Chapter Text
The first thing he felt was cold rushing across his skin. Then the lightheadedness. Then the strong arms, hauling him to his feet. Despite Artemis’ best efforts, Jason stumbled forwards to unceremoniously faceplant into the grass. His breakfast threatened to resurface and he fought the urge to retch. Jason tried to stand, realising the huge mistake he was about to make settled for kneeling. He tried to scan his surroundings but the nausea afforded him only a brief glance, enough to take in a vast stretch of field cutting across the horizon. Jason’s gaze fell to the ground scorched with the ugly black lines marking out the ritual and path they had created to throw themselves across an ocean.
Said ritual had begun with the two of them perched on a sofa, Jason with a laptop and Artemis with a pile of books. The ritual ended with them, far from Gotham, committing what Jason guessed was a pretty serious case of criminal damage and arson to some poor dude’s field. Hey, you could take the crime lord out of Gotham.
Despite the vandalism, somehow they had managed it. Sure, taking a short plane ride would have been easier. Instead they had spent a month researching ancient rituals and contacting all kinds of new age spiritualists. It would also have saved them several fake names, lengthy conversations and pointless information. Travelling by portal felt like taking a blender to your insides until they were a scrambled mush. Short term pain for long term gain. But fucking hell, Jason was never doing that shit again.
A cold wind whipped his hair about his head as he finally managed to clamber to his feet. There was a faint twinge of salt in the air, mixing with the smell of burnt grass from the charred remains of the portal. Artemis, who unlike Jason seemed totally unaffected by the portal travel, brushed down her clothes and glanced about.
“Alright, kids. You got my attention now.”
Jason turned to see a figure picking their way across the uneven ground. His brown trench coat flew out behind him as he was hit by a particularly violent guest of wind.
Artemis threw him a smirk as she observed the approaching figure. “I guess my plan worked.”
“Our plan,” replied Jason.
John Constantine was a difficult man to get a hold of if Jason’s two months of unsuccessful attempts to get in contact with him were anything to go by. After a while, he had assumed some old demonic deal had caught up with him and he had been dragged to Hell. Their portal was not bound by the constraints reality had to work within. Their portal required them to warp reality. They had copied out the lines from the various collections of texts. They had focused their thoughts on where it was they wanted to go. The spoken words connected intention to the symbols burned into the ground. Magic had begun to flow from intention into reality, building the portal. That same magic must have caught Constantine’s attention.
“Shoddy portal work,” Constantine announced. “You’re lucky you weren’t thrown into the sea. I would hate to have to explain to Batman why one of his sidekicks drowned off the coast of Cornwall.”
“It was the best we could do seeing as we’re not particularly magical,” Jason said. “Still got us here.”
“A plane would have been easier. But then you’d have to risk Luton.”
Throwing him an exasperated look, Artemis took a half step forward. “A plane wouldn’t have gotten your attention. And since it’s urgent, easier isn’t always better.”
She conveniently left out the fact that Jason was packing several weapons that would make it impossible for him to fly commercially.
A small chuckle. “So a Bat and an Amazon are desperate to see me, desperate enough to bullshit their way through a portal.”
They were the only people for miles in this wide stretch of green. The portal had scared the cows away in the field across from them. There was only a cluster of black and white at the far end of the field, bright against the green. Jason wondered whether the Red Hood would now be known for farm destruction. He could add it to his reputation; Jason Todd, famous destroyer of fields.
“We’re looking for a sword,” he explained. “You may know it. Excalibur. Arthur’s sword.”
Handing Constantine a folded piece of paper, Artemis took over. “These are from my dreams. Every time it’s the same message: find the sword. It’s been lost for centuries and is said to have vast amounts of power. If it fell into the wrong hands then…”
“World ending catastrophe,” Jason finished.
For several long moments, Constantine looked over the drawings. There was a collection of seven swords, all the same. Each one had appeared to Artemis across different dreams. It had become so frequent that Jason had gotten used to waking whenever she did, scribbling down whatever she remembered. It had been that way for the last month. In the end, they had come to the logical conclusion they were supposed to find the sword themselves.
