Storymakers: Wanted Part 6

I grimaced at the w-word but waved him on.

"I remember being cut down in an open field by this very lake. I'd never held the grail, so I couldn't undo what had been done. At least I could close mine eyes with the satisfaction that I had stopped Arthur's tyranny. 'Twas enough. When my eyes opened again, there were great giants of trees surrounding me. My body was sore, as if it had not moved for ages."

He looked at the biggest tree, once the greatest ironwood of the forest. Dad had called it Camlan. The first tree. The marker where Arthur and Mordred fell. But the great tree that I'd spent so much time playing hide-and-seek in was very nearly bare and ready to topple over.

Still staring, Mordred blinked several times and held his head, as if he was trying to focus on something. "There's a remembrance, but it's fuzzy and hides from mine sight. Though I cannot recall much of my past and know little of this new world, I am the son of the Avalon mists, and I can feel the balance of magic is in unrest. One thing I know is war... I can feel it coming, lad. My sword calls to me, and I will answer."

While someone else might scoff at his sudden amnesia, I could guess the cause of it, given our mutual state of rebirth.

"Do not pick at what you cannot understand, little hero. Send him back to me and begin earning your place in the book."

I ignored Morte and warily stepped closer to Mordred, staying well out of arm's reach. "Let's say you're right, that there's bad stuff coming. Whose side are you on? Blanc's or Dorthea's?"

"I know not either of these names." He spoke so quietly I had to lean in to hear. With a tilt of his head, he smirked and whipped the underside of his ax around my waist, drawing me closer. "There is but one side. Mine."

Before I had time to react, he'd cut off the vise. I had but a moment to grab the rope and renew the tension. As I steadied the rope, he backed away.

"I'm sorry, Rex, but I can't allow anything or anyone to get in the way of my quest to reclaim my throne and the grail. I hope your friends come back soon to disarm the trap. Or that your grip is stronger than you look."

"You pox-ridden, cauldron-breathed fiend," I said and struggled to pull hard enough to keep the arrow from launching at me.

He winced at my insult and said quietly, "The difference between savior and sinner is oft merely who is left to tell the story." After turning away, he gathered his things and mounted his horse. "I have a feeling you are tough to kill, my huntsman friend, so I pray, whenst we meet again, you steer clear of me. Three strikes and I'll take you out."

I laughed because he really had no idea. Whatever memories I had to pay Morte to get out of this, I was holding on to this moment. And I would pay Mordred back.

Without Mordred's large frame blocking the light of the lantern, my shadow reappeared, this time oozing up from the ground around me.

"Exactly how do you plan on doing that, you spineless, useless little twit?"

"Hey!"

"My time is valuable and I wasted it on you. Count on me to enjoy rending your soul to pieces. I'll make you pay for your capriciousness. I'll have an eternity after all."

"No, just until..." That's when my mistake hit me. I was going to say "just until Dorthea pulls me out," but to revive me, she needed to pour her magic into the opal. The one I wore on my chest-alone, in the middle of the Sherwood Forest.

If I died here, now, chances were I wouldn't be coming back.

"Get on with it. The longer you make me wait, the more anger I'll take out on you. Each extra ounce of pain will be your own fault."

No, no, no, no, no. I'd gotten complacent, but there was a way out. I could just hold on to the rope. Someone would eventually come, and I'd tell them how to disarm the trap. Or when Dorthea realized I hadn't returned, she would come looking for me. Our bond would lead her straight to me.

"Rex!"

DumBeau stumbled through the trees, his tunic torn and scuffed, but my abandoned pack in tow. With his arms out and a smile of pure joy on his face, he ran for me.

"Stop!" I yelled, but it didn't do any good. He kept running until he tripped over the rope, pulling it from my grasp. The arrow flew, hitting him in the shoulder and propelling him into my arms.

"Rex," he slurred. His smile growing bigger as he closed his eyes and went limp.

"No, hey, wake up."

"Well, now, this is a surprise. Perhaps you are turning into a hero. After all, someone died for you."

"You don't get to talk, ash man. I've never wanted this."

"Still, it is not enough. I'll see you in a moment, little failure."

I didn't even have time to figure out what he meant before a spiked log arced through the air on ropes, slamming into us like a battering ram.

We flew backward, landing in the lake. DumBeau was still out cold and weighing me down like a stone. I held my breath and tried to push him off, but my limbs weren't cooperating.

