“Yes,” Welly agreed. “And remember the sparks. When he and that woman fought, it was like two swords clashing.”
“So, you believe him, too?”
“Heather, I don't have the imagination you do. I don't take in weird things easily. But this is too real to be weird. I guess that means I believe.”
The night was well advanced when they reached the school wall and the old gnarled roots marking the way over. But there were still several hours before the late winter dawn.
Already aching from their climb down the shaft, every muscle protested as they scaled the wall. On the other side, the two slipped quickly through the orchard toward the darkened bulk of the school. They were almost to the back door when a shadow peeled away from other shadows and leaped at them, gripping their arms.
“I thought you two might come skulking back tonight,” Nigel's voice hissed. “I'm not on duty, but I couldn't pass up a little healthy revenge.”
“Let us alone, Nigel!” Welly demanded, surprised at his own vehemence. “We didn't do anything to you.”
“Certainly, I'll let you alone, as soon as I get you to Master Greenhow's room.”
“Well, go ahead, then,” Heather said. “You've caught us, and we can't help where you take us. So it'll be you Greenhow yells at for waking him to report fugitives who'll still be here in the morning.”
Nigel was silent for a moment. “You really aren't important enough to wake anyone for. And you're already in for a delicious punishment. He's furious at that ungrateful friend of yours for escaping. His aunt was beastly mad; scared the daylights out of old Greenhow and didn't leave him a penny.”
He jerked the two children toward the back door and into the darkened hall. Immediately Welly's glasses fogged up, and he stumbled blindly as they turned into the girls' wing of the dormitory.
“Let's stable you first, Horseface.” Nigel laughed. “I brought along the extra keys.”
They were hauled up a flight of stone stairs and along dim, silent corridors. As they neared Heather's room, Welly, who'd been mentally discarding one plan after another, whispered loudly, “This is sure a fix we're in. I'd sure like to see our friends Marian and Robin about now.”
Nigel stopped at a door, thrust it open, and pushed Heather inside. As the older boy unhooked a ring of keys from his belt, Welly coughed and said emphatically, “I'd sure like to see good old Tuck right now.”
Comprehension dawned on Heather's face. “Oh, look out!” she exclaimed. “My giant roach has escaped! Grab him!” She threw herself on her hands and knees just in front of Nigel. Welly smashed against him from behind, sending Nigel toppling over Heather onto the floor. Leaping onto Nigel's back, Welly pinned him down while Heather whisked a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around his head. Then, snatching a belt and scarf off the back of a chair, Welly tied his prisoner's wrists and ankles.
Nigel's yells were only mumbles through the blanket, but as Heather shut the door, she whispered, “We don't want to smother him. Try a gag.” She threw Welly an old undershirt for the purpose. Then, lighting a candle, she hastily stuffed things into a backpack—all the blankets, warm clothing, and candles that would fit.
“Don't forget the candied chestnuts,” Welly reminded her.
They dared say little in Nigel's hearing, but as soon as they slipped out the door and locked it behind them, Welly whispered, “I assume you're thinking what I'm thinking?”
They started down the corridor as she replied, “About burning our bridges behind us?”
“Right. Having Master Greenhow mad at us is one thing. But bashing and humiliating the nasty-tempered heir to Glamorganshire—well, this isn't going to be a healthy place for us.”
“I was sort of thinking we should go with Earl anyway,” Heather said.
“Me too. But this clinches it.”
They hurried to Welly's room, where he quickly packed his rucksack. Then they slipped down to the kitchen. “We'll have to hurry,” Heather whispered. “The kitchen help will be starting the fires for breakfast soon.”
She led them to the pantry, and they began stuffing their packs with bread, turnips, and even several sausages and lumps of cheese. “We'll eat like kings,” Welly said.
“If we ever get out of here. That's enough now, hurry.”
Welly crammed a heel of bread into his mouth as they slipped to the pantry door and cracked it open. Outside there was a shuffling. Lids clanked, and someone yawned by their door.
