The Medievals 2 Read online

  But just as Wendolyn thinks the saurian is upon them -- WHOOOSH! -- Mulan blasts air from her lungs, and the air catches the flame of the giant’s sword, sending a ball of fire into the saurian’s face.

  The saurian recoils with a scream and then spins violently and uncontrollably in circles, its shoulders and tail crashing into the walls. The saurian’s tail stirs up a storm of rocks, which fly in the direction of Wendolyn and the others.

  One jagged rock flies at Wendolyn’s head, and she can see it coming for her out of the corner of her eye. But just as Wendolyn braces herself for the impact of the rock, it stops in mid-air. Wendolyn turns to the rock, just floating there before her eyes, and beyond it she can see Mulan, whose hand has a magical hold on the rock.

  It is not just that single rock that Mulan has frozen in the air, but every one of them: all of the rocks and boulders that have been loosed from the walls by the saurian are now hanging in the air as if by invisible strings.

  The light of the flaming sword catches the floating rocks within the black of the corridor, conjuring the image of oversized stars forming constellations in the night.

  Wendolyn blinks, and the tableau disappears as Mulan, with a turn of her wrist, directs the rocks back toward the saurian. The clusters of rocks pile together in front of the saurian in a way that creates a barrier in the corridor, blocking them off from Wendolyn’s captors.

  In this moment of fleeting safety, Wendolyn takes in the five faces that surround her, reflecting soot and sweat in the light of the flaming sword. Other than the face of Richard, which is now haunted and pale, these are people that she did not know only moments ago, but now are caught up in Wendolyn’s fate.

  For so long, Waldron had convinced her that no one was coming to rescue her. But these people came. And Wendolyn wonders what brought them together in her name.

  “Noooo!” the man with the eyepatch shouts angrily, taking his axe to the newly formed wall as if he wants to break through it.

  “El Cid does not understand why Ivanhoe wants to bring down the wall,” the giant says, giving voice to Wendolyn’s own confusion.

  “What’s to understand?” Loxley asks, his emerald eyes flickering in the dim light. “Red here is mad as a witless fish.”

  While the shadows allow Wendolyn to see only the quivering snarl on Ivanhoe’s face, she thinks there is truth to Loxley’s words: his mind seems untamed.

  “It is him! It is the saurian that killed my wife,” Ivanhoe snaps with rage, spittle webbing between his lips. “And I will squeeze every last drop of green blood from his body before I leave here!”

  “Yeah, that’s a terrible plan,” Loxley replies. “Only thing you’re gonna do is help them break down that wall faster. Then it’s just you against the three of them, and those saurians are gonna chew on your bones until they turn to dust. How’s that help you get your revenge, Red?”

  El Cid chimes in with similar, but more sincere, counsel: “Live to fight another day.”

  “Aaarrgh!” Ivanhoe bellows, venting his frustration as he realizes that the two men are right and that his fight with the saurian must wait if he is to defeat him.

  “The wall will not hold for long. We must hurry,” Mulan urges. Then, she looks to El Cid and orders, “You will carry the Prince.”

  El Cid nods, folding Richard’s lifeless body over his shoulder as if Richard is no more than a wet rag.

  “Stay close to me,” Mulan instructs Wendolyn as she starts down the long corridor.

  As Wendolyn tries to keep pace with Mulan, she can feel her ankles swelling, the bones between her legs and feet weakened after laying on that stone slab for a measure of eternity. After the years-long hours of Waldron’s relentless torture, her body is still remembering how to move, and the soles of her feet are learning what it means to feel their way along the ground again.

  Meanwhile, Mulan navigates down the corridor without her sight to guide her. Instead, the blindfolded woman is hearing, feeling, smelling her way through the darkness.

  Wendolyn remembers Thorne sending her through the woods blindfolded, having to rely on her other senses to lead her. Wendolyn would plaintively tell Thorne it was an impossible task, and he would respond: You must never believe you are incapable of something, for you are a warrior maiden.

  She never before truly believed in the warrior maiden of which Thorne spoke. But now, seeing Mulan, she does. And Wendolyn wonders if she could ever compare to her.

