“'Til we meet again, my evil knight,” he quipped instead, tossing her a small grin.
“Til we meet again, my conquering hero,” she quoted back, smiling widely.
Merlin rolled his eyes and shook his head and muttered something that sounded a lot like “stupid destiny.” Then the Companion flicked the reins and the two women on horseback disappeared into the forest.
Once they were gone, Merlin turned to Arthur, his face full of disapproval. “Don't think I don't know what you just did,” he rebuked him. “Very chivalrous, but extremely misguided. That girl is no good, I've told you a thousand times. She'll only break your heart and destroy everything we've worked to build.”
“I'd rather my heart be broken a thousand times than spend one day without her,” Arthur declared valiantly.
Merlin groaned. “I seriously don't know why I bother,” he muttered under his breath. Then he turned his attention to the well. “Now about that scabbard. We have to get it back somehow. It's bad enough that if I don't come up with a convincing knock-off by this afternoon the Lady of the Lake will trap me in a tree for a thousand years. But if it were to get in the wrong hands—if Morgan Le Fay were to learn it was just lying out there, unprotected . . . “ He shuddered. “Normally I’d just go retrieve it from the twenty-first century myself,” he continued. “But in my old age, my heart cannot withstand the rigors of time travel anymore.”
Arthur drew in a breath, daring himself to speak. “You should send me instead,” he declared. “I'll retrieve the scabbard from the future and bring it back to you. After all, I'm young and . . . well, I'm expendable.” He had been really looking forward to serving as Kay's squire at the tournament that afternoon, especially if the new high king was going to be chosen from the sword and the stone ceremony. But his teacher had always been kind to him and he didn't like the idea of him being in trouble on his account.
But Merlin just shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he said. “You will go to the tournament, as planned, and serve as Kay's squire.”
Arthur sighed. “Then who will go get the scabbard? Perhaps you could hire a knight?” After all, it was a quest of sorts. And knights were all about those.
“No. A knight would never do. If they learned of the scabbard's power, they might choose to sell it to the highest bidder. Or use it to become king themselves. I can't trust anyone from this time period. It's all too volatile.” He sighed. “If only I could use one of the Companions,” he mused. “But they all report to the Lady and then I'd have to admit . . . ” He trailed off, his eyes widening as he stared down into the well, as if he could somehow read the answer in the water’s depths.
“What?” Arthur asked, scrambling over to get his own peek, though he knew it was technically forbidden. Luckily Merlin didn't shoo him away this time. Squinting down into the water, he tried to make out the vision below.
It was a girl. Blond and blue eyed and about his age. She was lying on her bed, curled up with some kind of small, framed portrait nestled in her arms. He looked over at Merlin. His master was practically dancing with excitement.
“Of course!” he cried. “Why didn't I think of her to begin with?” He looked at Arthur, his face alight. “Come back to the cave with me, boy,” he told him. “All may not be lost after all.”
Chapter 7
Sophie had just hung up with her father when her cell phone buzzed, notifying her of a text message. She glanced at the screen, first assuming it would be Stu, who was pretty much her only regular text buddy. But, she realized, this particular message had been sent from an unknown number.
** LIMITED TIME ONLY! UNLOCK THE MYSTERIES OF CAMELOT’S HONOR WITH THE CAMELOT CODE! WWW.CAMELOTCODE.COM **
She squinted. What was a Camelot Code? A cheat code for Camelot’s Honor maybe? A hack? She’d heard about these from Stu, who was all up on the latest illegal programs that enabled you to duplicate rare items or give your character unlimited money. Of course, they were totally against the game’s terms of service and could get your character deleted. Not to mention Sophie knew better than to just download some random program from an unknown source. She’d been to virus city once, thank you very much, and had no interest in going back.
She debated deleting the message, but curiosity got the better of her. It couldn’t hurt to just take a quick peek at the website, could it? After all, it could be something really cool that Stu hadn’t heard about yet. She could impress him for once, the little gaming know-it-all. And it could be her way of making up for her stupid remarks about the dance.
