Destined

Chapter 9

“The Queen will be with us soon,” Jamison said as they passed through the shadows from the branches that shaded the gateways. “Quickly, tell me more of what has happened.”

While Tamani caught Jamison up, David and Chelsea took in their surroundings. The armoured female sentries that made up the gate guard kept their distance, as did Jamison’s Am Fear-faire, but they were all standing to attention around the gateway, looking quite splendid. Chelsea stared openly and with undisguised wonder.

David’s reaction was more reserved. He looked at everything from the trees lining paths of soft black soil to the sentries eyeing the golden gates, with the same expression he wore when reading a textbook or peering through a microscope. Chelsea was delighting; David was studying.

When Tamani revealed that they’d taken Yuki prisoner, Jamison stopped him with a tense hand on his arm. “What did Shar do to contain a Winter faerie?”

Tamani glanced nervously at Laurel. “We, uh, chained her to an iron chair, with iron handcuffs… inside a circle of salt, sir.”

Jamison took a slow breath and glanced over his shoulder just as the great wooden doors to the garden swung open. Then he turned back and clapped Tamani on the shoulder, laughing loudly, but with obvious falseness. “Oh, my boy. Iron manacles. Surely you couldn’t have believed that would work for long.”

Queen Marion was making her way through the gate, surrounded by a passel of Am Fear-faire.

“It wasn’t the chains that did it,” Laurel corrected. “It was—”

“The iron chair was a nice touch. Still,” Jamison said, with a hard look at the group, “I suppose you make do with what you have, in a situation like that. You are all lucky to have escaped with your lives,” he finished, stepping back to greet the Queen.

Laurel didn’t understand. Why did he want them to lie?

Without a word, Queen Marion raked Chelsea and David with her eyes, betraying only a touch of the shock that must have rippled through her. “You’ve brought humans through the gate?” she asked without greeting, and not only turned her back on them, but angled her shoulders so they were cut out of the circle, left to stand awkwardly on their own. Laurel flashed them an apologetic look.

“They were with Laurel and the captain, and their situation was so dire I felt I had no choice,” Jamison said as though he had noticed neither the Queen’s icy tone nor her blatant snub.

“There is always a choice, Jamison. Show them out,” she added.

“Of course; as soon as possible,” Jamison said, but he made no move to do as she asked. “Where is Yasmine?”

“I left her outside. You spoke of a threat to the crown,” Marion said. “Surely you don’t think the child should be exposed to such things.”

“I think she is nowhere near a child anymore. Nor has she been for quite some time,” Jamison said softly.

The Queen raised her eyebrows. “It matters not,” she continued after a brief pause. “What is this supposed emergency?”

Jamison deferred to Laurel and Tamani and, with a show of great reluctance, the Queen turned to listen as Tamani gave a much-abbreviated version of the events of the past few days, skipping the circle of salt with only the barest glance at Jamison.

“We expect that Klea — or Callista, as she was known here — will arrive with her entire force within the next hour. Maybe less. With her ability to conceal gathering places, we have no way to know their numbers, but based on the vials Shar…”

Tamani’s voice caught, and Laurel suppressed the urge to reach out a comforting hand. Now was not the time — but the pain in his voice as he spoke his mentor’s name made her want to weep.

“Based on the shelf full of serum and Klea’s claim that it was the last of many batches, there—” He paused. “There could be thousands.”

The Queen was silent for a few moments, two perfectly symmetrical thought lines creasing her brow. Then she turned and called, “Captain?”

A young female faerie in full armour stepped forward and bowed low.

“Send runners,” the Queen instructed. “Summon all the commanders and mobilise the active sentries.”

Laurel took advantage of the Queen’s momentary distraction to lean close to Tamani and whisper, “Why wouldn’t Jamison listen to you about the circle?”

Tamani shook his head. “There are some things even Jamison cannot pardon.”