“And you need my help to find this sword?” He paused, assessing the bedraggled pair. “Hold on a minute, aren’t there three of you?”
“Legal trouble with Lex Luthor.”
“Trust me, we’re working on it,” Artemis added quickly. “But unfortunately this can’t wait. It’s a magical sword and you practise magic.”
Constantine passed back their drawings. “It’s a mythical sword and I only dabble in magic.”
“It’s a magical British sword and you’re a magical British man.” Jason hadn’t expected it to take this long to convince Constatine. Perhaps it had been a little optimistic to assume he would jump on the opportunity to find a magic sword. “Look, all I’m saying is we’re looking for something that would be a whole lot easier to find if you helped.”
“Do you have any idea where you’re supposed to be looking?”
Artemis produced another set of papers from her bag; Jason easily recognised them as their ‘Holy Grail’ of navigation. She waved the maps casually in front of Constantine’s face. “We’ve got a starting point. We just need a way of getting around.”
“Every quest has an Arthur.” Jason pointed to Artemis next to him. “And a wizard guide. You can be our Merlin. Or Gandalf. Or even Hoggle; although he was a goblin, not a wizard.”
“Ignoring that everything you just said was widely offensive, what are you on this quest?”
Jason shot a grin towards Artemis. “Dashing knight of the Round Table.”
Rolling her eyes, she scoffed at his comment. “You’re more like Guinevere.”
“Still dashing though.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Hate to interrupt whatever this is but I think I should let you know I’m not interested. Before you protest, I have actual work to do. I’m not in the business of chasing mystical swords at the moment.” He began to walk away.
Before Constantine could disappear, Jason blurted out, “Do you know where it is?”
“Excalibur? No, if I did then this would be a very different conversation.”
“I just thought it might have ended up in the British Museum or something…” He trailed off when he saw Constantine’s expression.
He stalked back towards the pair, casting a glare at where Jason stood. “Mate, I’m from Liverpool. The British Museum is in London. They happen to be two very different places.”
“Could you get us to London?” Artemis asked. She folded her arms, staring Constantine down.
“Can’t you get yourselves there? Don’t you have your coconut halves?”
Coconut halves? He had no idea what the guy was on about. Having met Constantine on only a couple occasions, Jason assumed he was living in a perpetual state of hungover, if the vague scent of tobacco and alcohol that seemed to follow him around was anything to go by. Although Jason was half sure alcohol wasn’t the only substance Constantine had been abusing this morning. Ultimately, they had no way of getting to London on their own. Relying on Constantine was their only choice and that choice was fragile. Jason had the general understanding that Constantine was first and foremost an unreliable man. He was beginning to think the plan they had come up with had one too many holes in it.
There was a long pause after Constantine’s last comment about coconuts. Artemis continued to give him an unrelenting death stare and Jason pitied the British man at the receiving end. Constantine massaged his temple in a creepily similar way to an exasperated Bruce. He ushered them backwards into the centre of the portal.
Constantine spoke slowly whilst searching his jacket. “I can get you to London. I’ve got a flat in Whitechapel you can use for a couple of days. There should be a car on the top floor of Big Sainsbury’s car park; that will help you… blend in whilst you're here. Don’t destroy any more fields; the farmers may shoot you. And good luck… I guess.”
Constantine began to move his hands, pulling threads of energy from their surroundings, weaving a new gateway. The wind carried the muttered words across the field. Jason had read the words printed on aged paper. To him they were just words but hearing Constantine say them was a completely different experience. The syllables twisted in a lilting way, summoning forth something pure, something raw. The charred lines began to glow with a newer warmer flame, brightness creeping out from between chunks of dry soil.
Before Jason realised what he was doing, Jason gripped Artemis’ arm. He was already anticipating the horror that would be their teleportation.
