by K. W. Jeter
I took the bundle from his hands and unswaddled the weapon. A long blade, not ornate but impressively functional. Yet it seemed unnaturally light, as though made from some inferior metal. Disturbed by this sensation, I frowned as I studied the legendary sword. Tafe stepped up beside me and looked at it lying across my hands.
"There are runes," said Arthur. "Inscribed along the blade. From them I derive my knowledge of my true self, and the strength that accompanies that knowledge. Tell me what you see written there on the blade."
My eyes moved along the shining length of metal. "Why… they've faded!" I gasped. "The runes are hardly more than scratches! How could these be read?" I lifted my astonished gaze to his saddened face.
"Yes," he said mournfully. "How could they? This is Merdenne's work, and I fear it means the end of all England's hopes."
"But couldn't Ambrose do something about it? His power is as great as Merdenne's. Surely he could find some way of reversing whatever has been done to the sword."
Arthur slowly shook his head. "The power of Merlin is bound up with Excalibur's fate as well, though to a lesser degree. Merdenne has struck at us both through this damnable cleverness, and hobbled us beyond our capacities to set aright."
I shook my head and bent down to pick up the cloth at my feet. "What's done can be undone," I pronounced as I straightened up, sounding braver than I felt in my heart. "It's sad to see a noble weapon like this one degraded but if it can't be restored, then perhaps a Gatling artillery piece will serve as well to convince the Morlocks of their poor judgment."
A tired smile lit the old warrior's noble face. "Words fit for knighthood, my son, but-"
"Come." A desperate bravado had animated my spirits. I tucked the re-wrapped sword under one arm and grasped Arthur's elbow with my other hand. Tafe stepped to his side and caught his other arm, "My lord Arthur, we've dawdled here long enough. A little perambulation is good for the heart." Between us we nearly had him off his feet as we propelled him toward the door.
"Well," said Arthur, "I would like one more good lager before it's all too late. Merdenne serves the most wretched pale stuff."
"A fine idea." I said with all the heartiness I could muster. "On to the public house." My hand reached for the brass knob of the door
He watched the movements of his opponent's hands with interest. "Castling?" said Dr. Ambrose in smiling reproach. "Surely that's a time-wasting defensive move, uncalled for at this point in a game. You should press your advantage. I'm already down two pawns."
Merdenne tapped his fingertips upon his king and one rook. "I must confess," he said, "that by strict logic you are correct. The nagging hunch I act upon is completely irra tional. But all through the game I've had this compulsion to safeguard the king." He moved the pieces about to their new positions. "In the Orient, though, I learned that not all is dictated by logic." He leaned back in his chair and regarded the board.
A moment of silence passed in the room, empty except for the two chess-players, then Merdenne stiffened bolt up right, his pale face contorted in rage. "The king!" he shouted. "You've deceived me! Your accomplices-"
"Perhaps," said Ambrose mildly, "like your old friend Suleiman, you need to learn the value of pawns."
With a choked cry Merdenne leaped to his feet and dashed his fist to the centre of the chessboard, scattering the pieces in all directions. The diners at the nearest tables looked with shocked amazement at the reappear ance of the two men. Merdenne's chair crashed backwards as he ran toward the door, knocking aside a waiter in his path.
Ambrose drained the last of the Latour from his glass before he stood, dropped several bills upon the table, and followed his double out of the restaurant.
But even as my hand reached for the knob, the door burst into flames. Arthur, Tafe and I drew back as one. The unnaturally bright, devouring heat of the blaze revealed its origin. "Too late!" I cried. "Merdenne is upon us!"
"The window," said Tafe. She let go of Arthur's arm, pushed the massive wing chair to the wall, lifted and toppled it through the glass in an explosion of glittering shards. I tugged loose one of the long drapes and knotted one end to a bent section of the now empty window frame.
As though from old habit, Arthur took command. "You go first," he said to me. "I'll need your assistance below."
