A Crystal of Time. Soman Chainani
woke with a start, sopped in sweat despite the snow. Raising her head, she saw the storm had passed, the castle ahead now clear in morning sun.
In front of it, two iron gates swung open and shut against the rocks, the entrance to this white fortress that towered over a calm, gray lake.
Agatha’s heart jumped.
Not Camelot.
Avalon.
Something inside her had steered her here.
To the one person who could give her answers.
Something inside her had a plan all along.
“HELLO?” AGATHA CALLED out to the still waters.
Nothing happened.
“Lady of the Lake?” she tried again.
Not even a ripple.
Edginess fluttered in her chest. Once upon a time, the Lady of the Lake had been Good’s greatest ally. That’s why Agatha’s soul had brought her here. To get help.
But Chaddick had come to the Lady of the Lake for help too.
He’d ended up dead.
Agatha looked up at the zigzagging staircase that ascended towards the circle of white towers. The last time she’d come to these shores, she’d been with Sophie, searching for Chaddick’s body. Dark dregs of blood still stained the snow where they’d found Tedros’ murdered knight, clutching a taunting message from the Snake.
Agatha had never seen the Snake’s face. But the Lady of the Lake had seen it when she’d kissed him.
A kiss that had leeched the Lady’s powers and betrayed King Tedros.
A kiss that had helped the Snake put a traitor on Tedros’ throne.
Because that’s what Rhian was. A filthy traitor, who’d pretended to be Tedros’ knight when he was in league with the Snake the whole time.
Agatha turned back to the water. The Lady of the Lake had protected that Snake. And not just protected him: she’d fallen in love with him and lost her powers because of it. She’d thrown away a lifetime of duty. A sick feeling slid up Agatha’s spine. The Lady of the Lake should have been immune to Evil’s charms. But instead, she could no longer be trusted.
Agatha swallowed hard.
I shouldn’t be here, she thought.
And yet . . . there was no one else to turn to. She had to take a chance.
“It’s me, Agatha!” she bellowed. “Merlin’s friend. He needs your help!”
Her voice echoed across the shore.
Then the lake shuddered.
Agatha leaned forward. She saw nothing except her own reflection in the silvery surface.
But then her face in the water began to change.
Little by little, Agatha’s reflection morphed into a shriveled old hag’s, with knots of white hair clinging to a bald head and spotted skin sagging off cheekbones. The hag loomed beneath the lake like a troll under a bridge, glaring up at Agatha with cold eyes. Her voice carried through the water, low and distorted—
“We made a deal. I answered Merlin’s question,” the Lady of the Lake seethed. “I let him ask me one thing—one thing—and in return, he would never come again. So now he tries to weasel out of our deal by sending you? Go. You’re not welcome here.”
“He didn’t send me!” Agatha fought. “Merlin’s a prisoner! There’s a new king of Camelot named Rhian—he’s trapped Tedros, Merlin, Professor Dovey, and all our friends in the dungeons. And Merlin’s been hurt! He’ll die if I don’t save him! Tedros will too! Arthur’s son. The true king.”
There was no alarm or horror or even sympathy in the Lady’s face. There was . . . nothing.
“Didn’t you hear me? You have to help them!” Agatha begged. “You swore to protect the King—”
“And I did protect him,” the Lady retorted. “I told you when you came here last. The green-masked boy had the blood of Arthur in his veins. And not just the blood of Arthur’s son. The blood of Arthur’s eldest son. I could smell it when I had my powers. I know the blood of the One True King.” She paused, her face clouding. “He had powers too, this boy. Strong powers. He sensed my secret: that I’ve grown lonely here, protecting the kingdom, protecting Good, in this cold, watery grave . . . alone . . . always alone. He knew that I would trade my magic for love if only someone gave me the chance. And he was offering me that chance. A chance Arthur never gave me. For a single kiss, the boy promised I could be free of this life . . . I could go with him to Camelot. I could have love. I could have someone to call my own, just like you. . . .” She glanced away from Agatha, hunching deeper. “I didn’t know that giving up my powers would mean this. That I’d end an old crone, more alone than before. I didn’t know his promise meant nothing.” Her eyes sealed over. “But that is his right, of course. He is the king. And I serve the king.”
“Except the king isn’t the boy you kissed! Rhian is king! The boy they’re calling the Lion,” Agatha insisted. “That wasn’t the boy who came here! The boy you kissed was the Snake. He kissed you to strip your magic and rob Good of your power. He kissed you to help the Lion become king. Don’t you see? He tricked you! And now I need to know who that Snake is. Because if you can be tricked, so can Excalibur! And if Excalibur was tricked, then that’s how an Evil villain ended up on Tedros’ throne—”
The Lady of the Lake lurched towards Agatha, her decayed face just beneath the surface. “No one tricked me. The boy I kissed had Arthur’s blood. The boy I kissed was the king. So if it was the ‘Snake’ I kissed, as you call him, then it is the Snake who rightly pulled Excalibur from the stone and now sits on the throne.”
“But the Snake didn’t pull Excalibur! That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Agatha hounded. “Rhian did! And I saw the Snake there! They’re working together to con the people of the Woods. That’s how they duped you and the sword—”
The Lady tore through the water. “I smelled his blood. I smelled a king,” her voice resounded like thunder. “And even if I can be ‘duped,’ as you so boldly claim, Excalibur cannot. No one can outwit Good’s most powerful weapon. Whoever pulled Excalibur from the stone is Arthur’s blood heir. It was the same boy I protected. He is the rightful king . . . not the one you and Merlin defend.”
She began to sink into the water.
“You can’t go,” Agatha gasped. “You can’t let them die.”
The Lady of the Lake paused, her skull shining underwater like a pearl. This time, when she looked up, the ice in her eyes had thawed. All Agatha saw was sadness.
“Whatever trouble Merlin and your friends have gotten into is their own doing. Their fates are in the hands of the Storian now,” the Lady said softly. “I buried that boy Chaddick as you asked. I helped Merlin like he wanted. I have nothing left. So please . . . just go. I can’t help you.”
“Yes, you can,” Agatha pleaded. “You’re the only one who’s seen the Snake’s face. You’re the only one who knows who he is. If you show me what the Snake looks like, I can find out where he and Rhian come from. I can prove to the people that they’re liars! I can prove that Tedros belongs on the throne—”
“What’s done is done,” said the Lady of the Lake. “My loyalty is to the king.”
She sank deeper—
“Would the true king hurt Merlin?” Agatha cried out. “Would Arthur’s heir break his promise to you and leave you like this? You say Excalibur makes no mistakes, but you made Excalibur and you made a mistake.