Geeks and the Holy Grail Read online

  She grabbed Sophie’s hand and started dragging her down toward the parking lot. Sophie shot Stu a “save me” look, but he only shrugged helplessly. In this dungeon, Princess Sophie would have to save herself.

  She glanced down at her cell phone again.

  No text messages. No Camelot Code.

  Seriously, if the Companions didn’t call soon, this spring break might truly break her.

  “Spring break? What on the Mother’s great earth is spring break?”

  Thirteen-year-old Emrys took a hesitant step backward as the strange girl stalked toward him, a desperate look on her face. She was tall—nearly half a foot taller than him, but slender. With long black hair braided down her back, brown skin, and piercing dark eyes. She wore a brown hooded cloak over a stained white robe cinched with a silver cord and clutched some kind of small bundle in her arms. She was perhaps the prettiest girl Emrys had ever laid eyes on.

  Also, the most upset.

  “I’m, uh, not entirely sure,” he stammered. “I guess it’s like a holiday?” He tried to remember Merlin’s words before he left. “A…vacation, I think he called it?”

  The girl stared at him blankly. He shuffled from foot to foot. “Well, he’s not here,” he spluttered. “And that’s the end of it. If you want to leave a message, I’ll put it with the others.”

  He gestured to the large array of sticky notes he’d affixed to the cave’s wall. Messages left by uninvited guests who had wandered into the Crystal Cave, demanding Merlin magically heal their dying pig or help their wife give birth. The place was like a revolving door of need—with everyone wanting something—and he wondered how Merlin dealt with it on a daily basis without going mad.

  The girl’s gaze darted to the mouth of the cave and Emrys thought he caught a shimmer of fear wash across her face. “I don’t need to leave a message. I need help now.” She turned to him with an appraising eye. “Who are you again?”

  Emrys puffed out his chest. “I am Emrys the Excellent,” he repeated. “Lord Merlin’s devoted apprentice.”

  She pursed her lips. “Do you know magic?”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good apprentice if I didn’t.”

  “Yes, but how do I know you’re a good apprentice?” she countered. “Perhaps you are terrible. Perhaps you are the worst apprentice ever.”

  “Perhaps you should be going,” he shot back grumpily. After all, it was the middle of the night. He’d already been rudely awakened. He didn’t need to be insulted to boot.

  The girl’s face softened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just…it’s been quite a night. I’m sure you’re an extremely talented wizard with plenty of powerful magic at your disposal.”

  “Uh…I don’t know if I would go that—”

  “So if you could just grab your spell book, we could get started.” She glanced at the mouth of the cave again. “You see, I’m in a bit of a hurry, actually.”

  “Right.” Emrys looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  She scrunched up her face. “Why not?”

  “It’s just…I’m not exactly allowed to use magic at the moment.”

  “What kind of wizard isn’t allowed to use magic?”

  “The apprentice kind—when the master is away.” He held up his hands helplessly. “I’m sorry, but Lord Merlin left very strict orders. No magic.”

  His mind flashed back to the endless list of rules Merlin had laid out before he left. No magic spells. No playing games on the magic box in the back chamber. No looking into the Well of Dreams portal. Not even to watch one of those splendid “Yankees games” Merlin had been viewing the day he arrived. In fact, about all Emrys was allowed to do while his master was away was mop the floor (by himself—definitely no conjuring up magic brooms!) and make batches of pea soup.

  Emrys detested pea soup.

  He started to turn away, but the girl grabbed his arm, pulling him back around. “You don’t understand!” she protested. “The kingdom of Camelot is at stake!” She looked at him with dark, pleading eyes, her face a mask of desperation. “Please, Emrys the Excellent,” she whispered. “You’re the world’s only hope.”

  Emrys froze, staring at the girl. The world’s only hope? Did she just say he was the world’s only hope? That was the kind of thing damsels in distress said to knights in shining armor in his mother’s stories. Not to scrawny farm boys from backwater villages like himself.

