The Sword of Aradel (11 page)

“The gold, dear lady,” Merra said sweetly, “a gift it be from the Dryads. The sword, 'twas won in combat, even as Sir Brian hath related.”

Again the Amazon stiffened.
“Sir
Brian, is it?”

“Indeed, yes. I knighted him with mine own hand for his valor. 'Twas unfitting that he remain a mere stableboy.”

“I see.” Lieutenant Mayfield's smile was chilling. “And where did all this take place?”

“In Aradel, dear lady, whence we came.”

“Aradel? Where is that?”

“'Tis a fair kingdom, near Aquitaine.”

“I see,” the Amazon said again, her chiseled face quite blank. “You came from Aradel, where you knighted this Brian and were given gold by the Dryads. Do you know what the Dryads were?”

Merra smiled. “Of course. But dost thou?”

“The Dryads,” Lieutenant Mayfield snapped, her voice rising, “were mythical creatures of the past. They never existed except in the minds of silly girls like you! How old are you, Merra?”

“As old as thou art inside, dear lady, and mayhap older, if ignorance be a sign of youth. It doth pain me to hear thee declare the nonexistence of mine own kind, for all things die with the death of belief. But if the Dryads exist not, then I be not here—for I be of that strain myself.”

She turned gaily, her green eyes dancing with mischief. “Sir Brian, wilt thou pinch me? I am beginning to have doubts of mine own reality.”

Obligingly Brian pinched her. “Ouch!” she squealed. “Verily, I am real!”

“And verily,” the Amazon snapped, bringing her big hand down hard on the table, “I have had enough of this nonsense! I don't know whether you are playacting or suffering from delusions, but from now on you will give me proper answers in proper English. If you are so sick in the head that you cannot do that, we'll have to put you in an institution. In either case, your parents must be informed. Who are they? What is their telephone number?”

Merra shook her head. “We be orphans. As for this thing thou callest a telephone—what be that?”

“Don't pretend you don't know what a phone is!” the big woman retorted in disgust.

The guard named Joe said, “She's trying to put you on, lieutenant. They gave us the same yarn about the pistol—pretended they'd never seen one before.”

“If thou wantest not lies, why scornest truth?” Merra said sweetly. “Look you, Sir Brian hath a hole in his sleeve! And be that not a stain of blood around it? Prithee, what strange manner of weapon—”

Brian had noticed neither the hole nor the dark stain on the green fabric, but now he hurriedly rolled up his sleeve and saw the long mark on his skin, with drying blood around it. At the sight of it the guard leaped up to examine the arm.

“That's a bullet burn,” he muttered, scowling. “But it doesn't prove anything—except that there may be another pistol we haven't found. These crazy kids are putting on some kind of an act. Now, all this stuff they stole …”

“They lifted it from a collection,” Lieutenant Mayfield bit out with sudden decision. “It has to be that. Joe, check the files and see if anyone has reported the loss of a valuable sword and some old gold coins. And while you are about it, call the Tate Museum and find out if anything is missing from their arms exhibit. That old doctor what's his name could tell you.”

“You mean that kooky guy they were laughing about a few years ago because he believed in time travel?”

“That's the one. I remember now. His name's Legrande.”

A small light flickered at the back of Brian's mind, but before it could illuminate a recent corner of memory, several things happened within seconds. A stack of papers, that had been thrust aside to make room for the sword and the gold, abruptly fell to the floor. Brian did not see how Merra managed to get them off the table, but he glimpsed her small hands darting over them as they fell, and he heard the quick snap of her fingers.

As flame shot up from under the edge of the table, the Amazon screamed and Merra vanished.

It was only because he had been expecting something to happen that Brian was able to keep his presence of mind and act swiftly. A hurried movement of his hand swept most of the small objects on the table into a pouch. As Lieutenant Mayfield, surprisingly disorganized, leaped up shrilling “Fire! Fire!” he grabbed his sword and scabbard with one hand and all their possessions he could carry with the other, and darted for the door. He barely managed to slip out before the uniformed Joe, who had started down the hall, whirled and rushed back.