Laurel’s chest tightened as she wondered just what kind of punishment could provoke Jamison to encourage them to lie to his monarch.

“Shall we prepare for a military council then, Your Majesty?” Jamison asked as the young captain turned and began issuing orders.

“Goodness, no,” Marion said, her tone light. “With a few instructions, the captains should manage on their own. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Tamani said, clearly shocked. Laurel had rarely seen him speak so boldly in Avalon, and never in the presence of a Winter faerie.

Marion fixed him with a withering stare. “Leaving the Garden,” she amended, before turning to Jamison. “You, Yasmine, and I will retreat to the Winter Palace and defend it while the Spring fae do their duty here at the gate.” She turned to survey the milling sentries. “We will require some additional support, of course. Four companies should be sufficient to ensure our safety, along with our Am Fear-faire and—”

“We can’t go,” Jamison said firmly.

“We can’t stay,” Marion replied in an equally firm tone. “The Winter faeries always guard the palace and themselves in times of danger. Even the great Oberon stepped back to preserve himself when the battle raged its fiercest. Do you think yourself greater than he?”

“This is different,” Jamison said calmly. “Trolls are already immune to Enticement; these trolls will be immune to Autumn magic as well. If we leave the gate, our warriors will have no magic to counter their enemies” strength. There will be slaughter.”

“Nonsense,” Marion replied. “Even if the beasts have figured out how to evade tracking serums and some rudimentary defence potions, it’s hardly the tragedy you’re making it out to be. You there, tell me, how many trolls have you killed in your life?”

It took Tamani a moment to realise he was being addressed. “Ah, I don’t know. Perhaps a hundred?”

A hundred? Laurel almost gasped at the number. So many? But then, in almost ten years as a sentry outside Avalon, could she really be surprised? He had killed about ten just in her presence.

“And how many of those did you kill with the aid of Autumn magic?” The Queen continued, not fazed by the number at all.

Tamani opened his mouth, but no words came out. Laurel realised there was no right answer; if the Queen found his reliance on Autumn magic high, she would tell him he was incompetent — if it was low, she would use that to prove her point.

“Come, Captain, time is short and precision unnecessary. Would you guess half? A third?”

“About that, Your Majesty.”

“You see, Jamison? Our sentries are quite capable of killing trolls without our assistance.”

“And what of the two rogues?” Jamison asked.

“The Winter is untrained — aside from her power to open the gate, she is no threat at all. And the Autumn is outnumbered, along with any others she might bring.”

No threat?

“You always underestimated Callista,” Jamison said before Laurel could speak up.

“And you always overestimated her. You were wrong then, and by the end of the day I expect you will discover that you are wrong now.”

Jamison said nothing, and the Queen turned away from them; never in her life had Laurel felt so dismissed.

The Gate Garden became a hurricane of brightly coloured uniforms as orders were given and messages sent. Jamison stood motionless until the Queen approached the gateway to Japan to let a messenger through. Then, at last, he frowned, and Laurel could almost see him gather his will.

“Come,” he said quietly, turning his back to the flood of sentries. “Gather your friends. We have to get to the Winter Palace.” His pale-blue robes flared out as he spun to face the far wall of the Garden.

“Jamison!” Laurel said, leaping after him, Tamani close by her side, David and Chelsea following with confusion written on their faces. “You can’t honestly be doing what she said!”

“Quiet,” Jamison whispered, pulling them a few steps away. “I beg you to trust me. Please.”

Fear raced through Laurel, but she knew that if there was anyone in the world worthy of her trust it was Jamison. Tamani hesitated a moment longer, staring back at the California sentries now coming in through the gate, conferring with their peers. But when Laurel tugged on his fingertips, Tamani turned to follow the elderly Winter faerie.

“This way,” Jamison said, indicating a tree with a barrel-shaped trunk and a wide berth of shading leaves. “Hurry! Before my Am Fear-faire realise I’m leaving.”

