Golden Gate Park at night was a primeval place: tall eucalyptus and cypress trees rose hundreds of feet high, shaking their shaggy heads like restless dinosaurs in the dark. The air was thick with wet fog. Viv walked carefully along what she thought was a bicycle path, Excalibur’s metal blade resting against her shoulder. The winding path was paved and smooth, but it was not lit, and she was alone in walking it. Noah had offered to come with her to the park that evening—had, in fact, nearly insisted, arguing that a sword nobody could see would hardly be a deterrent to muggers—but she had put him off, feeling obscurely that she might not see what she was meant to in human company. Now she was regretting that decision, and found herself nervously looking over her shoulder at every creak of a branch or roar of a distant car.
Movement at her feet made her jump; as her eyes strained in the darkness, she resolved the shape into a sleeping bag, half-wedged into a pile of leaves at the side of the path. An unkempt man slurred something intelligible at her from one end of the bag: “Sorry,” she mumbled, and stepped around the homeless person. There seemed to be so many of them in San Francisco.
A little ways on, the path opened out onto a grassy hillside, at the bottom of which a large black stain resolved itself into water in Viv’s night-blinded vision. The lake was big enough that, in the darkness, she could not make out its far shore. There were more people here, in sleeping bags and in some cases tents—a whole encampment of people who evidently had nowhere else to go. A few heads lifted from the ground, staring at her in challenge or fear. Viv looked away and walked quickly onward, following the paved path as it skirted the edge of the clearing and vanished once more into the woods. As she went on she heard a high wail behind her, a child crying in hunger or cold. The knowledge that there were children in that sorry camp dropped into her stomach like a stone.
She walked a bit further in the damp night, following the path because she had no better destination. Excalibur lay heavy and inert in her hands. She could not see the moon through the canopy of trees and enveloping fog, but she believed Piper that it was full: there was a restless energy in the woods, and she could not shake her anxiety. She tried to think of herself as patrolling the night, like a soldier, but as the winding path took her further into darkness she felt more like a little girl lost in the woods.
Somewhere in the distance an animal howled, an eerie and wild sound. Viv gripped her sword with sweaty hands and told herself it was most likely a dog, tied up in a backyard somewhere beyond the trees. Or maybe a stray, seeking refuge in the park just like the humans she had seen.
The howl sounded again, closer and louder now, and another sound twined beneath and around it: something deep and breathy, booming through the fog. Although she had no source for the sudden certainty, Viv knew it for the sound of a hunting horn. In that moment Excalibur leapt in her hands, jumping off her shoulders and forward, tugging her hands and arms and shoulders onward. So she forced her unready feet and legs to follow, staggering to keep up, until she was running herky-jerky down the path.
The bike path curved to her right: Excalibur didn’t. She followed the tug of the sword and plunged into the woods. Her feet crashed through the carpet of fallen leaves as she staggered uphill. A thorny vine lashed her cheek and she cried out, but didn’t break her stride. She had found some other path, not one made by men—a deer trail, or a little gulch worn by water. The sword still pointed her way, weaving unerringly through the maze of trees.
The howl rose again, and it was more than one hound giving voice—a whole pack of them from the sound of it, running towards her as she was running towards them. She could feel a thrumming in the earth below her feet. Or maybe it was just her heart, racing, and her own breath panting loudly, as she blindly followed the tug of the sword. At some level, beneath the adrenaline, her mind was still working enough to wonder what exactly she was racing to find, and what she meant to do when she faced it.
The drumbeat of hooves became audible, the yapping of the pack unmistakable, and then the horn again sounding behind them, driving them on. Viv registered the noise before she truly saw them. They were white shapes flowing down the hill, between the trees: pale dogs, long and lean, with a red fire in their eyes and red stains on their flopping ears. Wisps of fog raced by overhead, and the thought flashed into Viv’s mind that these hounds occupied both earth and sky. They overtook her and passed her, snarling as they went, but the sword did not waver: the pack was not its focus, and the hunting dogs had other prey.
Another shape crested the hill, coming down on four dark legs and then rearing up on two. A horse and rider: the hunter himself. All Viv could make out in the darkness was an armored shape, with a crest of two antlered horns worked into his helmet. He paused at the summit of the hill, and Excalibur moved in her hands, rising up into what she’d recently learned was the salute of battle.
The shadowy rider moved his arms, and his silhouette changed, the arm extending into something long and sharp. He’d drawn a sword. He lifted it in a matching salute. The black horse whinnied and, spurred into motion, galloped towards her. The rider held out his sword, lunging out from the back of the horse into a long extension that would take her head off if she remained where she was. She ducked instinctively and Excalibur was with her, pulling back, finding a countermove. Crouched with the sword raised just above her left shoulder, she understood, and when the horse thundered by she did not hesitate: she lashed out with the blade. She thought she was aiming for its legs, but Excalibur wanted to swing upwards, towards the horse’s face.