Joe almost collided with him, but actually failed to notice him in the excitement. Instinctively Brian turned left, for the hall to the right was suddenly full of people attracted by the cries. But he had taken less than a dozen steps when he realized that he and Merra could never leave the building from any point ahead. This section of the hall was a dead end.

He stopped and glanced quickly back, wondering where Merra was, but the sight of two uniformed men rushing toward him drove him through the nearest open door. It slammed shut behind him, and he whirled as Merra abruptly became visible. She didn't manage it easily, shimmering as Nysa did, but appeared all at once as if the power that kept her invisible had failed.

“Whew!” she gasped, struggling weakly to lock the door. “That's the longest I've ever held it … thirty-six seconds—Oops!” She sank down on the floor in evident exhaustion.

Brian dropped the things he was carrying and leaped back to the door as someone in the hall banged against it and rattled the knob. The small locking mechanism was unfamiliar, but Merra must have given it the correct turn for the door held.

“Open up!” a stern voice ordered. “You can't go anywhere—this is the only way out!”

Merra found the strength to cry, “Fie on thee! And a plague of warts!”

Her response was cause for astonishment, for there were exclamations in the hall and a man said, “But that's impossible! She can't be in there! I was just coming out of the lab myself when I heard the lieutenant cry ‘fire,' and I grabbed the extinguisher off the wall here and ran across and put it out. I saw everything that happened. The girl was in the lieutenant's office when the fire started and she couldn't possibly—”

“I don't get it,” came the voice of the guard named Joe. “I saw it all myself. The only person that ran into the lab was that crazy fool with the sword.”

“And not so crazy, if you ask me,” said the first man. “After what I've seen—”

“No one asked your opinion,” snapped the icicle voice of Lieutenant Mayfield. “If that rotten little devil slipped in there under your noses, it was because you were not minding your business! Merra, open this door immediately, or I'll break it down!”

“Thou needest not break it,” Merra called sweetly. “Verily, I be sure 'twould fall if thou wouldst but only lean against it!”

The only reply was a furious banging on the outer panel that caused Brian to wonder how long the door would hold, even though it seemed to be made of steel. This place was entirely unlike the other offices, which had glass partitions and wooden doors. What mysteries were conducted in here he could not guess, for there were many pictures of unpleasant-looking people clipped to wires, and on one side was a black alcove where a red light burned.

Hurriedly he buckled on his sword, then stood scowling at the door, wondering what to do. They seemed to be trapped.

“Do not worry, Sir Brian,” Merra said in their own tongue. “As soon as I regain my strength, we'll leave this horrid place.”

“B-but how? I don't see—”

“My chalk will take us away. Surely you were able to bring it with the other things!”

“Chalk?” He dropped to his knees and emptied both pouches on the floor. The chalk was not with the gold and paper money.

“Oh, dear!” Merra's voice was unsteady.

“But—but why do you need chalk?”

“To draw a design for a formula, you goose! But perhaps I can find a substitute. Something tells me that while I search, you had better barricade the door. I'm sure that horse will soon be leaning all over it.”

Brian dragged a heavy desk against the door. After looking quickly through the drawers for something resembling chalk, he thrust an equally heavy cabinet against the desk. From the sounds, much was going on out in the hall, and he had no doubt that very soon the lock would be broken or the door forced from its hinges. How long would his barricade hold?

As the door began to shake under the blows now being given it, Brian searched frantically through shelves, drawers, and boxes. Suddenly Merra gave a little cry and held up a large white crayon.

“This should do! Clear the floor for me!”

Hastily he flung chairs aside, and then scooped up the gold as she began drawing a large circle on the floor. Her small hands moved fast, but the design she commenced to make within the circle was extremely intricate. He stood watching, hands clenched tightly. How could she possibly finish it before the door was broken open?

There was a sharp crack, and he saw the door move slightly. He put his weight against the cabinet, trying to resist the thrust of those on the other side.

Abruptly Merra cried, “It is done, Sir Brian! Take your place—and pray that I have the strengdi I need!”