“Oh. Jason, I’ve got some advice that will help your quest.”
He looked up from the ground at the sound of his name, acutely aware that any piece of supernatural advice would be useful.
Constantine grinned at him. “Just remember,” he shouted. “Drive on the right side of the road. And by the right I mean the left.”
“Motherfu-”
Under their feet the portal came to completion. Orange light broke through the soil, devouring the pair within a second. The sickening sensation of falling spread through Jason’s body as he hurtled through empty space. The cold chill chased behind it like a bitter aftertaste, leaving him numb. Jason lost his grip and was pulled away from Artemis. He felt the world spiral and twist. His body twisted with it, compressing his insides and stretching his limbs. Just as Jason was beginning to fight for air, the portal spat them back out.
For the second time that day, Jason experienced teleportation and, for the second time that day, he silently swore never to do it again.
The second time was marginally more elegant as he did not faceplant into a field. Instead, he stumbled into a small flat and slammed into a kitchen island. He gasped for air. Despite his reeling head, Jason was thankfully not sick. But that didn’t stop nausea from gradually creeping in.
“Well that was almost completely useless,” announced Artemis. Again, she was seemingly fine, inspecting the kitchen they were in and the cupboard they had just come out of.
There were no carvings in the ground. There was no charred wood, or smoking residue. There was only a cupboard. Jason got to his feet and joined Artemis at the portal to examine the runes encompassing the exposed wood. The entire inside was marked in repeating patterns, converging upon one another to create a spiralling pattern vaguely similar to the one they had left in the field. Intricate lines knitted together, weaving into an other-wordly tapestry. He suddenly understood why Constantine had called their portal work shoddy. When compared to the detailed design before him, it barely measured up, more similar to the creative expression of a toddler.
Jason sighed, tearing his eyes from the portal. “I knew we should’ve asked Zatanna for help.”
“Remind me what you said about interacting with the Justice League.”
“That doesn’t apply here.” He was fairly sure these counted as special circumstances. The list of magicians they knew was painfully short.
She began to search the kitchen for something to eat, discovering quickly a depressing lack of food consisting of oven chips in the freezer and a box of tea on the counter. It would make Alfred shudder. Jason explored the rest of the flat. It had all the basics: one bathroom, one bedroom, open living room and kitchen area. He dumped his frankly small backpack on the bed. There wasn’t much to unpack, not that they would be staying for long anyway.
All of it was obscenely mundane. The only hint of anything magical was contained within the cupboard in the kitchen. It resembled one of Jason’s many safehouses. He kept the evidence of the Red Hood concealed in cupboards and drawers.
He was drawn to the window. Down one end of the street, a market was being set up. There didn’t seem to be any limit on what was being sold. Goods ranged from fish and vegetables to a large number of suitcases. The rattle of the metal frames over uneven pavement could be heard even within the flat. They were carted up and down the street, preparing to build the stalls. Shops were crammed all the way down the long stretch of road; each sign had writing in both English and Bengali. His eyes caught on a large orange sign on the other side of the street. Suddenly, he understood what Constantine had meant by ‘Big Sainsbury’s’. Somewhere in the multileveled car park was their ride.
Before heading back into the kitchen, Jason grabbed a notebook and his wallet. The notebook had points of reference hastily scribbled down across multiple pages so that he didn’t have to keep looking stuff up. There was nothing neat about his notes. The long sloping sentences often ran together, each desperate to take up space. Anything that caught his attention had been written down. Since they were going in with little knowledge of what to actually do,they needed everything they could get.
Artemis had already laid out their maps, weighing them down with the salt and pepper grinders. Across the counter was a map of the UK with several locations circled. The thin paper had an unnatural weight to it. Post-it notes with historical references were plastered to the warped map. Some listed supposed battles, others speculated on the true location of Camelot. Most were in Jason’s handwriting. In the end, their list of locations stretched from Cornwall to Cumbria, taking them across the country. A thin red line connected those locations; blue lines branched off, indicating diversions, creating a rough path for the pair. Next to it was a map of London which Artemis was currently pouring over. The second map was newer and lacked any messy penlines; there was only one location circled in red.