Dragging herself out of bed and over to her computer desk, she plopped down on the seat. Setting her phone next to her keyboard, she opened Internet Explorer and typed the URL into the browser window.
Nothing happened.
At first she thought the website hadn’t loaded—that her dad's sketchy wifi was down again. But then she realized that wasn’t the case. The page had loaded; it was simply blank. No words, no graphics, no annoying flash animation. Just a visitor counter all the way down at the bottom, which currently read 00001.
“Not a very popular website,” she muttered, glancing down at her phone to make sure she’d typed it in right. She had. Could the site have been recently shut down for offering illegal hacks, perhaps? It seemed possible, but if so, why would they still be sending out advertising texts to players’ cell phones? Not to mention, how did they get her number to begin with?
Sophie clicked the SOURCE button on her toolbar to see if there was any developer information embedded in the raw html. Some clue as to who set up this page in the first place.
What the . . . ?
She squinted at the screen, not sure what she was seeing. Amidst a simple web counter code sat a string of foreign-looking words. And while they were clearly embedded in the code, they didn't show up on the actual website. Even odder, the words seemed to dance and sparkle on her computer screen, as if they had been written in glitter graphics. But that made no sense. Notepad, the program that opened the source code, didn’t support glitter graphics; it was a text-only program.
What she was staring at was technically impossible. And yet there it was. Clear as day.
Rex quondam, Rexque Futurus
She absently highlighted the words with her mouse, trying to puzzle out the mystery. Why were they there? Why didn’t they show up on the website? She refreshed the page. Nothing, except now the counter read 00002.
What was the point of this? Why had she gotten the text? Was this someone’s—maybe Stu’s—idea of a joke?
She switched back to Notepad, highlighting the glitter graphics once again.
“Rex quondam, Rexque Futurus,” she read aloud, probably murdering the pronunciation.
And suddenly, without warning, she found herself spinning into blackness.
Chapter 8
The pain! Sophie groaned and rolled over, clutching her head in her hands. It felt as if a thousand knives were boring into her skull all at once, each sharper than the next. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she made a valiant attempt to pull herself upright and take in her surroundings.
What on earth? She rubbed her eyes and did a double-take, but the scenery didn’t change. What had moments ago been her cozy bedroom had somehow transformed into a vast forest, dark leafy trees stretching out around her in all directions.
Panicked, she racked her brain for the last thing she remembered. She’d been in her bedroom, that weird Camelot Code website pulled up on her screen. She’d blacked out. Was she dreaming? This didn’t feel like any dream she’d had before. For one thing, the pain in her head seemed very, very real.
It was then she remembered the words. The ones in Latin that she’d spoken aloud. Could they have been some kind of—
No, that was stupid. She’d obviously been playing too many videogames lately. Much more likely she’d somehow passed out, fallen off her chair, and hit her head against the sharp corner of the desk. The pain from the fall was simply seeping into her dream. Soon s
he’d wake up and be back at home safe and sound. If she wasn’t in some kind of weird coma, that was.
A rustling in the bushes startled her and she whirled around. She relaxed when she realized it was just a small white bunny rabbit, emerging from a nearby bush. The creature raised itself on its hind legs and peered at her quizzically, with odd blue eyes. It twitched its nose a few times, then, to Sophie’s delight, dropped to all fours and hopped over to her. Enchanted, she reached down to pet its impossibly soft fur.
What a cool dream, she thought. With the exception of the headache, of course. She loved dreaming about animals, since she was allergic to them in real life. Dreamland was the one place she could get up close and personal, cuddling them without—
She sneezed.
The rabbit’s ears perked up and its nose twitched. After thumping its hind legs twice, it proceeded to dart back into the bushes, disappearing from sight. At first Sophie thought her sneeze had startled it, but then she heard a thundering noise in the distance. Rising to her feet, she scanned the vicinity. Whatever the noise was, it seemed to be getting louder. And closer. Her eyes fell upon a cloud of dust barreling down the path.
