Genre (s): Fantasy/Werewolf

Written When? Sophomore Year of College

 

Chapter 5

Guinevere and the Boy (excerpt)

 

        Even though she was soaked from head to toe, Gwen did not care. As long as she had her mirror, she was just fine.

        She quickly sat up in the pond and looked around for her souvenir. Due to the huge waterfall that crashed behind her in the cluster of trees, the area was misty. Therefore, she had some trouble finding the souvenir in the clear water.

        Eventually, Gwen felt something hard and gasped. "Baby!" Sure enough, it was her shield-like mirror. "You're okay!" Gwen shouted. When she pulled it out, she hugged it to her chest and constantly kissed the clear center of it. She cuddled her gift for a few minutes but let it go when she heard splashing not far from her. The bandit.

        He free-styled over to a small, sandy beach near the foot of the waterfall and lugged himself onto shore. He coughed water out of his lungs, as he tried to recover from the tussle, and pulled his hood off his head.

        From where she sat, Gwen couldn't see him very well, because he was right where the mist was at the peak of its existence. She just saw a silhouette. However, she knew it was the thief who got her in the situation in the first place, and boy, did she want to hurt him! She narrowed her eyebrows to an angry position and pushed herself to her shaky legs. For protection, she grabbed her sword and held it at the ready. Sure, she was angry at the bandit for stealing the mirror right from her hands, but at the same time, didn't she technically steal the sword? Gwen didn't think about her mistake. She just wanted to beat the heck out of the bandit.

        She held her mirror in her left hand, her sword in her right, and started towards the beach, where the bandit continued to cough. She could whoop his butt any day, and ho, ho, she was excited to give him exactly what he deserved. Nobody messed with Guinevere Emberblight! After all, she was the daughter of one of the greatest musketeers in Baroque Europe!

        On her way to the shivering bandit on the misty, sandy beach, Gwen tried to think which sword slash she would give him–something that would hurt but not kill. Gwen was not a killer, but she was a pain giver. Then again, her fiery personality came from her father.

        She hid half her face behind her mirror and tightened her grip on her sword hilt.

        Still hidden in the mist, the bandit turned his head and glanced at her. At the sight of the insane girl, he gasped. Terrified, he pushed himself to a sitting position and crawled away from her. That was what Gwen wanted. She wanted him to fear her. It was proof he should have never messed with the daughter of a musketeer.

        She stepped onto the sandy beach, into the mist, and thought of something that would surely hurt. She gripped her sword tighter, until her fist turned white, and lunged at the bandit.

        He crawled his fastest away from her, but his back hit a log. When he saw he was trapped, his first instinct was to hold his hands out to Gwen like a shield.

        She lunged, he cowered, but suddenly, Gwen stopped. She stopped because she saw who she was about to hurt. She stared straight into the emerald green eyes of a teenage boy.

        He had to be at least fifteen years old, so a little younger than Gwen, but not by much. Surprisingly, he was quite handsome.

        Gwen stabbed her sword in the sand next to him and lowered her mirror so she could stare into his soul.

        The boy was a few inches shorter than her, considering he was still growing, but he had blonde hair that reached for the bottom of his neck. His green eyes seemed to sparkle in the rays of the sun that found their way past the mist's border. He wore something that looked like a uniform. Aside from the black, cape-like cloak he wore on his shoulders, he also wore short, brown boots, black pants, as well as a long-sleeved, white shirt with a leather tunic over it. For a little extra decoration, blended in with the back of his left hand was a similar design the wolf had on its forehead.

        The terrified boy continued to hold his hands out to the bewildered girl. He expected her to smash him with her mirror, but she didn't.

      In fact, Gwen was so perplexed that she dropped it, and the mirror crash-landed an inch away from the boy's foot.

        Gasping, he pointed at it and begged, "Please don't kill me!" He did not have a deep voice,–not yet–but it did crack at times.

        "You can talk," Gwen observed.

        "Of course, I can!" the boy yelled. "Last I checked, we are both human! Do-Don't you recognize me?"

        "Recognize you? I've never seen you in my life, kid. Who are you? Why did you steal my shield?"

        "That's not a shield! That's a mirror!"

        "Don't you play dumb with me!" Gwen snapped. She pulled her sword out from the sand and held its blade up to the boy's neck. "Answer my questions! Who are you? Why did you steal my shield?"

        "I stole it for various reasons of my own."

        "What reasons? If you don't answer my questions correctly, Half-Pint, you can say goodbye to your pretty, little head! Nobody steals from me!"

        "I can't. It's too complicated."

        "What's too complicated? All I asked for was a name and a reason behind your dumb decision!"

        Sweat trickled down the boy's temples. He grabbed the hilt of Gwen's sword and tried to pull it away, but she only dug it deeper in his skin. Closing his eyes, he finally shouted, "My name is Arthur! It's Arthur! Now, just let me go!"