  Just ahead, Mulan stops as she reaches a stairwell, and Wendolyn realizes that it is the same stairwell that she confronted in her first attempt to escape when she had the help of the glowing spider. Hope.

  “We go up,” Mulan decides, her nose likely catching the salty draught from the window that Wendolyn nearly jumped from once.

  But before Wendolyn can debate Mulan on which way to go...

  SKREEEEEEEEEEEE!

  An unseen banshee shrieks down one of the corridors, pushing Wendolyn’s frail legs to climb the stairs, following Mulan. The hurried climb causes her to miss a step, and she cuts her toe on the jagged edge of the step above it. But she fights through the pain to keep pace with Mulan.

  “The banshee’s at our backs,” Loxley reports as Wendolyn crests the landing and enters the long corridor with the window at its end.

  “How does El Cid kill this fantasma?” the giant asks.

  “You cannot kill that which is already dead,” Mulan answers without turning around. “Keep your eyes ahead and do not look back at it.”

  While Waldron had said that the banshees could not pass through her -- “your otherworldly soul will not surrender to them” -- Wendolyn takes no chances, fixing her eyes on the window ahead, sunlight blasting through the opening.

  As the bright opening seems to pull her forward, Wendolyn’s chest beats faster with the uncertainty of the fall that awaits her.

  “Trust your feet,” Mulan encourages, as if reading Wendolyn’s mind as they push forward together down the corridor. “Let your toes touch the ledge and then jump without a thought.”

  And as Wendolyn reaches the sunlit opening, that is what she does.

  ◆◆◆

  Boundless white.

  The pounding of her own heart.

  The feeling of Thorne’s elbows squeezing her knees into his ribs as he lept from the Edge of the World with her on his back.

  She is dropping through the sky, the custody of her life consigned to the mercy of the air. She is not in control of her own fate, and this is a familiar feeling.

  The air holds her life captive as had the Nameless Fear that poisoned her gut; and the sharp pain that prevailed against her forehead like someone or something trying to get out; and the touch of Waldron’s hand that darkened her mind with its seductive evil.

  As she falls, Wendolyn wonders if she will ever have control of her own destiny.

  ◆◆◆

  Her body splashes into the water, the flats of her feet smacking the surface first, stinging her soles. Salt water shoots into her nose and fills her throat.

  As she expels the water, a red string passes in front of her face.

  Not a string: blood.

  She follows the coiling thread of blood, which leads to her foot, where Wendolyn can see the gash in her toe. Suddenly and strangely, the blood shoots off through the water, as if something has scared it; or sucked it away. And the blood disappears.

  And while her curiosity wants to find out what happened to the blood, Wendolyn realizes that she needs to find the surface and fill her lungs with air before she loses consciousness.

  She looks around, and at first does not know which way is up and which is down. But as she turns her head, she can see bodies breaking through a foamy surface not far from her: first Loxley; then Ivanhoe; and then El Cid with the body of Richard in his arms. And swimming right for her is Mulan, the blindfold not stopping this woman from finding Wendolyn under the water.

  Mulan reaches her hand out for Wendolyn and, in turn, Wendolyn
reaches her own hand out to meet it. But their fingers do not connect as something grabs Wendolyn’s ankles and pulls her away, dragging her down through the water.

  Wendolyn looks to her ankles, but there is nothing there. She can feel cold fingers clenching the bottoms of her legs, but the fingers are invisible.

  As her body continues to be pulled downward, Wendolyn screams desperately, bubbles of air flying from her mouth. She looks up to Mulan, who is swimming toward her, but becoming smaller as the distance between them grows. And then Mulan is just a silhouette in the bright sunlight hitting the distant surface.

  Black spots form in her vision as Wendolyn’s lungs cry out for air. It is the same feeling she had when she was swept away by the river in the forest, the strong arms of the rapids keeping her below the water. Like the governing current that pulled her lower in the river, Wendolyn is now in the suffocating hold of a watery monster that cannot be seen, and she fears that this ocean will quickly become a tomb.

  Slow your heart and mind, Wendolyn.

  The words echo in her ears as if someone is speaking to her, whispering through the water.

  Clear away the worry and fear.

