by Adam Oster
“Seem odd to you?” Griff asks.
“That they haven’t moved him?” I ask. “Gross maybe, but not weird, I guess. Everyone seems pretty afraid of this cathedral. They probably don’t want to get too close to it if they don’t have to.”
“No, I get that, I mean that there’s no sign of injury.”
“Yeah, so?”
“How did he die? I had just assumed it was supposed to be by magic back when we thought this was all for show, but now that this is supposed to be real, how’d The Wizard kill him?”
“Poison?” I shrug.
“It’d have to be some mighty fine poison to work like that one did. This Wizard fella might be a tad more powerful than I thought.”
“Maybe,” I reply. “I mean, if he’s a time traveler, he could definitely go on to the future and get some awesome tech.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Griff shrugs and steps away from the body. “But then couldn’t he use something cooler for his show than simple fireworks?”
He steps to the cathedral doors and pulls on them. They don’t move.
“Come on, Griff,” I smile. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy to get in there, did you?”
“Well, this is a house of God, isn’t it? Aren’t they supposed to always be open?”
“Not if they’ve got a megalomaniac inside wanting to keep you from seeing what he’s up to.”
“Well, are you gonna knock or what?” Griff asks impatiently.
“Yeah,” I answer quickly. “Just building up the nerve.” I grab the large crucifix-shaped door knocker and slam it against the wooden door as hard as I can. The sound echoes throughout the interior of the building.
A loud thunk sounds from within and an old frail-looking man sticks his head out of a hole in the door above our heads.
“Go away!” the man wheezes.
“Please, sir. We’d like to see The Wizard, if we could,” I ask, using my more demure-sounding affectation.
“No one gets in to see The Wizard,” the man says firmly. “Go away!” And with that, he slams the miniature door shut and disappears.
Griff giggles behind me. “Not no way, not no how.”
“Oh, shut up!” I harrumph. “I get it already, okay? So, maybe you could be helpful and come up with a way to convince them to let us in.”
“Tell him you’re Dorothy,” Griff shrugs.
“Oh, come on already. Couldn’t you be even the slightest bit helpful?”
“I’m serious. If you think he’d be willing to see us just because we’re from a different time, like him, then the best thing we can do is prove to him we’re not from around here. One way is to show him you know about a movie that won’t be made for thousands of years.”
“That actually makes sense,” I nod.
“Of course it does. Who do you think taught you everything you know?”
“No clue,” I snort before raising the door knocker once again.
Once again the small door opens and the man’s head appears. “I said, go away!”
“But, sir. I’m Dorothy.”
The man stops briefly before closing the door to look down at us. A sense of recognition washes over him for a short second before his face again turns south.
“Good for you, now go away!” he says, before again shutting the door behind him.
“Any other bright ideas?” I ask, looking to Griff with a frown.
“Give it a second,” he reassures me. “Even in the movie it took a second, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Obviously you haven’t trained me enough in the ways of classic movies like a good con master.”
“Obviously you’re right.” He puts his finger to his chin and looks up. “If I’m right, I’d guess he’s checking us out as we speak. That means in about thirty—“
A louder thunk sounds from behind the door and a grating creaking noise accompanies movement of the enormous wooden entrance. It is pulled open slowly by the small old man. This seemingly impossible task might possibly kill him if he continues on it any longer. I jump to assist him in getting it open enough for me and Griff to squeeze through.
“The Wizard will see you now,” he says through labored breath. He gestures for us to enter.
“Thank you,” I say softly. Griff nods his head at the man, who replies in kind.
I look down the hall ahead of us and notice that the building seems to reach on forever in repeated patterns of archways that are probably called flying buttresses or something. I took that art appreciation class last year, but flying buttresses seem to be the only phrase I remember from the section on Gothic architecture.
The windows are covered in stained glass beauties, telling stories of kings and gods. And the stonework throughout the entirety of this cavernous interior is like nothing I have ever seen before. Quite simply, it’s gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that I forget I’m there with anyone else.
I’m rudely awakened by Griff, who elbows me in the rib to ask, “How far in do you think we have to go before we see the giant head?”
The door slams loudly behind us and I jump in surprise.
“Dorothy, eh?” comes an elegant voice from ahead of us. A figure appears at the break in the corridor whom I quickly recognize as The Wizard we had seen only hours earlier. “Now that’s a rather unique name.”
Griff walks briskly toward the man. “Hey, pal. I just wanted to take a moment to let you know just how brilliantly I think—“
“Silence, fool,” The Wizard says quietly, but firmly. Griff, oddly enough, complies. “I do not care to hear from you. My interest is purely in the girl.”
“Me?” I ask timidly. “Why?”
“My dear, sweet, darling,” The Wizard says. Now that we’re in close proximity to each other, I can’t help but notice that the beard on his face is a fake. The clothing looks like it might have been purchased at a cheap costume shop the night before Halloween. “How could I not wish to share your presence?”
He is at my side now and places his hand beneath my chin to raise my face so I am forced to look at him. A sickly smell of something rotten emanates from his warm breath, hitting my face while he inspects me. I’m uncertain how to respond, but decide it’s best to see where this is going, no matter how disgusting I feel.
Griff, however, is not so patient. “Get your hands off her, pal.” He runs to my side and pushes the man away from me.
