Adam of Albion (22 page)

Theodora
led them through the hallways to the stone door that concealed the treasure
chamber. As it slid aside, Adam could feel Orpheus trembling on his shoulder.

Everyone’s
gaze locked onto the altar, with the small green ankh at center. A tense hush
fell over them as they waited to see how this would play out.

Then
Orpheus started singing again, the same haunting melody as before, but very
softly.

And
Eurydice started to
glow,
an emerald green color as beautiful and
unearthly as the song. Her clear sweet voice rose to answer him, and then the
two of them joined in a harmony that held the three humans entranced, paralyzed
by the sheer rapture of the music resonating not just in their ears, but their
minds and hearts.

But
as the sound died away, nothing else changed—there was no joyous exclamation
from Orpheus, no demand to be taken to her so they could reunite. The slot in
his forehead stayed closed.

And
he looked troubled.

Theodora
was watching sharply, and she didn’t waste any time pronouncing her opinion as
to what this meant.

“The
Goddess has made clear Her will,” Theodora declared. “Eurydice stays here—and
Orpheus, I’m sorry, but you must go.”

Almost
violently, Orpheus shook himself
no.

“She
wants to talk to
you,
Artemis,” he said, with quiet intensity. “Go
ahead—pick her up.”

Shyly,
hardly daring to believe it, Artemis stepped to the altar. Theodora made a
sudden movement as if to stop her, but then caught herself, forcing her
trembling hands back to her sides.

Artemis
touched the glowing jewel as carefully as if it was a newborn baby, cupping it
in her palms and lifting it close to her face. It felt thrillingly warm and
vibrant—
alive.
As she gazed down at it, she got lost in its emerald
light, and the world around her faded into a state of being without time or
space, sight or sound. There were only thoughts that came into her mind, like
when she’d been in the cavern, but now with crystal clarity.

Theodora
speaks truth, child—although not for the reasons she thinks. There is war in
heaven. Its roots lie far in the past, and its branches reach far into the
future. This is only one battle—another must be fought.

But
what about Orpheus?
Artemis’s mind
protested.
He’ll die!

Your
victory here has earned new power for you and your friends—and opened a pathway
that was closed. Find it, and all will be well for a time. But be warned—a
still greater challenge lies ahead.

What
challenge?
Artemis pleaded.
Can’t
you tell me?

In
the city of flowers, at the time of rebirth, the lovers will meet again. But
the peril is growing—for the young knight, most of all. The help of his friends
will be crucial.

Now,
your journey here is ended! Go back to your home, and remember—greater power is
a gift, but it requires greater strength and wisdom.

Then,
blinking in confusion, Artemis was standing there in the stone chamber again,
with all eyes watching her anxiously.

Theodora
was first to break the silence. “Well?” she demanded.

“I—I’m
not sure,” Artemis stammered, shaking her head. “I think it was the Goddess,
but Eurydice, too—speaking as one.”

“What
did She
say?
”

Artemis
hesitated, torn again, but worse than ever.
Theodora speaks truth,
the
voice had said—but there was no outright
command
to set Eurydice back
down and leave her here. She was still in Artemis’s hands, and Orpheus could
open the time travel wormhole in an eyeblink. What was right? To risk defying
the Goddess, and steal Eurydice from her own Sisters? Or to leave Eurydice
here, and risk finding out that she’d misunderstood the message, and Orpheus
was doomed?

She
looked at the three faces—heartsick Orpheus, anguished Theodora, and nervous
Adam—and felt her own heart take over.

I’m
so, so sorry, Theodora,
Artemis
thought, with tears welling up for the woman who had treated her with such
wonderful tough love.

But
she steeled herself and cried out: “Orpheus, take us home—right this second!”

Instantly,
the whirling black vortex of the time tunnel appeared in front of them, exactly
as it had when they’d come here to the Holy Land.

But
just as she dove into it, or it sucked her in like a giant shop vac, she
couldn’t really tell which—the glowing ankh of Eurydice seemed to leap out of
her hands and lofted up into the air, flying like an uncaged bird.

