فصل 11

11

AGATHA

Stay with the Group

It’s hard not to think of your true love when you’re wearing his clothes.

But if Agatha thought about Tedros, she also had to think of a Snake who wanted to take him down . . . a Snake who didn’t yet have a name. . . .

She could hear the crew crunching through snow—Sophie, Hort, Nicola, Bogden, Willam, the three witches—each armed with a weapon and following her dutifully even though Agatha didn’t have a clue where she was going.

She’d been to Avalon Island before, but that was months ago, when Merlin was guiding them, the only person besides the King of Camelot to whom the Lady of the Lake’s castle would open. But now Agatha had no Merlin to open those castle gates nor the slightest idea how to even find the castle, since last time she’d been so busy fretting about Tedros dumping her for Sophie that she hadn’t noticed the route.

Not that there was a route to find anymore. Powdery snow matted the desolate shrubland and was still falling fast. There was no sun to guide them either, its afternoon light trapped behind a wall of gray. Shivering in her bandana, Agatha shoved her chapped hands deeper in Tedros’ brown leather jacket, which she’d worn over his cut-off breeches. Stupid me, she thought. She’d packed for summer even though her teacher Yuba had told them in Forest Groups that it was always winter in Avalon.

Agatha plodded ahead gloomily. First she’d almost drowned her crew and now she was freezing them to death. Her quest was off to a rousing start.

A whiff of Tedros’ minty scent came off her shirt.

“This isn’t your quest. It’s mine,” his voice echoed.

Maybe he’d been right. He was the one whose best friend was dead. He was the Lion in the Storian’s tale.

So why am I here without him? Agatha thought.

Because he’d insisted that a king couldn’t abandon his people. But that wasn’t the whole truth, of course. The truth was that she wanted him to stay behind. She wanted to keep him out of danger.

Little had she known that a Snake might be coming for him.

Agatha gritted her teeth. No matter what—or who—was ahead, she’d save her prince.

This isn’t right, said a voice inside her. No one can save Tedros but himself.

Agatha rolled her eyes. Didn’t princes save princesses all the time?

This isn’t about boys and girls, the voice said. This is about destiny. This is about the truth. You’re only making his problems worse— Agatha squashed the voice down.

She glanced over her shoulder at the Igraine, peeking behind the cliff rock where they’d anchored a couple miles off. Instinct told her she was going the right way. She plowed forward, snow coating her lashes, a dagger strapped to her back.

Sophie accosted her in a voluminous white fur coat. “At first I was thinking a ‘Nanook of the North’ theme for your wedding, with faux tundra, penguin caterers, and Teddy in an ice-blue leotard. Now not so much.” Agatha didn’t smile.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Sophie sighed.

“Not because of whatever you read in the Royal Rot.”

“You’re worried about him because you love him, Aggie. Just like I worry about you.” Agatha looked at her.

“Don’t be so shocked, darling. I know I’m wicked and petty and call Teddy a boob to anyone who will listen, but he loves you as much as you love him and you two will get married on October 14th come hell or high water,” said Sophie. “When Dovey first enlisted me for this quest, I tossed it off, thinking it had nothing to do with me. But I’m starting to see why it is my quest. Because I won’t let any ‘Snake’ get in the way of my best friend’s Ever After, especially after I played that role myself for far too long. And if it means risking my life to get you and Teddy to that altar safe and sound . . . well, even the villain can play the hero sometimes.” Agatha’s eyes grew wide. “Did you really turn the Doom Room into a dance club on Saturday nights?” “Complete with lava pit and monthly foam parties,” said Sophie. “Why?” “Just making sure you’re the same girl,” Agatha said.

“Well, if you go on ignoring my letters, I’ll buy every last dungbomb in the Endless Woods and stymph-raid your castle.” “Definitely the same girl.”

