Free Song of the Sword by Edward Willett

King’s command, he had thrown Excalibur into the water, returning it to the Lady of the Lake.
    My ancestor , Ariane thought. She remembered the blast of black muddy water rolling Felicia across the parking lot like a rag doll. And now me.
    But something else was tugging at her mind, a strange sensation, almost like an itch. Something’s happening outside...
    Unable to help herself, she went to the window and peered through the blinds.
    The white Ford Focus was parked across the street. A vivid blue glow filled the front seat, and against the glow, she saw the dark silhouette of the ponytailed man.
    Pendragon hissed, and Ariane looked down to see the cat standing in the windowsill, back arched, every hair standing on end, glaring at the blue-lit car with shining green eyes.
    The glow vanished. A moment later the Focus’s lights illuminated the empty street, and it drove away.
    Pendragon sat down and began to lick himself furiously, flattening his ruffled fur. Ariane watched the car’s taillights dwindle toward College Avenue, then turn left. The driver didn’t bother signalling. Someone knows , she thought. Someone knows I’ve seen the Lady.
    And she could think of only one someone who it could be: Merlin. Was that ponytailed figure in the front seat the ancient wizard himself?
    In a Ford Focus? she thought, bemused. Wouldn’t he at least go for a...a Jaguar? Or maybe that car James Bond drives – an Aston Martin?
    She shivered despite her flannel pajamas and went back to bed, pulling the covers up over her head as she had when she was little and thought monsters lurked in her closet. For a long time she lay awake, listening to her own heartbeat, wondering about the man in the car and what would happen next...but she was worn out from the day’s events, and, slowly, she slipped back into sleep, where no new dreams troubled her.
    When she woke up and pushed away the covers, she saw sunlight falling on the spruce tree in the front yard. She’d slept late: this time of year the sun didn’t reach the spruce until ten-thirty or eleven in the morning. She could hear the faint sound of radio voices downstairs. Aunt Phyllis was up and about.
    First things first. She took off her pajamas, belted on her dressing gown, and made her way to the bathroom. She hesitated for just a moment before washing her hands, afraid of what might happen when she touched the water, but the only result was her hands got wet. She soaped, rinsed and dried them, then started the shower. Again, she hesitated before stepping into it, but again, nothing happened.
    Has the power left me?
    But – no. She could feel it, coiled deep inside her, ready to spring to life. And she knew, somehow, that now she was in control. She exerted a small portion of that power, and the water curved away from her body, forming a curtain of falling droplets around her. She relaxed her control, and the water streamed down her skin again. She repeated the exercise, marvelling at the sheer impossibility of it. I wonder what else I can do? For the first time, she almost relished the thought of finding out. She finished her shower and got dressed, then took a deep breath and headed downstairs.
    Aunt Phyllis was loading the dishwasher, her back to the door. She had just lifted a coffee mug from the sink when Ariane stepped into the kitchen. The floor creaked beneath her weight. Aunt Phyllis froze. Then, without turning around, she finished putting the mug in the dishwasher and reached for a dirty plate.
    “Aunt Phyllis.” The words came out in a croak. Ariane cleared her throat and tried again. “Aunt Phyllis?”
    Aunt Phyllis stilled, but didn’t turn. “Yes, Ariane?”
    “I...I want to apologize, Aunt Phyllis. For arguing with you. I didn’t mean what I said. I know you love me, I know you love Mom, I just...it’s been...it’s been a rough few days.”
    Aunt Phyllis looked around at last. Her eyes glistened. “A rough few months, you mean,” she said in a low