Guinevere’s world was darkness, and pain, and a dull roar of noise spinning around her. She felt a sense of urgency, a need to awaken, to rise from this darkness, to move! Something had gone horribly wrong, she couldn’t lay here in the dark, no matter how much it hurt.
And then she heard the echo, the memory of that horrible song, that brief little melody that had ripped the world apart.
A Fracture had opened, a brand new wound in the world.
Guinevere wrenched open her eyes, found Ava standing over her, and just seeing her dog unharmed colored the chaos with a tiny note of relief. She found the strength, through a throbbing pain in her skull, and scrapes and bruises all over her body, to push herself to her feet and wheel about, looking for her friends.
But for a moment as she turned, all she could do was gape at the devastation before her.
She stood a scant three yards away from a jagged cliff’s edge, a drop into a dark, fuming abyss. She’d been inside of the Fracture at the Library, but this was different. The Library’s Fracture had felt crafted, structured with Lacie’s malicious intent. This Fracture was raw, a ragged, noxious scar, a natural disaster with no rhyme or reason to it, just chaos and vicious cruelty. It made her recoil, struck a dread terror in her that Lacie’s mechanical abominations and sudden floods could never contend with.
It took a moment for her to look away, to see who was with her. Ava was by her side, and Alice beside Ava. Sheena was here, and Elliot and Ninian, too. Hector was at Elliot’s side, and so was Flynn…
Flynn? Without Tobias?
Guinevere’s eyes widened as she looked across the Fracture. Because there was one missing on their side of the abyss, and she spied him now, hundreds of feet away, dangling from the edge of the other side of the Fracture, all alone.
Tobias had been left behind.
Flynn barked and then dashed forward, a running start at the cliff. “Flynn, no!” Elliot shouted, and leapt for Flynn, tackling the brave dog just as he tried to jump — tried to leap hundreds of feet in a single bound. Elliot came to the ground in a slide, stopping at the very edge of the cliff, a hairsbreadth away from tumbling into the Fracture, Flynn cradled in his arms. Flynn thrashed in his grip, barking and crying out, but Elliot held him fast. “Flynn, that’s not the way! Listen!” He turned Flynn’s face so they were nose-to-nose, and fixed Tobias’ dog with a serious stare. “You’re the best tracker there is, so you’re the best hope he’s got. Find your boy.”
Flynn calmed instantly — and let out a whine, a cry that pierced Guinevere’s heart. But then Elliot let him go, and Flynn lifted his head, looking left, then right. His tail swished, and he sniffed the air. His ears twitched, and he cocked his head to the right.
Then he barked once, and darted off in that direction, along the edge of the Fracture, towards a way to Tobias that only he could find. Elliot pushed himself to his feet and started running after him, Hector right beside him. Sheena was next to follow, hot on their heels.
“Are you all right to run?” Alice asked, looking Guinevere over. And Guinevere was surprised, with how much of a beating she’d taken from the fall, to see Alice seemed relatively unscathed. Dirty and dusty from the chaos, but there didn’t seem to be a scratch or bruise on her.
“I think so,” Guinevere said, wincing inwardly. She’d never been much of a runner, and it had been a sore spot throughout this journey, with so many excellent runners.
But a glance aside, at Tobias struggling to pull himself up onto level ground, all alone on the opposite side of the Fracture, banished her pain, banished her exhaustion.
“Yes,” she said. And she took off running, Ava and Alice following.
——
Tobias hauled himself up onto the cliff, gasping for breath, his heart hammering in his chest.
That had been too close! It had all happened so fast, but even then, Flynn had barked a warning. He’d had as much warning as he always had. But when Flynn, Elliot, everyone jumped one way…
Tobias jumped the other way.
He was sluggish, still reeling from his fight with Bandersnatch. He’d barely managed to grasp a handhold, had almost plummeted to his death then and there. He was in a strange sort of alcove — the cliff had been gouged open here, so that Tobias had cliff walls around him, with only a small path open to the left, and another small path open to the right.
Which should he choose? Which would get him back to the others? Or maybe he should just stay here and wait. Flynn would find him. And he was exhausted, his whole body aching, shaking. Every time he took a breath, he couldn’t take a full breath, and he felt sharp, stabbing pains in the center of his chest.
It was better to stay here. Safe, sound, and waiting for Flynn.
But those hopes were dashed when Tobias heard his name. His heart stopped in its tracks. That voice, speaking that name… Anger and fear flooded his veins, and slowly he turned towards the speaker.
It couldn’t be. And yet he laid his eyes on that wild blonde hair, that hungry grin, those crazed eyes, and though it had been ten years, though they’d both grown and changed so much…
He knew the white-clad swordsman at a glance.