Welly's heart sank. He wondered if they'd be trapped in there all day. No. Someone would come into the pantry after something, and they'd be caught. He desperately wished he could do Earl's disappearing trick.
Then they heard a door open and close, and there was silence. “She's gone out to get more water,” Heather whispered. “Hurry!”
They shoved open the door and glided like ghosts through the kitchen and down dark, twisting corridors. Once they hid behind a corner while someone sleepily stumbled by. Finally they made it to the back door and slipped into the predawn gray.
Dawn itself was silhouetting the broken mine tower as they finally crested the hill. Briefly they stopped at the ruined house where they'd first hidden to pick up Earl's pack. Then they worked their way downhill to the small shed.
They found Earl sitting in front, leaning back against the old stone wall. He was staring into the light along the eastern horizon. As they approached, he turned, giving them a blank look which slowly changed into a smile. “You were a long time. Did you have any trouble?”
“Trouble personified,” Welly said. “Our good friend Nigel. But we put him in his place.”
“Doubtful. There's not a place in Llandoylan bad enough for him.” Earl eyed their two packs. “Looks like you've brought enough for an army. I don't know if I can carry all that.”
“You needn't,” Welly said crisply. “We're coming, too.”
Earl sighed. “I was afraid you'd say that.” When they started to protest, he continued. “I'll admit, before you left, I almost wished you'd offer to come along. But now I just don't think I can let you.”
“Why?” Heather asked. “What's changed? We're sworn to you and mean to follow through.”
“I'll tell you what's changed. The world's changed! While you were away, I experimented with some magic, simple stuff. I hadn't really done much since I was sealed away. But things went all wrong, horrendously wrong. And I think I know why.”
They looked at him, their expectancy tinged, Earl thought, with skepticism. He sighed.
“Magic is a natural force, with its own laws, like gravity or magnetism. The force lines of what we call magic are part of all things in the universe. People with the power and training can learn to tap that force and use it. But like magnetic fields, it seems magic changes over time. The lines and patterns of force shift.”
Heather and Welly both wore slightly confused frowns. Earl continued. “That's the problem, you see. The force lines changed over time; but caught as I was in that web of spells, I didn't change with them. I'm no longer in tune with the patterns. I still have the power, but outside of close personal magic, like protection or finding the way out of that mine, everything I do is off somehow, out of kilter.”
“Is that a big problem?” Welly asked.
“Yes, it is!” Earl said, his voice high with frustration. He jumped to his feet. “All right, I'll show you. I can still do personal magic, like changing my appearance, say.”
He stood before them, and as they watched with growing amazement, his chin began to darken, and he started growing a beard, a long, wavy beard. It looked a bit odd on a fourteen-year-old face, but it and the mustache were very impressive. Except for the color.
Earl looked down. “Purple! I can see I need to brush up on details. Well, no matter.”
The beard shriveled and faded away as he turned and pointed at a good-sized rock some six feet in front of them. “But now let's try this. Ordinary telekinesis is pretty basic stuff. I should be able to look at th
at rock and manipulate its forces and those around it until it lifts into the air. But watch!”
With his arms crossed, he stared at the rock, head tilted slightly, face taut with concentration. Expectantly Heather and Welly watched, but nothing happened. Then, gradually, they became aware of a faint buzzing noise. They turned to see a huge hornet's nest floating through the air toward them. It was aimed directly at Earl's head.
“Duck!” Welly cried. Grabbing Earl's arm, he yanked him to the ground.
The hive sailed over their heads and smashed on the rock he'd tried to lift. From the shattered pulpy sides rose a cloud of angry hornets. They swirled about undecidedly for a moment, then descended on the three watchers. In seconds, they were swatting, ducking, and waving their arms frantically.
Earl spat out a singsong phrase. The hornets and broken nest turned purple.
“Damn!” he exclaimed. “Purple again!”
“Never mind the color!” Welly wailed. “Just stop them!”
