CHAPTER

34

Calib sprinted back up the ledge to the safety of the sill, his instinct and training kicking in and overriding the other feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. It felt like something large and ugly was clawing at his chest.

“Where’s the boy?” King Mir asked when Calib appeared. “Where is he who bears Excalibur?”

“Fly,” Calib said gruffly as he clambered onto King Mir’s back. “We cannot rely on Galahad any longer. We’ve lost Excalibur and the Grail to Morgan le Fay.”

Calib tearfully recapped what had happened, including the murder of Jasper.

“Two-Leggers were always weak creatures,” King Mir called to Calib as he dipped around the mountains. “For all their size and strength, they are too easily corrupted and will turn on you in an instant.”

Calib glanced to his side, where he could see Cecily gripping on to Horatio’s neck ruff, tears silently whipping off her face as they flew. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, lost in his thoughts. Had he somehow caused his friend to turn? He thought of the Lady of the Lake and how disappointed she’d been that Calib hadn’t brought Galahad. If Galahad had gone to Avalon, the Lady could have trained him, and then maybe he wouldn’t be under Morgan’s spell—or whatever it was—now. Maybe this was all Calib’s fault.

Just like Valentina’s burned wings.

Just like the fact that Camelot’s greatest enemy now had the Grail.

His fault.

“It’s not your fault,” Mir said kindly, and Calib was startled to realize he must have spoken out loud. “Men cannot be trusted. It’s becoming clear to me that Two-Leggers aren’t going to be able to save themselves from this mess. Where to, Calib Christopher?”

Calib tried to collect his thoughts. What hope could they possibly have with Excalibur and the Grail gone? Then it struck him—the remaining treasure.

“We need to steal Merlin’s Mirror back!” He looked at King Mir.

“I have an idea of where the magical mirror might be,” Mir said. “I’ll take you to where we’ve overheard most of Morgan’s plots.”

Calib clung tightly as Mir swooped left. The bats maneuvered to the other side of the mountains, toward the pink dawn that was just starting to peek over the horizon. Calib’s eyeballs throbbed with sorrow, but he found there were no more tears left to cry. He thought about what he would have to say to Commander Kensington—that he lost their strongest Two-Legger ally to Morgan’s influence.

Horatio and King Mir delivered the mice to a tall window in a turret that faced east, back toward Camelot. They alighted on a small balcony just as the sun began to rise.

“Be very careful. Next to Merlin, she is the strongest Two-Legger I have ever encountered,” Horatio whispered.

Calib thought about Queen Guinevere defending her castle with her ladies-in-waiting at the Battle of the Bear. “I know stronger.”

Calib and Cecily squeezed inside between the alabaster-lined windows and made their way down to the landing that led to the balcony doors. Calib concentrated on sensing for any magical traps or snares, but the place was empty of the running blue marks he had come to associate with protection spells. The smell of darker, rawer magic, however, was overpowering. Inside the rounded room where they found themselves, mirrors lined every square inch from floor to ceiling.

They were in different frames and shapes—some as tall as Two-Leggers, others as small as their palms. None of them were Merlin’s Mirror, and yet they were clearly magical. Their reflections showed strange, fleeting scenes that came in and out of focus. One seemed to hover over a wooded section of the road to St. Gertrude. Another showed a cave at a beach’s mouth.

All the landscapes seemed to strain against the glasses that contained them. Calib feared that at any second, the mirrors would come crashing down.

“We need to be careful.” Cecily sniffed the air, and Calib thought for a moment that the magic must be so powerful here, even normal whiskers could detect it. “Something’s not right.”

Calib studied one of the reflections. It seemed to flip between a sandy, unfamiliar beach and a cave mouth that resembled the one they’d entered to reach Morgan’s fortress. Saxon ships poured out of the cave like marching ants. The army was on the move.

Another mirror seemed to hover near the craterous top of the Iron Mountains. Cecily’s eyes widened at something behind Calib.

“Look, there it is!” she cried out, pointing at one of the mirrors near the ground, a small oval one with a silver frame. In the reflection, Camelot stood shining and whole.

Calib placed a paw on the glass that separated them from the castle. The glass shimmered, and his paw went straight past the surface of the glass, as if it were water. Calib felt a cool tickle crawl up his paw.

“I think these are portals, like the one the Lady of the Lake created on Avalon.” Calib realized he was whispering, awed by Morgan’s powerful command of her magic.

Slowly, he reached out to Camelot. If this was truly a portal, and he could walk through right then and there, he’d be able to warn Commander Kensington in a heartbeat. All he had to do was summon the courage to take the first step.

From behind him, Cecily let out a startled squeak. Calib turned just in time to see a shadow appear at the balcony door.

Calib’s stomach lurched as Sir Percival Vole stepped forward, brandishing a sword against Cecily’s throat.

“Stay where you are,” the vole snarled, dragging Cecily to the balcony’s railing, “if you value your life.”

“Get your filthy paws off my friend!” Calib shouted, heat in his chest.

“You don’t get to make the demands here,” Percival growled. “The Christophers have been in power long enough. Bossiness must run in the family.”

“Whatever grudge you have against my family, it doesn’t involve Cecily,” Calib said. “Face me.”

“The destruction of all that your family holds dear has been my only goal.” Percival dangled Cecily over the edge of the balcony. “I don’t care who is collateral damage.”

With a flick of his wrists, Percival dropped Cecily off the ledge.

“Cecily!” Calib screamed, running toward where the mouse-maid had fallen.

The vole blocked his path with a parry aimed at his gut. Out of instinct, Calib dodged, trying to remember what he had been taught about dueling from his training. One-on-one dueling was a game of strategy, of mind over might, speed over strength. He needed to plan his moves five steps in advance.

Calib waited until Percival’s sword was just about to strike again, and then twisted to the left. He delivered a cracking blow to the side of Sir Percival’s jaw.

Sir Percival yelped, but recovered his footing fast enough to pivot direction. A flash of steel whirled by, missing Calib’s snout by millimeters.

Sir Percival tried twice more to skewer Calib. His attacks were sloppy and frantic, but they were faster than Calib would’ve expected. With each slash, Calib narrowly jumped out of the way, trying to channel Cecily’s ability to move at the last possible moment.

Behind him, he heard Cecily’s voice from the balcony, as if his thought had summoned her. Horatio must have caught her!

Relieved though he was, the distraction cost him. Percival nicked Calib on his ear and split it open. Calib muffled a yowl of pain and backed away, nearly falling into one of the mirrors. He looked through to the tundra on the other side. A heavy snowstorm swirled around a plain of ice.

It gave him an idea.

“Get back here!” Sir Percival huffed. It was clear he hadn’t gotten this much exercise in years.

“Come and get me,” Calib taunted. “The last Christopher still stands!”

The vole charged again, this time slower.

Calib dodged his sword and hopped to the side. Percival wheeled around to face him, but lost his balance, and Calib delivered a sweeping kick to one of Sir Percival’s knees. The knight lost his balance and toppled into the surface of the magic mirror.

“No!” Percival shrieked as he let go of his sword. It fell out of his paws and skittered across the floor, catching the light as it did so. It was Lightbringer! Calib thought he had lost it forever.

Calib ran for the sword and grabbed it. Turning around, he saw that Percival was hanging on to the edge of the frame with just the tips of his paws.

“My vengeance . . .” he began through clenched teeth. Now he hung on to the ledge by only one paw.

“Will not keep you warm,” Calib finished.

Sir Percival slipped and disappeared into the blizzard.