Excalibur shot a beam of bright light from its blade, and all the soldiers shielded their eyes.

“He’s got the sword!” one of them exclaimed.

Oberon squinted and peered at Arthur.

“He took it himself!” another soldier said.

Oberon looked cautious. He kept his antlered head ducked near his chest and breathed heavily.

“Stay away!” I barked a soft spell of shock that knocked them back but didn’t hurt them. The sprite was gone, and that was good for us, but now Oberon could use his magic without being bothered. I didn’t know if a duel would go well for us.

Oberon took his eyes off the sword and shook his head. “Attack,” he said, looking back at his soldiers. “Go on—take the sword from him.” He spoke with force, but he made no move for us.

I remembered Nivian calling it the sword of power. I didn’t know what power it had, but I could tell that Oberon was afraid of it.

He reached out his hands to Arthur and cried, “Go!”

Arthur breathed heavily and looked to me; he had no idea what to do.

“It’s powerful,” I whispered. “Show them!”

Arthur nodded but held the sword stiffly. Show them the power, I thought, and the sword began to swing in Arthur’s hands. Yes, like that!

“It’s magic!” Morgana said, with a mix of fear and glee.

“Morgana, daughter…” Oberon turned to her. His face was twisted and pained; the sword was having some effect on him. “I am your lord. Fight the boy and take the sword.”

“You lied to me,” Morgana said. “You made me hurt Nosewise and Merlin!”

Oberon blinked. “Fight them!” he commanded his soldiers. “Quickly.”

Two soldiers ran out, thrusting their swords at Arthur. Morgana and I readied spells to force them back, but before we could, Excalibur swung in Arthur’s hand and knocked their weapons to the ground. Arthur closed his eyes and flinched, but still the sword moved expertly.

“The boy pulled the sword!” shouted a man in the pack. “That makes him king.”

The other soldiers traded looks and nodded. They were awed by the blade’s light. One by one, soldiers dropped to their knees. They laid their weapons on the ground and shielded their eyes.

For generations, humans had bowed to whoever held Excalibur. That was why Oberon wanted it so badly.

Oberon looked at them, and I’d never seen him so unsure. He pressed his hands together and closed his eyes like he was readying a spell. Then he grunted and thrust his fists—but nothing happened.

Behind me I heard soft laughter.

Merlin leaned against the unsworded statue and chuckled.

“Feeling Uncertain?” he said quietly.

Oberon raged and smashed his palms together. He charged at Arthur full tilt. He was seven feet tall, not including the antlers, and broad-shouldered. Arthur yelped and held up the sword.

Oberon pounced and grabbed the blade with his bare hands.

Excalibur sparked and flamed. Oberon screamed and staggered back. His hands were alight with fire. He dropped to his knee and pressed his hands against the stone.

“No touching!” Merlin chuckled, still in a daze.

Arthur held the blade at arm’s length, frightened of it.

“Just go away,” I said, and Oberon looked up at me. “My boy holds Excalibur.” Arthur shook the magic sword. “My girl is a great wizard.” I glanced at Morgana and she lowered her staff.

Oberon stared at me, seething. His eyes burned with unending hate.

“And I won’t let you hurt my friends.”

“You are nothing; you are no one,” Oberon said, rising again to his full height. “Mine is the head the crown will go on.” He sneered and grabbed a soldier’s battle-ax off the ground. “Swords and magic cannot kill me. My desire is what will be. I will always be your dread, for I will hunt you till you’re dead!”

Oberon hissed and bared his terrible teeth. Morgana sent a spell of shock that knocked him back. He rose again and charged. I cast flames, and he turned and pressed his face into his shoulder. Then he locked eyes with me. It wasn’t working. We weren’t strong enough.

Crack!

Oberon stopped short. His rage melted into fear. The soldiers behind him went wide-eyed.

Behind me, Nivian’s statue was breaking apart.

Fractures spread from the stone’s hands to its elbows. Cracks broke above the eyes, and the smooth, polished lips flaked off. From every break flowed a stream of sweet-smelling water. The moisture darkened the rock and ran down the surface in torrents.

Arthur gasped and stepped away. Merlin slipped.

Foamy bubbles churned at the statue’s feet, and the face plate dropped off. Through the rushing waters I spotted flesh.

“Nivian,” Merlin gasped.

Broken chunks of polished rock swept by our feet in the flooding current, and I looked up to see the Lady standing there.

She stepped out of what was left of the stone and strode toward Oberon.

“Little brother!” she cried, her voice echoing against the trees. “Do you come to desecrate my home?”

Oberon opened his burned hand and dropped the ax against the rock. “Nivian, no…I—”

“You come to steal what’s mine?” she raged, light streaming from her eyes and cold water from her hands. Gushing rivers flowed from her palms, washing swords and rocks over the sides of the altar.

“A goddess!” one soldier cried.

“A Fae!” called another. “I’m not dying for this!”

Every fighting man who hadn’t already been swept by the current charged down the steps, slipping and falling. They shouted and ran into the woods.

“Sister!” Oberon called. “We work toward joint ends!”

“You bring twisted creations here to eat my magic!” the Lady screamed. “Force my pupil to break my enchantment. And threaten children, Oberon! How have you fallen so low?”

“I do not threaten.” He dropped to his knees and held his hands to us. “These are my friends.”

“Come here,” Merlin called to us, the cold water reviving his senses. Morgana, Arthur, and I struggled in the violent stream. The torrent flowed toward the edge of the altar and threatened to wash us over the stairs. The Lady was caught in a rage and ignored us. We trudged through the waves. Morgana made it to Merlin first and then held out a hand to Arthur; he grabbed her wrist and pulled himself to the ruined base of the statue. I jumped over the swelling waters and landed in Merlin’s arms.

“My enchantment is broken, but not by you!” Nivian boomed over the current. “By the worthy soul.”

“Sister, please,” Oberon pleaded. “I did what I thought was best!”

“Your heart was fueled by fire,” Nivian replied. “And the only cure I know is ice.”

“No!” Oberon shouted, and turned to run.

But the water beneath his feet froze into a solid block. He tried to pull away from the magical bonds, but ice crept up his legs, into his hips and belly, and above his chest. It finally froze his face into a mask of fear.

The Lady clasped her hands, and the water stopped.