 

Chapter 10

To Jualaline

 

        Gwen got up bright and early the next morning so she could saddle up her horse, Montague, and get ready for her journey to Jualaline.

        Dinner the night before had been quite interesting. Elisabeth explained what Jualaline was and how to get there.

        When she heard it served as both a school and orphanage, Gwen’s curiosity went up a whole new level. The school sounded very different from the monastic schools. Then again, the turn of the century was just around the corner.

        During her mother’s explanation, Gwen asked herself why she didn’t send her there. Whatever. Perhaps she would learn the reason one of those days. At least she finally managed to convince Elisabeth to let her live her dream. Boy, was Gwen excited! She slept not a wink overnight, but she was wide awake.

        She and Montague stood in the farm’s barnyard, and Gwen put the finishing touches on her horse’s saddle bag.

        A beautiful animal, Montague stood about sixteen hands, had four white socks, a white, star-like design on his forehead, and a brown body.

        Gwen wore her training uniform, with her musketeer hat on her head, her shield-like mirror on her back, and her sword on her hip. She was all ready to go.

        Right when she finished tightening Montague’s girth, Elisabeth walked out of the farmhouse, with a satchel over her neck. She came within reach of her daughter and smiled at her.

        Gwen smiled back and admitted, “All right, I’m all ready to go. Ooh.” Her eyes landed on the satchel her mother carried. “Whatcha got there?”

        “Don’t forget your lunch,” spoke Elisabeth’s motherly voice, and she held the satchel out to Gwen.

        Chuckling, she accepted it. The young girl flipped up the satchel’s top, saying, “Mmm, yummy. You packed my favorite–prune rolls. Thanks, Mom.”

        Elisabeth chuckled and brought her hand to her cheek. As Gwen put the satchel over her neck, she explained, “You should reach Jualaline by early afternoon. Hopefully, that will hold you over until you get there.”

        “I’m sure it will. Well then,–” Gwen stood tall, “I guess I’m off.”

        Before climbing aboard Montague, she and her mother shared a long hug.

        “I love you, Gwen,” Elisabeth spoke in a slightly choked voice. “Stay safe.”

        “I will, Mom. I love you, too.” Gwen gently pulled her body away from mother.

        Elisabeth rested her hands on Gwen’s shoulders.

        She rubbed a tear from her mother’s cheek. “It’s okay. I know this is the right thing to do.” With that, Gwen kissed Elizabeth and approached Montague’s left side. Lifting her left foot, she placed it in the stirrup. Pushing off with her right leg, she mounted him and picked up the reins.

        Elisabeth patted the horse’s cheek and told him, “Take care of my little girl, okay, Montague?”

        Montague nodded. He rubbed his forehead up against Elisabeth’s side, and she laughed.

        Finally, after about two minutes, she pushed the horse’s head away from her and gave his rump a slap. “Off you go.” More tears ran down Elisabeth’s cheek as he trotted forward, carrying her little girl on his back.

        As she started towards the main road, Gwen peered over her shoulder and waved to her mother. “Don’t worry, Mom! I’ll bring back my brother!” she called.

        Elisabeth waved back. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand and said in a low voice, “I know you will. You are the daughter of a musketeer. All for one, and one for all.” She felt like any other mother who had to eventually let their child leave the nest. It was both a happy and sad moment for her.

        With one last wave, Gwen picked up Montague’s reins and said in an excited voice, “Montague, I’m going to become a musketeer! Yes!” She flicked them, and her horse took off at a canter.

        Behind, Elisabeth continued to wave goodbye. As she watched her daughter start down the main road of the country landscape, she hoped and prayed she would bring Arthur home.

***

        Gwen had the time of her life traveling to Jualaline. It felt great to finally feel freedom. Every once in a whole, Gwen hopped off her horse and practiced her musketeer moves: cartwheels, back flips, and front flips.

        While she did that, Montague pranced like a dressage horse next to her. He looked very regal.

        An hour into the journey, they stopped for a snack break. The path Elisabeth told Gwen to take cut through the forest.

        Gwen followed her directions. The first thing she saw when she entered the forest were clusters of berry bushes and apple trees. Licking her lips, Gwen stopped her horse in front of a berry bush and dismounted him.

        While she snacked on the berries, Montague snacked on the apples.

        Smiling at him, Gwen cocked her head and picked an apple of her own. She ate it as they continued their journey.

        After about an hour and a half, they passed a wondrous, sparkling waterfall that shimmered in the warm day, where they took another break. Why rush to Jualaline? It was so beautiful, and besides, it was Gwen’s first taste of freedom.

        She took off her hat and went for a dip in the waterfall’s pool. The water felt wonderful. It was hard to believe she lived in the Little Ice Age.

