The Invisible Tower (15 page)

When he and Bedevere were only a dozen feet apart, Artie saw the knight's face below his raised visor. It wasn't pretty. His teeth were yellow, and a thick purple scar ran from above his forehead to below his cheek.

Artie tensed and wailed in defiance.

Their swords struck each other. Excalibur didn't slice through the huge sword or the man wielding it the way Artie half hoped it would. Sparks flew from their scraping weapons while Artie and Bedevere were driven apart by the force of their impact. Bedevere succeeded in remaining on his feet. Artie did not.

He sprawled on his back and slid along the stone floor. But miraculously the impact with Bedevere didn't hurt that badly. Excalibur, at the precise moment of impact, had made him
stronger
. He had never felt anything like it in his life.

Bedevere heaved his gigantic sword over his head and ran at Artie full tilt.

In a flash he was above Artie, bringing down his claymore to cleave him in two.

Artie moved defensively, and the weapons met again in a song of steel. The sound spoke volumes to young King Artie, as if he'd been waiting to hear these notes of metal on metal his whole life.

Artie's block deflected Bedevere's claymore to Artie's right. Bedevere straddled him, and Artie managed to push himself very quickly between the knight's legs. Once free from the prospect of getting cut in half, Artie popped to his feet with catlike speed.

The saber-tooth growled. Kay yelled her brother's name. The two sounds echoed through the great hall.

Artie lunged, but Bedevere pirouetted and parried Excalibur with his great sword pointed down, its tip tracing an arc of electricity along the floor.

Then Bedevere did something unexpected. He punched Artie in the shoulder. And man, did that hurt.

Artie backpedaled. Just as his feet were about to give out, the golden rack of armor caught him.

Artie grabbed a small metal-and-wood shield—a buckler—from the rack. It practically strapped itself to his forearm. Excalibur instantly taught Artie everything it knew about bucklers, and in a flash Artie was an expert.

Bedevere was in midlunge, and Artie raised the little shield. The blade nicked the wood as it glanced it away.

Artie took a deep breath and sidestepped. As his lungs filled, he felt the stones under the soles of his sneakers go bumpity-bump. He was full of electricity and power.

He homed in on Bedevere. The distance between them was exactly the length of Excalibur, which rendered Bedevere's obscenely long claymore less effective.

Artie stared into his adversary's narrowed eyes. The black knight backed up to get more room, but Artie slid toward him in unison.

And that's when Artie noticed that the mighty crossguard on Bedevere's sword had a slit in it. A slit that Excalibur would fit perfectly into.

Artie feinted a thrust at Bedevere's midsection, and the black knight brought his hands to his chest, putting the cross-guard in perfect position for Artie.

Quickly Artie stepped back, and then jab-stepped forward once more. Excalibur slid perfectly into the exposed slit. Bedevere glanced down and shook his claymore, but it was no use. Excalibur's grip on his sword was firm.

Artie raised Excalibur and Bedevere let out an “Arghh!” as his menacing claymore rattled from his hands and onto the ground at Artie's feet.

Artie deftly kicked it away. The knight fell to his knees. Artie wedged Excalibur's tip in between two metal plates on a soft part of Bedevere's rib cage. He did not push the sword through.

Artie breathed heavily.

His first sword fight was over. And he had won it.

Kay jumped up and down and screamed, “Woo-hoo! Go, Artie!”

Bedevere turned to Artie. The knight smiled. With reverence, he dipped his head and said deeply, “Nicely done, my liege. Welcome home.”

Artie lowered Excalibur and Bedevere
removed his helmet. It turned out he was about sixteen or seventeen. He had long black hair pulled into a ponytail and high cheekbones. He might have been scary-looking in the heat of battle, but even with his yellow teeth he was as goodlooking as one of those rugged types from the
Twilight
movies Kay liked so much.

“Sorry if I hurt you,” Artie said. Blood dripped from the back of Bedevere's hand. Excalibur must have nicked it during the fight.

Bedevere glanced at the wound and said, “'Tis but a scratch, sire. I've had worse.” He pointed to the long scar on his face.

“I can see that. But, please, call me Artie.”