  But he wasn’t a scrawny farm boy anymore, he suddenly realized. He was a wizard-in-training. The apprentice of Merlin the Great.

  Something tugged inside him. He bit his lower lip, his mind racing. Clearly, this girl needed him. The world needed him. How could he turn the world away—simply because of a few silly rules? Surely, Merlin would want Emrys to help.

  He cleared his throat, making up his mind. “What seems to be the trouble, m’lady?” he asked in the most gallant voice he could muster. Which, in truth, came off a bit more squeaky than gallant for his liking. He’d need to practice that.

  In any case, it seemed to work. The girl practically drooped in relief. Emrys watched as she began to unwrap her parcel, revealing a small object beneath. A very familiar-looking object.

  Emrys’s eyes bulged. Could it be? But that was impossible! Though…

  His mind flashed back to the stories his mother would tell him and his brothers by the fire after a hard day’s work on the farm. Fantastical tales of dragons and evil knights and damsels in distress. (And sometimes damsels who saved themselves!) The stories had always sounded unbelievable to Emrys’s ears. But his mother insisted each and every one of them was true.

  Now he wondered if she had been right.

  “Is that…?” he stammered. “Is that really…?”

  The cup was small and plain. Hardly any ornamentation whatsoever. And yet, even in the dim light of the cave, it seemed to glow with an otherworldly shimmer, as if it was made of actual star fire.

  “The Holy Grail,” the girl said solemnly.

  “But that’s…that’s just a story!”

  “A true story,” she amended. “The cup was brought to Britain a thousand years ago by a long-lost society that first colonized the land. It was hidden under a great hill, called the Tor, on the island of Avalon. And for the last millennium we have been its protectors.”

  “So you’re…a Companion?”

  Emrys’s mother had also told tales of the Companions, a group of legendary warriors who served and protected Mother Earth. They were noble, revered. He wondered, suddenly, if he should be bowing to this girl, but she quickly set him straight.

  “No. I’m just a young druid-in-training,” she said, and gave a small shrug. “An apprentice, like yourself. They call me Nimue.”

  “That’s a beautiful name,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself. His face heated in a blush. What was it Merlin had said? That he had “zero cool”? The girl was looking for help—not compliments, for goodness’ sake.

  “So, uh, if the Grail has been hidden all this time, why do you have it now?” he added hastily.

  “It is needed in Camelot,” she explained. “King Arthur has been struck down by a plague, and only the magic in this Grail can cure him. Without it, he will die, and the kingdom will be ripe for a takeover by Morgana.”

  Emrys’s pulse quickened. Morgana? That was certainly a name he had heard before. In fact, she had been the evil sorceress in most of his mother’s bedtime tales. He supposed if the Grail was real, she must be real, too.

  He swallowed hard. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need you to hide the Grail, of course!”

  “Right.” He bit his lower lip, looking around the cave. “Maybe in the back room?”

  “That’s not good enough! They’ll just ransack the place and find it! You need to use magic.” She gave him an accusing look. “You said you knew magic!”

  “Of course I know magic!” Emrys cried, trying to sound confident, even though
he was now shaking with fear. This girl was counting on him. The world was counting on him. Merlin had put his entire life’s work into Arthur and his rule. If he came back from spring break and learned Emrys had managed to muck it all up…?

  Well, let’s just say “zero cool” would be the least of his problems then.

  “Let me look in Merlin’s spell book!” he declared. “There’s got to be something we can use.”

  He ran to the back chamber. Unlike most magicians, who kept their spells in an actual book, Merlin liked to store his on something he called an iPad—a magical glass rectangle he’d insisted Emrys never touch himself. Hopefully, the wizard would forgive him, considering the circumstances.

  “Hurry!” Nimue cried, joining him. “I think I hear them approaching.”

  Emrys didn’t answer, just tapped furiously on the iPad’s glass surface. At least he’d watched Merlin enough times to know how to pick the proper picture under the glass. But once the spell app loaded up, he realized he was at a loss. All the spells were written in Latin. And Emrys hadn’t really paid much attention in Latin class….