That
brilliant emerald image was still burning in her mind when she opened her eyes
again—to find that she was lying on the floor of the stable at Blackthorn
Manor, still wearing her black robe and red sash, and still with the bandaged
wound on her arm.

But
with her hands empty.

Artemis
shoved herself up onto her knees and searched frantically through the straw,
flinging handfuls of it aside and running her palms across the rough
floor—hoping that she’d somehow held onto the ankh long enough so that it had
landed here and now, instead of back there and then.

But
her clawing fingers found nothing.

Adam
was a few feet away, looking dazed as he managed to sit up. But his eyes
cleared quickly as he realized where he was—and what had happened.

“Eurydice’s
not here, is she,” he said quietly.

Artemis
dropped her face into her hands, her eyes wet with tears. There was no way to
fight them back now.

“Artemis,”
he said, still in that almost dangerously quiet tone. “It looked like you threw
her back to the Sisters.”

“I
did
not!
” Her head snapped up again and she glared at him. “Just the
opposite—I made up my mind to keep her, but she jumped out of my hands.”

Adam
didn’t look convinced. His gaze stayed on her for a few more seconds, and then
he turned away to find Orpheus.

He
was lying on his ear with his eyes closed, looking small and frail, rolled up
against a hay bale like a baseball tossed away by kids who’d gotten tired of
the game.

“Orph,
you okay?” Adam said, carefully picking him up. The feel of him was a
shock—cold and lifeless. Adam cupped him, trying to warm him—
willing
those eyes to pop open and some smartass remark to come jeering out of his
mouth. But he stayed still as a stone—and Adam knew he wasn’t faking.

“He’s
not dead,” Artemis insisted, drying her eyes. “Getting us home must have taken
his last energy, so he’s gone back into sleep mode.”

“How
would you know?” Adam said hotly.

But
she was angry now, too. “Because of what the Goddess told me.”

“Are
you
really
sure you heard the Goddess?”

“Do
you
really
think I’d make it up? You’re being a pig, Adam—you’re blaming
me, but you don’t even know what happened.”

He
exhaled. That much was true, he had to admit. “Okay, tell me.”

“She
said we’ve earned new power, and it’s opened a pathway that will save Orpheus,
for a while at least—we have to find it.”

“Find
it how?”

“I
have no idea, and I haven’t had a second to think about it. Let me finish, will
you? She said there’s a sort of cosmic war going on, and the next battle will
be in the city of flowers, at the time of rebirth. I don’t know what that
means, either, but the two lovers—they must be Orpheus and Eurydice—will meet
again there. And—there’s a young knight who’s in great danger. She didn’t say
who he was, only that he’ll need our help.”

Adam’s
mouth opened in astonishment—no
way
could she know about King Richard
dubbing him Sir Adam of Albion. Maybe the young knight was somebody else—Adam
sure hoped so, because that “great danger” part was not welcome news—but it all
tied together uncomfortably well. Artemis definitely couldn’t have made that
up. And hard as it was to believe that the Goddess had actually spoken to her,
so many other unbelievable things had happened that it almost seemed like
business as usual.

There
was no sense in blaming her, that was the one thing he knew. He knee-walked
over to her and hugged her gently, careful not to touch her wounded arm.
Artemis resisted for a second, but then leaned against him.

“You
have to believe me, Adam. I didn’t betray Orpheus. And I don’t think Eurydice
did either. It’s just—more involved than we knew.”

“I
believe you,” he said. “You’re right, I was a pig. Forgive me, please.” Things
looked bleak, and he felt sad and exhausted. But what the Goddess said did seem
to mean there was a plan—now to figure out what it was, and fast. With the
reality of here and now coming back, he was remembering what had propelled them
to the Holy Land in the first place:

The
thugs in the exterminator van, led by the sinister, deadly young woman he’d
seen at the old church when he’d first gotten Orpheus.