Once his best friend, alongside Elliot. Until he’d revealed his true colors, and murdered Tobias’ parents right in front of him, with a smile on his face.
“Mordred,” Tobias said, his voice quiet. It still hurt to talk.
Mordred’s grin widened. “Found you,” he said.
There was a rush of water, and then the waterfall, disturbed by the sudden opening of the Fracture, came spilling down over the edge of the cliff. It didn’t flood where Tobias and Mordred stood, but its frigid spray misted the air between them. Some tracks of water did flow onto their platform, little rivulets filling in the cracks underfoot.
“What?” Mordred asked, cocking his head to the side. “No greetings after so long apart? And here I thought we were friends.”
“How’d you find me?” Tobias asked.
“Right to the point, huh?” Mordred asked. “Here I thought you’d be surprised it took me so long. But… you never looked for me. What’s that about, huh?” He looked Tobias up and down. “And what’s with the get-up? Trying to paint over yourself with black ink?”
“People change,” Tobias said. He took in a breath, and his lungs protested. He didn’t wince outwardly, but there was no ignoring the pain.
He couldn’t even take a full breath. If this turned into a fight… could he even still fight?
Flynn’s on the way. Just hold on. Besides, after this long…
Tobias did wince, then. Just like his dream, just like times in the past when he’d been around Mordred, when they’d been friends… an anger burned inside of him, a rage flared up in him that he fought to extinguish.
He’d never known where this fire came from. There was something in him that rejected Mordred, that hated him, even before Mordred’s true purpose had come to light. Even before his friend turned into his parents’ murderer.
Stop it! I don’t want this!
“I guess they do,” Mordred said. “I’ve been through a lot, too. You’d be impressed.”
Tobias clenched his jaw, fighting down the instinctual rage. And then his eyes tracked to the breast of Mordred’s white coat, and the emblem stitched into it.
A black butterfly.
“You’re with Lacie?” he asked, stunned.
Mordred barked out a sarcastic laugh. “What, you thought I was serious about the assassins?” he asked. “That was just a phase. A means to an end, really. I cut my ties with them — in more ways than one. Lacie has all the answers.”
“If the question is ‘how do I ruin the world?’ then you’re not wrong,” Tobias said.
“You don’t get it,” Mordred said. “But I didn’t expect you to. You follow your way, just like I follow mine. That’s what made us such great friends, really.”
“Friends don’t —!” Tobias started, then shut up, fighting down the rage that threatened to burst out of him.
“Come on,” Mordred said. He reached up, raking his fingers through wet hair, frosted by the misty spray. “If you want to avenge your parents, I get it. Be honest with yourself.” He looked Tobias over again, and made a face. “Ugh. Come on. This is not you.”
“It’s been ten years,” Tobias said.
Mordred shook his head. “It’s a good thing I found you. We don’t know who we are without each other.”
Tobias stared, blinking in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t get it?” Mordred asked. “Well, it’s fine. Words can only express the surface. You and I both know the best way to get to the heart of things.” His hand went to the hilt of his sword.
But Tobias didn’t reach for his. Flynn was on his way. He couldn’t rush into a fight — especially not in his current state. Instead of reaching for his sword, he reached a shaking hand up, swiping wet hair from his eyes. The mist from the falls was frigid, and yet he wasn’t cold. The fire burned in his heart, and that was another thing that gave him pause.
“What’s wrong?” Mordred asked. “Surely you want vengeance for your parents. I’m right here. Do what you couldn’t do ten years ago. Come on!”
The sudden yell, the sudden anger in Mordred’s eyes, stoked the flames in Tobias’ heart — but then he took in a shaky breath. Not a deep breath — his lungs still wouldn’t let him.
But a breath. He stepped inward, rather than lashing out. And that breath calmed the flames. That breath centered him in this moment — the falls, the mist, the Fracture, and the man across from him, who he’d last seen as a boy.
“They used to say we could be twins,” Tobias said.
Mordred’s expression softened. “Except for our eyes,” he said in a distant voice. His brown eyes darkened a shade.
“Earth and sky,” Tobias said. Mordred gave him a puzzled look. “That’s how I always saw it. I had my head in the clouds, full of lofty ideals. You were the grounded one, pulling me back to earth when I got too carried away.”
“If anyone should have lofty ideals, it was you,” Mordred said. “But now…” He waved a hand at Tobias. “What is all of this? The hair, the clothes…” He glared at Tobias’ hip. “That sword. What have you done to yourself?”
“It’s a long story,” Tobias said.
“I know how to shorten it,” Mordred said. He gripped the hilt of his sword. “Show me the truth of it in the truest language there is.”
“I don’t want to fight you,” Tobias said. The fire in his heart protested.
But it was true. He’d never wanted to fight Mordred. Never wanted to kill him. And a part of him hated himself for it.