The water around us became tainted with tendrils of red. Blood seeped out of the arrow wound on DumBeau-and from a spike lodged in my side. I'd bet everything I'd ever stolen those log's spikes were tipped with c.o.c.katrice venom, because it was nearly impossible to move. So, thanks to Mordred, my story's end was a toss-up of whether the poison would reach my heart or if I would drown.

Pixing royals.

"Anybody else think that strange women, lyin' in lakes, distributin' swords, is nay a sound basis for a system of government?"

-Sir Monty of Python's last words before he was beheaded by King Arthur.

11.

My Not-So-Fair Lady.

Hex yes, I was bitter. I channeled that into anger, summoning a fury that would help me fight for my soul once I reached the underworld. Far more useful than hope ever would be.

Dorthea was probably wrapped up cozy with her prince, perfectly content and paying no mind to what was going on through our bond. But despite her self-involvedness, I was certain that if she were here, she would have tried to save me. Which was more than I could say for the revered Robin Hood-proof that some heroes really are zeroes with a good PR G.o.dmother.

That man never kept his word. He never showed up.

Why had I believed he could change?

No one changes.

My chest burned, and my throat spasmed, wanting air. Looks like drowning wins the death honors today, I thought as I sank to the bottom of the lake and darkness closed around me.

"This is where love and trust lead," Morte whispered.

A woman's voice rang across the water like a muted melody. "You said those words to me sagas ago, Nome King. You were wrong then and you are wrong now." I couldn't see her, but two dots, like pearls, shone through the murky depths.

"Do not interfere." Morte's slippery voice took on an edge I had not heard before. "Your time has long pa.s.sed."

"My time is just beginning." With her words came a flash of light, which left me blinded. Heat seared and etched into my wrist. "I am the Lady of the Lake, and you are not welcome here. Be gone!"

The darkness receded and warmth surrounded me, like the water was wrapping me in a soft embrace. The stinging in my wrist cooled, but my lungs still burned from holding my breath.

I let the air out and sucked in a breath from reflex, expecting to choke.

I didn't.

"Dear little soldier," the sweet voice within the light said. "This story has not been kind to you. You did me a service once, so I have saved you. I offer you a choice: let it end here and dream peacefully in these waters for eternity. You will feel no more pain and none may harm you."

I still couldn't see the woman, could barely move, but I could breathe. Water. And I'm sure the Lady of the Lake was responsible for it. Her offer didn't sound half-bad actually. It wasn't exactly happily ever after, but it wasn't an unhappy ending or rotting in the underworld as a Forgotten either.

"No one would blame you for choosing the easy way."

That was a lie. A pretty one but a lie nonetheless. The faces of Verte, Morte, Dad, Kato, Dorthea, and everyone I'd ever met flashed in my mind. They all expected me to screw up, give up, shut up, and go down without a fight, so I'd be a gnome nut if I chose to prove them right.

Besides, sleeping forever sounded an awful lot like being dead. I still had way too much stubborn survival sense to meekly opt to count Bo Peep's sheep for eternity.

Even without knowing the second option, I shook my head.

Little bubbles that felt like laughter rose up around me. The warm glow intensified. "I knew I chose well. All of Story is flawed and broken. A dangerous evil is loose. Fight for me against the one who seeks to drain my waters. Be my champion, Rexi."

Amid the soft glow and lulling music and warm water, I needed even less time to consider the second choice.

"No way."

"Take up my-wait." The glow dimmed, the background melody stopped, and the water chilled. "What?!"

Breathing underwater was a foreign feeling, the water slipping in and out of my lungs. But talking was about the same-just bubblier. "No offense. But I did the servant thing. I was even a henchman for bit." I tried to shrug, but my right side, where the barb had hit, was as good as stone. "You seem great and stuff, but I'm done being a p.a.w.n. For anyone."

"But...but..." Her voice went higher in pitch, less siren's song and more siren's shriek. "I'm offering you the opportunity to be my champion. Don't you want to live as a hero?"

"No." I snorted, and the water went up my nose. "Why does everyone a.s.sume that? Do I look like the sort of megalomaniac who thinks they are solely responsible for saving the world?"

I was still figuring out how to save myself. If the world was depending on me, it was pixed. Of course, waiting for the likes of Dorthea to figure things out might be just as bad. But not my problem.

"Don't get smart with me, brat." Kelp shot out from the depths and wrapped around my wrist. It pulled me through the light, closer to the voice. "I gave you my mark, saved you from the Nome King."

At first, I was speechless. For one, her tone had changed very abruptly. But even more startling than that was the lady herself. I was used to ugly; I'd lived with moldy oldie Verte. But if the Littlest Mermaid had an ugly stepsister, she'd look like the belle of the ball next to this Loch Ness Lady.