“No can do, my liege,” he said with a knowing grin. “You just kicked the butt of the Guardian Black Knight of King Arthur's Court-in-Exile. You'll have to cut a lot deeper than this to make me call you anything other than my king!”

Artie shook his head. Fighting Bedevere, besting him, and then talking easily with him felt like some sort of homecoming. Artie clapped his hand on Bedevere's shoulder, and Bedevere nodded knowingly. Bedevere felt it too. It was like they'd been reunited.

Bercilak clapped his empty metal hands together and said, “Well, now that that's over, we ought to partake in an impromptu knighting ceremony. Don't you think, Mr. Thumb?”

“Absolutely,” Thumb agreed. “Artie, beating the Black Knight is a big deal. Now you can use Excalibur to anoint those you choose to enter your service.”

“Cool!” Artie said. “Well, I choose Kay; and you, Tom; and Bedevere; and of course you, Bercilak.”

Bercilak let out a hearty laugh like a long roll of thunder. When he was finished, he said, “Good trees, no! The lord of Sylvan—whom I am bound to serve and whom you seek—would not permit it!”

“Wait. What?” Kay blurted. “The guy whose hand we're supposed to cut off and take to Merlin so he can get out of his prison is, like, your boss?”

“They are the same, Kay,” Thumb said seriously. It was obvious that he already knew—and that he was pretty disappointed about it.

“That's just the way things are over here,” Bedevere tried to explain. “People have conflicting allegiances all over the place.”

“Well,” Bercilak said uneasily, “it is true that I am somewhat flummoxed. On the one hand I want to help the returned king—but on the other I must honor the pledges I've made to my lord Numinae.” He paused. “The sad truth is that, well, I know where Numinae can be found, but I cannot tell you where this is.”

“Why not?” Kay barked.

Artie didn't get it either. Being a king wasn't as straightforward as he thought it was going to be.

“Because he is uncertain,” Bercilak said. “If he knew surely that freeing the wizard would be the right thing to do, I deem that he would
give
you the key. But—and pardon the pun, considering where the key is kept—if on the other hand he thinks it better that the wizard stay put, then he will avoid you for as long as he can. Since he is undecided, he must try to stay clear of you. I am in his employ, and though I rank high, I lack the authority to lead you directly to him. He would have my head.”

“No offense, Bercy, but someone's already taken care of that,” Kay joked sullenly.

“Quite right,” Bercilak chirped. “Two puns back to back!”

“How can we help him decide then?” Artie asked.

“I think I know,” Bedevere said. “You, me, Sirs Kay and Thumb—we go on your quest. Put our heads down and don't worry about what these ancient leaders of the Otherworld think of you. If your actions prove you to be worthy of the title
king
, then you will be elevated. This is Numinae's realm we will be trekking through. He has eyes in many places and he will see the way you conduct yourself.”

“So you're saying,” Artie said slowly, “that if I act like a king, then it's more likely that I'll become one?” He felt like he'd just discovered one of life's real secrets.

“That's exactly what Bedevere is saying, lad!” Thumb shouted.

“Which is why,” Bercilak intoned, “we should hasten to knight everyone here—excepting myself, obviously—so you can start your quest properly!”

Artie shook his head. “Okay. Can you at least help with that?”

“Most certainly!” Bercilak said, happy once again.

Bercilak lead them to a low dais near Bedevere's giant saber-toothed cat. Artie and Kay could hardly believe their eyes as they approached the animal. Its knifelike teeth were as long as their arms. Kay quietly said, “I'm glad that's a friendly little kitty cat.”

“No kidding,” Artie agreed. “Hopefully we won't ever run into a mean one.”

They moved up the dais and gathered around a narrow waist-high table.

Kay went first. She wasn't too into kneeling in front of her little brother, but Bercilak insisted, and Artie promised he'd never tell anyone about it back home. He also agreed not to order her around like she belonged to him. “Remember, Your Highness, I'm still your big sister,” she said.

Artie touched each of her shoulders with Excalibur, repeating words that Bercilak whispered into his ear: “In the name of the Two Worlds, the One Earth, and the Sword from the Lake, I, King Arthur, name you Sir Kay, a New Knight of the Round Table.” That was it.