The dark knight wheeled, and her swing cut only air; but the horse shied, breaking its stride and swinging heavily away. The hunter struggled for a moment to bring his mount around, and Viv steadied her footing, the sword finding its ready position. The black horse shook its head and snorted. Then it leapt into motion, charging her again.
Viv pivoted away from the thrashing hooves, striking out again as the horse rushed past. This time she connected, slicing a gash into horse’s flank; it gave a terrible scream, rearing up and shaking its head and forelegs in pain. The armored huntsman slid from its back, crashing into the underbrush.
The horse shrank back, its eyes rolling white in the darkness. But the knight rose up before her, his horned crest and raised sword etched clearly against the vague dimness of the foggy night. Viv held her ground. He came on her without pause or a word of speech, his long dark blade slicing cleanly toward her throat. Viv found the blocking position and gripped Excalibur with all her might as the swords clashed together. The shock of contact ripped through her wrists and forearm and the terrible screech of metal on metal rang in her ears. The horned knight pulled back, only to lunge forward again in a new attack, a pattern Viv had not practiced. Excalibur moved of its own accord, but Viv’s feet were slow to find their position, and the black sword scored her side as she knocked it away.
She yelped in pain and gave ground, staggering back down the hillside, but the knight did not follow; he sheathed his sword and turned back to his steed. He’d done what he meant to, she realized: given her a slash to match the one she’d left on the horse.
“Who are you?” she called out. But his only answer was to swing up again onto the back of his mount, moving with an agility that seemed impossible for a fully armored man. As the horse danced fearfully he raised his horn, ringing out another blast into the night, and distantly Viv heard the hounds baying in answer.
The horse bolted down the hill, crashing between the trees and away. “Wait!” Viv cried in useless protest, and ran to follow. She felt no further pain in her side, so she hoped the wound was shallow, but she could not seem to catch her breath as she ducked and wove through the maze of dark trees. She lost sight of the rider quickly, but kept running as best she could toward the noise of horse and hounds, hoping Excalibur would correct her if she became lost in the fog.
With her breath sounding loud and harsh in her ears, and what she hoped was only a stitch blooming in her side, she came on them at last in a gulch between two hills. The hunter had rejoined the pack, white dogs slinking like wisps of cloud through the trees, with a cluster of them milling together in a knot: and among the yelps and howls Viv made out something she’d heard before that night. A human whimper, high and thin. A child, crying. And with a coldness in the pit of her stomach she knew exactly what it was the pack was hunting.
“No,” she breathed, and found a burst of strength and speed to take her into the fray. The dogs slunk away from her as she rushed among them, flinching from her unsheathed blade. The child was on the ground, not bitten as far as she could see, but racked with long, thin, terrified sobs. He was a black boy of maybe eight or nine, wearing a thin t-shirt and jeans ripped in several places. Viv planted her feet over him and raised the sword. “You can’t have him, do you hear me?” she cried.
In the far shadows the horned rider spoke at last. His voice was deep as moss, rough as tree bark. “Who are you to claim Her Majesty’s prize?”
“I am the Lady of the Lake, and I say you can’t have him!”
His only answer was to spur the black horse into motion, and as they rode her down Viv realized that he must have held back when they crossed swords before. Now he was only a dark rush of motion, and she could not see his weapon to avoid it. She held the sword before her and braced her arms for impact.
But it came from an unexpected quarter, a force rushing against her side and knocking her away, so that she lost both sword and breath when she fell hard against the damp ground. As she lay there, coughing helplessly, the horse’s drumming hooves passed into her sight. She saw the dark hunter drop almost from the saddle, so he was riding slung against the horse’s side. With one arm he caught up the child from the ground. In the next motion he’d regained his seat, and pulled the child up before him, slung over the horse’s back. Viv could only struggle for breath, a heavy weight still pressing her down against the earth.
The horn rang out a final time, and the white hounds fell in behind the huntsman as he galloped on: but he had not quite left Viv’s field of vision before he vanished. The dogs ran up, following, and as they each reached the point where the horse and rider had been, they too melted away.
Viv’s own gasping breath was suddenly the loudest sound in the empty wood. She thrashed beneath the weight that held her down, but it stretched along her entire body, pinning her close. It was, she understood suddenly, a creature: its two paws were stretched beside her head, and it looked down at her with golden eyes. “Now we are even,” the big cat said with satisfaction.
“Irusan,” Viv gasped out. “Please— I have to—”
“No, your prey is gone,” the cat said crisply. Its mouth opened when it talked, but it was a man’s voice that issued out, smooth and deep. “I have ruined your hunt, just as you ruined mine. And now I have you to replace my little mouse.”
