The Seven Swords (2 page)

2 - HOW MERLIN RETURNS, AND WHAT HE HAS TO SAY FOR HIMSELF

“Hail!” Bedevere saluted with his
remaining arm as he waltzed into the Kingfishers' game room.

Artie, clutching the golden controller he'd gotten at the Invisible Tower, blurted over his shoulder, “One sec, Beddy.”

Bedevere looked at the new forty-six-inch flat-screen mounted to the wall, where Artie's
Otherworld
character, Nitwit the Gray, was up to his old tricks. He was dealing with a violent and unruly giant with a red Mohawk, who was swinging at him with a massive hammer. Artie had the game switched to first person, so only Nitwit's hands could be seen. The right hand held a long and terrifying mace, complete with spikes, and the left was charged with the green glow of magic. Nitwit was a warrior-mage—good not only with weapons but also with spells.

Nitwit jumped, then ducked a swipe and threw some of the green magic at the giant, poisoning the monster. Its health bar began to plummet. But the poison didn't stop the giant from scoring a hit that knocked Nitwit to the ground. Dazed, Nitwit couldn't move as his enemy jumped into the air and came down on top of him. Now it was Nitwit's health bar that jumped alarmingly toward death.

Artie fumbled manically with the controller, switching spells. The ball in his left hand turned golden yellow, and the margins of the screen sparked with the same energy.

Bedevere smiled and said, “Damage Conversion, eh, sire?”

“You bet,” Artie said, not taking his eyes from the screen.

Bedevere sucked at video games,
Otherworld
especially, but that didn't mean he didn't understand them. In fact, Bedevere had insisted that Nitwit learn Damage Conversion even though Artie didn't want to waste Spell Points on it. A totally unglamorous conjuration, it converted all damage into healing for ten seconds. When the spell was on, the harder Nitwit got hit, the better he felt.

“Nice,” Bedevere said as Nitwit's power was restored. “You should drop that mace and use your spear. It'll keep some distance between you and that . . .
thing
.”

“Duh,” Artie said quietly, switching weapons. “Why didn't I think of that?”

Artie's fingers danced on the controller as Nitwit jabbed the giant in the chest. For nearly a minute he scored cheap hits as he waited for his spell-casting mana to restore. Finally, he threw caution to the wind, chucked the spear at the giant's midsection, downed a booster potion, and hurled a huge two-handed fireball at his adversary.

That did the trick. The giant fell, throwing up a cloud of sand, and died unceremoniously.

“Take that!” Kay said, catching the final blow as she entered the game room.

Artie turned to his sister and smiled. “Yeah, take that,” he said with a lot less enthusiasm.

Kay plopped next to her brother. Artie paused the game and looked into his sister's crazy, mismatched eyes. “The game's not doing it for you, is it?” she asked.

Artie shook his head.

He wanted so badly to go back to the real Otherworld and finish what he had started. Morgaine had stolen Excalibur and, worse, his dear friend Qwon. Every day Artie spent away from the Otherworld was like torture. He
had
to go back as soon as possible.

But of course he couldn't go back. Not yet. He'd promised to wait to hear from Merlin. But Merlin had been totally AWOL since they'd freed him from the invisible tower back in Cincinnati a few weeks earlier, and Artie was beginning to lose his patience.

“I can't stop thinking about her, Kay. Q must be so miserable and scared. And I can't stop thinking about what I need to do in the Otherworld,” Artie lamented.

“Well, what's going on in the video-game version of the Otherworld?” Kay asked, trying to change the subject slightly.

“Some quest for a magic sword, which sucks because all it makes me think about is Excalibur. I can't believe that stupid witch snagged it from me.”

Bedevere said, “Give yourself a break, sire. She is extremely powerful.” He pointed at a pair of long scars on Artie's leg. “Don't forget what she did to you that day.”

“I know,” said Artie. “At least if I mess up in the video game, I won't get fried by a bolt of lightning.”

Kay lifted her shirt a little to reveal a long crescent-shaped scar on her stomach. “Or get gored by a giant boar.”

