A Tail of Camelot Read Free

Warren, the prank, and the tournament he would have to face.
    Calib followed a gutter path that cut across the castle gate. The secret passageways that ran throughout the castle were well known to him. They formed an intricate labyrinth from the stone foundations to the rafters, an invisible world where Camelot’s mice flourished. Just as he was nearly across the gate, he felt a rumble underneath his paws, like faraway thunder. He looked up just in timeto see four horses trotting across the open drawbridge, heading straight for him.
    With a squeak of alarm, Calib dashed for the nearest cover he could find, climbing into an empty feeding trough. It wasn’t a perfect hiding spot, but at least now the horses wouldn’t trample him.
    Peeking over the lip of the trough, Calib watched the steeds pass, each carrying an armored Two-Legger on its back. They were warhorses, all muscle and power, draped in red-and-white silks that matched the Two-Leggers’ shields: three diagonal red stripes set against a white background.
    Calib recognized that crest immediately. It belonged to Sir Lancelot, the bravest and fiercest of King Arthur’s knights, whose feats were renowned among every inhabitant of Camelot. Like most of the Two-Legger knights, Sir Lancelot was supposedly far away, seeking adventure. Even King Arthur himself had departed last month on a quest to the Holy Lands. Calib’s nose twitched with excitement. Perhaps Arthur and Lancelot were returning.
    With so many human knights gone, Camelot’s stores were full of uneaten food. While this was certainly not a bad thing, the abundance of crops also made the castle a target for the creatures of the woods. The mice sentries were ever on alert for signs of trouble, especially as rumors of the Darklings’ raids escalated.
    Studying the riders, Calib thought that they looked like men-at-arms rather than true knights. Still, to have an arrival for once . . . That was news.
    Bringing up the rear of the group was a boy riding on a smaller pony. The lad had large ears that poked out from his white-blond hair. He was dressed in a freshly pressed page’s uniform, and his jaw was set in a tight frown. Calib wasn’t very good at estimating human ages, but he thought the boy looked somewhere around ten or twelve.
    â€œCheer up!” said one of the men as he grabbed the boy’s reins and tugged the pony toward the stables. Calib ducked to avoid being seen on the trough. “We’re at your new home! Isn’t it grand?”
    The boy only scowled.
    Calib waited until the Two-Leggers disappeared into the stables before he climbed down and scampered across the remaining distance to the tapestry hall. Squeezing under the heavy wooden doors of the Two-Legger chapel, he entered the nave. Calib felt a familiar awe wash over him. Colored light shone like daggers through the stained-glass windows, and the wooden pews seemed to give off a warm glow. The air smelled of aged wood and dust.
    Working his way up onto the rafters, Calib emerged on a stone ledge that circled the base of the chapel’s dome. The morning sun illuminated tapestries—no larger than a Two-Legger’s palm—that hung just out of sight from theTwo-Leggers below. The hallowed history of Camelot’s mice was preserved in every stitch. Suits of mouse-sized armor stood at attention between each tapestry, like ghostly guardians.
    Calib quickly set to work, fetching a carpet beater made of twigs from the corner. He beat the tapestries in a steady rhythm, studying them as he went: the grand wedding feasts, stern knights, and glorious battles. Several scenes depicted the Great War between Camelot and the Darklings.
    Calib paused as he reached the last tapestry. It showed a solemn-faced warrior, whiskers trimmed to perfection, dressed in a magnificent, wine-colored cloak and gold armor. His eyes flashed with confidence as he brandished a broadsword high in the air. His tawny fur