Simon Green - A Hard Day's Knight

“There,” I said to Stark. “That’s Sinister Albion and its King. You still want to give him Excalibur?”

He stood up abruptly, his armour making loud protesting noises. “You don’t understand. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except getting my Julianne back.”

“Even after what she said?”

“She will forgive me. She always did.”

I turned my attention to Artur. “Sorry, Your Kingship, but this is now officially over. We can’t let you take Excalibur. Apart from anything else, we’re going to need it to defend us from the elves when they come. And besides, you give me the creeps. I’ll see you get safely home, but after that you’re on your own. And don’t argue, or I’ll have Suzie send you there in a series of small boxes.”

“You should come with me,” said Artur. “You’d fit in really well at Court.”

“Now you’re just being nasty,” I said. I looked at Stark, standing tall and somehow still tragically noble in his armour. “Give me the sword. The world needs it.”

“Let all the worlds die,” said Stark. “What do I care for the world if my love is not in it?”

“Bloody knights,” said Suzie, unexpectedly. “Always said there was something a bit off about all that celibacy and putting their women on pedestals. I always thought it was so they could look up their skirts on the sly. None of you ever know what to do with a real live woman. Stop worshipping her memory and let her go. This is all self-indulgence on your part.”

“You know nothing of love!” shouted Stark. Excalibur was in his hand. It appeared suddenly, the tip of the long blade only inches from my throat. But the golden sword hardly glowed at all, only a pale golden gleam, far short of what it had been. It could have been any magic sword, and a badly fashioned one at that. Faint wisps of steam curled up from inside Stark’s mailed glove, where Excalibur burned his unworthy flesh, even through the metal. Stark grimaced, but his cold gaze never left me.

Suzie was shouting at him, yelling at Stark to get that sword out of my face or she’d blow his head off; but he wasn’t listening. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t shoot while I was in danger, but it was clear Stark’s attention was elsewhere. For all his knightly experience, Stark was holding the blade like an amateur. Because Excalibur wasn’t helping him, as it had helped me. It was fighting him for control, and Stark was losing. It was all he could do to hang on to the sword as it fought and burned him.

And while Stark stood there, fighting a battle inside his head, I stepped quickly to one side, and Suzie lunged forward and slammed the butt of her shotgun into the metal cup protecting Stark’s groin. The metal actually clanged as it dented, and the sound the cup made as it collapsed in on itself made both Artur and me wince. The force of the blow bent Stark suddenly forward, all the breath forced out of his lungs, and tears actually flew from his eyes before the lids squeezed tightly shut. He sank to his knees amidst a clatter of armour, and I neatly snatched Excalibur from his numbed fingers. The long, golden blade blazed up immediately, its supernaturally bright light filling the room, and once again I could feel the weight of the invisible scabbard on my back and the presence of Excalibur in my thoughts again.

King Artur snatched up his sword from the bed, and hit Suzie in the side of the head with his armoured elbow while she still had all her attention focused on Stark. She sat down suddenly on the floor, still clinging grimly to her shotgun; but her head hung down, and her eyes weren’t tracking. I yelled something foul at Artur, and he turned smoothly to face me, sword at the ready. There was nothing magic or special about his blade; it was a big ugly pigsticker, but he clearly knew how to use it. His every move was polished and professional. He feinted once, then swung the sword in a vicious arc that would have taken my head right off if it had connected; but Excalibur leapt up to block it. And the heavy dark blade shattered into a hundred pieces on contact, and Artur was left standing there with only a hilt in his hand. I pressed the tip of Excalibur against his breast-plate, and the dark pieces actually squirmed back out of its way, hissing and squealing. Artur looked down at the golden point pressed against his suddenly bare chest and opened his hand, letting the hilt fall to the floor. He smiled at me cheerfully and sank down on one knee.

“I offer my surrender. I know when I’m beaten.”

“Stay down there,” growled Suzie. “It suits you.”

She forced herself up onto her feet again. A massive bruise was already forming on one side of her face. And while I was looking at her, Stark surged up onto his feet and threw himself forward, moving almost impossibly quickly for a man in full armour. He tried to grab Excalibur from my hand, but even caught off-balance, I still held on to it. The sheer weight of the man in his armour was enough to push me back, and I struggled to hang on to the sword. And while Stark pressed me back, his harshly breathing face thrust into mine, Artur rose up on what he thought was my blind side and stabbed at me with a concealed dagger.

Suzie gave him both barrels in the face. Artur’s head simply disappeared in a red flurry of blood and flesh, bits of splintered bone and grey matter painting the wall behind him. His body sank slowly to the floor, held upright only by his armour, blood jetting from the neck stump. Stark let go of Excalibur and moved quickly to put me between him and Suzie. She grinned nastily as she pumped fresh shells into the chambers.

“Plebs one, aristocracy nil. That’s history for you. Still, Merlin isn’t going to be pleased I’ve killed his nasty little King, is he?”

“Almost certainly not,” I said.

“Good,” said Suzie.

She moved round to get a clear shot at Stark, but he surprised her by holding his ground. His hand fell to the heart at his belt, and Julianne appeared again. Stark yelled at her to embrace Suzie. The ghost looked at Suzie with sad eyes and advanced on her. Suzie gave her both barrels, but even the best blessed and cursed ammunition has no effect on a ghost. The bullets blasted right through Julianne, barely missing Stark and me behind her. The ghost embraced Suzie, who cried out in shock. I lifted Excalibur, to cut at the ghost, and Stark threw himself right through her immaterial form and caught me off-balance again. He hit me in the right biceps with a mailed fist, and my fingers, numbed along with my arm, sprang open, releasing Excalibur. Stark snatched it away from me, and I felt the invisible scabbard leave my back again.

Julianne disappeared the moment Stark took his hand off her heart. Suzie said something really foul and shook herself hard, trying to throw off the supernatural shock. Julianne wasn’t just any ghost. Whatever Stark had done to her to keep her with him had made her more terrible than any ghost had a right to be. It was as though she wore Death itself round her, like a shroud.

Stark was already out the door, Excalibur in his hand. I could hear his metal boots slamming down the corridor. I lurched after him, my arm hanging limp at my side, but by the time I was out the door, he was already in the lift. I watched the doors close on his cold face and went back into the room. Neither Suzie nor I was in any condition to chase after him.

She was sitting on the unmade bed, cradling her shotgun to her like a doll. Her eyes were clear, but her face was deathly pale. I sat down beside her, biting my lip against the pins and needles of returning circulation in my arm. On the floor, Artur’s headless body was no longer wearing armour. Instead, a large pile of dark scales stood quietly to one side, barely moving. Suzie glared at me.