Behind the tree they were out of sight of most of the Garden’s occupants. Pausing only to take a deep, slow breath, Jamison placed his hands together, then swished them at the stone wall. The slim branches of the tree rose from beside Laurel — one brushing her cheek as it passed — and vines snaked up from the ground to dig into the stones like spindly fingers, pulling them apart just far enough to create a small exit.

Once Laurel and her friends were through the wall, Jamison gestured again and the vines and branches retreated, returning the wall to its former pristine state. Jamison stood still for a moment, perhaps listening for some sign that they’d been spotted, but it appeared they had managed to get out without being seen. He pointed up to the Winter Palace and began the climb.

“Why are we sneaking out?” Chelsea whispered to Laurel as they scaled the steep hill after him. Without the benefit of the gentle, winding path that led out of the actual gate to the Garden, they were climbing almost straight up. It was a shortcut, but not an easy one.

“I don’t know,” Laurel answered, wondering the same thing. “But I trust Jamison.”

“Once we find out what’s going on, I’m returning to the Garden,” Tamani said, his voice a low murmur. “I won’t abandon my sentries.”

“I know,” Laurel whispered, wishing there was a way to convince him to stay somewhere safe.

On the long climb to the Winter Palace, Chelsea’s eyes were practically popping from their sockets as she tried to take everything in. Laurel tried to imagine the scene through Chelsea’s eyes, remembering her own first trip to Avalon — the crystalline bubbles far below them that housed the Summer faeries, the way the palace was held together by branches and vines, the footpaths paved with rich, dark earth.

Sooner than Laurel could have imagined, they reached the white archway at the top of the slope. Even Tamani was clutching his sides and sucking in deep, noisy breaths.

“Must continue,” Jamison gasped after giving them only a brief moment to rest. “The strenuous part is behind us.”

As they traversed the palace grounds, Chelsea eyed the broken statues and crumbling wall. “Don’t they fix anything?” she whispered to Laurel.

“Sometimes retaining an item’s natural power is more important than keeping up its outer appearance,” Jamison said over his shoulder.

Chelsea’s eyes widened — she had spoken so softly even Laurel had scarcely been able to hear her — but she said nothing more as they mounted the steps and pushed open the great front doors.

The palace was silent but for the footsteps of the small party; the white-uniformed staff were nowhere to be seen. Had they already received word of the attack? Laurel hoped they would be safe, wherever they had gone, but she had begun to wonder if “safe” was an option any of them had left.

Jamison was already climbing the enormous stairs that led to the upper rooms. “Please, follow me,” he said, without looking back. He gave a small wave of his hands and the doors at the top swung slowly open. Even though she knew it was coming, the ripple of power that went through Laurel as she stepped through the gilded doors made her breath catch. Chelsea reached out and squeezed Laurel’s arm, and Laurel knew her friend felt it too.

“We are not running away,” Jamison said abruptly. “I suspect you are all wondering it.”

Laurel felt a little guilty, but it was true.

“As soon as we have finished here, we will return and we will stand together. But this must be done first, and I alone can do it. Come.”

At the end of the long silk carpet, they followed Jamison to the left and stood in front of a wall. But this wall, Laurel knew, could move — and it concealed a marble archway into a room with something Jamison had once called an old problem.

Jamison looked up at David, who had at least fifteen centimetres on the wizened Winter faerie. “Tell me, David, what do you know of King Arthur?”

David looked over at Tamani, who nodded once. “He was the king of Camelot. He allied with you guys.”

“That is true,” Jamison said, clearly pleased David knew the fae version of the tale. “What else?”

“He was married to Guinevere — a Spring faerie — and when the trolls invaded Avalon, he fought alongside Merlin and Oberon.”

“Indeed. But he was much more to us than a strong fighter with an army of brave knights. He brought to the Seelie Court one thing it could never furnish for itself: humanity.” Jamison turned and, with a wave of his arms, split the enormous stone wall down the middle. Vines slithered forth from the crack, curling around the faces of the rocks and dragging the two walls apart with a low rumble. “You see, in spite of his magician and his dealings with the fae, King Arthur was entirely human. And that was something we needed very badly.”