“We’re here.” She pointed out a general area on the map.
“The East End.” He hated that the first thing he thought of was a Dickens novel.
Artemis hummed in thought, her eyes scanning the map. “We’re close to a train station; we could head to the first location using that.”
“I think we need a vantage point,” Jason suggested. He had already pulled out his phone and was trying to get directions to where he wanted to visit.
“What type of vantage point?”
…
Forty five minutes later, the pair stood in front of the London Eye.
“This is great,” Jason said. “Three pounds saved on lunch.”
“I can’t believe we navigated that mess; it’s worse than the Labyrinth,” Artemis muttered.
They had spent an agonising ten minutes staring at the mess of overlapping trainlines trying to decipher their route. In the end, they figured out that they were taking the District Line directly to the London Eye. Pushing their way through groups of tourist school children and disgruntled commuters to get on the train was a struggle. Somehow in the clammy heat and the crowds they’d managed to find two seats. The last five minutes were spent stopping off in a Tescos to buy a meal deal.
“Just think of it as the first trial of the quest done.” Jason was less bothered by the trains; in several ways Gotham was infinitely worse. He hadn’t seen a single clown mob yet. “Can you take a photo of me for Bruce?”
He passed her his phone before posing with his pepsi in front of the giant coca cola logo on the London Eye. He watched the corners of her mouth curl as she realised what he was doing.
“Goddess, you cannot be serious.”
There was something carefree about just being a tourist. Technically, they were there for work but that wouldn’t stop him from enjoying the freedom just a little.
Taking back his phone, Jason flicked through the photos. “I could take one of you, Red.”
“How about we get that vantage point?”
It turned out that buying tickets online beforehand would have been much wiser. For that error, Jason and Artemis found themselves stuck in another line for fifty long ass minutes. They were trapped behind long lines of tourists, who had also made the same mistake. At least the extra hour of waiting gave them time to plan their next stop. Jason had spent the better part of the last month researching Arthurian legend as much as possible, gathering enough information on where the sword could be located. The pages in his notebook had softened and bent around the corners. So much of their time was spent on the go that being able to fully disconnect himself from Gotham felt like an unearned privilege.
They didn’t need a vantage point. Jason just wanted to be able to do something stupid and know he was doing it for the sheer fun of buying into a tourist trap. It was also because Artemis deserved it. Another quest was calling and she wouldn’t hesitate to follow that calling. After the last couple of months, they could all do with a break. Jason glanced at her; she was reading her way through one of their guidebooks. The one in her hands had locations circled by Alfred, a personal guide curated for the pair with locations outlined showing hidden spots and particular favourites worthy of a visit. Maybe after the sword was found, they could stop back through.
Eventually they managed to get tickets and get onto the Eye. Their glass bubble was shared by other tourists. They rose above the city and the ground below began to shrink, until the people on the concrete became mere specks. The expanse of the city suddenly became visible. The Thames below them cut through the clusters of buildings, weaving throughout the city. As they rose further into the sky, the greyness began to set in. A heavy cloud hung over London, swallowing the finer details of the city. The distant office blocks were barely visible, only dark shapes eaten by the dark clouds.
After a while of watching the landscape, Artemis leant in close. “I can’t see shit.”
He grinned. “Should we have gone to the Shard?”
“This is a tremendous waste of time and money.”
“This is fun,” corrected Jason, taking advantage of the height to snap a picture of the expanse below them. Even if he couldn’t see in front of them due to the clouds, the height was still impressive. “This is like a once in the lifetime type of thing, meaning we do it and then we never do it again.”
