Chapter Six
Aidan’s dad parked his Kia in their garage. As they got out of the car, Aidan said, “Please don’t tell Jessica.”
His dad pause, hand on the open driver’s side door. “Tell her what?”
“That I fainted.” He didn’t want her to have something else to be ashamed of him for.
His dad nodded.
After going inside, Aidan studied in his bedroom. He spent extra time on chemistry, English, and American history–those were the classes Gwendolyn was also in, although she only sat next to him in chemistry. If the teachers asked him questions and he knew the answers, maybe she would want to study with him. Maybe she would come over, and they would sit on the couch next to each other, and–
His bedroom door opened, so he turned to see his eleven-year-old sister Stephanie poking her head inside his room.
“Are you studying?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Jessica said to say you’re a geek.” She giggled.
Aidan rose from his chair. “Why couldn’t I have brothers instead?”
Her head withdrew, and he shut the door behind her, then locked it to stop her from coming back.
Eventually his dad tapped on the door and told him it was time to go to bed. Aidan placed his books in his backpack, ready for tomorrow, then got into bed.
As he drifted off to sleep, he hoped he would dream of Gwendolyn.
#
Arthur lay on a cot in a large tent. The pain in his head was excruciating, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from moaning. One of his menservants mopped at his brow with a cool, damp cloth.
A gnarled staff made of sun-bleached wood poked through the flap of the tent’s entrance. It pushed the flap aside, and then Merlin walked in.
“Told you not to fight today,” said Merlin. “Always were a stubborn boy.”
Arthur coughed. “It’s good to see you, too, old friend.”
Merlin came close, pushed aside the manservant, and dropped down on one knee. Part of his long white beard draped onto Arthur’s chest as the wizard peeled back the cloth bandage and peered at the wound on the side of Arthur’s head.
“Mordred agreed to a truce,” said Arthur. “And the everything just went wrong, somehow. There was a snake, and . . .”
“Morgan,” said Merlin. “Morgan and her magic. Not your fault.”
The old wizard’s voice was certain, even though he had not been at the battle. He always knows things, thought Arthur. He knew what would happen to me.
“Can your magic . . . ?” Arthur reached up and tapped his bandage.
Merlin shook his head.
“I thought not,” said Arthur. He sighed. “The Round Table is shattered. England will fall. All I have lived for is undone.”
“Not all,” said Merlin. “Our victory against Oberon will endure.” He smiled at Arthur.
“You succeeded?” Arthur felt a thrill of joy, despite the pain in his head. Today’s battle against Mordred had been about the fate of England–of little importance while Merlin attempted to save all mankind.
“No one thought I would leave your side on a day when the omens predicted your death,” said Merlin. “The Fey were caught off guard. The way to Oberon’s realm is sealed.”
Arthur closed his eyes, then opened them and smiled. “Today is a day of victory. Still, I grieve for England.” I am both the first King of England and the last, he thought. England dies with me.
“No,” said Merlin. He stood and raised his arms high above his head. “England shall rise from the ashes of this day–and so shall you.”
Merlin’s face began to shine with a white light that grew brighter every second. He raised his voice until it seemed to shake the ground. “One day there will be a New England, and King Arthur will live again to defend it from evil.”
The light from Merlin’s face engulfed Arthur’s vision. He closed his eyes, but the light was still there. He let out a long, slow breath.
And then he breathed no more.
#
Aidan woke up gasping for breath again.
He dragged himself into a sitting position. His heart pounded, and he was glad to feel it. He had read somewhere that if you died in a dream, you would die in real life, too.
“Guess that’s not true,” he said out loud, to reassure himself that he was alive. He reached over to his bedside table and turned on the lamp.
Standing at the foot of his bed was a man dressed in chain mail and armed with a sword.
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