Bedevere twirled the stump of his right arm through the air. “Or get your arm shot off by a half-crazed wood elf.”

Artie said, “I'm sorry about the arm, Bedevere.”

Bedevere shook his head. “You've said that a million times, sire. I'm fine. I'm a knight. Knights lose things like arms from time to time.”

“I guess,” Artie said, still not convinced that Bedevere really didn't care. “But, seriously, if Merlin hasn't turned up by next weekend, we're going back.”

Bedevere started, “I don't—”

“King's orders, Sir Bedevere,” Artie said.

“Hey, guys!” Kynder yelled excitedly from the kitchen before Bedevere could respond. “Come check this out!”

Artie bolted upstairs, Kay and Bedevere right on his heels.

As Artie stepped into the kitchen, he found Kynder wearing a very authentic-looking medieval robe. It appeared to be made of hay, burlap, and wool, and Artie thought that it must be the itchiest thing ever worn by anyone in the last five hundred years.

“Well?” Kynder asked, the overhead light reflecting harshly off his square, owlish glasses. He did a little twirl and asked, “What do you think? Don't I look
exactly
like a fifth-century druid?”

Since they had returned to Shadyside, Kynder had become obsessed with general Arthuriana. He spent most of his time on the computer reading about the old days, when Romans were a scourge, and magic roamed freely over the cliffs and through the dells, and knights battled regularly and with much honor.

In short, he'd become a Dark Ages Dr Pepper head.

Kay rolled her eyes and pushed by him. “No, Kynder,” she said loudly, “not
exactly
. I don't think druids wore Nikes. And if they had glasses, they sure didn't look anything like yours.” Kay opened the fridge and stared into it.

“Oh, well, besides that,” Kynder said. “I'm sure they didn't wear underwear, either.”

“
Gross
,” Kay said, closing the fridge without taking anything out.

They heard the front door open and close. Lance clambered into the kitchen carrying a couple of big empty buckets and a short two-by-four. “Hey, dudes! Who wants to help me put some new sparring dummies together?”

“I do!” Kay said, quickly moving toward the patio door. She loved making things that she could later destroy with Cleomede.

Lance followed her and paused next to a silent Artie. He knew how hard it had been for Artie to wait to return to the Otherworld to save his friend. “C'mon, dude,” Lance said. “Don't mope. It'll be good to work. Go get the circular saw and meet us in the yard.”

“All right,” Artie said softly.

“Good,” Lance said. He went out back and Artie ambled after him.

Artie did actually feel a little better as he and his knights worked on the dummies. Lance measured, Artie cut some two-by-fours, and Kay and Bedevere assembled. They'd made dozens of dummies over the past couple of weeks and had it down pat. Artie liked the growl of the saw and the smell of the sawdust. Lance had been right: working was good.

Artie finished cutting the last batch of lumber and turned off the saw. His ears rang a little from the noise, but this unpleasant sound was quickly replaced by a vigorous burst of birdsong.

A lot of birdsong.

Too much
birdsong.

The high-pitched vibrato got so loud that everyone had to cover their ears. Looking around, Artie realized that the surrounding oaks and maples were dripping with songbirds. It was as if they had simply materialized in the trees. Some were extremely colorful, but most were jet-black with little red tufts on the tops of their heads.

Artie got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the back of Kay's neck went cold. The siblings could feel each other's unease—a special gift they shared. A slight breeze sifted through the yard. Kynder walked onto the patio to see what was going on, and as he did the birds stopped singing, as if following a command.

Total silence reigned for a few moments, and then
BOOM
! A blast of blue light sparked the middle of the yard, and the birds took wing away from the explosion, expanding outward in a ring.

The blue light chased the birds and then fell back, gathering above the grass like a little supernova. It became very bright, forcing Artie to shut his eyes as a strong wind swept through, blowing leaves and sawdust everywhere.

When the air around them settled, Artie cautiously opened his eyes.

Collapsed amid a mess of building supplies was Merlin, a great spike of wood driven through his left thigh.

“Merlin!” shouted Kay.

