CHAPTER

10

Calib felt Galahad tense as he quickly burrowed into Galahad’s hood.

Mordred le Fay stalked forward, brandishing a sword that was the exact replica of Excalibur. Behind him, four heavily armed Saxon soldiers followed.

Calib couldn’t help remembering how fast Red was with a weapon. Last time, Galahad had only managed to survive the fight because Calib tied Red’s shoelaces together at the last minute.

That wouldn’t be possible now—not with four Saxon guards staring directly at Galahad. Calib’s only hope was to remain very, very still. Galahad would have to talk, not fight, his way out of this one.

“Red,” Galahad said. Calib hoped that Saxon ears, like other Two-Legger ears, couldn’t pick up on the rapid beat of Galahad’s heart. “I’m here to speak with Morgan le Fay.”

“Are you now?” Red said, amusement lacing his voice. “Somehow, little Du Lac, I don’t really believe you.” He snapped his fingers, and the guards with their hooked blades began to close in.

Now, Calib’s nose filled with the stink of Galahad’s fear. Come on, Calib thought at the boy. He’s just a big bully! Stand your ground!

“I know we left on, shall we say, complicated terms last time,” Galahad said. “But . . . you were right.”

Red’s eyebrows shot up at that. “I was right?” he repeated slowly.

Galahad nodded vigorously, forcing Calib to cling on to the hood with both paws. “What you said back at Camelot,” he continued. “Arthur and his knights know nothing. They only want to use me for Excalibur.”

True bitterness clung to Galahad’s words. Is that how the Two-Legger really felt?

Calib hoped he hadn’t made Galahad feel like he only wanted him around because of the magic sword. Calib also had wanted Galahad on the quest because he was kind. Because he listened. Because he never overlooked anyone, no matter how small.

“I . . .” Galahad stopped for a moment, seeming to wrestle with himself. “I need to train with people who know magic. I want to learn from the best.”

As Red narrowed his eyes, Calib sent out a wish to Merlin that the other boy would believe Galahad. The hero of Camelot had said those words so fervently that Calib would have believed Galahad himself if he didn’t know his friend so well. And he did know his friend. He was sure of it.

Red’s scowl slowly turned into a smile, and Calib wasn’t sure which one was more terrifying. Red nodded at two of the nearest guards. “Search his belongings.”

Before Galahad could say anything, one guard had yanked Excalibur from his hands while the other brusquely took his knapsack and began to rifle through it.

Calib’s stomach lurched. The mirror! Taking a deep breath, he squeaked as loud as he could.

“What the—” the guard growled, looking up from the backpack and peering at Galahad.

There was a hard pinch behind Calib’s neck as he was lifted by the scruff. A moment later, the world streaked by as he flew through the air. He landed with a soft puff of dust on the cave floor. Slightly stunned, Calib wobbled to hide behind a rock as Galahad let out a soft cry of alarm.

“What are you doing, Edgar?” Red asked.

“The boy had a mouse in his hood,” the guard said, sounding disgusted.

“Fool,” Red fumed. Calib heard the sound of approaching footsteps as Red walked in the direction Calib had gone flying. Red stopped and let out a hiss of breath. “It’s too late now. He will have already scurried away. Next time, Edgar, catch the mouse—don’t let it escape!”

“A mouse?” Galahad exclaimed, somewhat too loudly. “Disgusting! If he knew what was good for him, he would stay away.”

“That’s enough,” Red snapped, but Calib had understood the message. Sticking to the shadows, he climbed, paw over paw, to a narrow rock ledge where he could see what was happening.

Nodding at the Saxons, Red said, “I will escort our guest from here. You are dismissed.” The guards retreated into the shadows, the sound of their stomping boots echoing down various tunnels.

Red shoved Galahad’s satchel back into his arms. Then he pointed at the sconce on the cave wall, and it immediately extinguished, plunging them into darkness. Before Calib’s eyes could even attempt to adjust, an orb of blue light popped into existence. It illuminated Red’s face as he held it up. “Now follow me.”

Red turned to go farther into the cave. Galahad glanced back once before following Red. Keeping to the edges and the shadows, Calib trailed the Two-Leggers and the small patch of bobbing blue light.

Calib soon heard the sound of running water. Slowly, it grew louder until finally, Calib felt a gentle mist upon his face.

The light in Red’s hands surged forward and grew brighter, illuminating more of their surroundings. They stood on the edge of a vast underground lake whose black depths were impossible to see through. Calib’s stomach twisted. For someone who despised swimming, he somehow always seemed to find himself near water.

“Verum aqua,” Red whispered, and as he did, his hands moved in complicated gestures, as if he were playing an invisible lute.

The lake’s water became translucent, turning a bright-turquoise blue.

“Do not stray from the path,” Red said. “And remember: the pikes are always hungry.” And then he pushed Galahad. The Two-Legger hit the magicked waters, disappearing beneath the ripples.

A second later, there was another splash as Red dove after.

“Galahad!” Calib shouted. “GALAHAD!” His words echoed around the cave’s walls, but there was no one to hear him. The top of the lake remained even and unbroken.

Neither Red nor Galahad resurfaced.