        Montague also went for a swim. After all, horses were powerful swimmers. He circled Gwen like a dog expecting its owner to throw a stick for them, and Gwen playfully splashed him.

        She free-styled over to the waterfall and stuck her head under it. That was just the shoulder massage she needed.

        Aside from the swim, she and Montague also enjoyed a nice lunch at the waterfall.

        Gwen ate her prune rolls and gave Montague a few more apples she picked earlier.

        Lunch was so delicious that the two settled down for a thirty-minute nap afterward. They woke up around 1:00pm and walked on, even though they were slightly disappointed about leaving the beautiful waterfall behind.

        One more hour passed, and the path took them out of the forest’s main section. They hit a huge field, Irodia Field, which had green grass and small clusters of trees. Aside from the forest, a small but wondrous mountain range surrounded the friends, but not just them.

        Gwen pulled back on Montague’s reins and reached into her satchel again to pull out the juice her mother packed for her, but before she could, her blue eyes landed on a huge castle at the end of the field. Behind it, the forest continued, but eventually it would hit the Great Hungarian Plain, as well as Turkey and Saudi Arabia. Geographically, Hungary was only 2,100 miles from Arabia (the length of the Appalachian Trail).

        At the sight of the castle in front of her, Gwen’s eyes widened, and a grin stretched across her face. “There it is!” she excitedly yelled. “Jualaline!”

        Sure enough, there it was. Directly in front of her rested the school/orphanage.

        The teenager could not contain her excitement. She slapped her satchel shut and urged Montague to a full gallop.

        The two friends hurried down the hill and hopped over a small creek, in the direction of Jualaline. When they reached the castle’s drawbridge, Gwen pulled back on the reins and stopped Montague.

        She read the sign above it, “Jualaline,” which told her she was in the right place. She and Montague peered forward to the torchlit corridor. Why did Guinevere suddenly feel nervous? She guessed it was because she did not know what to expect. Never in her life did she attend school. Tutors and her mother taught her, so in a way, she was homeschooled.

        Gulping, the young lady gave Montague’s reins a small flick, and he pranced into the torchlit corridor. Gwen shivered in the cold, but she immediately warmed up when she reached the other end. What she saw in front of her was amazing.

***

        It was the school’s main courtyard. Roaming it were tons of teenagers, just like her. That told her she entered from the older children’s school.

        At the sight of the new girl, children waved at her, and she waved back.

        Gwen looked to her right and saw two kids practicing their moves for knight class, then to her left where two more rode on early versions of the unicycle. They technically just ran in place on top of a wheel. One boy was obviously a professional wheel rider, but his friend was nowhere near as good as him.

        Gwen flinched when crash! The less-experienced rider crashed into a bunch of barrels and crates.

        His friend approached him, and he circled the downed boy. “Bro, you call that wheel-riding?” he asked his friend.

        “I was just getting started!” the boy fought back.

        Gwen chuckled and passed a few girls, who practiced a cheer for the Friday Knight Strike.

        They tossed one girl in the air, and at the same time, announced, “Jualaline vs. the E-Otto!” before catching her. It did not take long for Gwen to realize “E-Otto” referred to the Ottoman Empire.

        Not far from her, sitting on a bench, were two teenage boys playing a game of chess.

        The loser groaned and smacked his fists on the board, announcing, “Bro! That’s three games in a row! What am I doing wrong?”

        “Allow me,” Gwen said from off to the side. She stopped Montague next to the bench and dismounted.

        Both boys looked up from their game and stared at her. Who was the new girl?

        She came between them and examined the chess board. While she did so, she tapped her chin. “Ah ha,” she said after a bit, and she made her move. “Checkmate.”

        The boy’s, who had won all the games up to that point, jaw dropped. Did a girl seriously just beat him after merely one move?

        His opponent burst out laughing and pointed at him. “Ha! She got you!”

        “You’re welcome,” Gwen said with a small curtsy.

        “Thank you,” admitted the boy who usually lost. “After two years, I can finally take the hottest girl to the dance.”

        Chuckling, Gwen returned to Montague and pulled his reins over his head. With a smile glued on her face, she steered him through the castle’s courtyard and tried to find the stables. First, she wanted to take care of her horse. Then she would look for Artie. Something inside told her she would find him there.

        The next teenagers she passed were two girls, Eszter and Jazmin. They sat on another bench, where they chatted about boys.

        Jazmin, who had short, black hair like Snow White, fluffed it as she listened to Eszter.

        “So, he asked me, ‘Would you like to go to the dance with me?’ and I was all like, ‘I’m not interested in younger men. I’d rather slam my face in a carriage door.’”

        “Ugh! What a loser!” Jazmin scoffed.

        “Totally,” her friend agreed with her.

