Adam of Albion (5 page)

He
suddenly flared up, with the smoldering red color shooting out fiercely all
around him.

Reg
teetered there like a tree that had been chainsawed most of the way through.
Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted dead away backwards, landing
like a sack of grain dropped from a truck bed.

Artemis
burst into giggles like a schoolgirl, and Adam let out his own breath in a
shaky laugh. As they jumped to their feet, Orpheus, wearing an impish smile,
switched back to his gold-blue light.

“One
of my favorite acts,” he said modestly. “Kit Marlowe saw me do it in a game of
charades one night, and he went right home and penned
Dr. Faustus.
Wanted me to play Mephistopheles, of course, but he couldn’t figure out how to
give me a tail and wings.”

The
three of them snuck back up to Adam’s room and talked on, filling in the story
of how this had all come about. Adam explained his and Barry’s lame journey to
the Watching Druids concert, getting stuck at the old church graveyard—and then
the horrible part about the mysterious gunman who’d shot Jason, and the equally
ruthless woman who’d shot
him.
Just thinking about it got Adam sweating
and feeling a little sick again.

But—while
he downplayed what he’d done to try to help Jason—he noticed that Artemis was
looking at him with a lot more respect.

Then
it was Orpheus’s turn. “Oh, my saga is a long one—I could go on all night and
still barely scratch the surface,” he began. Adam shot Artemis a glance that
meant: We’ve got to shut him up—he really
will
go on all night. But
she’d already realized that, and she interrupted tactfully.

“Of
course we’re dying to savor every word of it, so let’s please wait until we can
be more relaxed, shall we? A
little
background would be useful, but
mainly we need to focus on how we can help you.”

“Right
you are,” Orpheus agreed, not even seeming disappointed. It was coming clear
that while he and Adam were destined to butt heads, so to speak, Artemis had a
way of getting him to do what she wanted, but making him think it was what
he
wanted.

And
even if his stories were sometimes on the tall side, they were great stories.
The two kids listened raptly as he gave them a brief bio, sprinkled with
fascinating nuggets about the ancient past and his hair-raising adventures
getting from there to here.

As
Adam had first guessed, Orpheus was a sort of cyborg, and also a
supercomputer—although he had just the same kinds of thoughts and feelings as
people. His love for Eurydice was obviously very human.

And
just like humans, he could die.

He’d
started his life in an ancient island kingdom called MaelTarna. Their
civilization and science were immensely advanced, and that eventually led to
their downfall—a war broke out and their powerful weapons caused a cataclysm
that sank the island beneath the sea. He’d escaped sealed up inside a cask,
tossing helplessly across the oceans until he finally washed ashore and was
found by primitive tribesmen who thought he was powerful magic. As legends
spread about him, he was stolen, bought and sold, traded, and warred over
countless times. Everyone held him in awe, and most, in reverence—although
there were times when fearful rulers or jealous shamans almost did him in. He’d
quickly been forced to learn to live by his wits.

“Like
the time I had the bad luck to be on Borneo when a volcano erupted,” he
recalled. “The high priest was about to throw me in to pacify the god. But I
managed to sink my teeth into his thumb, he let out a howl and shook me loose,
and I bounced down the slope disguised as a chunk of lava. When the tribe
couldn’t find me, they threw him in instead.”

Through
it all, his companion and comfort was Eurydice. She was the most beautiful
creature in the world, he went on wistfully—glowing with the brilliant emerald
radiance that gave him life and strength. They’d traveled, adventured, and been
like one person since the beginning. As long as she was with him, he could face
anything.

But
then had come that terrible moment in the Third Crusade, when she’d been torn
away from him—and he’d never seen her since.

Thus
began his centuries-long search for his soulmate. Every time he heard of
anything that suggested her—a work of art, a religious object, a rumor or
legend—he’d contrived a way to get there. He could move a little on his own by
hopping and rolling, but with his circumference, it took a lot of turns to
cover a mile and he couldn’t pick up any real speed except down a steep hill.
So he’d become adept at hitchhiking, through persuasion, trickery, or stowing
away.