Everyone rushed to the fallen wizard, and Lance gently rolled him onto his back. Kynder inspected the wound in his leg, and Kay asked, “Should we call nine-one-one?”

“No,” Merlin wheezed. His eyelids fluttered and his skin was ashen. His tattoos were blurred and faded, like they'd aged a thousand years.

Artie stepped forward. Bedevere, fearing some unseen treachery, went to the shed and grabbed his claymore.

“What do you need us to do?” Lance asked with a soldier's urgency.

“There,” Merlin said, using his eyes to indicate a white canvas bag gripped tightly in his hand. “In there.”

Kynder grabbed it and peered inside. “But it's empty!”

“Reach in. A bottle. A wooden cane.”

Kynder stuck his hand into the bag. What a wonder! It was full of furry things and slick things; hard things and gummy things; rocks, dirt, and leaves. Kynder felt small bones and claws, and sifted his hands through a mass of marbles. He thrust his whole arm into the thing, even though from the outside the bag was only about a foot long.

“I can't find them.” Kynder panted.

“Deeper,” Merlin ordered. Kynder pushed farther into the bag. “There,” the wizard whispered.

Kynder felt a cone-shaped bottle and a length of wood. He wrapped his fingers around both and yanked his arm out.

The bottle was full of a brown, unappealing liquid. The piece of wood was a gray walking cane, the handle carved like a roosting owl, one eye shut, one open.

Merlin stared at the liquid. Kynder pulled at the wax stopper, but it didn't budge.

“Mr. Kingfisher, hold it out,” said Bedevere. Kynder did, and with a clean stroke Bedevere used his ginormous sword to slice the wax-covered top off the bottle.

An unholy stench of rotten eggs, wet dog hair, and gym socks shot from the opening. Kynder held it at arm's length, and everyone took a step back.

“Put it to my lips, please,” Merlin said.

Kynder did, and Merlin gulped down the elixir like it was chocolate milk. Merlin's color returned, and he held his hand out for his cane. Kynder passed it to him and, with Lance's help, Merlin sat up.

“Now, Mr. Lance, please push that blasted thing through my leg,” Merlin said, indicating the piece of wood in his thigh.

Lance nodded. One end of the shaft stuck out of the top of Merlin's thigh by less than an inch, while the other end protruded from the hamstring at a handsbreadth. “This looks like a crossbow bolt,” Lance said.

“'Tis. Get rid of it,” Merlin said.

“It's gonna hurt.”

“Nonsense. Do it!”

“Right,” Lance said, propping Merlin's leg against his own. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

Lance pushed the tip of the crossbow bolt through the wound as Kay let out a long “Ewwwww!” The old man grimaced but didn't make a noise. Then Lance grabbed the other end of the bloody bolt and yanked it out.

Merlin grunted and said, “Thank you. Please throw that as high as you can.”

Lance flung the bolt into the air with a great underhand motion. When it reached its apex, Merlin pointed the carved end of his cane at it. The owl's closed eye opened briefly, and the bolt exploded into a million little pieces.

“There,” Merlin said, satisfied. He looked totally spent.

“Dude, you need a tourniquet,” Lance said as he applied pressure to the wizard's thigh.

Merlin nodded weakly as his color faded again.

Bedevere dropped his claymore and ripped off his T-shirt. He handed it to Lance, who quickly and expertly stanched the flow of blood from the wizard's leg.

“Water,” Merlin said. “I'm so thirsty.”

Bedevere ran into the house.

Breathless, Artie knelt next to his friend and asked, “Merlin—what happened?”

Merlin's head rolled toward Artie. It took all his effort to say, “I tried to find Qwon. I tried to go to Fenland. But Morgaine . . .”

And before he could say any more, he passed out.

3 - IN WHICH MERLIN TELLS OF THE NEXT QUEST

Merlin was moved to the
guest bedroom, and Lance dressed his wound properly. For the rest of the day and through the night, Merlin slept.

He woke at noon the next day and asked for water, toast, and four Advils. “Magic is good, but magic plus medicine is great,” he said faintly. He ate, swallowed the pills, and went back to sleep.