What on earth . . . ?
Slam! A split second later, something solid smashed into her, violently knocking her to the ground and out of the path of what she now realized were riders on horseback, approaching at top speed. She cried out in a mixture of protest and pain as her palms skidded across the rocky ground and her knee collided with a stump. A moment later, she had a face full of dirt and a heavy something—make that someone—lying on top of her.
The horses charged past, battle-decked steeds, ridden by men in suits of chainmail, galloping full-tilt. She swallowed hard; she’d been pushed from the path just in time. These guys likely would not have braked had their own mothers been standing helpless in the road.
Her rescuer rolled off and pulled himself to his feet. Her eyes widened. It was a boy, probably around her own age, with short, messy chestnut brown hair, flashing green eyes, and a strong face with chiseled cheekbones and a square jaw. Yet it wasn’t his good looks that caught her attention, but rather his outfit. A beige, belted tunic, tan leggings, and a pair of soft, mud-stained leather boots. Not exactly an ensemble you could purchase at your local Walmart.
First knights on horseback, now a guy who looked like he’d stepped right off the screen of her favorite medieval videogame. This dream was getting stranger by the second.
She realized her rescuer was staring at her, so she scrambled to her feet. “Thanks for pushing me out of the way,” she said, flashing him a grateful smile as she brushed off her now dirt-caked pants. “Those guys were definitely not looking where they were going.”
Hm, maybe this was going to turn out to be one of those amazing romantic dreams she’d heard about but never seemed to have. The chivalrous knight would grab her, pulling her into his strong arms, till their faces were mere inches away. He’d capture her eyes in his own sparkling blue ones and murmur—
“Well, you were standing in the middle of the road.”
She sighed. Romance—even the dream kind—was truly dead.
“Yeah,” she reluctantly admitted. Pretty sad she couldn’t even get a guy in dreamland. “Guess I was.”
“Well, no matter,” the boy replied. “Our time grows short. Come with me.” He grabbed at her hand. Startled, she yanked it back.
“Hold on a second,” she cried. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know who you are.” Dream or no, she knew better than to go off with strangers.
“Merlin sent me to retrieve you,” he replied impatiently. “Now come on. We have to get back to the cave as soon as possible before—”
A sudden whinny interrupted his words. Whirling around, she realized that the group of armored men on horseback must have circled back around. Their horses snorted and pawed the ground as they surrounded the two of them. The smell of manure permeated the air, causing Sophie to crinkle her nose in disgust. This had to be the most realistic dream she’d ever had.
Unless, something inside of her warned, it wasn’t a dream at all.
She glanced back at the boy who'd rescued her. He’d lost his cocky swagger and was looking up at the knights with a white face. Uh-oh.
Well, well, what have we here?” asked the tallest of the group, a broad-shouldered man with a shock of ginger hair. He drew his sword from its sheath and the metal caught the sun, forcing Sophie to shield her eyes. She took a wary step back; the blade looked way too real for comfort. Way too sharp.
“Looks like the wart has found himself another little friend,” a second man jeered. He had a bushy black head of hair and matching beard in desperate need of a trim. “He's quite the ladies' man, that one.”
Sophie started. Wart? As in the boyhood nickname of King Arthur? And hadn’t the guy just mentioned something about Merlin—a total legend of Camelot lore—just before the knights showed up? She turned to her companion who was, she realized, wringing his hands and looking as if he were two steps away from hurling chunks all over his feet. “You’re Wart?” she asked, her voice filled with her incredulity. “Like, King Arthur Wart?”
The black-haired knight broke out into a full guffaw. “King Arthur Wart,” he repeated to his companions, elbowing the red-headed one to his left. “That's a good one.”
Sophie noticed the boy turning quite red in the face.