He
usually tried to pass himself off as a piece of lifeless sculpture or a
roundish object until he felt he could trust someone, and then he’d open up.
But he’d also encountered plenty of people who wanted to use him for sinister
purposes. In those cases, he’d con them along until he could escape, which he’d
done so many times in so many ways that he made Houdini look like a rank
amateur.

But
his hopes were always dashed, his stored supply of energy kept dwindling, and
finally he’d shut himself down into sleep mode—until he’d awakened at the
Watching Druids concert just hours ago.

“How
on earth did you and Eurydice manage to stay together?” Artemis finally asked
him. “Physically, I mean?”

Then
came the next astonishing thing in a night that was already full of them.

A
little panel slid open in the center of his forehead, just below his
hairline—like where a Cyclops’s eye would be. Inside was an empty niche about
the same size as Artemis’s earring, and with the same ankh shape.

Adam
stared at it, with the realization dawning on him—that was where Eurydice had
lived,
literally inside Orpheus’s head. Talk about a close relationship!

But
Artemis had a very different spin on it. Her eyes widened in disbelief, which
quickly turned to a glare of outrage.

“You
kept her locked up in there?” she demanded, with icicles dripping from her
words. “Like a slave?”

“Locked
up? But—that was just her
place.
” Orpheus actually looked confused, like
he didn’t get why Artemis was upset. Probably feminism hadn’t advanced all that
far when he was last up and about, a couple of hundred years ago.

“Oh,
of course you’d think so,” she retorted. “It was all about
you,
wasn’t
it? You took it for granted that she’d always be there for you, and you did
whatever you pleased. I expected better from you, Orpheus, but now I see you’re
just another typical barbaric male chauvinist. She gave you her very essence to
keep you alive. What did you ever give her?”

“I
took her everywhere—”

“Where
she
wanted to go? Or only where you did? Did you ever even ask her?”

Orpheus
winced. Score another one for Artemis, Adam thought.

“I
protected her for thousands of years,” he tried, floundering now.

“Protected
her by almost getting her thrown into a volcano, plus all the other near-death
experiences?”

Adam
was about to interrupt and try to quell the argument, but her wild white-blond
hair was practically crackling with electricity, and even her pale cheeks were
tinged with indignant red. Smart money was to keep his mouth shut and let
feminism carry the day.

“I
love her!” Orpheus fumed.

“Yes,
that’s always the excuse men like you give, as if it makes everything just
peachy.”

This
time Orpheus slumped, or managed to give that impression, even without
shoulders.

“Maybe
you’re right,” he said despondently. “I honestly never even thought about it
until she was gone—I suppose that’s usually the way those things go. She never
said
she wanted to get out and live on her own. But I admit, I’ve wondered in my
darkest hours—if she liked it so much once it happened that she didn’t want to
come back.”

Artemis
softened visibly at this confession. “I could see where she might have stayed
away for a while to teach you a lesson. But I’m sure she loves you, too—and
certainly, she wouldn’t let you die.”

“You’re
right about that, too,” he agreed, sighing. “The problem is, she’s naïve. I was
always the one who figured out how to get us from place to place, and dealt
with all the realities. She didn’t have any actual idea of how tricky that was.
I suspect she got trapped someplace and she doesn’t know how to get away—she’s
helpless.”

Which
left them still facing the big question:

What
could they possibly do?

They
hashed the situation over a while longer. Their best bet was to find others like
Jason, who knew about Orpheus and wanted to help him. But how could they even
start looking when they didn’t have a clue who those people were? It wasn’t
exactly the kind of thing you could post on Facebook. Plus, there were ruthless
enemies out to get Orpheus, and the reason was sinking in—they might be able to
tap into the advanced technology in his files and use it to gain wealth,
power—even to make devastating weapons.

“Come
on, we have to get smarter,” Artemis said. She was practically grinding her
teeth in frustration. “How about it, Orpheus? You’re the one with the
supercomputer brain.” As she spoke, she distractedly ruffled his hair.

Both
kids gasped when another small panel slid aside in the upper back of his skull.

“
What?!
”
Orpheus almost shouted. He was wide-eyed, looking even more startled than they
were. “That’s impossible—it hasn’t happened since I left MaelTarna! How did you
do it?”

