looked at the smooth clay golems and wondered where in the world they could manage to hide something as large as a sword.
“I demand to know which one of you has Excalibur!”
After a long petrified silence, one golem pushed forward from the back. He seemed taller than the others, exuding power. It was Art, the leader of the golems’ crusade. “And I demand justice for all golems!” he said. “We will serve, but not suffer.”
The wizard king seemed shocked and intimidated. “You demand nothing! Where is my sword?”
“The sword belongs to the rightful king,” Art said.
“Or it belongs in my treasure hoard,” the dragon piped up, “until I lost it in a poker game.”
“Lost it fair and square,” chirped Noxius.
“I am the king of the Real Renaissance Faire. I, Mortimer Dred, must draw the sword from the stone as was foretold in the legend.”
Without flinching, Art placed a gray fist against his soft clay chest. “What if the sword is inside the stone already?”
I suddenly figured out the only place a golem could hide something as large as a sword, and I knew that Mort Dred understood it as well. “He was looking for the sword!” I said to McGoo, who clearly hadn’t yet received the same revelation. Now the murders all made sense. “Excalibur! Art has it.”
Like a flasher about to tear open his trench coat, Art plunged his clay fingers down the soft clay of his chest as if pulling a zipper, then he stretched his clay torso apart, opening himself up to expose a golden hilt and the polished steel of a sword blade that ran all the way down inside his back. Excalibur! The legendary blade hidden inside the soft stone body.
“I have Excalibur,” Art declared. “I am Excalibur! The sword is in the stone.”
The Cavewight cackled. “It fit perfectly. I thought it was clever.” He held up his splayed hands and waggled his long fingers. “Sealed it right in there for safekeeping.”
“It’s mine!” Mort lunged forward to grab the golden hilt that protruded from Art’s open chest. “Mine!” He pulled at the sword, struggling to draw Excalibur out of the golem’s body.
The other golems shifted angrily, getting riled up. The Renaissance fair employees watched, and even the dragon Alice peered down as Mort yanked, tugged, dug his feet in the ground and pulled, but Art held the sword inside him. Mort strained to wrench the legendary blade free, but it wouldn’t budge.
Finally, red-faced, weak-kneed, and exhausted, he staggered back. His golden crown hung askew on his head.
With perfect timing, Sheyenne appeared in front of him, holding a piece of paper. “You engaged our services to locate the sword Excalibur, Mr. Dred. There it is! Our work is now complete, and here’s our invoice. Payment is due upon receipt.”
Mort flew into a rage. His curly, golden hair crackled, and his crown popped off his head like a champagne cork as his body filled with sorcerous energy. “I am King Mort Dred, and I am also a great wizard. I call upon the powers of dark magic to give me the sword that is my due. I need Excalibur!” He raised his hands, and lightning crackled from his fingertips. Angry black thunderheads gathered. The ground began to shake.
Art stood fearless with Excalibur still protruding from his open chest. He wrapped a clay hand around its hilt. “I do not have a heart of clay. I have the heart of a lion! I should be king.”
“I will destroy all of you,” Mort screamed, and thunder cracked around him for emphasis. “I will shatter every single golem and take the sword from the rubble of your bodies.” He lurched back to summon a huge blast of terrible energy.
Knowing what I had to do, I didn’t hesitate. I shambled forward, raised my voice. “You look extremely powerful, King Dred. I bet a hundred dollars that no one can stop you.”
Mort let out a maniacal laugh. “Of course not—”
Then a huge reptilian foot stomped down on his head, a dragon’s claw that smashed with all the weight of an enormous monster. The blow crushed the