Mordred smirked. “Fine, then,” he said. “I’ll just finish what I started with Flynn. Cut the truth right out of him.”
Tobias’ hand went to his sword in the blink of an eye, as he dropped into a fighting stance. Mordred mirrored his ready stance, eyes gleaming with delight, waiting for Tobias’ to draw. “You always were the fastest,” he said.
Tobias gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white, so tight it hurt his weak, weary fingers.
It’s a bluff, a taunt, a threat to try and force your hand. Don’t give in to it, don’t let him play you like this!
His conscience spoke the truth, he knew that.
But he saw Flynn taking a blow for him in his mind’s eye. Saw the scar that spoke to Tobias’ failure to protect his dearest friend. And he felt the terror all over again, as fresh as it had been ten years ago, when he’d thought he’d lost Flynn forever.
The obsidian blade leapt from its scabbard in a flash. Mordred drew in response, his katana a flash of pearlescent steel. White met black in a shower of sparks that hissed against the frigid mist, steaming the air.
Tobias’ arm throbbed from the impact. But this was nothing like Bandersnatch. A human foe couldn’t ever measure up to the Oldest Hunter.
Even wearied, spent, battered, and bruised, Tobias had a chance here. When they exchanged three more blows, Tobias saw the truth of Mordred’s claim.
Tobias was faster.
They fought in the steam, their steps hitting hard against the rivulets running beneath them, sending up showers of spray as they danced back and forth, swords ringing against each other. Tobias pushed the advantage first, eager to make a swift end to this fight. The sooner it was over, the better for his flagging strength.
But Mordred turned aside from a blow that would have taken his arm off. There was a flash of anger in his eyes, and he turned his momentum into a lightning-fast slash. The effort it took Tobias to redirect his sword to parry forced him into a retreat, suddenly pushed into a frantic defense.
Mordred was slower than him, but he was focused, alert, and fresh. More than that, his style was completely different from what he and Tobias had trained in when they’d been together at the King’s compound. Tobias didn’t recognize it, and learning on the fly slowed him down a bit, had him thinking instead of purely reacting. Mordred couldn’t match his speed, but he had an intricate, artful technique that seemed ten steps ahead, seeing through all that Tobias would do before he knew he’d do it.
All of a sudden, Mordred pressed inside Tobias’ guard, twisted his blade against Tobias’…
And wrenched the obsidian sword from Tobias’ grasp.
Tobias’ sword went flying, landing several yards behind Mordred. Mordred grinned, and pressed his attack. Tobias dodged side-to-side, then stepped back —
And felt his heel touch against the wall of the cliff behind him.
Nowhere left to run.
Tobias dodged to the side, but Mordred cut off that escape, so Tobias dodged again, back to center. He had to get out of here, and fast — no matter how quick he was, in his weakened state, against a skill like Mordred’s, without a weapon, he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.
He ducked under a slash for his neck, and that gave him what he needed. He used the crouch to tense, then leapt high over the next slash. In midair, he flipped and kicked against the wall behind him…
And launched himself over Mordred.
He hit the ground in a roll, heard and felt the whisper of steel behind him, and then came up with sword in hand, blocking Mordred’s next attack.
Mordred grinned. “That’s more like it!” he said. “Come on, show me everything you’ve learned, all the ways you’ve grown! Show me you haven’t lost who you really are!”
Tobias pushed on the offense… for four more attacks.
And then he felt it, a sudden shift in his body. Adrenaline wore off. Exhaustion flooded in.
The fact that he hadn’t collapsed immediately after the duel with Bandersnatch had been a miracle. The fact that he was still standing now, had still fought another duel, was defying the reality of human possibility.
Mordred took advantage, and Tobias worked a hasty retreat, blocking as best he could, moving his feet as fast as he could. He couldn’t breathe! His lungs burned, and throbbed with a stabbing pain with every shallow, useless breath he sucked in. He could feel every beat of his pounding heart through his entire body, thrumming in his fingertips, threatening to jostle his sword from his grip.
But help was on its way! He just had to hold on a little longer, keep awake, keep alive, keep his sword up for a just a little more time…
He saw Mordred’s sword carving an arc for his neck. He raised his own sword to block, and did.
But Mordred’s sword disappeared.
For a moment, he didn’t realize what had happened.
Until he saw a flash of white, a thrust, not a slash, lancing up underneath his guard.
A second later, he felt a pressure in his chest, beside his left shoulder. He gasped, what little breath he had left forced out of him.
It was strange, he thought. One should feel a stabbing kind of pain from being stabbed. And yet it was nothing like that. There was an ache, a pressure, and a spreading numbness. When Mordred pulled his blood-soaked blade from Tobias’ body, Tobias barely felt it.