Her skin was mostly see-through, understandable, since it was made of bioluminescent jellyfish. The sickly gray freshwater eels trying to squirm away from her head looked like hair. Her pearl eyes lacked pupils, which gave new meaning to "a blank stare."

It's a good thing I'm not as superficial as Dorthea. The most helpful people by far have been hideous, like Hydra. But just because the Lady of the Lake stopped me from drowning, that didn't mean I owed her anything. Plus, she mentioned I had served her once. I didn't remember ever meeting her, though I'd lived by this lake for years. I guess memories didn't mean much with Morte around.

"Whatever you did that lets me breathe is great and all, but you did that on your own because..." I may not remember, but I didn't want her to know that and think she didn't owe me since that was working in my favor. "...of that thing...that happened...that one time." I rushed through the lack of details and kept going. "The way I see it, if you wanted something more in return, you should have made the offer first." I rotated my left wrist to get free of the kelp, since the venom kept me from using my other hand.

The slugs that seemed to serve as the lady's lips turned up. Or tried to slime off her face. The effect made her seem amused. Her voice matched as she said, "You remind me a bit of myself, so I a.s.sumed you would not hesitate at my offer. I have obviously erred, yet what was done cannot be undone. Know this though: water is both life and death. All debts come due in the end. While it's true that now water cannot harm you, the poison in your veins will. Be my champion and help me protect the grail, or I won't stop the Nome King a second time."

"I didn't ask you to help the first time. This is my story, and no one writes what happens but me. And I pick the third option."

The Lady of the Lake let go with her kelp hand and scratched her head. "I don't recall offering a third choice."

"You didn't." With my hand free, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gla.s.s-encased capsule I'd picked up off the shelf at the p.a.w.n shop.

Please work. Please work, I begged the universe and smashed the gla.s.s on the rocks under my back with a burst strength.

Just like before, when the capsule hit water, it split open, expanding out into a humanoid figure, this time without the princely head. As it propelled me up, I thought of DumBeau and felt a pang of guilt at leaving him behind. But thoughts were getting harder to hang on to. The poison must have finally worked its way through my system.

My eyes were starting to have trouble focusing, meaning unlucky death number seven was near.

Something disturbed the lake's surface. A hand, I think, dragged me up until air filled my lungs rather than water.

"Sprout. Sprout. Hang on."

Though my senses were fading, I could never forget this voice. Or the way he smelled like moss after rain.

I blinked and forced my eyes to focus the best they could. My lips were heavy and it hurt to smile, but I'd never been so happy in my life.

"Dad! You actually came."

I felt his hand squeezing mine.

Then nothing.

"Dear Stranger in Strange Land: When exploring a new place, it really is quite rude to roam around uninvited. Nowadays, most stories come standard equipped with some manner of talking-animal tour guide."

-Dear Alice manners column.

12.

Don't Fear the Reaper.

Within a few grains of sand pa.s.sing through the hourgla.s.s, my soul returned to the underworld office, the stack of paper on the desk higher than ever. I took great joy in swiping at it and sending the pages whirling around the room.

"Mother of Grimm! You get me for eternity, you son of a basilisk. You couldn't have given me one more curse-rotted minute?" I kicked the Forgotten-made chair, sending the left half flying into the wall in chunks. "It's not fair."

Wait.

As I looked around for something else to take my anger out on, I realized I was alone. The Nome King should have been waiting for me, waiting to edit me out of the story. I mean, this last death wasn't exactly a plot twist. He knew I was coming. Yet his office was empty. Either I had materialized in someone else's cubicle, or the boss was out.

"Well, since he's not here, he probably wouldn't mind me poking around his desk. And if he does, I'm already doomed to be a Forgotten. It's not like he can really make things that much worse."

I started ransacking the place, hoping to find my plotline. The office was mostly bare, but honestly, I'm not sure I wanted to know what the King of Death kept for personal effects. The knotted wire wasn't here, but without really thinking, I pocketed a bent quill tip that had been discarded. Dead or alive, old habits lingered.

The silver serpent slithered under the door, coming into the office. "Ssso much trouble."

I wiggled my soul's bare toes. "I am not above skinning you and making slippers. I've seen Dorthea make enough of them, it's probably rubbed off on me."

Instead of being intimidated, the serpent wound its way up one of the desk's legs. It seemed to chuckle, which sounded almost like crackling gla.s.s, and said, "You really have no idea. I ssssuppossse the Housssse of Emerald ha.s.ss alwaysss been full of foolsss."