Glad to be free of the stifling heat – the one entire end of the room was by now in flames – I stepped over the sill and rapidly lowered myself down the drape, then let go and fell the last few feet to the ground.
Arthur tossed the bundled Excalibur down to me, then half-clambered, half-slid down the drape. I caught and steadied him when he dropped the last distance. Tafe was only halfway down the drape's length when the knotted end burned free from its mooring. She fell heavily upon her back in a shower of sparks.
I helped her to her feet and she nodded to indicate that she was all right. The three of us hurried away from the inferno that Merdenne had made of his clinic in a vain attempt to trap us. Behind us, the walls of the building began to collapse, sending gouts of dizzying heat across the red-lit lawns.
"Here!" A voice shouted to us, carrying across the hubbub of the crowd that had gathered around the iron fence. I spotted Ambrose signalling and pointed him out to Arthur and Tafe. We turned our steps toward the spot and soon were separated from him by only the iron bars of the fence.
A group of good-hearted young Londoners, always ready to participate in any excitement, extended their hands through the bars like steps and helped us mount over the top railing. One by one we dropped down into their midst, then were collared into a group by Ambrose. As we began to work our way from the scene of the holocaust one of the cheerful mob shouted after me. "Hey, mate! You forgot your parcel!" The fellow tossed the bundled Excalibur over the heads of his comrades. I caught it, yelled a quick thanks to him, then hurried after the others.
5
Timely Strategies
This was the voice that had laid out the plans for the routing of the Saxon armies from the shores of Britain. In a rough castle, a fortress of hand-hewn stone and little light, this voice had given its orders and words of encouragement to the generals who served as comrades. And outside the walls this voice had roused the common fighting man, no less comrades for their lower rank; roused them to a fighting pitch that was like the true and murderous edge upon the inscribed blade that a scarred hand raised to glisten in the sun of those heroic Fifth Century days.
Now the voice was weaker, that of an old man, tired and weighed down with the cursed work done upon him by our adversary. In the ill-lit groggery near the river docks that Ambrose had led us to, as I sat and listened I tried to connect in my mind the old man Tafe and I had rescued with the powerful legends that were buried deep in the English soil and spirit. Was this really Arthur, the defender of Britain? Even now, after all I had seen and risked, doubt gnawed at my heart. How damnable was Merdenne's trickery that it could create such confusion! I drew my attention away from the darkness I carried inside and returned it to my comrades.
The pretence of "General Morsmere" had been dropped by all, in contrast to the pseudonym that still clung to him who would have been more rightfully called Merlin. Perhaps this indicated something about the essential character of the two figures – forthright warrior and devious magician.
Arthur lifted his beer with both frail hands wrapped about the mug and sipped at it. The recent exertions of his escape had left him considerably weaker than before – frighteningly so. He carefully set the beer back down on the table and continued speaking.
"This is how it came to pass," said Arthur. "One morning in my suite at the Savoy, I awoke and found myself dizzy and sweating as if frightened by my dreams. Upon rising from my bed I discovered that I was barely able to stand due to the trembling in my limbs. The weakness advanced throughout the day, accompanied by the most soul-numbing despair I had ever felt. Finally, in an attempt to restore my spirits and fight off the spell being laid against me, I opened the secret
compartment in my military chest and took out my cherished Excalibur. The devastation of my hopes was total when I found it as you have seen, diminished in weight and the sacred inscription all but blotted out. I knew then that a dread evil was upon me. Merdenne arrived with the evening's darkness and I had no strength to resist him. Soon, thanks to his arrogant boasting, I was made aware of how my strength had been leeched away." He paused to moisten his throat again.
I glanced over at Ambrose with some unease. I had somehow expected that these two comrades of ages past, their lives so intertwined through the pages of English legend, would bear some special regard for each other and that these feelings would be apparent upon their being reunited once more. But I was unable to detect any such warmth between them. Was Ambrose so repelled by the change wrought upon his hapless friend to spurn him thus? How frail, I mused, are even the hearts of the immortals.