Sophie brushed snow off Agatha’s face. “You know, if the Storian is referencing that fairy tale, it means the Snake wants Teddy’s crown. So why doesn’t he just storm Camelot and kill him? Why go after other kingdoms? Why go after our friends? Only that got me thinking . . . The Snake can’t storm Camelot and kill Tedros. Killing Teddy won’t make him king. It would lead to war with the whole Woods. So he must have some other plan.” “But what other plan could he have?” said Agatha. “Tedros is Arthur’s blood and the only rightful king by royal law. No matter what he does, nothing will ever change that.” They pondered this silently, listening to Agatha’s teeth chatter.

“Do you want to huddle under my coat?” Sophie asked. “We’ll look like conjoined twins, but we can’t have you dying. You’re the only one who knows where we’re going.” “Um, right,” Agatha said as Sophie draped white fur over her. “Listen, I thought I knew the route, but—” Dot shoved in under the fur. “Oooh, toasty,” she gushed, hogging the coat. “Hester and Anadil have ice in their veins, but I’ve had enough, thank you. Tried eating chocolate snow but that just made me colder. How far are we from the gates? We aren’t going to be there by the time Dovey checks in!” “I don’t understand why Dovey can’t see us in her crystal ball whenever she wants,” said Sophie, snatching back the fur.

“Because her ball is broken,” grunted Anadil, shoving under the coat.

Everyone looked at her.

“I have limits to bodily pain. Not like Hester,” Anadil soured, her frozen rats nuzzling the fur. “That girl took a knife in the stomach from Aric and didn’t cry.” “Aric. What a creep,” Dot shuddered.

“But why is Dovey using a broken ball?” Sophie pressed.

“When we interviewed a fairy godmother in Foxwood for School Master, she said that to make a crystal ball, a seer has to take a piece of a fairy godmother’s soul and meld it with a piece of their own,” Anadil explained. “That means every fairy godmother can only use the crystal ball made for her. Dovey told us hers was broken for years, but apparently Merlin helped her fix it.” “Useless pots, broken balls, and wasn’t her wand a bit musty too?” said Dot. “Maybe Pollux was right to petition for a new Dean.” “I have 100% confidence in Dovey as Dean,” Agatha refuted. “Besides, this is our quest. It’s not like she can save us through a crystal ball.” “She could at least tell us if we’re going the right way,” Anadil said, giving Agatha a dubious look.

“Well, snowstorm or not, those lovebirds are doing just fine,” Dot chimed.

Sophie leered back at Hort, deep in conversation with Nicola. “If that’s love, then I’m a pink leopard. She’s a first year who hasn’t had her fingerglow unlocked, thinks she knows everything because she’s read a few books, and wants to spend her life making casseroles at a pub. And she’s wearing sheepskin booties. They’re not even shoes.” Agatha frowned. “What happened to not being a snake?” “With you, darling. With everyone else, I’m still me,” Sophie breezed.

“In any case, they aren’t the lovebirds I was talking about,” said Dot.

The girls followed her eyes to Bogden and Willam, far behind. Bogden was short and dark; Willam, tall and fair. They weren’t conversing. They weren’t even looking at each other.

“Such a joker, Dot,” Anadil snorted.

Dot just whistled merrily.

“All right, enough’s enough,” Hester snarled, shoving under the coat too, lips blue and cheeks frozen, glaring daggers at Agatha. “The Storian is writing our fairy tale, our lives are on the line, and instead of winning that tale, we’re lost in a blizzard—” “TOURS! AVALON TOURS! RIGHT HERE!”

For a moment, the girls blinked dumbly, each thinking they’d imagined the voice they’d just heard.

“DISCOVER AVALON AND ITS SECRETS! BEST TOURS IN TOWN!” Sophie pulled the coat off them and the girls squinted through snow at a tiny hut fifty yards ahead with a dome of dead palm fronds over a lumpy white table. As they approached, they read the sign: AJUBAJU TOURS

Now serving over 50 Kingdoms,

from Avalon to Zagazig!

Maps: 1 silver piece

Guided Tours by Ajubaju: 3 silver pieces

• No weapons Allowed on Tours

Ajubaju, it turned out, was a blubbery balding beaver, sweating like a spigot even though it was below freezing.

