Adam of Albion (24 page)

“After
she left I lay there on the ground, waiting to find out if I’d gone mad, or was
going to die, or maybe already had. But then, I
did
hear the stones
begin to sing. What happened next, I can’t explain. Harmonics and frequencies
arose in my brain, at first just as a meaningless jumble whirling around like a
cloud of insects. But they started to fall into place, with mathematical
relationships coming clear, and a mysterious pattern took shape. It’s not like
anything I’ve ever dealt with before—it doesn’t make rational sense in any way
that’s apparent, and even after I have time to examine it, I’m not sure it ever
will.

“But
intuition—or perhaps just desperate hope—whispers to me that it’s a way to
channel an ancient energy that resonates through the Watching Druids. And it
may pour enough life into Orpheus so that we can get him back on his feet—sorry,
his neck—again.”

Simon
fumbled in his jacket and took out a small electronic device, about the size of
an iPhone, although it looked like he’d made it himself. Instead of numbers or
letters on the screen, the keypad was all mathematical symbols. His long
musician’s fingers started moving over them, bringing complex equations
flashing across the screen.

He
glanced up at the three kids, who were staring at him spellbound.

“Have
a quick walk around, why don’t you?” he said. “I need to make some final
adjustments—I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

They
backed away, leaving him to concentrate. Weak and injured though he was, there
was something about him that simply made things better—his calm brilliance,
great depth of experience, and flashes of humor combined in a way that was
almost magically reassuring.

Even
though they knew he’d just gently warned them that failure was an option, and
an all too likely one.

“This
must be a very powerful spot,” Artemis said, as they walked through the
restless moaning wind. “I’ve read that a major ley line runs nearby, and the
ancient Celts worshipped their own persona of the Goddess here. Then the
connection with MaelTarna—that’s mind-boggling.”

“Gives
me the creeps,” Barry muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing
nervously at the ominous, towering figure of the Manachan

“Lighten
up, Barry—Simon knows what he’s doing,” Adam said.

“True,”
Barry admitted.

“And
I’ll tell you again, we never would have gotten here without you.”

“Absolutely,”
Artemis agreed, taking the cue. “You were magnificent, carrying the sidecar
like that.”

Even
in the darkness, they could tell that he was blushing.

“Thanks,
you guys,” he said. “But I wish you’d told me what was going on, right from the
start.”

Adam
sighed quietly. How to answer that? It had never occurred to either him or
Artemis that Barry might become a partner in the quest to save Orpheus. They’d
only worried about keeping him clueless, which hadn’t been too tough.

“We’re
sorry, Barry—it all happened so fast,” Adam said. “We were just starting to get
a handle on it ourselves, and then, boom! Those phony exterminators with the
guns showed up, and we had to run for it.”

“Yeah,
I understand. And if you hadn’t warned me, I’d be toast, so I owe you there.
But from now on, keep me in the loop, okay?”

“How
did
you get away from them?” Artemis asked.

“I
saw them out the window, like Adam said, and started downstairs to get Uncle
Geoff’s shotgun, to take them on—” Then he paused, looking down and kicking the
ground in embarrassment. “No, that’s a lie. I thought about it for, like, half
a second, but then snuck out a back door and ran my butt off, and hid in the
woods until they were gone.”

“We’d
have done exactly the same thing if we’d only had the chance,” she said.

They
all grinned.

Then
they heard Simon call out:

“Okay,
gang—it’s showtime!”

They
glanced anxiously at each other, all hit by the same thought. They’d been
pumped up with elation at succeeding this far. But when you came right down to
it, what you had was three kids, a pint-sized cyborg head who was down for the
count, and a badly wounded man about to try a mysterious, untested process that
he’d literally dreamed up.

It
was suddenly very easy to suspect that they were just fools—that Orpheus was
beyond hope, Simon, too, was going to die, and they’d be to blame because they
hadn’t insisted on getting him medical help instead of dragging him through the
countryside to end at this desolate site.

But
the hand was dealt. There was nothing left to do but play it out.

“Gather
in close,” Simon said, as they hurried over. They huddled down around him, Adam
on one side, Artemis curled up on the other with her head on Simon’s shoulder,
Barry bravely crouching in front to shield them from the wind—and Orpheus in
the center, inert as a stone and the same dull color.

Simon
held up his electronic device. “I developed this little gem for optimizing
sound effects in concert venues. The concept is along the lines of laser night
goggles, or the way bats navigate in darkness—it sends out sonic impulses and
measures the response time, volume, and such as they bounce back. That allows
me to draw a map, and find the best spots to station equipment.” He paused to
steady his labored breathing.

“That
part has gone very smoothly here,” he went on. “The old Celts were astoundingly
precise in their engineering. The other stones receive and amplify sound waves,
and direct them here to the focal point of the Manachan—it’s sort of a catch
basin.