She stayed silent after that but kept her eyes on the world outside. Jason looked out next to her, only stealing glances occasionally. Despite the chatter behind them and the poor weather, it was peaceful to watch the city from above. There was a stillness as they rose through the clouds. The world beneath them was suspended. Jason often saw Gotham from rooftops often but this was different; the concrete skyline with streets winding though it was completely foreign. A place where no one knew Jason Todd. No one had to know Jason Todd. There was a reason his helmet and body armour was folded up in the bottom of his backpack. There was a reason why he had chosen to leave his gear behind and do the trip as a tourist.
They reached the ground after a while and stood next to the river, staring out at the passing boats. The City Cruisers moved slowly, packed with people both inside and outside. The movement sent waves rolling across the river, crashing into the embankments as if the water itself was fighting to escape. Maybe it was what he needed. After everything he had done, everything he had lost and everything he gained; Jason deserved a break, some time to separate himself from the Red Hood.
“Did you like that?”
He turned away from the river at the sound of Artemis’ voice. “Did you? I enjoyed seeing the city like that.”
“Is this your first time? I thought Bruce would have taken you.”
“I was supposed to go but…” He had died before they ever got the chance. It was another piece of his life that had been taken from him. It was something he’d lost. But he’d never had it in the first place so did he even really deserve to mourn? There was really no reason for the hollowness in his voice.
“Well, we’re here now. And I did enjoy it even if we’re a hundred pounds down and buying into tourist traps.” She paused. “Also we’re not really closer to finding the sword.”
Pushing the darker thoughts down to the crevices of his mind, Jason pulled out his phone for their next directions. Being further from their goal was less of an issue. To their knowledge, no one else was looking for it, nor even believed in Excalibur’s existence.
“Onwards to our next tourist trap,” he announced.
Their next stop turned out to be one of the boats Jason had been watching. By early afternoon their pockets were already feeling lighter. But the boat was better than the trains and that was all that mattered. They were able to coast along the river, passing other sights they had missed. The light drizzle had stopped, allowing them to sit outside with the breeze running through their hair. Every so often, Jason would take out his phone and snap a few more photos. While they were mainly for himself, he was sending a handful to Bruce to show he was alive. There was the occasional choice photo of something random like a graffitied Batman posed next to a Sherlock Holmes, deep in detective thought.
“Where are we heading next?”
“Tower of London,” Jason replied.
“Remind me what happened there.”
Moving as best as he could on the crowded deck, he took half a step away from Artemis. “What do you mean?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Can you remind me why we’re going to the Tower?”
“Did you look at the reading list?” Only silence followed his question. “Wow. I didn’t expect you of all people-”
“Listen, we had the portal. You can’t have expected me to read all the books on the list.”
Jason made an exasperated noise. “Skim them at least. The foundation of our trip is literature.”
Their hushed conversation attracted the unwanted attention of some of their fellow passengers. A few nervous glances were thrown their way. An arguing couple never failed to make people uncomfortable. In their case, they were teammates and not really arguing but that didn’t mean their back and forth didn’t draw attention.
“You read faster than me. I had the portal to think about,” she said. “You downloaded fifty books onto your Kindle for this trip.”
Her last statement sounded accusatory in some kind of way but Jason ignored it.
“You can act as a tour guide.”
After a second longer of staring, he laughed under his breath. “Alright, Tower of London. Built by William the Conqueror. And more importantly it was mentioned in ‘Vulgate Mort Artu’; Guinevere fled there from Arthur’s evil son and nephew. He was trying to trick her into marrying him but then besieged the Tower when he realised she wasn’t going to go through with it. The sword could have ended up there when she fled but the chances are low.”
Artemis frowned. “But she fled there before Arthur’s death and somehow the sword followed her there after Arthur’s death.”
Jason nodded. “Like I said chances are low but it has an armoury. I’ve also heard there happens to be a gift shop and I promised that I’d bring back souvenirs.”
“Are we only going because of the gift shop?”
“I’m just saying I've heard it’s good.” In order to fulfill his duty, Jason had every intention of finding the worst things possible to give to his family.