“Cold? Lost? Confused? Then you have come to right place! I am Ajubaju, otherwise known as 1 best top tour guide in all the Woods!” he tooted in a clipped voice. “Many famous people love Ajubaju: Aladdin, Robin Hood, Peter Pan. . . . See my reviews!” He grabbed a scroll from his stand littered with newspapers, held it open for a half-second, teeming with unreadable script, then stashed it, scattering newspapers to the snow. Agatha glimpsed a few headlines: MORE TROLL ATTACKS IN FOXWOOD

Council Appeals to Camelot for Help

BLOODBROOK KING KIDNAPPED

Nevers Petition Camelot for Good–Evil Alliance

TERROR IN NUPUR LALA!

Locals Demand King Tedros Intervene!

The beaver kicked these under his hut. “Ajubaju knows all about Avalon! Do you know you are near home of Lady of the Lake? Do you know she is maker of Excalibur? Do you know she hides King Arthur’s body in her lake and not only that, she is most pretty lady in the Woods? I wish my wife look like her but my wife look like me.” Hester nudged Agatha. “It’s like Dot turned into a beaver.” Dot spun to her: “You know what you’ve turned into? One of those tiny yapping dogs who thinks it’s scary when all the other dogs think it’s pathetic.” Hester gasped.

“. . . Ajubaju can offer you hand-drawn map with gold leaf and ink of hummingbird that shows best parts of Avalon and is exclusive souvenir for you and your family!” the beaver gibbered. “But may I recommend for such beautiful ladies and gentlemen the full five-star guided tour experience, complete with buffet lunch and 50% off your next booking, rules and restrictions apply. Guided tours are available at 11:00 a.m., 1:00 p.m., 3:00 p.m., 5:00 p.m., and oh, lucky for you—” He glanced up at the sky unconvincingly. “It is one of those times. Mmm, if there’s three witch girls, then blond girl with girlfriend in bandana, then two sweet boys, then boy who looks like weasel with lovely lady in pink . . . so 9 total at 3 pieces each . . .” Ajubaju pulled out a broken abacus and jangled colorful beads around, losing a few along the way— “Can’t you just tell us which way it is to the castle?” Agatha said, exasperated.

“That would be the same as giving you map, which is 1 silver piece, so 9 silver pieces since 9 of you will benefit,” Ajubaju replied.

Sophie shunted in front of Agatha, scowling at the beaver. “Listen, Abracadabra. We don’t have silver pieces. And even if we did, how do we know you won’t just take our money and run? I don’t remember you here the last time we were in Avalon.” The beaver didn’t flinch. “Ajubaju in demand all over Woods. Surprised students of School for Good and Evil do not know, but I hear there is new Dean not as good as before.” Sophie’s eyes darkened.

“With bounty on Guinevere and Lancelot, many people came after coronation to find them, since this is where fugitives hid last time. Except Avalon Island is very big! Bounty hunters need directions to Lady of the Lake castle. Prime opportunity for business,” the beaver barreled on. “But now not so many as before. Will go to my family in Eternal Springs. Warmer there.” He paused, staring at Sophie. “If you don’t have silver pieces for guided tour, I’ll take fur coat.” “Over my dead body!” Sophie spat.

“And for the map?” Agatha jumped in.

The beaver looked at Nicola. “One of her shoes.”

“What do you want my shoe for?” Nicola asked, startled.

Ajubaju bit his lip. “To put something inside.”

He didn’t explain further.

Moments later, Nicola was leaning against the beaver’s hut, trying to yank off a snow-crusted bootie with Hort’s help, while Ajubaju showed Agatha a dirty, crude map covered in food stains.

“Gold leaf and hummingbird ink, mmm?” Sophie said, glaring.

“Wore away in snow,” Ajubaju snipped. “Gates are straight ahead, see. Keep walking and you’ll be there soon.” “So we were going the right way to begin with?” Agatha asked angrily.

