water that seemed to absorb her ghostly form. “Beware of those who call themselves friends,” she said as she sank lower, “for ambitious usurpers will bide their time with smiles and bows while they await their chance to take your throne.” She disappeared, and the swirling mist settled to complete stillness.
Arthur marched toward the swamp, waving his arm. “Edward,” he called, “come with me. The rest of you move to the front lines, and I will join you there as soon as possible.”
Edward pointed at himself, mouthing his own name.
Newman kicked his ankle. “You’re the only Edward around here! Get your carcass down and follow the king!”
Thigocia lowered her neck, and Edward climbed down as he had been taught, stepping across the first three spines, then jumping the rest of the way. He looked back at the dragon and nodded respectfully. “I think you’d better go with the others. The king made no exceptions.”
“Very well,” Thigocia replied, dipping her head.
Makaidos stretched out his wings. “Leave a horse tied for each of them, and we will be on our way.”
Edward hustled to join the king and marched side by side with him, trying to catch his breath. “I apologize . . . Your Majesty. I didn’t . . . consider myself worthy to ”
“Exactly why I called you,” the king said, clapping Edward’s shoulder. “When the lake spirit said to beware of my counselors, the truth of her words resonated in my heart. I have long believed that someone is plotting to wrestle away my throne, so I need to take action to prevent it.”
“Will you trust this spirit, Sire? The dragons warned that she is dangerous.”
“Dangerous to them, perhaps.” He stopped and looked back at the dragons as they circled low over the departing ground troops. Sirs Devin and Barlow led the way down a path toward Weary Hill.
Arthur lowered his voice. “Dragons cannot always distinguish the target of danger, and Thigocia declared that the sword appears to be holy.”
Edward eyed the leading knight, clad in dark mail and marching quickly. “Do you believe Sir Devin? Are all dragons possessed by evil spirits?”
The king continued toward the edge of the swamp, slower now as the mists surrounded them. “I don’t know whom to believe, so I brought you here to ask your help. I will make a formal pronouncement later, but you are now a knight. I want you to befriend both Sir Devin and the dragons. Get them to trust you. Learn their secret counsels, and report your findings to me.”
Edward tried to keep a proud smile from bursting forth as he walked beside the king, but he couldn’t calm his breathless voice. “And what of Merlin? He is your closest advisor.”
“Merlin would never turn from me, but he would also never act as a spy. He trusts Makaidos without question, so you must make sure you hide your efforts from him.”
“I will be sure to avoid him.” Edward shook his head. “I have never understood his loyalty to those creatures.”
With the mists now completely enveloping them, Arthur stopped again and laid a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Your distrust of dragons is warranted, but you will do well to keep your mind from prejudice. I just want the truth.”
Edward glanced at the gloved hand, his smile now breaking through. “Yes, Sire. I understand.”
Both men turned toward the water’s edge and closed in on the lady’s gift. The sword stood on its point, about a third of its length driven into the moss-speckled loam. Edward knelt close to it and examined its hilt and blade. “It’s magnificent! The workmanship of a master craftsman!”
Arthur grasped the hilt. “At least this one isn’t in stone.” He pulled, withdrawing the blade easily. “It seems that the Lady of the Lake had no scabbard for me,” he said, holding the blade high.
“Or instructions, Sire.”
“Indeed. The lady’s mention of secret fire reminds me of a legend I heard as a child. Such a weapon could mean the difference between victory and defeat in the coming battle.” The king turned the hilt around in his hand. “But I have no idea how to use it.”
“May I suggest inquiring of Master Merlin? I can fly to the castle with Thigocia and bring him back.”
“No need. He will be on the front lines by now, exhorting the troops. We’ll meet him there, but we’d better hurry. He won’t wait to command the march if he believes God has given the word.” Arthur slid Excalibur into his old scabbard.