“The
question is whether I can
get
them to sing. If not, it might be months
or years before they do it on their own. But that’s what I think I understood
last night—a specific pattern of impulses at specific frequencies that I can
send out, and it should trigger them to respond.”

“Like
a computer password?” Artemis murmured, with her face still pressed against his
shoulder.

“Yes,
excellent analogy. Except a password is a command, and the computer obeys
automatically. But this is more like a request. Even if I’ve got everything
right, it’s still up to the stones—or whatever speaks through them—to decide.”

The
kids got as quiet as Orpheus.

“Right,
then,” Simon said. “Here we go.”

His
fingers started tapping the keypad again. He paused, listening.

Nothing
happened—no twitch of Orph’s face or flicker in his eyes, no sound but the
moaning wind. A full minute passed, and then another.

“Maybe
a miscue—I never was much of a typist,” Simon muttered. “Let’s try again.”

He
did. The result was the same.

Adam
closed his eyes, trying to stave off the heartbreak he felt welling up. His
mind searched for a happy memory to cling to, and oddly, it took him back to
Jerusalem and the chamber that Saladin had given him in the palace. He and
Mustafa were lounging on the huge cushion bed, hungrily scarfing down their
dinner, while Orpheus bounced around entertaining them with rambling tall tales
of prehistoric adventures, battles and treachery, narrow escapes, and the
countless situations he’d saved through his brilliance and derring-do. The two
boys listened raptly, laughing and teasing him until he erupted in mock outrage
and insulted them in return, then grinned slyly and launched into another yarn.

And
somewhere during that half-dream, things started to change.

Adam
was barely even aware of it at first—it just seemed that the wind was dying
down, from a harsh moan to a gentle sigh. But the sigh kept shifting subtly in
tone, gradually taking on a musical quality. There weren’t any actual words, at
least that he could understand, and it seemed to come from voices that were
human-like, but not really human.

His
eyes flew open, and he could tell from the others’ faces that they were hearing
it, too. Simon was staring out into the night with steely intensity, Artemis’s
lips were parted in rapture, and Barry looked so stunned he was practically
drooling.

The
melody became clearer—hauntingly lovely, and somehow achingly familiar.

Artemis’s
hand shot across in front of Simon to grab Adam’s arm.

“The
Sisters’ fortress, remember?” she whispered, with her eyes glowing. “It’s the
song Orph and Eurydice were singing to each other!”

As
she spoke those words, a faint humming was starting up right in their midst—a
deep, resonant baritone that intertwined with the melody in flawless harmony,
then gained in strength and rose into an answering refrain.

All
four of them, as if they were one single person, slowly reached out their
trembling hands to touch Orpheus.

He
was
warm!

Orpheus
blinked a couple of times, shook himself like a wet spaniel—

And
immediately started griping.

“Women!”
he sputtered. “Does anybody have any idea how
difficult
she is? I travel
across the world, go back 800 years in time, brave dangers that would curl the
hair of Medusa, and what do I get?” His voice changed to a mock falsetto.
“‘Well, I’m not really in the mood right now—see you again in a few
centuries!’” His gaze swung accusingly to Artemis, as if she was to blame for
all the indignities he’d ever suffered at the hands of the female sex.

“Oh,
it’s far from the first time,” he went on darkly, before any of them could even
take a breath. “I could tell you plenty of stories, believe me. We almost got
buried alive with King Tut’s mummy because
somebody
couldn’t resist
showing off her curvy little ankh shape, and the high priest went so crazy over
her, he was going to have himself sealed in there with us, and—”

“Yeooowww!”
Artemis shrieked in delight. She leaped up, scooped him off Simon’s knees, and
started waltzing around with him. “You’re back!” Adam jumped up too, and Barry
rose more slowly, staring open-mouthed at the ranting head.

Then
Adam realized that Artemis was frisking around like a colt, lifting Orpheus
high in the air in spite of her wound. The strain and pallor in her face were
gone—she was practically glowing. In fact, she looked fabulous.

Not
only that, but Simon was laughing with elation—and it was a rich, hearty laugh,
not the sickly wheezing of a few minutes earlier.

“Give
me a boost up, will you, Barry?” he said, reaching out a hand. Barry hurried to
clasp it.

“Are
you sure?” he asked nervously.

Simon
nodded. “I won’t be joining in the dancing—I’m not as resilient as you young
pups, and I’m still feeling pretty beat up. But it seems as though the dose of
medicine Orpheus just got has spilled over to Artemis and me—the energy flow is
speeding our healing process.”

With
Barry’s help, bracing his free hand against the Manachan, Simon got carefully
to his feet. His steps started off slow and unsteady, but he quickly got his
balance back, along with the power in his eyes and voice. He was a very
different man than the dying one they’d brought here.

“Now,
if I could just find a strong Irish coffee,” Simon declared, with a pleased
grin.