The beaver beamed yellow buckteeth.

“Give him the blasted shoe and let’s go,” Sophie growled, grabbing Agatha. “We’ve wasted enough time with this fool.” As she walked away, followed by the crew, they could hear Ajubaju still talking.

“Another student came few days ago speaking of Evers and Nevers. Asked lots of questions. Handsome boy. Gray eyes. Wanted to find Lady of the Lake’s castle. You must be knowing him.” The whole group stopped in their tracks, staring at each other.

But it was Agatha who finally turned around.

“We’ll take the guided tour, please.”

“Aggie, that coat was a gift from the Baroness of Hajebaji,” Sophie hissed, stripped to her skimpy sailor’s dress, snow chilling her bare arms and legs. “One-of-a-kind, custom-made in my size after she begged me to accept her daughter, Agnieszka, who is as charmless as a toenail, into my school. Now, thanks to you, I still have abominable Agnieszka but no coat—” “You care about a coat? I care that we have no weapons,” said Agatha, for the beaver had made them leave them at the hut, per “tour rules.” Ajubaju was ahead now, cocooned in Sophie’s fur, leading the crew towards the edge of the island.

“I gave your friend map and told him how to get to castle, but I haven’t seen him since. Hope he did not get lost. Should have taken full guided tour,” he was saying. “No one lives in Avalon except Lady of the Lake because it is too cold. Even colder than Frostplains. Avalon means ‘Paradise of Apples.’ Easy to remember because apples are the only food here. They are special apples, of course, growing only in snow. . . .” “Look,” Agatha heard Anadil say. “Isn’t that the Camelot seal?” In the middle of the endless snowfield, a gray horse dappled with white spots was tied to a wooden stake. On its back was a leather saddle and blanket embroidered with the crest of two eagles flanking a sword. The horse paid them no mind, noshing on a bucket of bright green apples.

“Must have been Chaddick’s horse,” Dot said.

“Thank you, Lady Obvious,” Hester sneered, clearly smarting over their earlier exchange. “But if that’s Chaddick’s, then who’s feeding him? Bucket’s full. And those apples look freshly picked.” Agatha was thinking the same thing. Chaddick couldn’t have picked apples for his horse this morning because Chaddick wasn’t alive this morning.

Her chest squeezed, the moment hitting her. Soon they’d see the Lady of the Lake’s gates. And if they found a way inside, soon they’d see Chaddick’s body too.

In the distance, she finally made out the bone-white castle built upon a bluff above stormy gray seas. The crash of waves echoed with deafening booms as colossal iron doors covered in snow swung open hard against the rock, lashed by the wind.

Crack! Crack!

“The gates are open?” Agatha asked, surprised.

“Lady opens gates for Ajubaju. Gave shelter to my family once. Knows me well,” the beaver said quickly. “See the rock around castle? It is no ordinary rock. This is Rakkari Rock. No magic can be done inside its boundaries. Only by Lady of the Lake—” “Doesn’t make sense,” Agatha whispered to Sophie. “Her castle is supposed to be sealed. It’s King Arthur’s resting place. It’s Good’s most sacred hallows. Why would she open her gates for a beaver?” “Maybe she has a soft spot for vermin. She does let Merlin in, after all,” said Sophie.

But Agatha was looking closely now at the snow-piled doors ahead as they bashed open against the rock. One of them was sunken, like it’d been hit by a cannonball, and the other was . . . crumpled. Iron fragments lay half-buried in the snow.

“You said our friend asked lots of questions,” Agatha prompted, turning to the beaver. “What did he ask?” Ajubaju stopped midsentence, frowning. “Said he was here for school quest on behalf of Camelot. Wanted to know if anyone had broken into the Lady of the Lake castle. I said clearly they must not teach about Lady of the Lake at school. No one can break into Lady of the Lake castle. I will talk about Lady later in tour—” “Talk about her now,” Agatha demanded.