They passed a group of kayaks slowly meandering the river. They rocked precariously as the larger boat caused waves to roll across the surface of the Thames. Jason couldn’t help but smile as he watched. He admired their bravery; he doubted anyone would try that in Gotham since the water was generally assumed to be toxic. Even he didn’t know the full extent of what had been dumped in that water despite being a born and bred Gothamite. There was only the casually accepted belief that swimming in the Gotham harbour was a good way to end up with some kind of poisoning or developing a weird meta power. The vigilantes were under strict orders to visit Leslie for emergency jabs after any unfortunate dip in the harbour. He kept watching the river even as they neared Tower Pier.
There was no way to explain how Jason felt as he stepped back onto land and looked across at the Tower of London. They were on the precipice of something; it lay somewhere on the map. He could feel the sense of anticipation, the breath collectively held in waiting, standing on the edge of discovery. Jason knew there was a sense of magic underpinning those feelings. He understood that there were supernatural powers at play within the world, pulling strings of fate. Coming back from the dead had only solidified that.
Jason knew that the sword was out there, lost in the wide expanse waiting for them.
…
Artemis realised slowly over the course of one day how much she despised the long lines that seemed to guard every attraction in London. They had waited outside the Eye. Then they waited for the Uber Boat. Next was the ticket booth for the Tower of London. Once they were inside they weren’t free from lines. They had had to queue for the view of the Crown Jewels which had been underwhelming; that was perhaps to be expected after growing up the way she had. Jason talked her through the different items, clearly having done his research.
At some point, Artemis lost focus. The chatter of different languages from all sides had become a cloud of noise. Words became scrambled, woven together to form an amalgamation of half understood phrases reflected within her head. She could not release the knot of tension in her shoulders, or drop her guarded stance. In every passing moment she was an Amazon, an Outlaw, a friend, a tourist and the Shim’Tar. Every piece of her was tangled together, each strand constantly waging war on another, like the chatter that surrounded her.
The quest was her priority but they were doing anything but prioritising the quest. Artemis was letting it happen as well. She caught herself every time she slipped into complacency.
Getting back outside was a relief. The October wind brushing against her skin was calming and she took a breath, letting fresh air flood her lungs. Maybe Jason noticed because he didn’t rush her towards the White Tower. He milled about by a bench, checking over notes she knew he had already read that day.
The thing about Jason Todd was that beneath the facade and the posturing was a real person, one she had only seen glimpses of. It was all too easy to assume the quips, the guns and the Red Hood was all there was to him. It was too easy to assume that beneath the Red Hood there was only a bottomless pit of nothing.
The burden of the Red Hood was one Jason wore well.
It was only when they had fought for Bizarro that she understood the version of himself Jason kept hidden. It was enough to make her stay. Slowly, Artemis found herself becoming part of the Outlaws and she did not fight it.
Somehow being an Outlaw had meant she had an ally beside her, searching for a sword she had only seen in her dreams. Two thirds of the Outlaws were searching for the sword, one third was stranded in Metropolis. There was the inescapable knowledge that Bizarro was trapped by Lexcorp in some twisted legal bind, ignoring the fact that cloning Superman was illegal in the first place. She took another breath and pushed down the bubble of emotion that had fought its way to the surface.
“It’s less white, more beige,” Jason remarked as he approached.
Artemis didn’t answer, instead leading the way to the White Tower. Thankfully, there wasn’t a line to get inside. It was a small mercy.
Although the Crown Jewels had been underwhelming, the armoury made up for the disappointment. The suits of armour were admittedly distracting; they showcased the development over the course of years. Every shiny surface tempted Artemis to stop and stare, dissecting a way to work aspects into her own gear. She split from Jason and continued to explore alone, only taking occasional photos of different swords. None of them resembled the one she had seen so many times before. Although Artemis had come in knowing that they wouldn’t find a trace of Excalibur, a layer of disappointment remained. The armoury was impressive nevertheless, despite its relative uselessness in helping their search.