Then
Artemis paused, as if suddenly struck by an idea. “Orph, what you just said
about seeing Eurydice again in a few centuries—how do you know that?”

His
forehead wrinkled. “It was just there in my mind. It must have come with the
stones singing, like a subliminal message. But I have distinct sense that we’re
slated to meet in Renaissance Italy.”

“That’s
it!” she exclaimed. “The words I heard in my vision— ‘the city of flowers, at
the time of rebirth.’ Renaissance
means
rebirth, and the city of flowers
must be Florence. That was the center of it all, where the great artists and
thinkers gathered. That’s where Eurydice will be, or rather, where she
was,
for your next meeting. It will be so beautiful and exciting!”

Will
be—like, it was already a done deal? Adam thought.
But of course, if Orpheus was going, they’d have to go with him. Beautiful and
exciting, maybe, but he also remembered from world history class that
Renaissance Florence seethed with treachery and violence, with families like
the Medici and Borgias plotting for power and ruthlessly murdering anyone who
got in their way. At least the kids wouldn’t be caught completely unprepared
this time, plus they’d gained some valuable experience in how to
operate—although there was a new problem.

“We’re
stuck with Barry now—we’ll probably have to take him with us,” Adam whispered
to her.

“Oh,
don’t worry—even Barry can’t ruin Florence.”

She
handed Orpheus to Simon to let the two of them get acquainted. Orph, delighted
to have a new audience, launched right into bending his ear. Adam started
thinking about getting back home. With Simon able to walk, it shouldn’t be
nearly as tough as the trip here. He’d still have to bolt the sidecar back on,
but he knew the procedure now, and there were no more worries about stripped
bolts.

Then
he thought he felt something lightly smack him between his shoulders, like
somebody tapping with a forefinger to get his attention. He spun around,
staring. There was nobody, nothing—just four people and one noisy little head,
same as before. He must have imagined it, because of his jumpy nerves.

But
a few seconds later, he felt another tap—this time a
bonk
behind his
ear, and he heard whatever had hit him skitter away across the ground. Hail,
maybe? But there was no sign of that, and the sky, while overcast, wasn’t
stormy.

Warily,
he started walking in the direction it seemed to have come from—afraid that
someone was hiding and playing some kind of weird mind game. His steps took him
up onto a little knoll of high ground, a good vantage point. He scanned the
surrounding area, eyes straining to pierce the dark night.

Then
he froze in horror. A long, low, black car, with headlights out, was driving
past the old ruined church below—headed up to the hilltop.

The
little pecks that had pelted him were a
warning,
he realized, as if
someone had thrown pebbles to get his attention—although they seemed to have
come out of thin air. But there was no time to wonder about it. He took off
back down the knoll so fast he practically sprayed gravel.

“Everybody
hide, quick!” he hissed. “It’s
them,
with the guns—they’re coming here,
right now!”

One
lesson they’d all learned from their experiences—if somebody said,
Hide
quick,
you didn’t stand around asking questions. They went into action like
a football team at the ball snap, with Adam and Barry trundling the sidecar out
of sight and Artemis helping Simon vanish in the shadows.

They
watched, barely breathing, as the sleek, sinister Jaguar crept over the hilltop
crest. It was almost like a déjà vu of the scene at the church last night, and
Adam was vibrating with dread that the killers would climb out and start
prowling among the stones. They were bound to spot one of the group, and then
it was all over. No way could they outrun those sleek, sophisticated guns that
looked like weapons of mass destruction.

The
car coasted to a stop. The driver’s side window rolled down, giving a glimpse
into the dimly lit interior. The same young woman was at the wheel, with her
beautiful but cold face gazing intently toward the Watching Druids. There was
someone else in the passenger seat, a man who didn’t seem like one of the other
thugs—he seemed handsome and had wavy, carefully groomed hair instead of a
shaved head.

Once
again, as he had with Simon, Adam got a hit that there was something familiar
about him—but this time the feeling was a creepy one.

For
a long, long minute, everything hung suspended, as if a bomb was ticking down,
ten,
nine, eight
—

Then
the window slid back up. The car started moving again, making a leisurely turn
around the loop at the end of the road—and kept on going, cruising back down
the hill, past the church, and fading into the night.

Adam
hurried to meet the others as they all came shakily out of hiding.

“That
was the woman I told you about,” he panted. “She was with the guy who shot
Jason—and then she shot
that
guy. Simon, do you know anything about
her?”

He
was staring grimly after the car, and he gave a slow nod—a motion that somehow
conveyed sadness so powerful, they could all feel it piercing straight into
them.

“I
had a twin sister, who died young,” Simon said quietly. “She left an infant
girl, her only child, who I raised as my own. Her name is Glorianna. She’s my
niece, although I’ve always thought of her as my daughter.

“But
she turned against me—whether because of my failing, or her nature, I’ll never
know. And to us—especially to Orpheus—she’s the most dangerous person alive.”