But he couldn’t feel much at all now. He couldn’t feel his feet under him, and then they failed him. He was falling, and when he hit the ground, he felt only a dull impact.
He couldn’t breathe. Spots flickered in his eyes. Someone was screaming his name from a great distance. More than just one voice.
Mordred stood over him, his expression somehow… disappointed? “Next time we fight,” he said, wiping the blood from his blade, “bring a real sword.”
He sheathed his sword, turned, and walked away.
Tobias’ eyes fluttered, and then closed.
Darkness took him.
——
Guinevere slid to Tobias’ side. She lifted him, cradling him in her lap, pressing her hands against the wound in his chest, trying in vain to stop the blood pouring forth.
His eyes didn’t open. He was so pale, so still. Was he already…?
“Tobias!” Alice shouted, holding his hand, tears dripping down her face. “Wake up!”
“Mordred!” Elliot shouted, drawing his silver sword.
Guinevere looked up, fixing her eyes on Tobias’ assailant. This was Mordred, the friend Artorius had so often spoken of in his letters to her…
And she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
He looks so much like Tobias. His facial structure, his height, his build…
The key differences lay in two places. First: his eyes. Where Tobias’ were the bright blue of a cloudless summer afternoon, Mordred’s were a dark, earthy brown. Second: his hair. Where Tobias’ was jet-black, Mordred’s was blonde, a radiant golden blonde that Guinevere had only seen on one boy before. A boy she knew too well…
“He’ll live,” Mordred said, “if you get him help fast enough. Looks like you don’t have the time to deal with me.”
Elliot let loose a wordless cry of anger — but sheathed his sword. He went to Tobias’ side, but Sheena was there first, reaching into pouches at her belt and pulling out rolls of bandages and a vial of some kind of medicinal powder. She instructed Guinevere to move her hands, and unsheathed a knife which she used to cut Tobias’ shirt and coat open. She pulled them off of him and spread some of the sparkling blue powder over the vicious wound. Blood continued to flow, but she kept a calm demeanor, and with steady hands wiped away the blood and began to bandage Tobias’ chest.
Guinevere, in the midst of the swift attending to Tobias, watched Mordred as he walked away. She recalled one particular letter from Artorius… and that, along with the current predicament, and so many things she recalled from her journeys with her friends through Wonderia…
A million questions blew through her, a storm of conflicting emotions. A picture was forming, an answer to a question she’d been asking for ten years, the answer to which she had been dreading.
Could it be…?
“We have to get him to Merlin’s,” Elliot said, his voice shaking. His fear and panic wrenched Guinevere out of her whirling thoughts, grounded her in the urgency of the moment. “But it’s so far from here, and with the Fracture… I don’t know. I just… we have to try.”
“We’ll all go together,” Guinevere said. “We’ll get him there. We’ll save him!”
She cared deeply for Tobias. She’d come to realize that in their journeys together, and she held him as a close friend.
But her care for his safety had suddenly risen to a new height, thanks to the realization that was dawning on her, and all that it would mean if it was true.
Tobias had to live. No matter what.
Flynn stood at Tobias’ side, crying softly.
“Where do we go?” Sheena asked, tying off the bandages. “I’ve stalled the bleeding, and given him a chance. But we need to move him now, while we still have time.”
“I don’t know,” Elliot said, shaking his head. “I…” He looked around, and the helplessness in his eyes shattered Guinevere’s fragile hope. “The Fracture’s turned everything around. I don’t know where to go.”
“Flynn can find the way!” Alice said, desperately. “Flynn, please! You have to get us to Merlin, or get Merlin to us!”
Just then, Flynn perked up, and stood, letting out a little bark. It wasn’t one of warning, but the kind of bark he sometimes let out in greeting to Tobias.
Guinevere looked where Flynn was looking.
Footsteps sounded on the rocky floor, splashing lightly in the water. A man approached them, tall and thin, his hair long and dark and pulled back in a ponytail. His silvery-grey eyes bore an intensity of wisdom and experience — and a deep, compassionate concern for the dying young man in Guinevere’s lap.
“Let me take him,” he said, his voice deep and steady, instantly reassuring. “I know the way.”
“Merlin…” Alice said, staring in shock.
“Hello, Alice,” Merlin said. He knelt, and with one arm hefted Tobias up onto his shoulder with surprising strength — and tenderness. “Let’s go. It isn’t far.”
“Please —” Guinevere started, hope draining away at the pallor Tobias’ face, the limp stillness of his body, the red stains spreading on his bandages.
“He’ll live, Your Highness,” Merlin said. “I promise.”
She followed him, eyes on Tobias, desperately willing Merlin’s promise to be true.
You can’t die. Not here, not now.
Live! Heal, be whole again.
When you wake…
We have so much to talk about.