"It was done with that damnable device for Travelling through Time." Arthur's voice trembled with rage. "That Machine which the Morlocks stole from its murdered inventor – a sorry fool he! With the Time Machine Merdenne was able to travel to different points in history when Excalibur was not yet come into my hands. Through his own arts he located the sword at these different times and brought each one back to this time. Three times he did this, and thus diluted my powers."
My brow creased in puzzlement. "I'm not sure I understand," said I.
"The power that is embodied in Excalibur," said Ambrose calmly, "is a constant sum at all times. What Merdenne has accomplished is to bring four Excaliburs into being at one time. Thus, that power is now divided among the four swords – leaving Arthur similarly weakened." Oddly, he seemed not at all surprised by the revelation.
"But the inscription," said I. "What reason is there for the runes being almost obliterated?"
"Not obliterated," said Arthur. "But obscured. The meaning of the runes is scattered among the four swords. If there was but one Excalibur once more, then the inscription could be read again."
"This seems hopeless, then." My glance darted from one face to the other. "Even if we could obtain the duplicate swords from wherever Merdenne has hidden them, we couldn't return them to their proper time without the Time Machine which the Morlocks control. And how would it be possible to wrest the device from them without first restoring Excalibur and Arthur to their full powers? Frankly, gentlemen, I can see no way out of this deadly conundrum." The logic of my arguments weighed on my soul. Across the table the aged Arthur looked even further sunk into bitter reflection.
Ambrose's fingers formed a cage in front of his impassive face. "Well put, Hocker," said he. "Indeed, there would be little chance of rectifying the situation by merely reversing the steps through which Merdenne created all this mischief." His hands moved apart. "But if another way could be found – dangerous yet possible – what say you to that?"
"The dangers would count as nothing," said Arthur fervently. "The possibility of achieving our goal would be all the calculation we needed."
An assenting nod from Ambrose. "I half-suspected, half knew of the multiple Excaliburs and the problem they pose us. But there are also factors in the situation that work to our advantage. To wit – the power that is presently divided among the four swords is in an unstable condition. It yearns to be gathered into one again. Wherever Merdenne has hidden them, they still seek to be united. If each one were to be located, seized from whoever has it, and brought against this one, their metals would meld into one sword, the inscription could be read again, and Excalibur's power would be as before. As would yours be as well, Arthur."
In my heart I damned myself for a doubt-ridden coward, but I spoke up again. "A dangerous undertaking, indeed," said I. "Now that we have liberated Arthur, as well as one of the Excaliburs, surely Merdenne has alerted those allies of his that hold the other swords. Their vigilance in guarding them will beat a ferocious pitch by now.'"
"I think not," said Ambrose. "The net of intrigue that binds Merdenne's agents to his service is weakened by corrosive suspicion on all sides. 'Thieves fall out,' as the old saw has it. If Merdenne were to reveal to his accomplices that we had wrested both Arthur and one of the Excaliburs from his grasp, his entire organisation might abandon its allegiance to him. No, I think Merdenne is forced to play a lone hand against us in this matter."
"But still," I said. "His cunning is now augmented with anger at having once been bested. He seems a more formidable opponent now than ever."
"Are you afraid of him, Hocker?" said Ambrose quietly.
My spine stiffened as his eyes, as well as Arthur's and Tafe's, focused upon me. "Of course I am," I replied with some heat. "If I'm to be the only prudent member of this little alliance, then so be it. I fancy I've acquitted myself as well as anyone here who considers himself absolutely fearless."
"Well spoken, that." said Arthur approvingly. "On the battlefield all hearts tremble, but the courageous hand lifts its weapon nonetheless. Here – I'll drink to that." He lifted his beer again, swaying a little as he did so. In his weakened state, the alcohol was making a strong impact on him.
"Actually, Hocker," said Ambrose, "you may not have to face Merdenne at all in order to acquire the other Excaliburs. I eliminated Merdenne from the scene before; I intend to do so again, leaving you a more open field in which to pursue your quest."
