by Tom McGowen
Angus trotted quickly down to the water’s edge, and Sir MacHinery clumped across the pebbled beach behind him. Side by side they stared out across the black water. On the horizon, a faint flush of pink heralded the sunrise. Slowly a shape drifted toward them, resolving itself at last into a small boat in which stood the figure of a tall, robed man.
Chapter
5
The dawning sun had driven the inky blackness from the lake’s surface and pushed the shadows away from the shore when the boat came to rest on the beach and its occupant stepped out. He was a tall, broadly built man, and although the hair that hung to his shoulders and the beard that spread across his chest was silver gray, there was a twinkle in his blue eyes and a quirk to his mouth that made him seem quite youthful. A rich, red brocaded robe, trimmed at the collar and cuffs with glossy brown fur, reached to his feet. He stood for a moment, glancing around the beach and up at the sky. Then he took a deep breath and his body shivered as though it contained a joy too great to hold.
“Free again at last!” he exclaimed. His deep, vibrant voice was touched with an odd but understandable accent. “There were times when I feared that I’d never again see the blessed sky nor feel a wind on my face.” He bowed courteously and sincerely to the robot and brownie standing before him. “I am greatly in your debt. Whatever I may do to repay you—” his voice stopped in mid-sentence as he looked full upon Sir MacHinery for the first time. The little robot’s gleaming figure was clearly visible in the ever-lightening dawn, and the man’s eyebrows rose in astonishment.
“By the Red Dragon,” he exclaimed, peering curiously at the small figure, “they’ve come a long way indeed since my day to be able to create something like this! What a wonder!”
“Och, indeed he is, great Merlin,” Old Angus proudly stated. “ ‘Twas he who bested the monster and set ye free. He beat the beastie in the riddle contest and then, small though he be, he won the test o’ strength. Why, I tell ye, Sir MacHinery is as gude a knight as ye ever saw even in the court of King Arthur!”
“Sir MacHinery?” said the wizard, incredulously. “MacHinery?” Suddenly, he slapped his thigh and burst into laughter.
“Aye,” said Angus a trifle uncertainly. He wasn’t sure why the wizard was laughing. “But great Merlin, we have no time for this. We braved the danger to set ye free because the world has great need o’ ye once again. ‘Tis the demon folk, Merlin. They are gettin’ ready to come out again!”
“The demons,” said the wizard musingly. “I never chanced to encounter them, but I know of the great war that was fought against them ages ago, and I know of their hatred for mankind and the upper world. If they break forth, it means they have somehow regained their ancient magic, or else made league with someone or something which provides them the power they need. At any rate, it bodes ill for the world, and it is well that you called me forth.”
Striding to the lake’s edge he bent down and scooped up a handful of water which he let trickle through his fingers onto the sand. For a time he stood, staring down at the silver pool as though he saw more than just a puddle of water. After a while, he turned back to the brownie.
“After all my centuries of captivity, it still is not a bad world, Angus,” he said, “but not really a good one, either. They’ve made themselves much more comfortable than the folk of my time, but they’re not really much happier. They’re just as greedy and quarrelsome as ever, and they’ve learned many more ways of hurting each other. But still, they’re our kinfolk and it’s our world too. We must help them, even though they’ll never know it—unless we fail!”
Angus frowned. “Why canna we tell them, so they can help too?” he asked. “They have great armies and terrible weapons that can be used against the demons!”
The wizard grinned and shook his head. “This is an age of logic, brownie,” he replied. “The people who could help us, the great lords and leaders, are the very ones who’d scoff at tales of demons and wizards and brownies. They believe only what they see with their eyes, and weigh in their scales, and prove with their equations. If we went among them they’d clap me into a madhouse and study you as a freak—but they’d not listen. Come now, let’s see what the demons are doing. It’s best to know what we’re up against.”
Bending to the water he again formed a small pool on the sand and knelt above it. Angus peered over his shoulder and watched in astonishment as the water flickered, turned silver and became a window, an opening through which they gazed upon a strange and terrifying sight.