The redheaded knight joined him in laughter. “First a knight and now a king. Surely by nightfall, he'll have become emperor of Rome!” He kicked at Arthur with a big black boot. The boy didn’t even bother to try dodging the blow (which fortunately missed him by a hair), he just continued to keep his head bowed (maybe out of respect, Sophie surmised). “King, indeed. The most he can ever hope for is to become my squire. Right, boy? And that's only if you behave yourself.”
“Yes, Kay,” Arthur replied automatically. From the tone of his voice, she guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d been smacked around by his foster brother. Poor guy. If only he knew about his illustrious future destiny as England's greatest king. He wouldn't have to take grief from anyone, especially not an infamous bully knight like Sir Kay.
She considered giving him a head's-up, but, in the end, decided to stay quiet. Mainly because she was guessing that a strangely dressed girl appearing out of nowhere and spouting predictions of the future would score nothing more than a one-way ticket to being burned at the stake in this place. Which sounded more than a little unpleasant, even if it did turn out to be only a dream.
But still, she couldn't let poor Arthur just be kicked around like that.
“How ’bout you go pick on someone your own size?” she said, stepping up to Kay, arms crossed. She gave him a critical once-over. “Or is it too hard to find someone quite so fat?”
Kay’s friends burst out laughing, causing the knight’s face to darken to match his carrot-colored hair. “Mind your tongue, wench,” he growled. “Or I’ll start picking on you.” Reaching down he pawed at her blond curls. She whacked his hand away.
“Hands off,” she growled, holding her ground. “Respect the three-foot-bubble rule, dude.”
“Ooh a feisty lass,” the third knight, a blond who had been quiet up until now, crowed. “I like that.” He winked at Sophie. “Come on, girl. Leave this worthless wretch and take a turn with some real knights. We’re on our way to the tournament. You can watch me pull the sword from the stone and become king of England and then we'll feast and drink till dawn.”
Yeah, you wish. She couldn't help a chuckle as she imagined the looks on these brutes' faces when it turned out to be none other than Arthur himself who pulled off the whole sword and the stone miracle. If only her dream would last long enough for her to see it.
“Are you laughing at us?” Sir Kay demanded, his voice rising in anger.
Uh-oh. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught Arthur cringing. Had she gone too far? She gulped as she realized the three knights were now starin
g down at her, furious expressions on their scarred, ugly faces. She turned to Arthur, eyes wild, wondering what on earth she should do.
“Run!” he whispered in an urgent voice.
Oh, right.
Sophie dove through the group of horses, her heart pounding as she tore down the path, fast as her legs could take her. As her feet slammed against the dirt road at a frantic pace, she could hear the shouts behind her.
“She flees!”
“Don’t let her get away!”
Soon they were hot on her heels; she hadn’t exactly gotten a huge head start, especially considering it was horse versus foot. Still, she somehow managed to pick up the pace, lungs burning as she dove off the path and into the underbrush, where she figured it would be harder for horses to follow. Branches whipped at her face, thorns slashed at her bare arms, but still she pressed onward, praying she’d wake up from what she was beginning to realize didn’t seem very much like a dream after all.
Finally, she burst out into a clearing, the sun beating down on her already sweaty skin. Her gaze darted from edge to edge, not sure which direction she should go. She was too exposed. Too vulnerable. And the men would be here any second.
She dove back into the forest, unfortunately seeing the rotting log loom in front of her path a split second too late. She went flying, her head slamming straight into a nearby tree and, for the second time that day, she found herself swimming into blackness.
Chapter 9
Arthur squeezed his hands into fists as he watched the knights take off after Sophie. It had seemed like such a simple errand when his teacher had given him instructions back at the Crystal Cave. But he'd never considered the fact that Kay and Agravaine would be wandering around the forest that afternoon; they were supposed to be drinking down at the pub. And what were the chances they’d stumble across Sophie before he could lead her to Merlin?