The beaver puffed loudly and waddled ahead. “Lady of Lake is Good’s 1 most special top defender. She was born with beauty, immortality, and infinite magic . . . but she is cursed. If she ever kisses a boy—even once!—she will lose everything. So she hid in Avalon, free from temptation,” he explained. “Lady of the Lake will always be Camelot’s guardian, because Camelot is Good’s oldest kingdom. Even from afar Lady protects Camelot by giving king her sword of power and her waters as shelter. Even more important, she protects the Four Point, most sacred land in Woods. Four Point is site of King Arthur’s last battle, where he received mortal wound protecting balance between Good and Evil. As long as Lady of the Lake alive, Four Point is safe and Camelot is safe. That is why Lady must be secured. No one allowed here except Merlin and the king.” “And you and your tours,” said Agatha sharply.

“Which I explained already,” said Ajubaju, even sharper. “Come. I show you what your friend was looking for.” Agatha watched the beaver carefully as they moved through the gates.

He’s lying, she thought, peering at the splintered iron. Someone had broken in.

And yet, the beaver had clearly met Chaddick and earned his trust. . . . How else would he know so much about him?

Warily, Agatha followed the group as they walked the path around Avalon’s towers. These white spires were all connected into one circular palace with no windows or doors, overlooking a maze of zigzagging staircases. She could see the entrance to the stairs ahead, leading down to the lake, where the Lady lived. Agatha’s stomach knotted. It’s where Chaddick’s body would be. Luckily most of the crew was listening to Ajubaju babble about the history of Avalon and hadn’t noticed the stairs.

But Sophie had. “Aggie,” she whispered, clutching her arm. “Is Chaddick . . . you know . . .” Agatha subtly leaned over the edge of the path. Through the crisscrossing stairs, she started to get a glimpse of the gray-watered lake and its snow-heaped shore far below. Agatha held her breath, her gut twisting harder. . . .

Her eyes flared.

Chaddick’s body wasn’t there.

“Where is he?” Sophie breathed, sidling next to her. “That’s where the Storian drew him . . . right by the water. . . . Aggie, we should look for him—” “No,” Agatha ordered. “Stay with the group.”

Not that Agatha had any intention of staying with the group herself. The Storian had told them Chaddick would be here and the Storian was never wrong. Chills rippled down Agatha’s spine. She needed to get to the Lady of the Lake. Surely she would have answers. But Agatha didn’t want Sophie or the others to come. Not when she didn’t know what else might be down there. It was too dangerous.

“All the storybooks I’ve read say the Lady of the Lake is immortal,” she heard Nicola telling the beaver. “Don’t say anything about losing powers if she kisses a boy.” “’Cause she’s been around thousands of years and never is gonna kiss a boy,” Willam chipped in. “Storybooks don’t waste ink on something that’ll never happen.” “Like you not puking every time the boat moves,” Bogden cracked. Willam kicked him.

“Or like the Lady of the Lake becoming School Master,” Hester said, glaring at Dot.

“We should at least ask,” Dot said, appealing to Anadil.

“She’s the Lady of the Lake, you lump,” Anadil scorned.

“Lady or not, it sounds like she needs a kiss,” said Hort, puckering his lips, to which Nicola made a farting noise and Hort poked her playfully (Sophie gagged).

“This is what your friend was looking for,” Ajubaju said, stopping abruptly.

The crew stopped joshing around. Agatha gazed up at the fortress of white towers.

“Said he’d been following the attacks in Woods,” the beaver went on. “Lots of kingdoms having trouble lately. Attacks on both Evers and Nevers. Your friend thought whoever was doing attacks might be hiding in Lady of Lake’s castle.” “How could someone hide here? There’s no doors or windows to get inside,” said Nicola, knocking on the tower’s solid walls.

“Ah,” the beaver grinned. “That’s where pretty lady needs tour guide.” Out of his pocket, Ajubaju drew a white, five-pointed star the size of a sand dollar. Sophie instantly recognized it as the same kind of star that Merlin had once laid in honor at King Arthur’s tomb.