        Guinevere lifted her hand and called to them. “Excuse me!”

        At the sound of her voice, the girls stopped conversing. They turned their heads and faced her.

        Nervous, Gwen rubbed her sweaty hands together and added, “Sorry to bother you, but can either of you point me in the direction of the stables?”

        “Eniko!” Eszter suddenly shouted. “You’re here! Where were you?”

        “Um–” Gwen started, but before she could finish, Eszter leaped up from the bench and grabbed her hands, dragging her away from Montague.

        She pulled her over to the bench and plopped her down in between her and Jazmin. Eszter ran her fingers through her golden-brown hair and asked, “Have you seen Percival today? He was super-hot!”

        “I’ve heard he’s a great kisser!” Jazmin excitedly piped up. She brought her hands to her lips and let out a flirty laugh. “I’d go out with him any day, instead of that loser Artie.”

        The name caused Gwen’s hair to stick up on end. The girl just confirmed it. Artie did go to school there. “Wait, Artie?” she asked. “You know him?”

        “Um, and why are you interested?” Eszter wanted to know. She crossed her arms. “I thought you were in love with Percival.”

        “Look, girls...” Gwen sarcastically laughed. Getting up from the bench, she backed away from them. “I just got here. I am not this Eniko you speak of.”

        “Hm, well now looking at it,” Eszter admitted, with her arms still crossed, “you do have a bit more of a muscular body build. Dost thou work out with Percival?”

        “I’ve never been here before. Please, my horse and I have been traveling all day. I need to find a stable to take him in for the night. Please say you know where one is.”

        Jazmin nodded and pointed to the right. “There’s one in the West Wing.”

        “Thank you.” Gwen’s eyes moved over to where Jazmin pointed, but she gasped when she saw a familiar figure hiding under a stone, torch-lit arch. Artie! It was him! Eyes widening again, Gwen called to him. “Artie!”

        Artie turned from where he stood, and his own eyes landed on her. Instead of running over and saying hi, he took off running in the direction of the West Wing of the castle, as well as the second half of the courtyard.

        Gwen quickly mounted Montague again and patted his cheek. She gave him a kick.

        Whinnying, the horse took off after the frightened, cursed boy.

 

Chapter 11

Dark Secret from the Southeast

 

        The only section of Jualaline that wasn't overcrowded with students was its suspicious backside. Currently, one figure stood at the edge of a creek, which led into the back forest. It was Percival, the bully who loved to pick on Artie. He wore his shimmering knight armor and stared at the forest with his fists clenched. He was waiting for somebody–somebody important.

        After five impatient minutes, another figure appeared from deep within the forest. A gust of wind blew his long cloak. He kept his mouth covered, so it was hard to see who he was. Stepping into the light, he approached Percival from the other side of the creek.

        For the longest time, the two stared at one another, not saying a word, but then Percy brought his fist to his chest and bowed. "Father," spoke his deep voice. "At your command, I am here."

        "Well done, my son," said the suspicious figure across from him. "Allah would be proud."

        Wait, Allah? That was the Islamic word for "God". What was going on?

        The cloaked figure stepped over the creek and told Percival, "I am here on behalf of the Sultan. Let's talk for a minute." He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and led him down the backside of Jualaline. Shadows bathed them as they chatted. The cloaked figure patted Percy's chest with his palm and asked, "How is your mission going? Tell me. I would very much like to know."

        "Father," Percy shakily explained, "I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I feel Illusion is close, but the bad news is, I don't exactly know where it is."

        That alone made his father take away the comment that Allah would be proud of him. He stopped his son under a huge tower and pulled his arm away from his shoulders. Disappointment in his voice, he told him, "Irodia is Ottoman territory now. This means you can't fail me, boy, unless you want to face the Sultan." He narrowed his eyebrows to an angry position, keeping his mouth covered. "You say Illusion is close, but last I checked, 'close' and 'here' are two very different words."

        "Father, I'll get it. Just give me time. I know exactly where to start."

        Still angry, the cloaked figure threatened Percy with his index finger. "Fail me again, boy, and I won't be so nice."

        "Hey, hey," Percy nervously chuckled. He pushed the finger away from his eyes and explained, "Hungary is under complete Ottoman rule now, so the task is going to be very easy. You're 2,000-mile journey is not a waste."

        "You better be right," the cloaked figure growled. "Sultan Mehmed expects me to return with the Mirror of Illusion. The Knights Templar was just the beginning. This is the end of our everlasting war."

        "I understand, Father. As soon as I have more information on Illusion's location, I'll contact you."

        "Then off you go. I have a mess to clean up in the village. I will be back Friday, boy, and if you don't have the mirror by then, we'll be out of options."

        Percy gulped, but he hid his nervousness behind a smile. "With your permission." He bowed and backed away from the terrifying figure.