“Those
people with the guns might still be around,” he said, lowering his voice. He
wasn’t sure what time it was. They’d left the Sisters’ fortress at night, but
now daylight was filtering in through the wavy old glass of the stable windows.
Orpheus hadn’t said anything about how the time they spent in the past
correlated with time in the present, but it seemed that he could control when and
where they landed—with any luck, he’d planned it to be long enough so the
gunmen would give up, but not so long that the kids would be missed and a
search started for them.

He
stepped over to where Pallas, the cat, had dropped her mouse when she bolted in
fear. The little rodent was in exactly the same spot, still looking pretty
fresh, so it must be the same day. He moved cautiously to a window and peered
out. With huge relief, he saw that the pest control van was gone.  It
looked like the grownups weren’t home yet, either—they’d have to work on a
story about how they’d gotten so beat up, but Artemis was good at that sort of
stuff.

“Okay,
let’s get moving,” he said, trying to step up to the plate and sound like he
knew what he was doing. “We need to take care of that cut of yours.” He could
tell from her face that it was starting to hurt. He was feeling his own share
of nicks and bruises by now, but there was nothing serious like hers. “And
we’ve got to find Barry.”

“I
do hope he’s all right,” she said anxiously. Adam nodded tensely. He didn’t
even want to think about the possibility that the gunmen had found him.

She
still had on her jeans and what was left of her tee under her robe, and Adam
had the hemp sack he’d gotten from Mustafa with his own clothes stuffed inside
it. They changed quickly so they’d once again look like they lived in the
twenty-first century, and with Orpheus in the sack, they hurried across the
manor grounds to the house.

As
they went through the hallways, they called Barry’s name and checked rooms.
There was no sign of him.

“Where’s
the medicine cabinet?” Adam finally said. “Let’s get that out of the way.”

“I
suppose we should—those knights probably didn’t worry much about keeping their
swords clean,” she agreed reluctantly. She led him to a bathroom with a big
porcelain tub, and perched on its rim while he carefully unwrapped the crusted
bandage, then cleaned the cut with warm water and soap. He’d only ever done
this sort of thing with animals on the ranch, but he knew the basics. The wound
looked nasty, about three inches across and deep—bad enough in itself but also
a hotbed of germs, with serious risk of infection. She was hanging tough, but
he knew it must smart like hell, and he made a feeble try to lighten the mood.

“I’m
not really a doctor—I just play one on TV,” he said. She gave him one of her
withering glances, which made him feel a little better. But the next step was
going to be worse. “I should wash it out with hydrogen peroxide. You’d better
hold on tight to something.”

“Fine,
I’ll do just that,” she snapped—then clamped her teeth into his shoulder,
giving him a steely stare.

Adam
gently parted the edges of the cut and poured in the frothing peroxide. She bit
down so hard she left toothmarks, until
he
was the one who almost yelped
in pain—but it was strangely comforting, like a way of confirming what they’d
been through together, and it seemed like both of them were willing to let it
last just a little longer than it needed to. He finished by applying antibiotic
ointment and a fresh bandage—the best he could do, although he wasn’t happy
about it. She needed stitches and real medical care, and she seemed paler than
ever.

The
next priority was to find Barry, and the only place left to look was out around
the manor grounds. Both of them were mentally dragging their feet, afraid
they’d come up empty—which could only mean that the gunmen had gotten him.

They
quickly pulled on hoodies and boots, then hurried back outside into the
twilight. Everything still looked deserted. If there was a new pathway opening
up like the Goddess had promised, it wasn’t happening anyplace they could see.

Then
crash!
Something was in the hedge, twenty yards away—something
big,
and coming their way. There was no place to hide—they were too far out in the
open. The only thing Adam could think of was to grab a rock off the ground.
He’d managed to slow down Gerard de Chavirage that way—if his aim was good, it
might buy them enough time to run for it.

But
just as the bulky shape came lumbering out of the hedge and he was about to let
fly, Artemis caught his arm.

