11 - IN WHICH ARTIE PLAYS A LITTLE LET’S MAKE A DEAL!

As Qwon, far off in Fenland, tucked the spoon into her shirt, Artie, Kay, and Erik swung uneasily in the snare in Sweden. Their captor, Sami, had just demanded that Artie tell him how he’d healed himself, but Artie said authoritatively, “The only way I tell you about my leg is if you let us out of here.”

“I don’t think so,” Sami said.

“Think again,” Kay said from the top of the trap. “If you let us go now, Artie won’t hurt you.”

A resonant belly laugh rose from deep within Sami. As he wiped tears from his eyes, he looked at Artie and said, “You hurt me?”

Artie just nodded while Kay said, “Heck yeah, dude!”

“Let me show you something,” Sami said, turning from his catch. He sauntered over to a gigantic tree stump. “You see this?”

“Yeah,” Artie said.

“What do you think it weighs?”

“I dunno. A couple thousand pounds?”

“Probably. Watch.”

Sami bent and hugged the stump. His arms didn’t even make it halfway around, but it didn’t matter. He stood with hardly any effort, lifting the stump as if he were picking up a bag of leaves, and walked it closer to his tools. He set it down with a thump and disappeared.

“So? Big whoop,” Artie yelled after him. “You should see some of the things I can do!” No response came. It was kind of a bluff, anyway. Without Excalibur, Artie wasn’t sure what he could do.

Erik asked in a whisper, “How are you healing yourself, Artie?”

“Excalibur’s scabbard!” Artie hissed.

“Wow,” Erik said. “That’s pretty cool.”

“You want to know what’s not cool, Erik? You bum-rushing this guy’s camp and getting us caught in this net,” Kay said, still upset.

Erik sighed. “Sorry, guys. But seeing that sword kind of messed me up. I guess that means it’s really mine, huh?”

“Sh!” Artie said. “Don’t say anything else, either of you. I have a plan. Also, can you move your knee, Erik? It’s really digging into my shoulder.” Erik tried but just made it worse. “Ow! Never mind.”

“Not much fun being caught in a snare, is it?” Sami boasted as he waltzed into Artie’s field of vision carrying the largest, sharpest-looking ax Artie had ever seen.

“Nice ax. I’ve got a friend who’d like that,” he said, thinking of Bercilak. “Maybe one day I’ll bring him here so he can take it from you.”

“Ha!” Sami chortled. Then he walked over to the huge stump, raised the ax over his head, and brought it down with a deafening smack.

“What was that?” Kay demanded.

“Nothing,” Artie said as he looked at what the woodsman had done. The stump was cleanly split in two. “You’re quite the show-off, Sami,” Artie said. “Let me ask you something—how long have you lived here?”

“My whole life. I am Sami—it’s not just my name but my people. We go back thousands of years, back to the ancient world. The world of magic.”

Artie believed it. This guy was like some Otherworld missing link. “Is that why you’re so strong?” Artie asked. “Because of magic?”

“I am strong because of my people. Plus, I eat a lot of protein. And I am a woodsman,” Sami said with a wink.

Artie winked back. “Tell me, Sami the magic strongman, do you get a lot of visitors?”

“Well, no.”

“Then don’t you think it’s a little strange that now you’ve got three American kids caught in a net?”

“I guess,” Sami said, shrugging.

“Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?” asked Kay.

“No, he’s smart, Kay.” Artie hoped a little flattery might help. “He just doesn’t know what to do with us. Do you, Sami?”

“Ha! There’s where you’re wrong, boy.” He walked back to the sharpening stone and picked up the long knife he’d been working on earlier. He moved to the stag and whispered some words to it. With his free hand he stroked its head between the horns. Artie could see the animal’s breath quicken. It was scared.

The edge of the woodsman’s knife threw off a glint of light. A few more coppery leaves fell from the beech tree.

“You ever go hunting, Artie?” Sami asked, saying Artie’s name for the first time.

“Only for dragons,” Artie answered as his stomach started to turn.

Sami shot Artie a dubious glance and said, “One thing you learn when hunting is that it’s important to do certain things quickly.” And then, without hesitation, Sami moved the knife into place and opened the deer’s throat. “I don’t know who you are or how you got here or why you’re carrying the kinds of weapons you are,” Sami said, moving closer to them. “All I know is that you are going to tell me how you did that thing with your leg, one way or another.”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” Artie said, sticking to his guns.

“Ha! I don’t really care.”

With that, Sami cut Artie across the forearm. The blade was so sharp that it hardly hurt. Some blood dripped out, but in an instant the wound sealed and any trace of it faded away.

Sami jumped back. “You’re a witch!”

“That’s right,” Artie said, his mind racing.

Sami looked at his knife and back at Artie. Then, just to make sure, he quickly sliced Artie again.

Artie wasn’t ready for this one. “Hey!” he yelped. This cut was deeper and painful, and blood gushed momentarily before the wound shut itself.

Sami was quiet for a moment and then he said, “You’re from the magic world, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Artie said. “But enough about me. Why don’t you tell me about the sword.”

“What sword? I’m a woodsman. I have axes and knives, not swords.”