        The two parted ways.

        Percival returned to the school, and the cloaked figure returned to the forest. He approached his horse, who had been waiting for him, and lifted his hands.

        The man grabbed each side of his cloak's hood and pulled it off. No! It couldn't be! The man hiding behind the mask was none other than Sir Elwin, the rude man Gwen met in Blacksmith Village. The man, whom everyone said was the best musketeer in Irodia, wore a Turkish head wrap around his head. That meant only one thing. He was not a musketeer. He was a Turkish spy from the Ottoman Empire. He was a man who craved Illusion's power just as much as Gwen and Artie. If the teens didn't do something fast, all of Irodia and the rest of Hungary would be under Turkish rule.

 

Chapter 12

"All for One"

 

        Gwen lost Artie in the school's second courtyard, but she did manage to find a stable, so she went ahead and booked Montague for the night. It only cost ten farthings. Alone, she stomped through one of the castle's outside corridors and called for her brother. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" She sounded like a mom when she did that. Little did Gwen know, but she was headed in the direction of the orphanage.

        A few younger kids rushed by her. They almost knocked her to the ground.

        "Whoa!" the young woman shouted. She almost yelled, "Watch where you're going!" but then she saw how young the kids were. Just looking at them, she could tell they were orphans. That must've meant she was nearing the orphanage. If she was going to find Arthur, that was where she had to look first. Or maybe not.

        Now in the orphanage cluster of buildings, her eyes rolled over to a fountain that had a reproduction of Bernini's David on top of it. Bernini's David–a wonderful piece of Baroque artwork. Gwen recognized the person standing over the fountain. Arthur. There he was. Just at the sight of him, the young girl felt a pinch of excitement.

        Artie did not notice her. He was in the process of making a wish. His hands were at his chest, which caused his sleeves to roll down a bit.

        For the first time, Gwen noticed the chain on his wrist, and her eyes widened. Wait a minute! The wolf she met also had a chain! That just confirmed it. Artie was indeed the wolf she met.

        After a moment of silence, the young boy opened his eyes and removed his hands. A coin, which had been resting in them, splashed into the fountain's water. Artie watched as it sank to the bottom. What was his wish? He couldn't say it out loud. After all, that was bad luck.

        Gwen rested her hand on her sword hilt and slowly approached his back. "Artie?" she asked in a small voice.

        "Gwen!" he yelled. Whirling around, he quickly slid his sleeve back over his chain and asked her, "What are you doing here?" in a slightly annoyed voice.

        "Isn't it obvious?" she asked as she gestured with her finger for him to approach her. "You and I need to find Illusion."

        "Ha! I certainly hope you're joking," sarcastically laughed Artie. "You did not have to follow me here. Why don't you be like any other woman and terrorize your suitors instead of me?"

        "Terrorize?" As the words sank into her system, anger replaced Gwen's excitement. "What happened to you? You were so nice to me in the forest."

        "In the forest? I don't know what you're talking about." With that, Artie crossed his arms and turned away from the girl.

        "Oh please," Gwen scoffed, "don't you play dumb with me, Arthur."

        "It's Artie! How many times do I have to tell you that? I like to be called Artie!"

        "Whatever. Fess up, kid. You're the wolf I met. Just look at your wrist."

        Quickly, Artie held his chained wrist behind his back.

        Gwen placed her hand on his shoulder and said in an annoyed voice, "Come on. Illusion is waiting for us."

        "Pfft," Artie scoffed, removing her hand from his shoulder. "You mean Illusion is waiting for you. You just want to use its power so you can become a dumb musketeer, right?"

        For a second, Gwen hesitated. "N-No. I'm going to use it to bring our family back together. We're going to Saudi Arabia, kid, whether you like it or not!"

        "Ooh, Saudi Arabia huh? Well, you have fun playing around in the sand. I'm going to stay where it's cool. I'm sure the Ottoman Empire loves enslaving little girls who want to be musketeers."

        "Ooh!" Gwen snapped. She clenched her fists and puffed out her cheeks. There was no way the cowardly teenager was her brother!

        Artie shoved her shoulder and stomped down the courtyard.

        Behind, Gwen shouted at him, "Get back here!" but he refused to listen to her.

        As he made his way through the courtyard, he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. What was his destiny–for people to pick on him the rest of his life? That sounded accurate. Why did Arabella curse him instead of someone else? Why didn't she curse Gwen for Pete's sake? In his mind, Artie was nothing but an un-confident baby who knew he would never live his dream.

        Five minutes into his "Time to beat myself up" walk, he ran into Percival, who seemingly appeared from out of nowhere. Hand on sword hilt, he glared at the un-confident teen.

        "Afternoon?" Artie asked in a "Just let me through" voice.

