“Can it be?” the first knight cried.
“You are in league with the Editor!” the second knight shouted. At once, the three knights removed their swords from their sheaths.
Puck pulled out his own toy sword. “All right, people. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
Sabrina raised her hands to calm everyone down. “We’re not here to stop you. We’re chasing someone—a little boy.”
“If the villain fighting Merlin inside is a little boy, the world is certainly doomed,” the third knight said.
There was another eardrum-rumbling explosion, and part of the castle’s walls crumbled into dust.
“This sorcerer . . . Can you take us to him?” Sabrina asked.
“Take you back into the castle?” the third knight cried. “Are you daft?”
“If you won’t take us, we’ll go on our own.” Daphne took slow, deliberate steps forward in her armor. It wasn’t long before she tipped over face-first. “Stupid suit of armor! Whose idea was it to wear two hundred pounds of metal into battle? A duckling could kill me right now.”
Sabrina and Puck helped the little girl to her feet. Once she was up, the other knights dismounted and helped them remove some of the heavier pieces of armor. When the first knight, who introduced himself as Sir Port, removed Sabrina’s helmet, he nearly took her nose with it. Soon, the girls were moving about a bit more freely.
“You’re fools,” Sir Port said. “But we’ll take you back to the castle.”
The dodo cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should wait here until all the fighting is over.”
“Remember the deal, bird,” Sabrina chirped. “We won’t come back for you.”
“I must object,” the rabbit interjected as he polished his monocle. “The two of you have taken on roles in this story. We have a freedom you do not. Any number of horrible things could happen to you. Perhaps it would be wise to entrust your yarn to us. Just in case.”
Sabrina eyed the group suspiciously. “The yarn is ours, buster.”
The White Rabbit threw up his paws. “Of course! Of course! Just a suggestion.”
Despite their vocal complaints, Sabrina didn’t turn back to see if the characters were following. She, Puck, Daphne, and the three knights on horseback climbed up the steep hill and crossed a wide wooden drawbridge over a black and foul-smelling moat.
Through a great arch they could see a smoke-filled castle courtyard. As they entered, Sabrina spotted a crowd of panicked knights, ladies-in-waiting, and court jesters rushing about willynilly trying to avoid a terrific battle. The fighting seemed to be coming from the center of the courtyard. Sabrina could feel the familiar tingle of enchantments all around her, though the sonic booms and flashes of white-hot light were all the evidence she needed to determine that someone was wielding some very powerful magic.
They pushed their way through the crowd and eventually found a space with a view of the conflict. The power of the attacks was so intense that Sabrina had to shield her eyes, but inside the fire and light she could make out two figures. They circled each other with hands afire and eyes burning with raw power. The air crackled with energy every time one of them made the slightest movement.
“What’s happening?” Daphne asked a tall, handsome man with flowing black hair.
When Sabrina looked up into his face, she immediately recognized him as Sir Lancelot, one of Ferryport Landing’s dashing volunteer firefighters. Granny Relda had recently purchased a “Firefighters of Ferryport Landing” calendar, and when she took a peek at it when it arrived in the mail, her face turned as red as a stoplight. Sabrina never saw the calendar again and the old woman wouldn’t say where it had gone.
With his familiar face, she could place the story: They had stepped into the tale of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.
“This cursed interloper hath stepped through an enchanted doorway in the midst of our castle,” Lancelot said. “A battalion of noble knights and I naturally came to the defense of Camelot, but we were soon overwhelmed by the villain’s magics. The king’s adviser, Merlin, was called, and due to his experience with the black arts, has unleashed his ungodly powers on the Editor’s lackey.”
“What did he say?” Daphne asked.
Sabrina shrugged. She had trouble understanding his real-life counterpart back home.
“Pinocchio sure has learned the ins and outs of that magic wand,” Daphne said as they watched the fighting. “That’s powerful magic for a little boy.”
“Little boy?” Lancelot said. “The boy is not fighting Merlin. It’s his father who is creating such chaos.”
Sabrina strained to look into the battle once more. She could make out Merlin, old and feeble, fighting off a short, thin, balding man in a black suit.
“It’s Mirror!” she cried.
“If he’s fighting, where is Rodney?” Daphne said.
“Rodney?”