence remained, shields and armor clattering to the floor to mark where men had once stood.
Just before Excalibur’s beam flashed into his corner, Jared slammed the door shut. He could almost feel the rush of light crash against his escape hatch. He hoped its probing fingers would find no cracks, nowhere to seep through to grab another victim.
Jared pressed his hands against his body—his solid, intact body. Irene sat against the opposite wall, holding her arms around her knees. A single, wall-mounted lantern reflected in her wide eyes. Jared pressed his ear against the thick door but could hear nothing.
He waited, nervous and uncertain. The light had flashed around the room as if driven by wrath—possessing an intellect, a mind of fury. Never before had he felt such terror. As a dragon he had feared nothing, but now, without scales or lethal breath, he was helpless, trained only in the rudiments of combat.
Still carrying the book, he slowly pushed the door open, mentally shushing its barely audible squeaks. With one eye he peeked into the courtroom, trying to adjust to its candlelight. Gradually, the shadows dispelled. The room was barren; only dark lumps of armor lay scattered over the white stone floor, like black toadstools polluting a pristine field.
Jared gestured toward the wall lantern and whispered to Irene. “You had better put out that light so you will stay hidden.”
Irene nodded and stood to blow out the flame.
“Will you be frightened?”
“I was a dragon,” she replied, a sad smile gracing her lips. “I am accustomed to dark places.”
Jared stepped out into the metallic debris. He walked to the throne’s platform and placed the diary on Merlin’s chair. Littered beside the throne lay the remains of the first traitor, a swirl of sparks rising like glittering smoke. Jared picked up a shield and an empty mail shirt.
The undergarments are gone but the armor remains! What does it all mean?