It was apparently a huge cavern, deep inside the earth. On each side, the cavern walls rose hundreds of feet until they were lost in the stygian blackness overhead. Blood red were these walls of rock, and completely covered with carvings chiseled into the hard stone by demon artists. Angus shuddered at what the carvings depicted: giant sculptures of men, women, children, elves, dwarves, brownies, and even animals of the forests, all fettered with heavy chains and bowed down in attitudes of grief, terror, and pain. Every creature who lived upon the earth’s surface was shown, lining both sides of the cavern so that passing demons could see the creatures they hated, bowing in submission. Jutting forth at intervals between the carvings, were massive, ornamental pipes, which apparently tapped the gasses of the earth, for blue fire burned steadily at their tips.
The floor of the cavern was jet black, smooth, and shiny, and it thronged with hurrying demons. They swarmed along the broad road, popping in and out of circular holes that lined the walls on either side, driving chariots of gold and silver drawn by teams of giant, yellow-eyed rats. The demons were puffy and bulbous, their skins pallid gray and covered with lank, yellowish hair. Their heads were misshapen and overlarge, and their arms and legs were long, thin, and spidery, ending in red-clawed hands and feet. They dressed in tunics of rat skin, dyed deep shades of red, blue, and green, adorned with sparkling, many-faceted jewels. Their eyes were large, round, and staring, and their mouths were cruel gashes. Watching them, Angus again shuddered.
As the wizard and brownie continued their observation, something happened. The demons stopped their movement and all heads turned in one direction. They began to move in against the walls, leaving a wide path on the black highway. Through this opening in the vast crowd marched a column of demon soldiers, clad in black, scaled armor, and bearing silver axes. Behind them, drawn by four great black rats came a large, silver-wheeled, ebony chariot. In the chariot was a thing!
With all his squinting and peering, Angus could not quite make it out. It was like a black column of smoke which flowed and curled and altered, yet never changed in size or thickness. Deep within its uppermost portion glowed two red sparks, like eyes.
From Merlin came the sound of a sharply, indrawn breath. “Urlug!” he exclaimed.
Suddenly the black rats stopped, and the demon soldiers hurriedly formed a ring around the ebony chariot. The black shape seemed to twist this way and that, making Angus think of a hunting dog seeking a scent. Then, the thing coiled around, and the two red sparks were turned full in the direction of the peering man and brownie.
With another exclamation, Merlin swept his hand across the puddle, shattering the scene and leaving only a patch of wet sand. He sprang to his feet. “We must get away from here. Quickly!” he said sharply.
Seizing the robot, he tucked its child-sized body under one arm, scooped up the astonished and somewhat indignant brownie with the other, and dashed up the sandy slope with speed that would have done credit to a ten-year-old. After covering some five hundred yards he stopped, panting for breath. “Angus,” he said, “we must find shelter somewhere.”
“We still have plenty o’ time,” said the brownie a bit crossly, clambering down the wizard’s robe to the ground. “The morning’s wee yet. Menfolk’ll not be aboot for hours.”
Merlin shook his head impatiently. “It’s not men I care about,” he snapped. “Urlug saw us spying on him and—” abruptly he stopped and stared out toward the lake. “Too late,” he said, sof
tly. “Look there.”
The brownie glanced toward the lake. A small patch of fog was creeping in off the water. As he watched, it billowed up to the very spot where he and the wizard had knelt only moments before while peering through the window. Oddly, it seemed to pause at this spot, twisting and curling. Suddenly, Angus remembered how the black thing in the chariot had twisted and curled like a creature seeking a scent, before its red eyes had turned in their direction. For the third time that morning he shuddered. Turning to the wizard he asked, “Be that real fog or somethin’ else?”
“It is a sending from the thing we saw in the demon’s cavern,” Merlin answered. “Sent to find us. The thing was Urlug, a creature of great power from the blackest, evil pits in the depths of the earth. The demons seem to have made a most powerful alliance. It has powers I cannot match. That patch of fog can neither see nor hear, but unless we can get away from here quickly it will find us and we will be in Urlug’s power!”
As they watched, the patch of gray began to billow slowly over the ground following the exact path that Merlin had taken in his dash for shelter. “It’s hunting us doon,” moaned Angus.