He woke again at dinnertime. Artie was in the room reading a comic book. Merlin looked at the thin boy who had freed him from his prison, the invisible tower. Merlin couldn't believe it: after all these centuries, after all his suffering, after all his scheming, his plan was working.

Merlin whispered, “My boy, how are you?”

Artie looked up from his comic book and said, “Good, I guess. But how are
you
?”

“I'll be fine,” Merlin said, a smile creasing his face. “I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.”

Artie shrugged. “Don't sweat it.”

Merlin propped himself up. “It must have been hard to wait. I know how badly you want to get your friend back.” He paused for a moment before adding, “In fact, Artie Kingfisher, we
need
to get her back.”

“Of course we do—she belongs in Shadyside, not in the Otherworld!” Artie insisted, but clearly Merlin meant something more. Artie stood and asked, “What's going on?”

Merlin started to get out of bed. “It's better if I tell everyone. Are they here?”

“Yeah, they are. But I want you to tell me first. I am the king, after all.”

Merlin gave Artie a hard look. “As you wish, my liege,” he said with a little less sincerity than Artie would have hoped for. “Qwon's in trouble. She doesn't have much time.” Merlin raised his head and looked Artie in the eye. “We need to get her so she won't be killed.”

“What?” Artie asked, taking a step backward.

“I'm sorry, my boy. We have ten days.”

“
Ten
days?
What are you talking about?” The fact that Artie wasn't already there, actively helping Qwon, was killing him.

Merlin stood. “When you and Mr. Thumb opened the crossover at Serpent Mound, things were set in motion. Things that can't be stopped,” he said. “The worlds became aware of one another. If they are to continue to reunite—and then remain united—you must open the King's Gate on Avalon before the next new moon rises.”

“I don't understand—” Artie began.

“It really would be easier to explain this to everyone at the same time, my boy.”

“Okay,” Artie blurted, his heart beating through his chest. “But tell me one thing.”

“What is it, sire?”

Again, Merlin's tone sounded slightly condescending, which Artie didn't dig at all. “Is she all right?” Artie asked.

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Good,” Artie said, his heart rate easing. “Let's go see the others then.”

Artie helped Merlin downstairs and into the living room, where everyone was engrossed in some TV show. “Ahem,” Merlin said.

Kay spun and exclaimed, “Merlin!” Bedevere switched off the tube, and they took turns giving Merlin a heartfelt welcome.

As they settled down, the wizard asked what they'd been up to while he was away. “Not much,” Kay answered. “School, chores, sword practice, video games, school.”

“Target practice,” added Lance.

“Trying to understand algebra,” Bedevere lamented.

“Preparing the store to reopen,” Thumb said from a small chair on the coffee table. He'd been in Cincinnati until the night before, taking care of the IT, which had been closed since the actual invisible tower had come crashing down around it.

They chatted idly for a few more minutes, awkwardly avoiding all the things they wanted to talk about. Finally Artie, his knee bouncing furiously, leaned forward and urged, “Forget us, Merlin. Tell them what you told me!”

All eyes whipped to the wizard.

Merlin tried on a well-meaning smile. “Qwon is in trouble,” he said.

“What kind of trouble?” Kynder asked.

“I'm afraid her life is in danger.”

“And we've got
ten days
to rescue her!” Artie said desperately.

Kay stood and said, “Ten days? What are we waiting for?”

Merlin held out his hand and patted the air. “We can't be hasty, dear Kay,” he said. “You saw what happened to my leg. I was lucky to get out of there alive. Morgaine is quite powerful.”

Kay plopped back down and asked, “But why only ten days?”

“Something about the new moon. Something about Avalon,” Artie said.

Bedevere huffed as Merlin said, “Yes. If the next new moon rises and Artie hasn't yet gone to Avalon to open the King's Gate, then all crossovers—whether open or closed—will be sealed for a thousand years. Excalibur's pommel will no longer work, and everything we've fought for will be for nothing. You will not become king—”

“And Qwon will be trapped in the Otherworld,” Kynder said.