        Percival did not move from where he stood.

        It wasn't long until two familiar figures snuck up on him from behind: Dex and Rex, Percy's goons.

        Gulping, Artie peered back at them. He faced Percy and asked, "What do you want now, Percival?"

        "Grab him," was all Percy said.

        Artie's eyes widened, but before he could protest, Dex and Rex grabbed his upper arms. He tried to break free, but the bullies held him tightly.

        With his hand still on his sword hilt, Percy approached him. He brought his finger to his chin and studied the scrawny boy up and down. "Hm, so you're the boy my father is looking for? Ha. Then this will be easy." With that, he drew his sword and held the blade up to Artie's neck. "Now tell me what you know about Illusion, unless you want your pretty little head served on the king's dinner plate."

        Artie flinched and clenched his teeth when he felt the weapon's cool blade. Illusion? What was Percival talking about? He had no idea where the legendary mirror was. Sure, Percival always bullied him, but he never tried to kill him. What was going on? Considering he lived in Baroque Europe, there was not a lot of school security that would accuse Percy of attempted murder.

        "What do you want from me?" Artie asked in his best manly voice. "I know nothing of Illusion."

        "Is that so? We'll see about that, loser. Now shut your yap, and let my sword do the talking."

        "You don't want to do that," a young, female voice said from off to the side. Guinevere. She stood with her hands on her hips and glared at the bullies.

        "Gwen?" Artie asked.

        Dex, Rex, and Percy stared at the determined girl.

        "Ooh," Percy sarcastically chuckled. He removed his blade from Artie's neck. "Look what the loser dragged in. His own personal bodyguard. Hello, princess."

        He came within reach of Gwen, who admitted, "You're disgusting! Trust me, you do not want to kill this un-confident boy. After all, he holds nothing of interest. In fact, I'm sure with one flick of my finger, I can send him flying off the face of this earth. If you want a good fight, you need to pick it with someone your own size." She chuckled and pointed at herself. "Like me."

        "You?" Percival scoffed. "Please, I don't have time to fight with princesses like you."

        "Is that so? Then draw your sword." When she said that, Gwen pulled her sword out of its scabbard and pointed it at Percival. "I challenge you."

        "You make me laugh, woman, but if you say so." Percy tightened his grip on his sword and edged closer to the young woman.

        Nervous, Artie broke free from Dex and Rex. "Um, Gwen, I wouldn't do this if I were you. He's Number One in knight class."

        "We'll see about that." It was time for Gwen to get retribution against Sir Elwin when she challenged him in the village, and boy, she was excited. She tapped blades with Percival and positioned her feet.

        He nodded when he saw her determination. "Very well, but I'm not going to be responsible for your remains when you lose."

        "Gwen, stop," Artie frightfully spoke, but she ignored him. She didn't need a man to tell her what to do, especially one who was younger than she.

        Gwen and Percival stared at each other for a while, and then... boom! The duel started.

 

Chapter 13

"Gone To Soon"

 

        Gwen had the time of her life fighting Percival. It was no different from her dummy back home. Pfft. Number One in knight class? It was more like Number Three.

        Gwen dodged her opponent's every move with flips, stealth, and pure agility. She smiled the whole time she did.

        In the meantime, Percy became so frustrated that he came at her with everything he learned, but she still overpowered him.

        Clash! Clash! Clash! The echoing of swords clashing exploded into the atmosphere.

        Artie thought the duel was the coolest thing ever. He wanted to be just like Gwen. He couldn't help but to laugh when she came at Percival with a side swipe and caught the end of his armor.

        He flinched and backed away from her, shocked by her power.

        Chuckling, she held her sword's point up to his chin and asked, "Are you giving up after merely one mark?"

        "Ha!" Percy flipped his hair. "I'm just getting started."

        "Really? Me, too."

        Unfortunately, Gwen's excitement ceased all too fast when out of nowhere, Artie jumped between her and Percy and stole the sword right from her hand. He launched at the bully, but Percival, with one sword swipe, knocked it out of his hand. The sword fell to the ground and rolled away from the fighting teens.

        "Artie!" Gwen narrowed her eyebrows to an angry position and shoved him to the ground with her arm. "What are you doing?"

        "What does it look like? I'm trying to save you." Artie crawled over to the sword and reached for it.

        Gwen chased him.

        They ended up grabbing the hilt at the same time and started a tug-of-war.

        "I've got this all under control!" Gwen yelled at Artie.

        "But I want to be just like you!" he argued back.

        From where he stood, Percival yawned. "Come, boys," he told Rex and Dex. "Let's go find somebody worthy of our time."

        "Wait!" Gwen shouted, letting go of the sword hilt.

        Artie fell to the ground when all the weight shifted over to him.

        Gwen hurried after Percival, but he waved her away and gave her the excuse he was going to go bathe. He left her and Artie behind.