Making her way back around the displays, she found Jason standing in front of a metal dragon, staring at the model.
“I found the famous medieval dragon; I think the English used this to fight the French in the Hundred Year War,” he spoke earnestly. “It was highly effective against the French's golden rooster.”
Artemis raised her eyebrows. “I think the national animal of England is a lion. A dragon is Welsh.”
Jason hummed under his breath, before passing the phone to Artemis. It was a very obvious request for a photo which she obliged. He stood in front of the dragon and gave a double thumbs up. They wandered about for an hour more, observing different historical pieces. Artemis continued to act as photographer for Jason. There was one in front of a wall of guns and another in front of one of the largest suits of armour. She obliged each time. After an unsuccessful search, they came to the conclusion Excalibur was unlikely to be concealed in the Tower of London. It was silent; neither voiced their thoughts but they both knew going in the chances were slim. Their short exploration only confirmed what they had already believed. Artemis felt nothing as she looked at glass display cases; she expected there to be some kind of pull. Something. Anything.
She left Jason at the gift shop and spent the last five minutes scanning over a sign. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Guinevere fleeing from Mordred Despite what she had said on the boat, Artemis had scanned through some of the texts Jason had sent her and understood the outline of events. The rise of Arthur was the rise of a God amongst men and the fall shattered England. The fall was inevitable; it always was with men like that.
“I got you something.”
Artemis caught the small paper bag thrown her way. She opened it slowly. “Oh.”
“You like it?”
“It’s a pencil.” She had been expecting something much worse like one of the gaudy ‘I heart London’ bracelets she saw Jason eyeing as they had walked down the riverside.
“Yes. The cheapest and most useful thing I could find in there. I think I remember a certain Amazon saying she needed one. There was a replica suit of armour but I think that was for show, not for real fighting.”
Artemis seemed to recall needing a pencil at the start of the day but she hadn’t expected Jason to be paying attention. There it was once again; the other version of Jason slipping from behind the mask. Although she didn’t need an overpriced black pencil topped with a sparkly crown, at least the intention was there. Carefully, Artemis slid the pencil back into the paper bag. “Did you get anything else?”
“Alas, all of it seems to be too high quality for my family.” Jason feigned a look of wistfulness. “And too expensive.”
“I saw a wooden sword. You could get that for Robin.”
“Damian has enough real swords. He doesn’t need a fake one. Then he would have an excuse to attack us properly."
Artemis turned the paper bag over, staring blankly at the branding on the back. She was sure Robin had attacked his brothers before with real weapons. “We’re going to be broke by tomorrow if this is how you intend to spend our money.”
“We’re fine for money. Bruce is a billionaire and I have a few accounts we can dip into.” Jason paused and then smirked knowingly. “Last thing I heard, the dead have tax exemptions.”
“I guess it helps if the dead person in question is a crime lord and knows a billionaire.”
“Yes it does,” he said," Should we go back?”
They managed to find another train station close to the Tower. It seemed to be busier than the morning, filled with workers returning from the city. Everything they needed was situated along the District Line so the journey home was at least straightforward. It felt less like a maze and more like a train line that could be semi navigated. They picked up dinner on the way home; it was some cheap takeout packaged in a greasy box. Artemis was mostly sure that Jason picked it because he found it funny that there was a knockoff KFC two minutes from Constantine’s flat.
Artemis was going to have to figure out a way to get some real food for the rest of her trip. The last thing she wanted to do was live off fast food, knowing all too well that Jason could do that. When Artemis had first been taken to the decommissioned bomb shelter, there had been fast food wrappers scattered across work spaces and far too many coffee stained mugs left abandoned on any and all available surfaces. This had included: the top of the fridge, a stack of books, and next to the bathroom sink. She would not allow their trip to devolve into something like that.
They sat on the bedroom floor with their maps spread out in front of them, plotting their next steps. Jason finished his PFC and discarded the box next to him. With greasy fingers, he marked a circle around Colchester.
