Avalon's Last Knight - Jackson C. Garton Page 0,71
concrete echoing throughout the tiny room.
“Holy shit,” he exclaims. “Would you look at that? Another fuckin’ sword.”
I’m afraid to touch the sword because of what happened at Arthur’s earlier, and instead scuttle away from it, putting several feet between us. Mordy picks up the weapon and inspects the scabbard. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do with two magickal swords, or what we’re supposed to do with the scabbard.
“This is what you were lookin’ for, isn’t it?”
I nod once. “Yes. Morgana said Arthur would need it.”
Mordy’s forehead scrunches. “Morgana? You spoke to Morgana?”
I don’t say anything, stuck in my feelings, trying to figure out why the fuck I’m sitting in a mausoleum next to a decomposing corpse and another magickal sword.
“Looks like Arthur’s sword,” he says. “Might be its twin.” He holds out the sheath, inspecting the surface closely, then draws the sword from it, and I know he’s right as soon as I see the tip of the blade.
“Excalibur has a twin sword,” I say, getting to my feet. “The Galantine. According to legend, it’s a sword that rivals Arthur’s in every way.”
Mordy turns to me. “Oh yeah?” He sheaths the blade and holds it out horizontally for me to take. “Go on.”
I approach the blade with caution. “Yes.” I pause, and continue. “It was given to Sir Lancelot by the Lady of the Lake.” I take the leather case into my hands and unsheathe the sword, its power rushing into me like a heavy current. The tide of energy slams me into the wall, and I drop the blade.
I soon find that I can’t breathe, and Mordy slowly fades from my line of vision. Everything dims to black, and I can’t see. I swear to God, if I’m being summoned to the Underworld, I’m going to be pissed, because I haven’t had time to even use the Xiuhcoatl. I can’t return it just yet.
“I am surprised it’s taken you this long to find Galantine,” a soft, feminine voice calls from the darkness. “To find me.”
“Mictēcacihuātl?” I ask, still completely enshrouded by darkness. “Where are we?”
“At the bottom of a lake,” the voice responds politely and very matter-of-factly. “And I’m called Viviane, not Mictēcacihuātl.”
“You’re the one who spoke to Arthur.” The sound of rushing water surrounds me, yet I can’t see it or touch it. “You are the Lady of the Lake.”
She laughs, the sound eerily similar to that of the inside of a conch shell. “I am. Why have you waited so long to come to me? I have been waiting here for years.”
“Are you kidding me?” I reply. “How the hell could I have known? If Mordy and Morgan had never come here, I might have never known. You’re literally at the bottom of a fuckin’ lake.”
“That’s not true. Your eyes have seen all of the signs. You were born with a third eye, Lancelot.”
I can’t argue with that. Auras, spirits, numerology, the mystical and the mythical—I’ve always seen and believed in everything, not because I wanted to, or because I went seeking for it—phenomena always just made their way toward me. It had been one of the reasons why I had been asked to stop coming to church—telling a Southern Baptist preacher in front of his congregation that angels are speaking to you instead of him can be quite upsetting when he’s trying to collect the tithe.
“All right, so say you’re right. I’m here now. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I only wish to leave you with this bit of information…”
The dark space is suddenly as cold as the first day of winter. I shudder and rub my hands together. I wonder if we’re in an underground cavern or something like that. “Okay,” I say. “What is it?”
“As much as it pains me to say this, you must drive Galantine through the Merlin’s heart.”
I groan. “Yeah, murdering that man is already on my list.”
“He cannot drink from the Grail. You must destroy it as well. Only white fire can do this.”
“White fire?” I ask. “What the hell is that?”
“The white witch traveling with you, she is the one whose counsel you seek.”
“White witch? Who? Do you mean Gwen?”
“Lancelot,” she says. A dainty hand rests on my shoulder, and I strain my eyes to see the rest of her body. “You are our only hope. The necromancer has walked this earth for long enough. Destroy the cycle of rebirth, please. It is time for my husband to be stopped.”