“Yes,” said the wizard. “It moves slowly, but it can follow us as long as we move along the ground. I have a spell for flying through the air, but without certain magic tools I cannot perform it.”
Suddenly, in his precise, mechanical voice, Sir MacHinery spoke. “We can fly through the air with the witch’s broom.”
“Of course,” Merlin exclaimed. They could see the broom lying on the sand some twenty yards from the gray creeping mass. “MacHinery,” said the magician, “run as fast as you can and bring the broom to us. Do not let that gray shape touch you!” He realized that the robot was probably capable of extreme speed.
He was right. With a thin whine Sir MacHinery’s hydraulic leg muscles turned his legs into silver blurs as he sped to the broom, deftly snatching it up, and rushed back to the others.
The foglike patch crept nearer. Merlin straddled the broom. “MacHinery, sit in front of me,” he instructed, “and hold Angus on your lap.” The brownie moaned with anguish at the prospect of flying again, but scrambled onto the robot’s lap. Sir MacHinery’s arms closed gently and firmly around him.
In a clear, loud voice Merlin said, “Take us back to the cave of Maggie MacMurdoch.”
As before, the broom slowly rose, circled about for a moment, then began to rush through the air some two-hundred feet off the ground. Glancing back, Merlin saw the gray, foggy mass hovering uncertainly over the spot they had just left. Abruptly, it vanished.
Chapter
6
The witch’s broom traveled with amazing swiftness, and it was still quite early when it passed over the castle atop Auld Clootie, slowed down, and spiraled to a stop a few feet above the ground in front of the cave home of Maggie MacMurdoch. At that moment, she and her cat appeared in the cave entrance. The old woman took a few steps forward, her eyes peering intently into those of the tall, bearded man. Then she inclined her head in a gesture of respect. The magician bowed gravely in return.
“I didna think he could really do it,” said the good witch softly, turning her gaze upon the small figure of Sir MacHinery. “He must be one of the greatest of all knights.”
Merlin’s face broke into a grin. “He’s much more than that, Maggie MacMurdoch,” he said. “But if we may enter your home, I’ll tell you all about him.” His grin vanished. “I’ll also tell you what I’ve learned of the demons. They are in league with a dark, evil power, and it is searching us out. You must help me lay spells of protection, while we decide what to do.”
“Och!” hissed the woman.” “Tis worse than I feared. By all means, enter my home, great Merlin.” She hobbled back into the cave, the cat at her side, and they followed her.
The inside of the cave was not like a cave at all, but like a home with wood-panelled rooms, and neat flagstone floors. The witch led them through a short hall and into a room filled with an assortment of strange objects. A bright fire burned in a fireplace.
A pile of huge, leather-bound books filled one corner and reached almost to a shelf on the wall upon which stood a row of bottles, containing such ingredients as powdered bat wings and toe of newt. Next to the books stood an enormous green bottle, inside of which was a slightly smaller red bottle, with a still smaller blue bottle inside of it. On one wall hung a murky mirror, which did not seem to reflect anything, and on the opposite wall hung a painting of a man’s face with a real beard growing out of it. The center of the room was occupied by a massive wooden table upon which were a crystal ball, a stuffed raven with a red ribbon tied around its beak, and a small box with a door painted on it. On the painted door was a sign which said DANGER—KEEP OUT!
“This is where I cast my spells, great Merlin,” said Maggie, somewhat apologetically. “I know it canna compare wi’ what you’re used to, but I think I have everything ye need.”
“You’re very well equipped,” replied the wizard gallantly, glancing about. He winked at the bearded painting, which winked back, picked up a heavy mortar and pestle, and began selecting items from the witch’s shelves.
After he and Maggie had been busily at work for nearly an hour, Merlin said, “That should do it. I think we can talk now without being spied upon. Is anything watching us?” he asked the bearded painting.
“No,” said the painting in a gruff voice. “All is well.”
“Very good,” said the wizard, seating himself on a corner of the table, while the witch settled herself in a chair. “Now I can tell you what we face.”
