Uther and the Mirror

by Rudi Dornemann

Uther Pendragon, high king of all Britain, looked into the mirror, and a face that wasn’t his looked back. He stuck out his tongue. The face of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, did the same.

“But when will I change back?” said Uther.

“Soon,” said Merlin.

They sat together in a roofless, nearly wall-less hut, abandoned years before by whatever hermit had built it.

“How soon?” said Uther.

It had only been a few hours since Merlin had worked the spell and Uther had ridden off to Gorlois’ fortress.

“Remember when I said I couldn’t give you the likeness of the Duke for a night so that you could have your way with the duchess?”

“You did say that,” said Uther, “then you did it anyway.”

“No,” said Merlin, “No spell will change you for a single night.”

“You’re saying I’m trapped like this?” Uther threw the mirror to the mossy ground. “I’ve traded my kingship for the beauteous Ygraine?”

Merlin picked up the mirror, polished it with his sleeve. “It lasts a month.”

“Eh,” said the king. “I might not even tire of her by then.”

“Looking like Gorlois,” said Merlin, “only lasts one night.” He turned the mirror.

“Who’s that?” Uther stared at the teenager in the reflection.

“A stableboy of the duke’s. I believe the other servants call him ‘Onions.’”

“Onions!?!”

“I have no idea why,” said Merlin.

“You cast the spell!” The king who looked like a stableboy looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel in his pimply forehead.

“No, I mean, I don’t know why they call him that.” Merlin tucked the mirror in his cloak. “About the spell–of course you’ll keep changing. It’s a moonspell. You’ll change nightly until the moon is dark again.”

“Why?”

“It was the only spell that would give you what you asked for,” said Merlin. “Magic can be complicated.”

“I suppose it will be an adventure,” said the king. “Life is boring at court…”

“Indeed,” said Merlin. With luck, Uther might learn something, might rule a little less unwisely before Britain dissolved back into squabbling dukedoms. “You need to get to the stables by dawn.”

“Adventure!” said the king/stableboy.

With even more luck, the king might become Ygraine, might gain some sense of consequences, some appreciation for life in its faintest flickerings. Or at least experience the adventure of morning sickness.

The Ancestor

by Kat Beyer

The first time Dana Yamamoto seated herself on a College horse, she had a fleeting daylight vision: she was riding south down a steep slope, holy Mount Fuji in the narrow view of her helmet, her armor heavy on her shoulders.  She blinked; the vision was gone; she didn’t remember it until that night in Hall, when someone passed her a message from her mother the General.  She thought then, ‘I should ask Mother about that.  Some ancestor of mine, perhaps?’

She felt she might even guess who, as she felt sure the warrior riding down the slope had been a woman.  One of the greats, maybe—Tomoe Gozen, or Nakano Takeko?  Were they in her lineage?

It was spring on Skye; Dana had been at the Women’s Battle College for nearly a year.  The next day she sat with the reins in her hands, looking across the bay to the hills beyond, while her horse shifted beneath her and stamped one hoof, sensing her mood.  She wanted to turn him, jump the fence and ride straight across the moor to the Red Cuillins, firing arrows and practicing saddle cuts all the way, howling like a mad warrior.  Had her family had a war cry?  She thought again of asking her mother.

It felt good, the weight of the shield, the bow and the quiver on her back, the padded wooden sword thrust in her belt.  These weren’t the weapons of a modern soldier, it was true, but her mother had sent her here to learn more than modern soldiering.  She waited, daydreaming, while everyone else arrayed themselves and mounted; waited some more, daydreaming, until she realized Dr Somerville had been speaking for several minutes.

Oh gods, what was she supposed to be doing?

Dr Somerville rode towards the gate.

“We will proceed at a trot, remaining on the trail to avoid laming our horses.  When attacked, we will strive to give good account of ourselves.  Please take a moment to check the padding on your weapons as I would prefer nobody lose an eye today.”

She looked them over, her hand on the gate.

“At the ready, then.  I will wait, and follow you.”

They rode out the gate.  The vision Dana had forgotten returned again; in the pounding of the hooves she thought she heard a woman laughing through her helmet.