It
was Barry!

“Where
the hell have you guys been?” he panted. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”
Then his eyes widened as he took in their battered appearance. “What
happened
to you?”

They
sagged with relief—Adam had never dreamed he’d be so glad to see Barry. But
what to tell him?

“Never
mind that now,” Artemis said, quick on her feet as always. “What are
you
doing, thrashing around in there like a hedgehog all hopped up on steroids?”
She raised her eyebrows like a mother who’d caught a kid trying to hide a pack
of cigarettes.

Barry
licked his lips nervously. “This is really, really weird—you’ve got to swear
you’ll keep it secret.”

In
spite of it all, they both had to struggle to keep from bursting into laughter.
Them,
keep a secret?

Then
they heard a long, low groan coming from behind him.

“Come
on, hurry up.” Barry held the hedge aside for them to step through. Now his
face was flushed with worry and excitement.

When
they made it through the scratchy bushes, they stared in astonishment at what
they saw.

A
vintage BMW motorcycle, in beautiful condition, was parked there. It had a
sidecar—with a man in it, lying back against the seat with his long legs
stretched out. He was somewhere around forty, wearing jeans and boots, with a
black leather jacket laid over his chest. His eyes were closed and he was
shivering, obviously in pain, with his lean, craggy face beaded with sweat.

Adam
was quite sure he’d never seen this guy before—and yet, at the same time he had
the strange feeling that somehow, he
had.

“It’s
Simon Lodestone, doofus!” Barry hissed, elbowing Adam sharply.

Simon
Lodestone! That explained it—Adam hadn’t ever seen him in person before, but he
was one of the best known people on the planet, and definitely one of the
coolest. Not only was he the world’s greatest rock promoter—he’d put on the
Watching Druids concert, where all this had started last night—he travelled
around the world with presidents and prime ministers, donating huge amounts of
money and leading efforts to fight hunger. He was also a genius in mathematics
and physics, and he’d done incredible work in applying those sciences to modern
music. But he was very reclusive, rarely making public appearances, and he
spurned any kind of glossy lifestyle, coming across as an ordinary guy who
happened to have an IQ off the charts and a couple of billion dollars to give
away.

“I
just found him a little while ago,” Barry said. “I heard him moaning—it looks
like he’s hurt pretty bad.”

“Did
he say anything?”

“That’s
even weirder than him showing up here. He was mumbling, so it was hard to
understand, but he asked me something like: ‘Do you have
him?
’ I said,
‘Who’s
him?
’ Then he asked if I had friends, and I said yeah, but I
didn’t know where you guys were. He said to bring you here when I found you,
and not to tell anyone else. I said, ‘But you’re hurt,’ and he said just to
please do what he asked, it would be okay—but it would be a lot
more
okay if I could get him some whiskey. I ran to the house and nicked a flask of
Uncle Geoff’s single malt, and he guzzled some, then he sort of burped thanks,
and closed his eyes and went quiet.”

Maybe
the sound of their voices brought Simon around again, or maybe he was reminded
that his hand was still wrapped around the silver flask of Scotch. He brought
it out from under his jacket and took a long drink, then opened his eyes.

“Please
tell me that
you
have him,” he said to Artemis and Adam.

They
exchanged quick glances. Was he talking about Orpheus? How could he
know?
And could they risk letting the cat, or head, out of the bag with him—and
Barry?

Simon
saw their look and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry—I’ve devoted my life to
studying him and protecting him. I’ve never had the chance to talk to him
myself, but according to our tradition, he’s called Orpheus. You must have
gotten him from Jason, who’s one of us—The Calculus.” The kids stared at him,
astonished.

“How
do you know who we are?” Artemis asked warily.

“A
strange woman came to me last night as I was lying in a field. Long gray hair,
an old-fashioned cloak—I thought she might have been an apparition. But she
told me about you, along with some other things—and here you are.” Simon
wheezed a little and took another belt of Scotch.