Quickly he looped the pouches to his belt and stood with his back against hers, holding her hands.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

There was another sharp crack as Merra began her curious chant made up of numbers. The barricade was giving way as she started her rhyme:

“By my power, by my right,

Take us back through time tonight;

Take us quickly, take us fast,

Take us deep into the past,

Take us to that sacred tree

Where Nysa made a home for me!”

The barricade gave way entirely and men were coming into the room as she finished. But at that instant he felt the familiar giddiness, and everything around them vanished …

9

Journey at Dusk

O
NCE AGAIN
B
RIAN CAME DOWN WITH SUCH A
jolt that he crumpled. But this time when he opened his eyes he was relieved to see that they were back in the safety of the cavelike place adjoining the great oak. It was such a comfort, in fact, that for a while afterward he made no attempt to rise. What they had just been through seemed like an evil dream. In a way it
was
a dream, for in this familiar present the incredible place where they had been didn't even exist.

Suddenly, remembering their mission, he felt an overpowering sense of failure. They'd failed miserably—and time was swiftly passing.

Beside him Merra got slowly to her knees. Finally she managed to stand, but only for a moment. With a little sigh she sank back to the floor. “Poor me,” she said weakly. “I am all but used up, Sir Brian. Thirty-six seconds of invisibility nearly did for me. How we ever got here afterward …” Then she gave a quick gasp of dismay. “Oh, dear!”

“What's wrong?”

“Tancred! We left him behind!”

“I know. But it couldn't be helped. Were you able to talk to him from afar before we left?”

“Yes—it was after those guards captured us in the park. I told him to stay there till we got back. B-but I didn't realize—”

“Oh, I'm sure he'll be safe.”

“How can you
say
that! Heaven knows what unhallowed horrors may be lurking in that awful city, ready to gobble an innocent bird! We'll have to go right back this minute and—”

“No! Don't be a goose!”

“I'll not be called a goose! I'm much too mature mentally—”

“Then don't act like a little girl who's just lost her doll. You know you're not able to take us back—”

“Fie on you!” she flashed. “Tancred's far more than a doll! Why, he's a member of the family and practically human! I couldn't possibly leave him—”

“You'll have to leave him till we get some rest,” he told her firmly. “Anyway, that place—the temple or whatever it is—will not be open for many hours. We'd be foolish to go there too early and risk being caught again.”

She sniffed. “Oh, very well,” she said, suddenly forgetting her temper and giving him a mischievous look. “You do speak wisdom in spite of being a mere woodcutter's son.”

With an effort she stood up again. “I hate to tell Nysa and Uncle Benedict what happened, but of course we'll have to. Then we can rest for a while.”

They went through the passageway to the main room with the fireplace. No one was there, nor was there an answer to Merra's call. She hurried up the carved stairway, then came down, shaking her head.

“I—I can't understand it! They said they wouldn't leave till we got back. What could have taken them away?”

“You can talk to them from afar. Why don't you do it and find out?”

“I haven't the strength. I mean, such—such a dreadful lot depends on us, don't you see? I must hoard my powers, since we'll be going right back into all that trouble in a little while.” She shook her head almost tearfully and started slowly up the stairway. “I'll throw you a blanket. And—and remember: There's a difference of fifteen hours in the time between there and here, so we mustn't dare sleep more than six hours. My birthday is tomorrow, so we've simply got to be at that temple when it opens.”

He was trying without success to reason out the time difference when thought faded from him. Hardly a second later, it seemed, Merra was shaking him awake.

“Get up, Sir Brian! Hurry! We've overslept—it's almost dark outside. We should have been on our way two hours ago!”

He thrust the blanket away, then bounced to his feet and buckled on his sword. “Has Nysa returned?”

“No,” she said worriedly. “I can't understand it—unless something unexpected came up with the peasant leaders. Maybe she had to take Uncle Benedict to another meeting. Oh, if I'd just had Tancred to wake me! I'm perishing for tea—but we haven't time. Quick—outside we must go to splash our faces from the sacred spring. Then we'll take bread and cheese to eat later.”