As the walls parted, light streamed through a marble arch and into a stone chamber, illuminating a squat block of granite. Wedged into the granite was a sword that looked like it had been forged from solid diamond, its prismatic edges casting rainbows across the white marble chamber.

King Arthur, the blade of the sword wedged in stone.

“Excalibur!” Laurel whispered, understanding.

“Indeed,” Jamison said, his voice low and hallowed. “Though it was called something else, in those days. But here it is, and here it has been, untouched since King Arthur himself drove it into this rock after his victory against the trolls.”

“Untouched? But I saw you doing something with it when I was here last time,” Laurel said.

“I was trying, as I have my entire life. I cannot seem to leave it alone,” Jamison replied. “Excalibur is a unique combination of human and faerie magics, forged by Oberon and Merlin to seal the alliance with Camelot and ensure victory against the trolls. Its wielder is untouchable in combat and its blade will cut effortlessly through almost any target. But Oberon also sought to protect his people against a day when the sword might fall into the wrong hands: It cannot be used to harm fae. One could swing Excalibur at a faerie with all his might, and it would simply stop, a breath away.”

“How?” David asked. “I mean, the momentum has to go somewhere, doesn’t it?”

Trust David to bring science into it.

“Would that I could answer that,” Jamison replied. “I cannot say whether Oberon intended to do precisely what he did, but I can assure you that the prohibition is absolute. No part of the sword can touch a faerie — and no faerie can touch any part of the sword. I cannot even manipulate it with my magic.”

That’s why you let David and Chelsea in, Laurel realised. Jamison’s glance back into Avalon, his talk of destiny… he had shared last summer that the World Tree told him of a task he alone could perform. Only Jamison would be willing to place the fate of their land back in human hands, as it had been in Arthur’s day.

“David Lawson,” Jamison said, “Avalon needs your help. Not only are you human — with the ability to wield the sword — but I can sense your bravery, your strength, and especially, your loyalty. I know what you have done for Laurel in your world; standing by her when it meant risking your life. Even entering Avalon today took great courage. I suspect you have much in common with that young man Arthur, and I believe it is your destiny to save us all.”

Chelsea was soaking up the scene with eager eyes.

Tamani looked horrified.

Laurel knew what Jamison was going to ask, and wanted to stop him, to tell David that he should refuse — that he didn’t have to do this; that being around her had hurt him enough already. He didn’t need to be a soldier for Avalon, too.

“David, with the name of kings,” Jamison said formally, “it is time to discover if you are the hero Laurel has always thought you to be. Will you join us in defending Avalon?”

Laurel looked at Chelsea but knew instantly that there would be no help from her. Her gaze was fixed on the sword and she wore an expression not unlike jealousy, as though she wished there were a similar role she could play.

Then David turned to look at Tamani, and Laurel found herself hoping Tamani would say something, anything, that could dissuade David from accepting Jamison’s offer. But a strange sort of silent conversation seemed to pass between them, and then Tamani, too, donned a look of wistful envy.

When David turned at last to Laurel, she closed her eyes, conflicted. Did David realise what Jamison was asking? The amount of blood he would be required to spill? But this was Avalon. Her homeland, whether she could remember it or not. So many lives at stake.

It wasn’t a decision she could make for him.

She stood very still, then opened her eyes, meeting David’s. She did not move, didn’t even blink. But she saw his decision written on his face.

“Yes,” he said, looking straight at her.

Jamison’s outstretched arm was all the invitation David needed. He walked through the marble archway and looked down at the sword. He touched the pommel, tentatively at first, as though expecting it to shock him. When nothing happened he stepped forward, bracing his feet on either side of the gleaming weapon.

Then, wrapping his fingers around the hilt, David pulled the sword from the stone.