“You have that sword over there,” Artie said. “The one in the tree.”

“Ha! That’s not a sword, it’s a branch. It’s been stuck there for as long as I can remember and a lot longer than that, I’ll tell you what.”

“Are you saying that you can’t pull that sword out of the tree?” Artie asked doubtfully.

“No, I can’t,” Sami huffed. This was obviously a sore point with the woodsman.

“So you’ve tried?”

“A hundred times. A thousand. It won’t budge. I’ve tried cutting down the tree, burning it, poisoning it. I’ve tried heating the blade, oiling it, freezing it. It’s no use. That tree has a lot of magic, and the sword even more.”

“Well, we have enough magic to get it out.”

“You lie.”

“I don’t,” Artie said with conviction. “And I’ll tell you something else. We’re not alone. We brought friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are two more of us near the river outside the forest. One of them is an archer—a very good archer. They’ll come looking for us if we don’t return soon. When they do, our archer will shoot you before you even see him.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, these are my woods. No one can sneak up on my camp.”

“That’s a chance you can choose to take, of course. Or, you can let us go and I’ll give you the thing that heals me. Then, if you happen to get run through the neck with a giant hunting arrow, you’ll probably be all right, although I have to tell you I’ve never put it to that kind of a test.”

The woodsman said, “So you’re not a witch? It’s something you carry that does this magic to you?”

“Exactamundo.”

“And you would just give it to me?”

“Yep, in exchange for our freedom.” Artie paused for effect before saying, “But . . .”

“I knew it,” Sami said, rolling his eyes. “There’s always a but.”

“But—if one of us can pull the sword from the tree, then you have to return my healing thing and let us go. If you do, then I promise you won’t get hurt.”

Sami flashed a big smile. There wasn’t a man alive—let alone a child—who could pull the sword from the ancient tree. He spit in one of his palms and rubbed his hands together. “All right. You have a deal.”

He swiped his knife at the rope that held the net. Artie, Kay, and Erik fell to the ground in a painful crash. They stood and untangled themselves from the webbing, their bodies sore.

But not so sore that Kay wasn’t going to try to kill Sami!

Less than ten feet separated them, and she erased this distance in a flash, Cleomede leading the way. She didn’t want this guy to get Artie’s scabbard, and she wasn’t at all happy about being trapped.

But just as Cleomede’s blade was about to run through Sami’s barrel chest, he clapped his hands around it. The sound echoed into the boreal canopy. The sword, and Kay behind it, came to a screeching halt.

Holding the blade flat between his leathery hands, Sami leaned to one side and twisted Cleomede out of Kay’s grip. She cried out as her wrists turned. Sami took the sword and tucked it under one of his arms.

“Kay!” Artie exclaimed angrily.

As she rubbed her wrists, she said, “What? You know I don’t let bullies get away with being jerks.”

Artie looked at Sami. “I’m sorry about my sister. She’s pretty hotheaded.”

“I understand,” Sami said, eyeing Kay with a look of bemusement.

“You have no idea,” Erik said. “I’ve watched her beat up boys twice her weight!”

“Thank you, Erik,” Kay said as if Artie wasn’t being appreciative enough. She turned to Sami. “When we get the sword in the tree, then you have to give me my sword back too, all right?”

Sami gave her a nod. “Sure—all I care about is the healing talisman.”

“Right,” Artie said. He unbuckled the leather straps crisscrossing his chest and lifted the empty scabbard over his head. Then he held it out with both hands, offering it to Sami.

Sami inspected the scabbard and asked, “Where’s the blade that goes with this?”

“I lost it,” Artie said curtly.

“That’s fitting. You’re going to lose this too,” Sami said. “How does it work?”

“You just wear it, you freak,” Kay said wearily.

Sami gave Artie a questioning look as he strapped it on and then placed the blade of his knife along the back of his forearm. He pressed down and drew it across his flesh.

Sami barely winced as blood instantly coursed around his arm, and then just as quickly stopped. Sami dropped the knife and wiped the blood away. With widened eyes, he searched for the cut.

But it was gone.

“Wow!” Erik said, also having witnessed the scabbard’s healing power for the first time.

Artie shrugged. “See? Nothing to it.”

“Amazing,” Sami said.

Artie stepped forward. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain. Will you keep yours?”

“Of course. I am a man of my word,” Sami said, leading them to the tree.

As they got closer to Gram, they saw that the sword was buried nearly to the hilt in the thick trunk. It looked to be in pretty bad shape. The exposed part was weatherworn and rusted and covered in several layers of calcified muck and splotchy lichens.

Sami slapped the hilt and it didn’t move. Then he grabbed it in both hands and pulled on it as hard as he could, even going so far as to plant both feet on the trunk so he could push away from it like someone rappelling down a rock face.

It didn’t budge.

“Give it your best shot,” Sami said, stepping aside.

Artie looked at Kay and Kay looked at Erik and Erik looked at the ground.

“Kay, why don’t you try first?” Artie suggested

Kay shot her brother a look. “What, me?”

“Yes, you.” Artie liked the idea of working up to Erik’s big moment.

“Fine,” Kay said.