  Wendolyn tries to heed the gentle guidance and calm her mind and body, but the pace of her descent grows faster and the distance to the surface now seems endless. Meanwhile, the inky splashes in her vision double, then triple. It will be impossible for Wendolyn to reach air again before her mind surrenders its consciousness.

  And then, impossibly, she is falling through the air.

  But unlike her fall from the Edge of the World back in the Cumbrian mountains or the window’s ledge only moments ago, this drop is short and fast, and Wendolyn hits the solid ground before she can blink, her back absorbing most of the pain.

  Wendolyn vomits onto the wet sand next to her, her stomach emptying itself of the ocean water. Her chest heaves as she swallows as much air as she can all at once, refilling her lungs. As she lays there on her back, breathing in and out, the air finds her fingers and her toes and her mind, and the black spots in her vision slowly disappear.

  But while her vision has cleared, she is still disoriented, not understanding which way is up. A second ago, she was being dragged downward through the water, and now she is on the ground, looking up at the sky.

  No, not the sky. Wendolyn is looking up at the ocean.

  Above her, she can see the wavy light of the water as the distant sunlight passes through it. And she can see the fish and other creatures swimming in this upside-down world as if there is nothing unusual about Wendolyn lying on the bottom of the ocean and breathing air.

  Then, as she continues to look up at the water, Wendolyn eyes something falling toward her.

  It is a body.

  More than one.

  And, suddenly, Mulan, Ivanhoe, Loxley, El Cid and Richard all drop from the watery sky, each of their bodies hitting the wet sand with a thud.

  They are seized by fits of coughing, just as Wendolyn was, and then they gasp for air, regaining their senses at different paces. Among them, Wendolyn sees Richard, still unconscious, his eyes looking like two glass eggs. His body is shivering, and this is the only sign that Richard is still alive.

  Mulan is first to her feet, drawing two curved swords from her back and quickly finding a warrior’s pose. Then, Ivanhoe jumps up. But instead of reaching immediately for his axe, the bristly man first grabs hold of something around his neck: a bovine horn. He clutches it tightly, as though he thought he might have lost it to the water, and Wendolyn wonders what treasured thing the horn might hold.

  Meanwhile, seeing no immediate threat, Mulan rushes to Wendolyn’s side, offering her hand as she asks, “Are you hurt?”

  Wendolyn shakes her head and then takes Mulan’s hand, pulling herself to her feet.

  “What is this place?” Wendolyn wonders aloud, her voice echoing as if there are walls around them.

  El Cid stands up, pointing his sword up into the air as -- tink -- the steel hits an invisible ceiling. Then, the giant’s sword comes to life with fire, and El Cid tries to burn his way through the ceiling, but he is unsuccessful.

  “The Rune has trapped us here!” Ivanhoe says angrily, swinging his axe into one of the clear walls, leaving not even a scratch. “I should have risked my fate to the saurians back there. At least I would have had a chance at killing them.”

  “This is not the work of the Rune,” Mulan says, returning her curved swords to their sheaths.

  “Then who?” Loxley asks, water dripping down onto his cheeks from his wet hood.

  Mulan runs her hand across the unseen wall, feeling the unfamiliar surface for an answer to Loxley’s question.

  But before Mulan can make sense of what she is feeling, Wendolyn sees something move on the invisible wall. At first, it is ten bumps, all swelling against the lining of the wall. Wendolyn is reminded of the thing inside her head that seems to push against her skull, a monster wanting to get out, and she wonders if her vision has gone astray in thought.

  “There! The wall!” Ivanhoe directs, testifying to what Wendolyn sees.

  They all watch as the bumps form into fingers, revealing arms that seem to grow from the same glassy substance of the wall. Next come feet, then legs, a torso, and a chest. And finally, a face, one that looks like it is made of glass. It is as if the wall of water just gave birth to the body of a woman.

  And Wendolyn recognizes her.

  “No!” Wendolyn shouts, her voice breaking as she backs away, bumping into Ivanhoe, who catches her.

  It is the watery woman from the lake in Cumbria that tried to grab her. The one that sent Wendolyn racing home through the woods to Thorne. And as the woman now appears before her again, Wendolyn’s blood runs cold with the same fear that visited her that night.