"But how?" He had already told us of the stratagem he had employed when Tafe and I had gone into the clinic. "Surely he would not be deceived like that again!"
"Though I always prefer deception to any other means, in this case it is not my plan," said Ambrose. "I intend to overpower Merdenne, to bring the full weight of my will and strength against him. As you say, there would be little hope of tricking him once more. I must follow a more dangerous course."
"How do you mean?"
He spread his pale hands out upon the table. "While you were in the clinic I had transposed Merdenne and myself into a future time when all London was empty of inhabitants. But I did not use my strength to attempt to hold Merdenne there. It would have been pointless, as his own strength would have been sufficient to elude my grasp and return to this Time. What I intend to do now is to forcibly transpose both Merdenne and myself into a point in Time so distant that neither one of us will be able to return by our own strength. We will be like those Arctic explorers who expend all their energy to push on toward the Pole, despite the knowledge that they lack the means of returning to warmth and comfort."
"But this is insane!" I cried. "Why, you'd be lost forever in some dismal period of the future, trapped in the world's wreckage with your bitterest enemy! And what hope could we who are left behind, have of locating the other Excaliburs and restoring the weapon to its proper state? I can't see how our chances are much improved with this proposed gambit of yours."
"Good old Hocker," said Ambrose, smiling, "with your quick, sceptical mind. To answer your first objection, I need not be trapped forever in the far future. All this mucking about with Time in which Merdenne and the Morlocks have engaged has frayed the fabric of the Cosmos to the ripping point. By restoring Excalibur and Arthur's strength thereby, and then destroying that cursed Time Machine, you will restore the natural order of the Universe. The three Excaliburs that Merdenne snatched from their proper points in history will be automatically restored to those points, and I will be fetched back to this time once more. To carry my Arctic analogy a little further, I shall be like that explorer who has gone beyond the point of no return, only to be happily rescued and brought back to civilization by others."
"That is all well and good," said I, "but I fear you may yet find yourself stranded in Time's Arctic wastes. I still don't see how we, without your assistance, are to accomplish the task you have set us. Merdenne has no doubt hidden the swords in the farthest crannies of the Earth. And even if he hasn't revealed how he was tricked out of this one, his henchmen will still be on their guard against anyone who comes snooping after the swords."
"True enough." Ambrose remai
ned unruffled in the face of my many protests. "It will take great courage and guile on the parts of all of you to accomplish what must be done. And failure is more likely than not, no matter how valiantly you struggle. But you won't be merely casting about in the dark for the scattered Excaliburs. As I said earlier, I have suspected for a little while the nature of Merdenne's plotting. Many persons of both high and low rank, odd and conventional positions, are in my employ, for one reason or another. Some of them value the same ideals as I do, others are a little more mercenary. They have all been enlisted to locate the hidden Excaliburs, and have met with some success. The swords are objects of such power, even in their weakened state, that they cannot long be hidden from eyes that know what to look for. These agents of mine will assist you in your task."
"How are we to contact them?" He drew a sealed envelope from his coat pocket and handed it across the table to me. "Here is the name and house number of the person whom I feel you should seek out first. It will soon be daylight. I would advise that the three of you retire to my residence and rest until this evening. Work of this kind, no matter how good its intentions, is best done under the cover of darkness, and you will need all your strength as well. In the meantime I will do that which I have set for myself. When you set out once more upon your errand, it will be in a world that holds no direct threat from Merdenne – or assistance from me."
Arthur tapped the side of his empty glass. "A course lined with pitfalls," he mused. "But I can see no other."
"We've done all right so far," said Tafe.
I struck the palm of my hand with the envelope Ambrose had given me, while refraining from voicing the doubts that crept upward along my spine. What good would it do to say that none of us – not even Ambrose – accurately knew the true nature of the accomplices of Merdenne from whom we had to wrest the several Excaliburs? Indeed, how trustworthy were the cohorts of Ambrose into whose hands we were entrusting our lives and mission? Misgivings darker than these, perhaps even unnameable, moved within me.