Kay went to the sword and pulled at it halfheartedly, making a very fake grunting sound. As she stepped away she mumbled, “Yep, it sure is stuck.”

Sami laughed quietly.

“Great; thanks for trying, Kay. Way to put your back into it,” Artie said sarcastically. “My turn.”

“Have at it.”

Artie stepped up to Gram and took it with both hands. Before he pulled, he thought about Cleomede and how it had been stuck in the stone and how he, Artie Kingfisher, had freed it. He started to pull. He pulled harder and harder. He got up on the tree like Sami had and pulled with all his might. Finally he stopped and took a deep breath. He looked at the sword. Nothing.

Artie walked to Erik and put a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this,” Artie quietly insisted.

Erik looked at Artie nervously. His eyes asked, But what if I can’t? Artie squeezed Erik’s shoulder and smiled.

“Go on,” Artie said.

“All right,” Erik whispered.

He marched to the tree. There was no way. Still, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt, closed his eyes, and pulled.

And nothing happened.

“Ha! I told you,” Sami exclaimed.

“Try again; use both hands!” Artie suggested, his heart pounding.

Erik did. And then his body started to jitter. This grew to a shake. This amplified to a vibration that made the edges of Erik’s body blur. The energy coursed through the hilt, to the blade, and into the tree. In a matter of seconds, every branch and leaf began to tremble and flutter. For an instant Erik was joined to the tree and vice versa, the sword their conduit.

Then he stepped back and twisted his shoulders, and with him came the legendary dragon slayer Gram. The part of the blade that had been embedded in the tree was bright and silver and sharp. He stepped away from Barnstokk and uttered a proclamation in Swedish that he didn’t even understand. It was like the sword was speaking through him.

Artie beamed and Kay yelped, “Woo-hoo!” while Sami fell to his knees and bleated, “I can’t— How?”

Energy continued to run through Erik’s body like a freight train, rising from his feet, through his legs and chest, around his head, and then back down through his arms and finally out through Gram. The weapon shook so violently that Artie couldn’t understand how Erik managed to keep hold of it. Finally the blade lit up with a red glow, and a stream of light flew up and away from its tip. As the beam passed the tree, its branches shook one last time and then, all at once, it dropped all of its leaves save the highest one.

Erik stood there, panting, in a shower of copper beech leaves. The forest was quiet, as if the trees themselves were staring down in wonder.

Sami gathered himself enough to ask, “How did you do that?”

Erik looked down on the woodsman, his nervousness gone, replaced by confidence and knowledge. Artie knew that Erik had just experienced something similar to what he had when he’d finally gotten Excalibur.

Man, how Artie missed his own legendary sword. . . .

“I did it because it’s mine,” Erik said, striding toward Sami. “And now I think you owe us some things,” he added.

“Erik Erikssen!” Kay exclaimed, brimming with excitement and even, she hated to admit it, a little bit of admiration. “Wow . . . just, wow.”

Erik flashed Kay the easy smile of a school-yard crush. Gram had given him confidence in many areas, and he was glad for it. Super glad.

Artie clapped Erik on the shoulder as Kay spun to Sami and said, “How do you like us now, strongman? I’ll be taking this back, thank you very much!” She snatched Cleomede from the ground and sheathed it.

Artie stepped next to Kay and held out his hand. “I’ll take my scabbard too, if you don’t mind,” he said calmly. Sami wordlessly unbuckled the scabbard and passed it to Artie, his eyes never leaving Gram. As Artie retrieved it, a wave of relief washed through him. “I told you I wasn’t lying,” he said

“I . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry I cut you like I did. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Artie said graciously.

“If I can ever make it up to you, please, let me know.”

“I doubt we’ll ever be coming this way again, Sami, but if we do, you can count on it,” Kay said for Artie.

Artie glanced at Erik, who’d moved back to Barnstokk. Gram rested easily in one hand, and his other pressed against the bark of the tree. Very quietly he said, “Thank you for keeping this.”

The tree shuddered and shed its final leaf. It drifted down, cradling back and forth through the air, and landed gently on the flat of Gram’s gleaming blade.

Erik turned to the others and said, “What a trip.”

“Cool, right?” Artie asked. “Getting Excalibur was a major rush for me too.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Erik confirmed. “A little overwhelming, but cool.”

Sami’s voice wavered as he said, “Did you just say ‘Excalibur’?”

“Yes, I did,” Artie said confidently. And then he asked, “You ready to go, Erik?”

Erik stared at his friend, his classmate, his neighbor. The whole experience of visiting the Otherworld—and meeting a dragon, and going berserk—had been like a dream. But now he had woken up. He understood. He might return to school one day, or he might not, but he knew that his life would never be the same. He was ready for everything. For anything. Erik nodded. “I sure am.”

Kay joined them. Before they left, Artie said, “So long, Sami of Sweden. Next time consider being nicer to strangers.”

“Okay,” Sami said weakly. Then Artie, Kay, and Erik started walking out of the camp. “But wait!” Sami called, jumping to his feet. “Who are you?”

Without turning around, Artie said, “I’m King Artie Kingfisher, and I’m no longer at your service.”