“Urlug is a creature of pure evil and great power. He is not as strong as the power that originally created the demons ages ago, but his power is stronger than yours and mine together, Maggie.”
“What can we do?” asked the woman softly.
“Urlug can be destroyed,” declared Merlin, “but only by a weapon of great power in the hands of a true hero. I know of such a weapon if it has not been removed in the years during my imprisonment.”
Slipping from the table, he stood before the murky mirror. “Still there!” He exulted, peering into the mirror’s depths.
“What is it, Merlin?” squeaked Angus from his corner.
“It is the sword of Sir Galahad,” answered Merlin. “When Galahad was searching for the Holy Grail, he came upon the sword that had been forged with great magic more than a thousand years before, by King Solomon. It is a weapon of great power over evil, but it can only be wielded by one who has no fear, who has more than mortal strength, and who cannot be tricked or tempted away from his purpose. Galahad was such a man, and so were Arthur and Seigfried and Roland. But where are we to find such a champion now?”
Again he seated himself on the table. The brownie came to stand beside him. “I see what ye mean Merlin,” he acknowledged. “ ‘Twill be verra hard to find such a one. A man who has great strength may yet be a coward. A man who knows no fear may not have the wit to keep from bein’ tricked or tempted.”
“Yes,” said the wizard grimly. “Where indeed do we find one?”
Sinking his chin on his chest, he frowned in concentration, gazing absently at the figure of the little robot standing silently against one wall. “It must be someone most extraordinary; someone who—”
His voice broke off suddenly and his eyes, still gazing at the robot, widened. “Why, of course!” he exclaimed, and laughed with surprise and pleasure. “We have the perfect champion right with us!”
“I never understand what’s goin’ on,” Angus complained. “Who d’ye mean, Merlin?”
The wizard pointed. “Your ‘Sir MacHinery,’“ he answered. “He is our champion. You see, Angus and Maggie, Sir MacHinery is not a mortal man in armor as you’ve been thinking. He is a machine—a machine that can think and talk and move. But, a machine cannot be afraid and cannot be turned aside from its purpose. He can use the sword!”
Angus was astounded by this revelation that what he had thought
to be a small man in a suit of armor was a machine. He stared in wonder at the silver robot, as did Maggie MacMurdoch.
“Och,” said the witch, “ ‘tis a wonder! I had heard there was a mad scientist in Strathgow castle. It must be he who made this mechanical man. These modern scientists put us witches and wizards to shame wi’ what they can do, Merlin.”
“They have certainly given us what we could never have found in any other way,” replied the magician. “This mechanical man will probably be the greatest champion ever called upon to fight against evil. He can never tire, never feel fear; his strength is incredible, and he will do exactly what must be done. Above all else, he is intelligent. He bested the Loch Bree monster in the contest of riddles, and it was he who thought of the way to escape from Urlug’s magic that sought us out.” He smiled at the robot.
“You may be just a machine, Sir MacHinery, but you are a person, nonetheless.”
“Well,” observed Angus contentedly, folding his arms, “we have the champion, and ye know where the weapon is, so let’s get on wi’ it and give this Urlug and the demons a thrashin’!”
The wizard’s smile faded. “There are still a few obstacles, brownie,” he sighed. “To begin with, Galahad’s sword is buried at Stonehenge in England.”
“Well,” said Angus again, that’s not an obstacle. Let’s take a shovel there and dig it up.”
Merlin shook his head. “You don’t know about Stonehenge, I see. It is a ring of huge stones put up thousands of years ago by a savage and primitive people. It is a curiosity that is visited daily by hundreds of persons, so we certainly could not dig up the sword in the middle of a throng of tourists, as I believe they are called.”
“Do it at night then!” exclaimed the brownie.
The wizard smoothed his beard. “After Galahad died his sword was seized by certain evil magicians,” he said. “They buried it at Stonehenge and put it under guard. It is guarded by the dark spirits of the people who build Stonehenge, which was a bloody and horrible place of sacrifice for them. Were we to enter Stonehenge at night and attempt to gain the sword, these black ghosts would rise against us. And they have a certain power; a spell of terror that will render any mortal man helpless. Not even I can combat this power.”