“There,” Jason said, “It’s a supposed site for Camelot. It could help to get an understanding of the legends surrounding all of this.”
“Alright. When?” Not bothering to hide her need to leave the city as quickly as possible.
“Tomorrow?” he suggested.
Artemis glanced over the map, attempting to judge the distance. She settled on the estimate of a two hour drive, maybe longer; if the traffic was as bad as Gotham, getting out of the city could prove to be a lengthy challenge. “If we stay in London any longer, I guarantee we will be broke by tomorrow. We’ve got to get the fuck out of this city.”
“That settles it then. Tomorrow we’ll be out the door by nine thirty.” To her pleasant surprise, Jason grabbed the rubbish off the floor and left the room.
Artemis sat back and wondered whether a person could get magical jetlag from portalling between countries. Since their body clocks would be messed up still, she assumed they’d be out the door at five thirty instead. Jason had not fared well with the back to back portals earlier that day; he hadn’t complained but he had worn his discomfort on his face. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was finding the sword.
…
Artemis knew this wasn’t real. She was buried deep under layers of fatigue, submerged in a dream, anchored by an unfamiliar weight dragging her down deeper into the murk. There was no air below, only the cold heavy weight of eternity. She sank deeper and deeper until her feet touched the ground. Not quite there but solid enough for her weight to rest without slipping through. It was the same as before. Artemis was at the bottom of a lake and only several feet from her was the sword half buried in the mud. Excalibur was such a short distance from her. The light cast from it cut through the darkness, searing her vision.
It was the same as before. An echo of something she’d seen in a past dream. This time reflected from a different angle. Artemis began to walk. It felt like hours passed between each step but she knew what to do. She knew that the sword waited for her. She had every hour, every minute, every second. The sword would wait for her at the bottom of the lake as it had waited for Arthur.
Artemis tried to lift her foot to make the next move forward but something stuck. Her eyes drifted down to her feet. Then she stilled. Black tendrils drifted around her leg, long strands tangling with one another. Her fingers clawed at the darkness, tearing at it. It came away in large chunks that floated past her face. Her walk continued. A few more steps. Then she was halted again. Thick blackness wrapped around her legs, spreading faster and faster. If she was breathing beneath the lake, her breathing would have sped up. The rush of blood laced with inescapable anxiety roared in her ears. She desperately tore at the bottomless darkness spreading up her body. It moved faster than her fingers. She could only watch as it spread further and further, immobilising her.
Every ounce of her strength was sapped away. Excalibur’s light flickered. Artemis reached out and grasped nothing and the ground beneath swallowed her. Darkness extinguished the light emanating off the sword. Darkness ate up everything. Within an instant and over the course of an eternity, Darkness devoured everything Artemis was and would be.
…
Blood still roared in her ears. Artemis woke, gasping for air and clawing at her skin still attempting to scrape away the gluttonous darkness. Sweat clung to the sheets tangled around her legs and she reached for the empty space where Jason should have been. Her eyes darted around the room; everything was bathed in thick shadows, eerily similar to her dream.
Within seconds, Jason crashed into the room, half dressed and wide eyed.
“The lights,” she gasped.
He flicked the switch, banishing the shadows. In his hand was the notebook, Jason flipped it open as he sat on the bed. “What was it this time?”
“You weren’t here.”
“No.” Jason stared at her blankly. “I couldn’t sleep. What was it this time?”
Artemis desperately tried to grasp at her scattered thoughts. There was very little she could make sense of. The sword. The darkness. All of it a maelstrom of confusion. “The sword…”
“Yes, the sword.” He waited expectantly with a pencil pressed to the blank page. “What about the sword?”
She thought about the darkness that had submerged her in empty cold. The absolute nothing she had felt. Artemis looked slowly at the man sitting across from her. Excalibur was not just waiting for them. It was asking them to seek it out.
“What about the sword?”
Artemis’ gaze dropped to her hand, the same ones that had grasped at nothing. “We have to find it.”