Viv screwed her eyes closed, breathed in, breathed out. Tried to think of something besides a little boy crying in fear. Into her mind floated Piper’s voice: You met Irusan? I hope you kept a civil tongue in your head.
She opened her eyes again. The huge mountain lion still lay stretched on top of her, its heavy head inches from her own. Its fetid breath washed warmly over her face. “Your majesty,” she said, as meekly as she could. “I am sorry I offended you. Can we—can we talk?”
Irusan yawned, showing her his long sharp teeth. “I have you helpless,” he said. “Why should I talk?”
“Because,” she said, her heart hammering in her throat, “I am not prey. I know you don’t serve Morgan le Fay; perhaps we have interests in common. And,” she added, “my cat would be sorry if I died.”
The cougar laughed then, a strange feeling as his body shook against hers. “Perhaps,” he said, and then the weight against her lifted as Irusan rose and stepped a few languid paces away. Viv scrambled to her feet, looking out of the corner of her eye for where the sword might have fallen. She thought she saw a glint of metal, but as she turned toward it Irusan’s tail twitched back and forth, and she snapped her attention back to where he crouched.
“I ate a poet once,” Irusan said conversationally, “because he made a satire against me. But in these years I have come to think it is better to be mocked than to be forgotten altogether. I am tired of hunting little mice who do not even know to fear me.”
“They’re beneath you,” Viv assured him. “A King like you should be hunting—I don’t know. Something much grander. Redcaps, maybe!” Irusan narrowed his eyes, and she fell silent.
He went on as if she had not interrupted. “So I have a bargain to offer you, human Lady. I will leave your people in peace if you will see to it that my name is known among them. Let the stories of me be told again.”
“You,” Viv said slowly, “you want me to do PR for you?”
The cat tilted his head, considering. “Yes,” he said, as if pleasantly surprised at her perspicacity, “that is exactly it.”
“I guess I could,” she said. “You know, we have the Internet now. I could make a website about you, and it’ll be seen by, oh, by millions of people. Well, potentially.”
“Then we are agreed,” Irusan said with satisfaction, and his tongue lapped out against his muzzle. He slunk in a tight circle, turning his tail on her, and slipped into the shadows between the trees.
“Wait, please, your Majesty,” Viv called after him. “That boy they took—I have to find him. Do you know where the hunter went?”
Irusan’s yellow eyes glinted at her out of the darkness. “Through the fairy ring. But that way is closed now, at least from this side.”
“Then how can I follow them?”
“I know,” the cat said calmly, “but I will not tell you.”
Viv clenched her fists, feeling the nails bite into her palms. “Why not?” she gritted out.
“Because I am the King of Cats, not some roadside hawker of maps. It is beneath me to offer directions.”
Viv took a deep breath. “Is there anything you can offer,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even, “that would be worthy of you?”
“Yes,” he said. The silence stretched out, and just as Viv was on the verge of an angry retort, he continued: “Prophecy is worthy of me, and here is one for you. Three times you will travel to Avalon, twice by water and once by wind: but the only way back is the Sword Bridge.”
“What does that even mean?” Viv demanded: but the golden lights of his eyes vanished, and only shadows shifted where he had been.
“Shit,” Viv spat out. If there was ever a time for swearing...
Then she went to collect Excalibur. When she had it in her hand, she walked to the spot where the dogs and rider had vanished. It was a little empty space among the trees, marked by nothing special on a cursory glance: although, as she knelt and swept a hand among the damp leaves, she found mushrooms growing in a curving line. Abruptly, a fragment of knowledge welled up in her mind: a fairy ring is a circle of mushrooms, tending to grow at spots where a great tree has died.
“Huh,” she said, swiping a thumb over the pommel of her sword. “Thanks, I guess. This clearly won’t do.” She leveraged Excalibur’s tip beneath the nearest of the mushrooms, pushing down on the pommel to dig the fungus from the earth. A tingle ran up her arms as she did so, and the hushed trees seemed to lean inward, watching. “That’s right,” Viv said grimly, working her way around the circle and hacking at the earth as she went: “I don’t want to be back here next month. We’re taking care of this now.” But nothing spoke in answer to her bravado.
When she’d finished destroying the fairy ring a light sweat prickled her skin. She was suddenly cold in the clammy night. She tucked the sword under her arm and pushed her hair back from her face. “Twice by water,” she whispered. “The water temple. How are we gonna get there?”
Looking around, she realized that she was deep in the woods and far from any path. “You got me into this,” she hissed at the sword, shaking the hilt a little. “C’mon, lead me out.” But the sword was inert, the trees silent. Viv wondered with cold fear what the fairies would do to that child, and how long she had to find him. She wanted to scream in frustration. But instead she faced a direction she hoped to be closest to the park’s edge, and started walking.