Earl muttered something else, and the smashed hive burst into flames, consuming a number of hornets that hovered about it.
“Ah, that's better,” he said, and then groaned as the flames slowly melted down and coalesced into a large cream pie, distinctly purple.
This new arrival, however, interested the hornets. Soon, those insects not destroyed by the fire were swarming over the pie and sinking into its sticky surface.
“Well,” Heather commented as the last hornet buried itself in the purple froth, “at least it got the job done.”
“I can see,” Welly said, “that this is going to be an interesting trip.”
QUEST'S BEGINNING
Earl shook his head. He looked at Heather and Welly sitting against the stone wall, stubborn looks on their faces and full packs at their sides. “It would be all right,” he said, “if it were only a matter of being interesting. But this trip will be dangerous as well. If I had my powers intact, we needn't fear the dangers of the road. Wizards travel in great security.”
“But it's no different than if we were traveling with just plain Earl Bedwas,” Welly pointed out. “We just have to deal with danger as best we can.”
“True,” Earl admitted. “And if we only had regular dangers to worry about—animals, brigands, and weather— maybe we could chance it. But suppose when Morgan finds out I'm not lying dead in that mine she sets out looking for me. Suppose she unleashes a man-eating griffin, and I fight back with a cloud of butterflies—purple ones.”
“Maybe griffins are allergic to purple butterflies,” Heather offered.
“What Heather is saying,” Welly said before Earl could sputter a reply, “and I am, too, is that we're coming. So you might as well stop arguing.”
Heather smiled impishly. “And if you try to stop us by turning us into rocks, you'll probably get a pair of panda bears as companions, or fleas, maybe.”
Earl laughed. “And they'd be purple, no doubt.” Running a hand through his hair, he paced in front of the little hut. Then he stopped and looked at them. “All right. Come along. You might be in as much danger if you went back to the school. Morgan probably knows you left with me, and if she learns you've returned, she might pay you a visit.” The thought made the two of them squirm. “But remember,” Earl continued, “you can drop out of this venture any time. Things may well get over our heads.”
The two jumped to their feet. Earl grabbed up his pack and said, “Let's redistribute our gear. But not here; the smell of that cream pie is turning my stomach.”
They repacked on a cluster of rocks upwind from the faintly buzzing pie. “Just one question,” Welly asked as they shared a wedge of bread. “Where are we going?”
“I was thinking about that while you were gone. And the answer's inescapable. I've got to go find Arthur.”
“King Arthur?” Welly said incredulously.
“But he's been dead for two thousand years!” Heather protested.
“Perhaps,” Earl admitted. “I don't know for sure. I was entrapped before that last battle, so I wasn't with him. But, if you notice, the legends don't say that he died. They say he was gravely wounded and carried off to Avalon.”
“Ah, that's just a fancy way of saying he died,” Welly stated.
“No, it's not. Avalon is real. It's part of Faerie, a world parallel with ours and touching it at points. The folk of Avalon, the Eldritch, are interested in our world and occasionally mix in its affairs. And they always had a particular interest in Arthur. They prophesied his birth and kingship and gave him his sword. It seems likely that when all his work was collapsing and he was dying, they spirited him away to heal and wait.”
“Wait for what?” Heather asked.
“Wait until he was needed again. Until our world needed someone with Arthur's dream and his skill to bring it about.”
Earl finished his packing and sat on a rock. “Maybe that's why I was released when I was. If ever there was a time when Britain needed a man like Arthur, it's now. A world blasted by human stupidity, with petty kings fighting each other and mutants invading its shores. And to add to that, evil magic seems to be loose. So, I'm afraid the answer's obvious. I helped bring Arthur into his kingdom before. That must be what I'm to do again.”
A moment's silence. “All right,” Heather said, standing up, “where is this Avalon?”
Earl gestured helplessly. “I don't know. The entrances, the places where the two worlds cross, change constantly. Who knows where they are after two thousand years, if there are any left at all? This world may be too dreadful now for Avalon to want any contact with it.”