“I—I
didn’t
do
anything, really—just gave you a pat.”

“Thousands
of people have patted me, prodded me, examined me in every possible way. Nobody
ever opened it—even I can’t do it. The only person who ever could was the
scientist who created me. You must be keyed to it somehow, Artemis—it
recognizes something in you.” She looked both pleased and unnerved.

Adam
leaned close to Orpheus and peered into the cavity. There were seven strange
symbols arranged in an upright triangle, glowing with a beautiful green
luminescence.

The
instant he saw them, he felt something kick over, way, way deep inside him. He
was certain he’d never seen anything like them—and yet somehow they were
familiar, even intimate.

“What’s
in there?” he asked.

“I
don’t know—I can’t see into the back of my own skull,” Orpheus snapped. “But I
know what it
does
—it activates my time travel function.”

Artemis
and Adam stared at him. They were almost numb to surprises by now, but this was
the most astounding one yet.

“Did
you just say what I think you said?” Artemis asked slowly.

His
creator, Orpheus told them—a genius scientist named Vantorix, in the ancient
kingdom of MaelTarna—had worked desperately to prepare him for a vitally
important mission that required time travel. Orpheus never knew exactly what it
was—he’d been kept inside the laboratory, secret from the outside world, and
Vantorix, although kindly, told him very little. Probably Vantorix was afraid,
even then, that Orpheus might fall into the wrong hands, and any information
could be used against them. But Orpheus guessed that the mission was intended
to stave off the cataclysm that destroyed MaelTarna. Vantorix was on the brink
of success—but doom struck before he could act. He only had time to seal
Orpheus into a cask, and hurl him into the sea as the huge tsunami waves raced
toward them.

The
time travel slot had never been opened since then—until now. It was a mystery
how Artemis had done it, but it was sort of like King Arthur pulling the great
sword Excalibur out of the stone. Was it magic? Or, as Orpheus seemed to think,
something about her—maybe her DNA—that it was coded to? She’d closed it back up
again with the same effortless touch—there was no doubt that it responded to
her.

But
those questions got shoved onto the back burner because of the possibility that
opened along with it:

On
top of everything else, Orpheus was a time machine!

“So
you can control the time travel function?” Artemis asked him. Her eyes had that
excited glow again.

“Yes,
but it needs a human to physically activate the mechanism—like Vantorix.”

“But
couldn’t someone else do it, if they knew how?”

“Theoretically,”
Orpheus said, sounding wary. “I don’t really have much experience with it—just
a few trials we made while Vantorix refined it. But I do know it’s very risky.”

“Suppose
we tried it—went back to the Third Crusade, when you lost Eurydice! Maybe we
could prevent that from happening, or follow her and find her.
I’d
be
glad to take the risk, and I’m sure Adam would, too.”

In
fact, Adam was not at all sure of that. Time travel was one of those ideas that
sounded really cool, like going out camping and hoping to see a grizzly
bear—until you actually saw one. What would happen when you got there? Suppose
you landed in some really bad situation, or got stuck and couldn’t get back
home?

Still,
he was starting to recognize that gleam in her eyes. It meant that she was
determined to have her way, and she was figuring out how to make it happen.

But
Orpheus shook himself no. “Look, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but there are
other problems besides. It takes a huge energy charge out of me. With the shape
I’m in right now—without Eurydice to build me up again—I’d only be able to do
it once. It’s a million to one shot anyway, and if I’m going to try it, I need
to be with somebody like Jason’s people.”

“Instead
of just a couple of silly, helpless kids?” she said, raising her almost
invisible eyebrows.

“Since
you put it so bluntly, yes,” Orpheus said, moving back into his patronizing
mode. Adam could tell that he was trying to regain some ground after she’d
hammered him in their last argument.

“Quite,”
she said, with icy sweetness. “Adam being just a
kid
who risked his life
to rescue you from those murderous thugs? Both of us
kids
in danger
right this second because we’re hiding you from said thugs? And willing to keep
on risking to help you, while asking nothing for ourselves?