  Fine. He hadn’t even taken a Latin class.

  “Um…” he said, his hands shaking so hard he nearly dropped the iPad. “Maybe I should pull up Google Translate….” He’d seen Merlin do that before when he was stuck on a strange word.

  “I don’t know what that is but there’s no time for that!” Nimue cried. “I hear them outside. They’ll be here any second!”

  Emrys’s gaze shot to the mouth of the cave. Sure enough, through the vines he could see a couple of men on horseback starting to dismount. They must have spotted the entrance—or maybe heard Nimue and Emrys speaking?

  He had to cast the spell. Now.

  He stared down at the cup. Then he drew in a deep breath.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Transvorto Calix, Pullys!” he muttered, probably murdering the pronunciation. “Transvorto Calix, Pullys!”

  Poof!

  The cup went up in a puff of smoke, electricity crackling in the air. Emrys leaped back so as not to be burned. Then a grin slid across his face. It had worked! His spell had actually—

  BWAK!

  What? He cocked his head at the strange sound, his eyes now locked on where the Grail had been a moment before.

  The smoke had cleared. The cup was gone.

  And in its place?

  A big, fat chicken.

  “Wind and Rain!” Nimue cried in dismay. “Did you just turn the Holy Grail into a chicken?”

  It was a stupid question. With an obvious answer. Because there, on the table in front of them, exactly where the Grail had been a moment before, now stood a large white-feathered fowl with beady eyes, red comb, and a sharp-looking beak.

  “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” it crowed, as if in answer.

  Nimue’s heart sank in her chest, and fear spun down her spine. This was terrible. So, so terrible. And it was all her fault, too. What had she been thinking? To put the most precious relic in the world—the one she had sworn to protect with her life—in the hands of a complete stranger? Trusting that he would do right by it, just because he said he would?

  She reached out to grab the Grail chicken. It gave her a hard peck on the hand.

  “Ow!” she cried, jerking back, clutching her stinging palm. She glared at the chicken. “Was that really necessary?”

  She turned back to Emrys, to demand that he give it another go. But then her eyes caught movement at the mouth of the cave. Blazes! They were already inside. The chicken would have to do—for now.

  She glanced around the back chamber. Should she hide herself? None of the knights had seen her face, but they might recognize her robes and realize she was one of the druids they were looking for. But what else could she do? Short of having Emrys turn her into a chicken, too.

  It was then she spied some kind of tunic hanging from a peg on the other side of the room. She ran to it, pulling it into her arms. It had a portrait on it—of a large castle and a strange-looking mouse with red trousers.

  “That’s Merlin’s favorite shirt!” Emrys protested.

  “And I’m borrowing it,” she shot back, slipping the mouse tunic over her robe. It was too large for her, of course, and fell past her knees. But at least now they wouldn’t recognize her.

  She and Emrys headed back into the main cavern, Nimue in the lead. Two burly knights dressed in full chain mail and armed with swords strapped to their sides were rummaging through Merlin’s things with rough hands. Nimue winced as a vase made of glass fell to the ground and shattered.

  She cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and forced a scolding expression onto her face. “Did your mothers not teach you to knock?” she demanded, stalking over to the men, hands on her hips. It was not proper, of course, to address knights with such disrespect. But these men were clearly working for Morgana and therefore deserved to be treated as traitors to the crown.

  The men jumped; evidently they hadn’t realized anyone was home. They turned to stare at Nimue and Emrys, ugly scowls on their faces. “And who might you be?” the first one demanded. He had a shock of black hair and an unkempt beard.

  “I am Emrys the Excellent,” Emrys declared before Nimue could reply. He stepped in front of her to face off with the men, his arms crossed over his chest. Which was pretty brave, Nimue had to grudgingly admit. “Apprentice to Lord Merlin. And you are intruding on his private residence.”