        Artie sat up from where he landed and casually placed the sword in his lap. "Did we win?" he questioned.

        Did we win? What kind of question was that?

        A volcano exploded from Gwen's head. She narrowed her eyebrows to an angry position and yelled, "You-You stay out of this!" at the young boy.

        "Why?" Artie asked with a shrug. "I think that went rather well. What do you think?"

        "If you didn't butt in, child," Gwen said, "I would've sent him flying out of these school walls!"

        Artie cringed when he saw how angry she was. Who knew a woman could be that scary? He held his hands out to her, as if protecting himself from a slap, and said, "Look, Gwen, I'm sorry. It's just, when I saw your sword skills, I had to try it myself, ya know?"

        "Oh, poppycock." Gwen crossed her arms and turned away from the boy. "Who said a whiny, scrawny boy like you could fight?"

        "Hm, let me think." Artie clutched his elbow and tapped his chin. "How about a certain imp named Arabella?"

        "Imp?" Gwen's ears perked up. She whirled around to face her brother again. "How do you know her name?"

        "It's a long story." Artie pushed himself to his feet and brushed dirt off himself. "It's just, I can't tell you."

        "What are you hiding, boy?"

        "Nothing of interest to you, that's for sure." However, just as Artie said that, he heard a voice in his head.

        Arabella. "Yo, kid," she said in her mystical voice, "tell her the truth." 

        "I'd prefer not to."

        "What?" Gwen gave Artie a funny look.

        "Um," he stuttered. "What I mean to say is, uh... Woul-would you play with me?"

        "Play?" Gwen burst out laughing. "I sure hope you're joking, kid. You're too old to play all these childish games."

        "Maybe I am, but..." Sweat trickled down Artie's temples, as he nervously started to fiddle with his collar. "I don't know how to say this." He sighed. "I-I like you."

        When she heard those words, Gwen's eyes widened. In all her seventeen years of living, no man ever said that to her. Just hearing that, she came bursting out of her shell.

        Artie rubbed his hands together and turned away from her. "I understand," he spoke in a low voice. "You have other pressing priorities. The least you want is to play with a loser like me. I'll go now."

        As he started to walk away, Gwen held her hand out to him, but her lips could not form the right words. She thought for a moment. After collecting her thoughts, she smiled. She was too shy to say it, but she, too, liked Artie. Dropping her hand, she tiptoed after him.

        Artie headed back in the direction of the orphanage. Without looking back at Gwen, he lifted his hand and rubbed his nose. Little did he know that she followed him.

        She, too, rubbed her nose and thought about what he asked her: "Would you play with me?" Yep, he definitely had the qualities of a little brother. A big sister–even though she still had a hard time believing he was her brother–always found a way to entertain the younger siblings. With that in mind, the young woman jumped into a trot.

        Suddenly, Artie felt her tap his shoulder.

        "Tag! You're it!" Gwen said.

        "Whoa!" Artie said, pausing on his tracks.

        Gwen sprinted over to the fountain that had the reproduction of Bernini's David and turned to face him. She ran in place, asking, "Well, are we going to play or not?"

        "Really?" Artie felt a small smile creeping across his face.

        "Come on, kid. See if you can catch me." Gwen rushed away from the fountain and started towards Jualaline's main courtyard.

        As the excitement bubbled inside of him like molten lava, Artie took off after her.

        Jualaline students stopped what they were doing and curiously watched the two when they entered the main courtyard.

        Gwen dove into a tunnel in the castle that had a line of about five wooden windows.

        Artie stood in front of them and searched for her. He heard something behind him and whirled around to find the source of the noise.

        One at a time, Gwen opened each window and gave him a goofy smile.

        The young boy launched half his body into them, but by the time he was in that uncomfortable position, Gwen had already moved.

        While the two looked like adults on the outside, they were still kids on the inside. They had a lot of fun together. It was the Baroque Period. They had to find some way to entertain themselves.

        After the window phenomenon, Gwen hurried through each of the castle's corridors, with Artie close on her heels.

        The teens played for they didn't know how long, until they wore themselves out. When they decided to take a break, they hung out in Jualaline's garden where the staff and students grew apple trees. It was a beautiful, shady area that had a bench, as well as a stone monument in the heart of it. The monument sat on top of some concrete panels. Colorful flowers surrounded it, as well as water.

        In the shade of the apple trees, Gwen and Artie sat on a bench and snacked on a few apples. By then, it was late afternoon. In about an hour, Artie would once again turn into a wolf. However, because he was having so much fun, he lost track of time. He and Gwen merely enjoyed their apples and listened to the cool, afternoon breeze, as well as chirping birds in the garden's circular center.