“Hey, how’d you get that . . . ,” she said as the beaver pressed the star against the wall— But the star was already glowing, as if burning from within. Little by little, the outline of a door whittled into the stone around the star. The beaver pressed hard and a door creaked open where there’d been no door before, just wide enough to let someone through.

“Lady of Lake must have let your friend inside,” the beaver said. “We can go inside too, if you like. Maybe your friend still there.” Agatha was hardly listening. She was staring off towards the stairs. Horse . . . apples . . . no body . . .

Is Chaddick still alive?

But the Quest Map said he was dead . . . and so did the Storian’s painting. . . .

Had there been a mistake?

Eyes wide, she glanced back at the newly opened door into the tower.

Is the beaver right?

Is Chaddick inside?

“Agatha?”

She looked up and saw her crew watching her.

“Come on. We have to trace his steps,” she said quickly, waving them in.

One by one, the crew followed the beaver into the towers.

Agatha hurried in last, cramming through the stone door— She stopped short.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a drop of blood in the snow behind her, near one of the beaver’s webbed pawprints. Sliding out the door, she dug her clump into the soft whiteness and swept off the top layer.

Crimson soaked the path below.

As she watched the others move into the tower, Agatha followed the trail, chipping away snow with her clump and uncovering a streak of red down the stairs.

There was so much blood.

Chest pounding, she descended the stairs. . . .

“What happened to ‘stay with the group’?” Sophie snapped, bumping next to her.

Then Sophie saw the blood.

“Go with the others,” Agatha said tensely.

But Sophie ignored her, rushing down the icy steps and slipping hard— Agatha seized her arm before she could fall. Sophie gave her a sheepish glance, then charged ahead. Agatha held on, stumbling after her. Like it or not, this was a team effort now.

Coming down the jagged staircase, Agatha could see the mist of their twin breaths. Avalon was dead quiet, save the few pigeons on the staircase banister and the ripples of water below. Beneath the drab skies and white towers, the only flashes of color were the shiny green apples growing off rocks and the trail of blood down the snow-slicked stairs. Together, the two girls followed the stream of red, step by step, until they reached the bottom.

“The Storian painted him right here,” Agatha said, rushing to the water’s edge. She cleared away the mound of fresh snow on the shore— “Sophie . . . ,” she whispered.

The outline of a boy was framed in blood next to the lake.

Only there was no boy.

“He was here,” said Agatha. “He was definitely here—” “He still is.”

Agatha looked up and saw Sophie was a sick shade of white. Sophie raised her finger, pointing behind Agatha.

Agatha turned.

Deep in the corner against the staircase wall, Chaddick sat in the shadows. He had his knees to his bare, broad chest, his back flat against the stone, his eyes wide open.

He was holding something between his hands.

“Chaddick?” Agatha gasped.

She rushed forward, diving into the snow and grabbing him— He was stone cold.

His skin looked waxy and colorless, the gash in his flank turned rusty-brown. He gazed right at them, his pupils big and glassy.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Sophie said softly.

Agatha’s heart caved in. Of course he was dead. The Storian was right. . . . The Storian was always right. . . .

Except—

“How did his body move?” Agatha asked. “He died over there. The Storian said so. Someone must have moved him . . . after he was dead. . . .” “But why?” Sophie asked. “It doesn’t make any sense—” Then Agatha saw what Chaddick was holding.

A folded piece of parchment.

She pried it out of his stiff fingers and held it to the light. Someone had drawn on it.

“It’s the Camelot seal,” said Agatha. “But around the sword . . . now there’s . . .” “The Snake knows we’re looking for him,” Sophie said, ashen.

Fingers quivering, Agatha turned the page over.

It was one of the beaver’s maps of Avalon, streaked with Chaddick’s blood, fingerprints smeared through it.

Only as they looked closer, they saw they weren’t fingerprints.

They were pawprints.

Pawprints that looked a lot like the ones belonging to a beaver they’d just left with their friends.

The two girls locked eyes, faces dawning with horror. . . .

Then they heard someone scream.