Sir Bedevere and Thumb followed. Each time Artie finished, a crack of thunder boomed outside, as if to announce the new knight to the Otherworld in style.

After the ceremony Bedevere presented Artie with Excalibur's scabbard, which he and his ancestors had been guarding since the sword had been returned to the Lady of the Lake. It was a weather-beaten leather thing that seemed totally unremarkable. Artie strapped it on and slid Excalibur into it.

“It's glad to be home,” Bedevere said with no shortage of pride. “You know, there's something very special about that sheath, sire.”

“What's that?” Artie asked.

“The injuries of whoever wears it will be healed instantly.”

“Wow!” Kay said.

“Cool,” Artie said as he held it up a little.

Then Bedevere gave Kay Cleomede's scabbard, which was fancier. It was wrapped here and there with silken silver rope. Kay put it on and asked, “What's this one do?”

“That? All bugs will leave you alone.”

“What? That's it?”

“That's it,” Bedevere said apologetically.

Kay wasn't happy. “Hey, Bro, maybe from time to time we could switch?”

Artie chuckled and said, “We'll see.”

The knighting over, Bercilak suggested they get more comfortable and gather around the table. As they made their way to the center of the hall, Artie asked, “Bercilak, you said you didn't have the authority to tell us where Numinae is, right?”

“That's right.”

“Well, could you at least tell us where we could find someone who
does
have the authority to tell us where he is?”

Bercilak sighed. “I don't know,” he said quietly. “If you were officially seated on your throne, I would not hesitate. But of course you aren't yet.”

“Speaking of my throne,” Artie asked as they took places around the table, “where is it exactly?”

“Ah. Your throne is in your
real
court. And your real court is in a place that no being has been in a—”

“Avalon,” Artie said wondrously. It just popped into his mind. “It's in Avalon, isn't it?”

Bercilak grabbed the armrests of his chair, cracking them with his giant gauntlets. “My stars, lad, how do you know of Avalon?”

“We know it from the video game. It's, like, where you go at the end of single-player,” Kay explained.

“Ah, yes. I forgot about that,” the green knight said, sounding satisfied. “And your real court
is
in Avalon. But as I was saying, no one has been there in a long, long time.”

“But it is most definitely still there, lad,” Thumb assured him.

“Verily, it is still there,” Bercilak said, using a word Artie was sure he'd never heard anyone actually say. “Though it has been hidden. Not even Morgaine can find—”

He was interrupted by a bone-rattling growl of thunder, followed by the loud snapping of a giant tree outside being shredded to toothpicks.

Artie and Kay half jumped from their seats.

“Ack! How foolish of me!” Bercilak scolded himself. “Apologies, good sirs. Even I am too free with names from time to time. The Fenlandian lordess has keen ears—we must remember this.”

Artie's knee started to bounce furiously as he asked, “Yeah, I was wondering: You think we'll have much trouble with her?”

“Some is to be expected, there's no doubt of that,” Bedevere answered.

“It is true, my liege,” Bercilak said. “But worry not. She won't risk raking Sylvan with tornadoes like she did the land of Ohio. That would be far too likely to upset my lord Numinae.”

“Speaking of Numinae,” Kay said, “since you can't tell us
where
he is, can you at least give us a hint about
how
to find him? A clue? Anything?”

Bercilak's invisible innards grumbled as he shifted in his seat and said curtly, “Find a map. At the Great Sylvan Library.”

“Not to split hairs or anything, but what good is a map if we don't know where we're going?” Artie demanded.

“Artie makes a keen point, Bercilak,” Thumb interjected with a tone of disapproval.

“I see your point, of course,” Bercilak said, obviously uncomfortable about what he was about to say. “You must find the one called Tiberius.”

“Oh no,” Thumb said, letting his face fall into his hand.

“Who's Tiberius?” Artie asked.

“Tiberius is our friend from the Lake,” Thumb said flatly.

Artie slumped in his chair.

“Not the dragon?” Kay asked.

“The same,” Bercilak said. “Only he has the authority to decide whether or not you will see Numinae. You will find his lair at the Font of Sylvan.”