Britt frowned. Hrunting? Even though she wasn’t an Arthur nerd, Britt knew Arthur’s famous sword was called Excalibur. What the heck was Hrunting?
Merlin blinked. “I thought it failed Beowulf when he fought Grendel’s Mother, and he abandoned it as a result. Its magic is still intact after such a failure?” Merlin carefully asked.
“Of course,” the Lady of the Lake said.
Merlin smiled—the fake one he used when he knew he was about to force something on Britt that she would not like. “Thank you, kind lady. Arthur, come claim your sword.”
Britt narrowed her eyes as she passed her reins to Kay—the poor knight—and stalked purposefully towards Merlin, Sir Ector, and the lady.
Merlin’s eyes widened as he observed her countenance and he shook his head slightly before hissing to her behind his clenched smile. “Remember your manners, Arthur.”
Britt ignored the order and instead stared at the sword. It was rusted, brutish, and unadorned. “No,” she said.
The Lady of the Lake blinked. “Pardon?”
“No. This isn’t my sword. I want Excalibur,” Britt said.
Sir Kay had to lean against his horse he started coughing so hard, and Merlin placed a hand at the back of Britt’s neck and squeezed.
“I’m sorry, the lad doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Merlin laughed.
“Yeah, I do. There’s no way I’m walking out of here with a sword that doesn’t work. I want Excalibur,” Britt said as Sir Ector retreated—also coughing occasionally—to help his son with the horses.
“Arthur, we are guests in this enchanted place. Do not act rudely,” Merlin said, his smile so tight Britt could almost hear his teeth cracking.
The Lady of the Lake sneered. “Excalibur is meant for greatness, boy. A beardless youth such as yourself is not even worthy to look upon it.”
“Okay, cut the mystic crap,” Britt said, shaking Merlin off her neck. “I want Excalibur, and I know you are going to give it to me.”
“Am I? Are you a soothsayer and a king now? Did your foster father and brother teach you magic arts as well?” the Lady of the Lake drawled.
“Don’t talk about my family like that,” Britt growled. “And if you don’t give me Excalibur I am going to slap you back to Beowulf so fast your head will spin!”
“Brute! Is this how you treat a lady of great standing?” the Lady of the Lake demanded.
“It is when she is a stuck up snob who needs a haircut,” Britt said, looming over the petite woman.
“You rude beast!”
“Petty wench.”
Merlin was on his knees, in the throes of horror, but Britt heard Sir Ector quietly tell Sir Kay “Perhaps we shouldn’t have let the boy spend so much time in London taverns.”
“You crash about this sacred sanctuary like a wild boar, you ruin the holiness of this place!” the Lady of the Lake declared.
“Like I care! My eyes are puffy, I have a headache, and I want to go home. Just give me the stupid sword.”
“You will never win a maiden’s heart!”
“Oh, no. Whatever will I do?” Britt asked, rolling her eyes.
The Lady of the Lake’s mouth dropped. “You’re a woman,” she said on sudden insight.
“So are you,” Britt snorted.
“Fine!” the Lady of the Lake snapped. “Take the sword—if you can. Many have tried but no one can pull it. Good riddance!” she said turning on her heels and stalking away—still carrying Hrunting.
“How do you plan to get out there, Arthur?” Sir Ector asked as Britt marched past him.
“I’ll use the boat,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She was anxious to push off the shore before Merlin recovered his mental abilities.
Currently the wizard was still bent over, white faced and horrified.
Britt hopped in the boat, and Sir Kay handed the horses over to his father long enough to push the boat farther into the lake.
Britt eased the oars of the boat into the water and rowed out to the sword. She hadn’t rowed much before, so she circled Excalibur a few times before she drew close enough to grab it.
Britt eyed the arm clasping the sword. The water at the center of the lake was deep blue, cloaking whatever the arm was attached to. Close up, Britt could see that the arm was wrapped in a sleeve made of some sort of cloth that looked like silk, and golden bracelets were fastened around the thin wrist. It was a woman’s arm, for certain.
“This is weird beyond all belief. I always thought the legends about King Arthur were written by total stoners,” Britt muttered as she reached for Excalibur’s hilt. The second her fingers touched the sword the arm holding onto the blade released it and disappeared into the water with lighting fast movement.