“Precisely,” Merlin said gravely.

“Then let's go to Avalon!” Artie blurted.

“Yeah, like, tonight!” Kay said.

“Ha!” Bedevere laughed. “No one has been to Avalon in ages. Isn't that right, Merlin?”

Thumb answered for the wizard. “That is right, Sir Bedevere. But
we
will go there. And once we do, the game is changed.”

Artie leaned forward and said, “It'll be my whatchamacallit . . . my coronation, won't it?”

Merlin and Thumb nodded together. “Yes, sire,” Merlin said. “Once you are returned to Avalon, you will be the king of Otherworld, and all there must bow to you, including Morgaine, who will be forced to return your friend. If not, she will pay the price.” The wizard looked giddy with anticipation on this last point.

“How do they get to Avalon then?” Kynder asked, a little nervous to let his children go off on another quest for the ancient wizard.

“By retrieving the Seven Swords,” Merlin said matter-of-factly.

“Ha!” Bedevere repeated, even more defiantly than before.

“Hey, c'mon, Beddy,” Kay scolded. “What's so hard about getting a few more swords? We've proven that we're pretty good at that already.”

“The Seven Swords aren't your average swords, Kay,” Bedevere scoffed. “They're only the seven most magical blades of the Dark Ages. One of them is Excalibur, which, inconveniently, is being held by our enemy. Most of the others have been hidden for a very long time!”

“Not anymore,” Thumb said, nodding at Merlin.

Bedevere's eyes widened as Merlin said, “It wasn't easy, my dear Bedevere, I'll give you that. Researching the locations of the Seven Swords was a major project of ours during my detention in the invisible tower, and all the work has paid off. We have found nearly all of them!”

“And while Excalibur may be under wraps at the moment,” Thumb said, “we already have one in our possession.”

“Cleomede!” Artie exclaimed.

“Precisely.” Merlin beamed. “The others are Gram, a Norse broadsword; Kusanagi, a Japanese katana; Orgulus, a French rapier; The Anguish, a bizarre fairy blade; and lastly the mysterious Peace Sword. This one has special meaning. In the old days it was used by the traitor Mordred to kill Arthur the First.”

“Whoa,” Artie said.

“Gram, which like Excalibur can only be retrieved by its rightful owner, is in Sweden,” Merlin said. Lance quietly pumped his fist, happy that this time he might be able to help—even if he couldn't go to the Otherworld, he could definitely jet to Sweden.

“Kusanagi is in a strange part of the Otherworld,” Thumb said, “that can only be accessed from a crossover in a remote corner of Japan.”

Merlin continued, “Orgulus is in a castle that exists simultaneously in both this world and the Otherworld.”

“And The Anguish,” Thumb added, “is safe in the hands of its rightful owner—a fairy named Shallot le Fey—in the Otherworld land of Leagon.”

There was a pause before Artie asked, “And what about the Peace Sword? The one that killed the original Arthur?”

Merlin frowned. “A guard in Fenland wields it. Sadly, we haven't yet discovered who this guard is.”

“We'll have to figure that out,” Thumb said.

“In the next ten days,” Kay added with a note of sarcasm.

“Yes, lass,” Thumb confirmed. “We will do it.”

They were silent for a few moments as this news sank in. Artie's mind spun, but no matter where it went, it kept returning to Qwon. He had to get her back, alive and well. He thought about the last time he'd hung out with her, when she caught Artie and Kay playing with Cleomede in the backyard. She'd taken a turn with Kay's sword, and Artie remembered how expert she was at wielding it. Then it hit him.

“Qwon's important for another reason, isn't she?” Artie asked Merlin directly.

Merlin squinted as he said, “Yes, she is.”

“Kusanagi—the Japanese sword—it's Qwon's, isn't it?” Artie guessed.

“Yes, my boy,” Merlin said with a smile.

Kay couldn't believe it. She threw up her arms and said, “And I suppose Gram belongs to Erik Erikssen? I'm pretty sure he's like a thousand percent Norse, or Swedish or whatever.”