“Let
me tell you something else, Mister Oh-So-Smart Head. Eurydice may be physically
different from me, but she and I are still women, and you are dealing with
female energy. I know how she thinks. And that is exactly what your fruitless
search has lacked all these centuries—someone besides a doltish man who not
only doesn’t have a clue about that, but far worse, flatters himself that he
does.
”

Wow!
Adam thought. Get out of her way! Orpheus was on the ropes again, practically
cringing.

“I’ll
think it over,” he muttered.

“Good.
Because even on our short acquaintance, Orpheus, you must realize that I’m
extremely stubborn, and I’m not about to drop anything that intrigues me. On
the contrary, the more you dodge, the more intrigued and stubborn I’ll get. But
I won’t keep us up all night nagging—yet. It’s getting late—Adam and I need to
sleep or we’ll be useless tomorrow. The P’s are going for a drive along the
coast first thing in the morning, so we’ll be able to start fresh and talk on.”

In
other words, Adam thought, she wanted to be rested and sharp-minded when
she  picked up the argument again.

“We’ll
have to figure out a way to ditch Barry,” he said.

She
smiled mischievously. “No worries, I know how to punch his buttons—just follow
my lead. Now, Orpheus, I’ve got just the place for you tonight. There’s a
little room in the secret passageway, where priests used to hide when they were
being persecuted, like by Henry VIII.”

“Oh,
fine,” Orpheus groused. “Sure, I’ll just sit there alone all night in a dark
stuffy closet while you two sleep peacefully in your soft warm beds. Don’t give
me another thought.”

That
gave Adam an idea. He jumped up, got his netbook, and brought it back to the
bed.

 “What’s
that?” Orpheus eyed the little computer suspiciously “Some sort of primitive
artifact?”

“It’s
your ticket for catching up with the modern world. Someone of your vastly
superior intellect should be able to figure it out in no time.”

“Come
along, I’ll get you settled with it,” Artemis said. She tucked the netbook
under her arm and picked up Orpheus gently, cradling him like a baby. “See you
at breakfast, Adam. Remember—we have to pretend it’s our first meeting.”

As
she stepped back into the secret passageway and the door swung shut, Adam felt
a sudden, odd pang of jealousy—like the possessiveness he’d felt earlier with
Barry, but stronger.
He
was the one who’d found Orpheus, and now she was
taking him with her. It didn’t help that she had the mysterious power to open
his time travel compartment.

But
then, there was the haunting kinship he felt with those symbols. Did that mean
he had the same kind of connection?

Anyway,
it was stupid to resent her. They were partners in this now, and she was
right—with Orpheus hidden, they wouldn’t have to worry about Barry barging in
or the maid stumbling across him. And once he hooked into the Internet, he
should have plenty to keep him entertained. Adam grinned as he imagined Orph
hopping around on the mousepad and pecking the keyboard with his nose.

He
made a quick pit stop, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed. But there was
so much to think about. How many people who’d ever lived had had a night like
this? And on top of all the other mind-boggling stuff—starting with Orpheus
himself—one thing was so outrageous that it almost made his head hurt.

Time
travel!
Was it really possible? Adam
was sure that Orpheus wasn’t blowing smoke about this—he might juice up his
stories a little, but not with something so important. Adam also remembered
reading somewhere that the great physicist Einstein, who had to be one of the
absolutely smartest people ever, was fascinated by the possibility of time
travel. He’d used the term wormholes to explain how it could work—shortcuts
through the universe from one time and place to another.

Suppose
they
could
to go back to the exact moment when Orpheus and Eurydice had
been separated, the Holy Land in the Third Crusade? But Orph was right. Adam
and Artemis would be as helpless as kittens around a bunch of medieval knights
and soldiers, men like Templars mounted on great warhorses, swinging swords and
battleaxes.

With
any luck, Artemis would come to her senses and realize that too, and he
admitted a little guiltily that he’d be relieved. They’d find another way to
help Orpheus, something they could handle.

Wouldn’t
they?

The
thoughts tossed and turned in Adam’s mind while he tossed and turned in bed.
But he was exhausted like he’d hardly ever been, his eyes started drifting
shut, and the thoughts blurred into each other and then into the crazy stuff of
dreams. Within a couple of minutes, he was out like a shotgunned light bulb.