        Gwen, after examining the many different flowers that grew in the garden's heart, set her apple down on her lap and told Artie, "Okay, I'll admit, Artie. That was fun."

        "Uh huh," was his answer. To Gwen's curiosity, she noticed he was staring at the stone monument. Not only that, but he had one eye closed, and he positioned his arm as if he were about to shoot a bow and arrow. It was perfectly straight.

It looked like he was measuring something with his thumb.

        "What are you doing?" Gwen asked. She took another bite from her apple and crossed one leg over the other.

        Not looking at her, Artie answered, "I'm testing the root-five rectangle."

        "Root what?"

        "It's an artistic term."

        "Artistic. Right." Gwen had no idea what Artie was talking about.

        He dropped his hand and hopped down from the bench. The young man headed over to the corner of the garden's heart and sat down in a swing. He gently swung back and forth and asked himself, "Perhaps pastel colors are the best way to go? Or is that too much like Mannerism?"

        "What are you talking about?" Gwen's voice piped up from off to the side. She stopped next to the young man and stuck the tip of her sword in the ground.

        "Do you not know anything about art?" Artie asked her.

        "Ha! Now I wouldn't say that," Gwen spoke in a nervous voice. She scratched the side of her head as she tried to dissect his words. "I do know it consists of colors and pictures."

        "You make me laugh, Gwen."

        Gwen blushed at Artie's words. She hated being wrong.

        "Art is much more than just colors and pictures," Artie continued. He gripped each side of the swing and pushed himself back, until he stood on the backs of his heels. "There's symbolism, emotions, drama, mathematical equations, perspective; the list goes on." While he explained that, Arthur let his feet go and swung forward. "Do you mean to tell me that you're so in-tuned to this whole musketeer training that you've never explored the world?"

        "Let's just say I'm a farm girl."

        "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you take the time to put your wants aside and focus on your needs. Here, come with me." Artie jumped off the swing while it was still swinging and landed on his feet in front of it. He gestured for Gwen to follow him. "I want to show you something."

        Guinevere followed Arthur back to the orphanage building that housed older children.

        He led her into his room and shut the door behind them.

        Gwen explored it as he lit a lantern that rested on a desk, where his school books were. Despite being a loser at school, he actually had a pretty nice bedroom. There was a bookshelf in it, as well as a small wardrobe, and a chest rested at the foot of his bed. He had a reading section, in which there was a rug and chair in it, as well as a window and fireplace. Fur clung to the rug's surface, as well as his bed, but that was just because he turned into a wolf every night.

        After lighting the lantern, Artie gently pushed past Gwen and approached his fireplace. Before doing anything else, he ordered in a gentle voice, "Leave your sword and shield behind. You won't need them."

        Gwen wondered what he meant by that. While she managed to take off her sword, she refused to leave her shield-like mirror. She loved it too much.

        "I said both your sword and shield," Artie growled.

        "It's not a shield. It's a mirror." Gwen hugged her mirror to her chest and pulled it away from him.

        He held the lantern in front of him and admitted, "That doesn't make a difference. It's a weapon, and I prohibit weapons where we're going."

        "What are you talking about?" Gwen hugged her mirror tighter. "There's nothing here but a bed and scraps on the floor."

        That statement slightly offended Arthur. To show Gwen he meant business, he set the lantern down on the shelf above his fireplace and pressed a button at the end of it. The second he did, the whole fireplace moved off to the side to reveal a secret chamber behind it.

        Gwen's eyes widened. What the heck? The loser had a secret chamber in his bedroom? Perhaps there was more to Arthur than she thought?

        The young woman slowly approached the chamber's entrance and peered inside. It was dark and creepy. She couldn't see anything. Shivering, she asked the invisible audience behind her, "Okay, who wants to go into the creepy tomb first?" She sounded like Riley in National Treasure.

        With the lantern in hand, Artie pushed by her and stepped into the narrow passageway. "Well, are you coming or not? Remember, the mirror stays behind."

        It felt awful to let her baby go. Gwen's fingers shook, as she hesitantly set it down next to her sword, which sat propped up against Artie's reading chair. "I'll be back, baby," she spoke, kissing her mirror goodbye.

        Artie rolled his eyes from where he stood, but he let Gwen have her moment.

        After kissing the mirror for the fiftieth time, she finally joined him in the secret chamber. The second she had both feet inside, the fireplace moved back to where it used to be. Gwen faced the moving wall. It trapped her and Artie behind it. When it clicked back into place, she called after him when she noticed he had already started down the chamber. "Artie!"

        Little by little, the light of the lantern started to fade, but Gwen hurried after it before she could find herself in complete utter darkness. Many questions swarmed through her brain. What was Artie going to show her? What did it have to do with art? Who was he? By the rate she was going, would she ever reach Saudi Arabia, find Illusion, and become a musketeer?