“Ha! Right! Can you guys imagine?” Artie said with a laugh.

But neither Merlin nor Thumb returned his laughter.

“Actually, yes,” Thumb said.

“
What?
” Kay blurted.

“This is all pretty convenient,” Kynder said. “Artie, Kay, Qwon, Erik. All in Shadyside?”

“Convenient my foot,” Merlin quipped. “Do you have any idea the lengths that I had to go to get these children's families to move closer to you? The Onakeas are from Hawaii. Imagine how hard it is to convince Hawaiians that their lives will be better in Pittsburgh—nothing against Pittsburgh, of course, lovely place. The Erikssens were easier since they were from Ohio, but even so.”

“So it's not all a coincidence?” Kay asked. The idea that she and Erik, who happened to like her a lot, were
meant
to spend time together was slightly nauseating.

“No, Kay, it's not,” Merlin said.

“It makes sense,” Artie said, standing up. “It's why Qwon knew what she was doing with Cleomede that day, Kay. It's why Morgaine could key in on her. She's like us. She's . . . different.” Merlin nodded, and Artie continued, “All right. How do we go about this?”

The wizard smiled. “Using the pommel, you will leapfrog around this world and the Otherworld, opening crossovers as you go, seeking out the Seven Swords. Naturally Morgaine will try to stop you when she can. Of course she wants to prevent you from returning to Avalon, but she also does not want the crossovers opened. They devour magical energy through the ether, so more open crossovers equals less power for Morgaine, and the less power she has, the easier she will be to defeat!”

At this Merlin clapped his hands excitedly.

“Fine, but how are we going to get Excalibur?” Artie asked.

Merlin sighed and said, “I'm still working on that.”

“Great,” Kay said flatly.

Artie wasn't totally satisfied either, but what choice did they have? He said, “Okay. Let's get started. Like, now.”

“Tomorrow, lad,” Thumb said. “We've got to recruit Erik first, and also ready ourselves.”

“Yes—tomorrow,” Merlin said. “I've drafted a half dozen magical letters that will enchant whoever reads them, making them unaware that you're not around. They're for Erik's parents and your school, since you'll be absent for the next week or so. Lance—can you run them to the post office in the morning?”

“Course,” Lance said. “Then can you send me to Sweden? I really want to help find Gram. I don't enjoy feeling like a fifth wheel so much, you know?”

“Of course, Mr. Lance,” Merlin said with a broad smile. “But this time you can help in any way Artie sees fit. You will be joining us in the Otherworld!”

“
What?
” Lance barked.

“That's right! I've brought back some talismans that will enable you to cross as easily as Artie or Kay or Mr. Thumb.”

“Hoo-ah!” Lance said, standing up and knocking his chair over. He bounded into the backyard whooping and hollering.

“That's awesome,” said Kay, happy to know they'd have another ally over there.

“Seriously,” Artie agreed.

“Well,” Kynder said, smacking his thighs and standing up. “Merlin—why don't we let the guys take this all in? I have to go and do some dishes. Do you feel well enough to give me a hand?”

“Yes, of course,” the wizard said, easing out of his chair. He joined Kynder and they went into the kitchen, leaving Artie, Kay, Thumb, and Bedevere to talk about going back to the Otherworld.

Kynder rinsed dishes and Merlin loaded them into the dishwasher, and for a while they didn't speak. Kynder broke their silence when he said, “Merlin, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“A few weeks ago you mentioned that Arthur was genetically engineered by someone in the Otherworld.” Merlin nodded. “Do you know who it was?”

Merlin put down a plate and removed a smooth, dark pebble from his pocket. “Take this, Kynder, and keep it with you at all times. I need you to do something for me. You must come to the Otherworld this time as well and go to the Great Library of Sylvan. I need you to do some research for us.”

“Okay . . . ,” Kynder said cautiously, taking the pebble.

Merlin cleared his throat and said ominously, “The children cannot know what I am about to tell you. Promise you won't tell them.”

Kynder's grip on the little stone tightened. “Okay, I promise,” he said hollowly, almost like the wizard was casting a spell on him.