  Ivanhoe, El Cid and Loxley each draw their weapons, ready to attack.

  But as Wendolyn looks to Mulan, the blindfolded warrior does not seem alarmed by the presence of this strange woman, and her curved swords stay in their sheaths.

  “Do not be afraid, Wendolyn,” the watery woman says, her body now fully formed, with two clear tentacles still connecting her to the wall.

  Her words are genuinely calming, and her voice holds Wendolyn’s name as a mother might.

  “Release us at once or El Cid will turn you into vapor,” El Cid threatens, wielding his flaming sword.

  “Stand down,” Mulan instructs Ivanhoe, Loxley and El Cid. “She is not here to hurt us.”

  “How do you know this?” Ivanhoe asks Mulan.

  Surprising them all, Mulan bends to one knee and deferentially bows her head, uttering, “Lady of the Lake, I am Mulan, the Keeper of the Magnolia, a Hua Warrior, and a member of the Order, sworn to protect the descendants of Merlin.”

  “I am honored to meet you, Mulan,” the watery woman returns. “I have heard stories of your courage in the Silk Lands.”

  Then, the woman turns to Wendolyn.

  “I am the Lady of the Lake,” the woman introduces herself, her glassy face shimmering with the sunlight that cuts through the water far above.

  “You are the wife of Merlin? You are Vivienne?” Loxley asks incredulously, familiar with some lore that Wendolyn has never heard.

  “That was a thousand moons ago,” the Lady of the Lake admits, a far-off sadness infecting her voice.

  If what this woman says is true -- that she was once married to Merlin -- she would be over three hundred years old by now.

  “But yes,” the Lady of the Lake continues, “I was once called Vivienne. Although that name has faded with time, as did my love for Merlin after he hid my child away from me.”

  Then, the Lady of the Lake turns back to Wendolyn. “There are many mothers and many fathers between us, Wendolyn. Your father, Bwalen, came from Ashtel, who before that, came from Mali, then Trandan, then Haren, Gwanlinna, Malici, Balinor, Winnow, and Darden.”

  The Lady of the Lake moves to Wendolyn. And as she does, Wendolyn notices that her vitre
ous body is clear, allowing Wendolyn to see right through her to Mulan, who is now positioned behind the Lady of the Lake.

  “Darden was my son,” the Lady of the Lake says, finishing the line of ancestry that leads all the way to Wendolyn.

  “I--” Wendolyn starts, but she loses the words that follow.

  “Yes, Wendolyn, you are my descendant as much as you are Merlin’s,” the Lady of the Lake says, finishing Wendolyn’s thought with emotion in her voice.

  “How--? How did you find me?” Wendolyn wonders.

  “Your blood is my blood,” the Lady of the Lake replies. “When it touches the water, your blood finds me. It tells me where you are.”

  Wendolyn looks to her foot, where her toe had bled in the water just moments ago. Then, her mind races to the moment she first saw the Lady of the Lake, when she rose up out of the water in the Cumbrian mountains. Wendolyn remembers she had cut her finger on the sharp steel of the ice pick and her blood dripped into the lake.

  “You were trying to save me back at the lake,” Wendolyn realizes. “To keep the darkling from reporting to Waldron.”

  The Lady of the Lake confirms Wendolyn’s realization with a nod.

  “Well this is a lovely reunion,” Loxley interrupts. “But you think we could all hug once our necks are safe? There’s a Rune and a pair of saurians on the hunt, and I wager they’re coming with hellfire.”

  “The thief is right,” Ivanhoe agrees. “We must find cover.”

  “You need not worry,” the Lady of the Lake assures them, gesturing to the pellucid walls around them. “You are safe within these walls. While we can see out, no one can see in.”

  Just then, Richard coughs and his body begins shaking uncontrollably on the ground. Wendolyn rushes to Richard, kneeling down beside him. His face contorts with a spasm of pain and, if possible, the whites of his eyes widen further.

  Meanwhile, Richard’s lips are coated in a thick spittle, and there is a crackling sound, like water moving over ice, and it echoes from the back of his throat as if his insides are now hollow.