“So where do we go?” Welly asked.
“South … south and west. I feel that's the way. Maybe once I'm closer, I'll sense something. But, you see, this is a rather slender set of threads to hang on, so if—”
Heather stood up. “We're going, Earl; no more arguing.” She shouldered her pack. “And we're going south.”
They trekked off across country, sometimes talking, sometimes in companionable silence. Heather, tired as she was, gloried in every moment of it. This was adventure. This was a real quest. And it was something of her own. She wasn't needed at home; she wasn't needed at school. But maybe, just maybe, she was needed here. The hope thrilled her so much that it frightened her.
Tossing her head, she let her hood fall back. Thin brown hair fluttered in the breeze. The sky was unusually clear, the sun almost a disk. In its diffuse light, the snow sparkled and glittered like crushed diamonds. The white was achingly lovely, and the shadows were a deep cool blue. How she'd love to have a gown like that, glittering as she walked, swirling into folds of mysterious blue. Her hair tumbling about it, pale and gold as the sun. How beautiful she'd be. All the world would see how beautiful. She sighed blissfully.
By midmorning, they were tired and hungry. Under a shelf of slaty blue rocks, they sat down and shared a hunk of bread and tangy sticks of sausage. Ceremoniously Heather brought out the candied chestnuts. “Happy Yule,” she said, doling them out. She'd only been able to afford a few, but they savored every crumb.
As they finished the meal, Earl cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I'm not a maker of sentimental speeches. But I want you to know I appreciate your sticking with me.”
“But we're friends,” Welly said simply.
“That's what I mean—you're friends. I've had very few in either life. I never admitted to myself that I needed them. That was my real weakness, and Morgan knew it and used it. That's what she's best at, playing on people's weaknesses until she breaks them and turns them to her will.
“She knew I needed someone like Nimue, so she trained her and insinuated her into my life until I was trapped by my own need. But for all that, I don't blame her; Nimue, I mean. She herself was trapped by Morgan. And despite everything, I loved her.”
Earl was looking off into the distance, as though seeing over time as well as miles. “During those long years, I often wondered what became of her, once she had served Morgan's purpos
e. I hope she broke away and found peace somewhere.”
He sighed and stood up. The three shouldered their bags and set off over the silent landscape, their breath rising in plumes against the cold air. After a while, Welly asked about Garth.
“That creature?” Earl replied. “He's not from the old times. You can tell by his darker skin, for one thing. His ancestors mutated for survival.”
“Oh!” Heather exclaimed. “So that's why you and Morgan—”
“Are so washed-out?” Earl laughed. “Our ancestors lived well before the Devastation. Back then, most Britons were as pale as we are, though people near the equator had lovely dark skin like yours, or darker, to filter out the sun.
“But Garth,” he said, returning to the subject, “is of your world, though his mutations may have taken some nasty turns as well. Morgan usually picks deeply flawed creatures for her lackeys. Her evil can get a firmer hold on them.”
Welly was frowning in concentration. “Earl, something just occurred to me. Remember the night someone broke into Greenhow's office? Do you suppose it was one of those two looking for your records?”
“Hmm. From what you saw, I think it could have been. They must have found the mountain destroyed and rumors led them to the school. And … and that time in the blizzard. I'm not sure if it was a deliberate trap. I don't think so.” He shivered. “If they'd known about my memory then, they could have caught me easily.”
In midafternoon, they joined the south-running road and luxuriated in its packed surface. On either side, stone walls snaked over the hillsides in shadow-rimmed ridges. Ancient in origin, they now marked fields where hardy mutated crops grew in the brief summers. Some of the walls fenced livestock whose ancestors had been among those few farm animals which, sheltered during the Devastation, had not died of cold or radiation.
Sunset was still an hour off when Earl gestured toward a cluster of trees and ruins on a ridge to their west. “Let's stop and set up camp. None of us got any sleep last night, and I, for one, am exhausted.”
Tomorrow's Magic Page 9