  “Lord Merlin, eh?” The second man raised a bushy eyebrow. He had bright orange hair and a pug nose. “And where might Lord Merlin be now?”

  “He’s away,” Nimue broke in. “But we expect his return any moment now, and he’ll be very cross if he finds you here, pawing through his private things. So I suggest you leave now if you don’t want him to turn you into a toad.”

  “Or a chicken!” Emrys added staunchly. Nimue shot him a warning look. This was no time for jokes!

  BWAK!

  Speaking of…The chicken—otherwise known as the most precious relic in the world—chose that moment to strut into the cavern’s main chamber, proudly parading itself in front of the two intruders, before stopping in front of the cave’s eastern wall, observing the crystals embedded in the rock. Nimue cringed as it started to peck away at them, as if they were pieces of corn.

  “What’s that?” the knight demanded, narrowing his eyes.

  “Lord Merlin’s dinner,” Nimue declared before Emrys could answer. She stalked over to the chicken and grabbed it by its feet. It yelped in apparent alarm and attempted to peck her again as she dragged it to the center of the cave and dropped it into the large black cauldron. Which thankfully wasn’t heated yet. The chicken flapped around the bottom of the pot, squawking unhappily.

  “And who might you be?” the second knight added, giving her a critical once-over. “And what in the blazes are you wearing?”

  “She’s just the cook. And she’s very behind schedule,” Emrys declared. He turned to Nimue. “Girl, go chop up those carrots! Make yourself useful for once!”

  Nimue shot him a disgusted look. The cook? Really? That was the best he could do? Yes, it would be unusual for a girl to apprentice under a sorcerer. But then, Merlin was an unusual man! Was it so impossible to believe he could be open to the idea?

  The men snorted, giving Emrys a knowing look. “Wenches!” the first one scoffed. “Gotta be firm with them. Or they’ll walk all over you.”

  Of all the—! It was all Nimue could do not to walk all over him. Before punching him square in the jaw, that is. But then she caught Emrys’s warning look. She sighed. Right. Play along. It did no good to defend one’s honor if it led to one’s body being run through by a sword.

  She forced her hands back to her sides, but kept them clenched into fists just the same. It made her feel a little bit better.

  “Now, good sirs, to what do we owe this honor?” Emrys asked the guards, evidently fully embracing his role as master of the manor. He pulled his robe tighter again
st him. “It is not every day we get visitors this deep in the forest. Especially fine knights like yourselves.”

  “We’re looking for something. A very important relic was stolen from Camelot,” the knight with the big nose explained. He was tall, but scrawny. Nimue felt she could probably take him in a fight, had he not been armed with a sword.

  “I’m afraid you won’t find any relic here,” Emrys replied smoothly. “Besides those that belong to Lord Merlin, of course.”

  The first man eyed him suspiciously. “We’ll be the judge of that.”

  Emrys shrugged, as if it made no difference to him. He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “By all means, judge away.”

  The men got to work. They did more than “judge,” of course. In fact, they pretty much destroyed the place before finally admitting defeat. Knocking over tables, upending shelves, spilling glass vials filled with foamy green liquid. They made a great investigation of everything—except, of course, the pot containing the chicken. From across the cave, Nimue gave Emrys an approving look. Maybe he’d had the right idea after all.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the two men gave up. “I don’t think it’s here,” the first one said.

  The second one nodded. “We’d better circle back. Maybe one of the others has had better luck.”

  And with that, they headed out of the cave, not bothering even to say good-bye, let alone apologize for the disarray they had caused. Still, Nimue let out an uneasy breath of relief.

  “That was close,” she said.

  “Aye. Too close,” Emrys agreed, swiping his damp forehead with his hand. He looked around the ravaged cave. “What a mess. This is going to take weeks to set right.”

  Nimue gave him a rueful look. “Sorry about that.”

  He waved her off. “It’s no bother. Gives me something to do while waiting for Merlin.” He walked over to the table and pulled it upright.