The Wizard’s face changes from one of pleasant interest to intense spite as he turns his gaze upon my partner. “You dare place a hand on me?” he scowls through clenched teeth.
“I most definitely do dare.” Griff brings his fists in front of his face. “And I dare to do a whole lot more if you don’t keep your hands away from my friend.”
“Your friend,” The Wizard muses. “So, this is not your mistress?”
Griff and I laugh in unison at the idea.
“I do not see what is so amusing.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Griff says, dropping his hands to his side. “Look, pal, we’re just hoping you might be able to help us out. You see, we’re, um, travelers, like you, you know? The thing is, our, um, horse and buggy or whatever, seems to have broken down and we don’t know how to get back home. Since it seems like you’re from the same place, we thought you might be able to help us out.”
“You come to me for a way to return home?”
“Yeah, Mr. Oz. And we’re fresh out of ruby slippers, if you catch my drift.”
“Oz? I am The Wizard of Avalon!”
“Right,” Griff corrects himself, “Avalon, sorry.”
“You seem to be mistaken into thinking that you are, for some reason, allowed to speak to The Wizard like peers,” the frail man cuts in. “You should speak with reverence when talking to the ruler of your land.”
“You see,” Griff says with a frustrated sigh, “that’s the thing. This isn’t our land. We’re quite a long way away from our land and really want to find our way back there. We were told you w
ere all sorts of powerful and that you might be able to help. Of course, if you don’t think you have the power needed to get us there, perhaps we’ve come to the wrong wizard.”
“You are tempting my patience, fool.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I apologize. “My friend here gets kind of nervous when he’s around such important people as yourself. Surely you can find it in your heart to forgive him.”
The Wizard returns his attention to me and the rage fades from his eyes. He places his hand against my chin. “Of course, dear. I will allow him this one opportunity, since you wish it to be so. However, should he step out of line again, I shall not hesitate to end his pitiful existence.”
Griff looks like he’s about to open his mouth yet again. I shoot him a warning glare.
“That’s so very much appreciated, my lord.”
“So my lady,” The Wizard says while we walk deeper into the dark building, “please, tell me to what do I owe this pleasure.”
I hesitantly allow myself to be brought along to wherever this monster intends to bring me, telling Griff with my eyes that he should make sure to stay close, should his services be needed. I’m not sure if he was able to directly translate my wild eyebrow flailing, but he stays close behind us all the same.
“Well, my lord, as my friend had stated, we are somewhat lost and looking for help in finding our way home. ”
“Ah, yes. Whoever gave you such information is indeed wise. If there were anyone who had the power to do anything, it would be me. However, I’m certain you can imagine, a man of my power very rarely gets involved in matters of transport.”
“Oh, I’m sure, sire,” I say, stopping in place at the break in the corridor to keep from turning off down the darker corridor he had entered from. “But, you see, the manner in which we made our way here is something of a mystery. We think it might have something to do with this.” I pull the pendant away from its resting place on my chest and show it to him.
“I had noticed your prize,” he smiles and reaches within his own cloak, pulling out a spherical pendant that looks incredibly similar to the one in my own hands.
“The Reprobian Sphere!” I gasp.
“You know its name.” His smile grows weaker. “Perhaps I should not have been so quick to trust the two of you.”
“There’s more than one of those things?” Griff says in surprise. The Wizard looks at him sternly before returning his attention to me.
“I cannot see how there can be more than one of this device, considering how it was created,” he says somberly. “And if that’s correct,” his voice rises, “that can mean only one thing. You must have stolen it from me.”
“No,” I say, recognizing the anger growing within him, “I swear. We got it from an antique shop way way in the future. We didn’t—“
“Wyllt,” The Wizard yells at the ancient man who is only a few feet away. “Please restrain these two and place them within the guest room!”
Wyllt appears at our side immediately. For a small old man who had trouble with a simple door, he doesn’t seem to have any difficulty in overpowering the two of us and dragging us deeper into the cathedral.
The Wizard’s voice echoes through the long corridor as he cackles happily. “The prophecy is broken!”
Chapter 12
The next few moments are a blur. We are dragged downstairs to some dank dungeon underneath this house of God and are placed within shackles, bound to the wall and floor in a room that smells like vomit and defecation. The screams of countless other people pierce our ears, causing us to recognize we are not alone.
“What the hell did you do?” Griff asks me, looking ragged from his battle with the old man. How did that man manage to overwhelm us? Could it have been just Wyllt, or was someone else involved? Did The Wizard help? I really don’t know. All I know is one moment we were talking and the next we’re down here.
“I don’t know,” I shriek in response. “I thought things were going well. And then all of a sudden, he pulls out the sphere and—“ I stop midsentence. My hand goes to my chest. “He took it!”
“Of course he took it, kid. Why have only one of those things when you can have two?”
“But he thinks they’re the same thing,” I argue. “He thinks we stole it from him.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Obviously we didn’t steal it from him. He still had it in his hands.”
I pause briefly and consider what I’m about to say. “I never thought I was going to have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Explain basic concepts of time travel to someone. Haven’t you ever seen any time travel movie ever?”
“Yeah, of course. Tons of them.”
“Then you’ve, no doubt, heard them explain how it works, meaning that you should be fully capable of figuring out what’s going on.”
“You’d think so, eh?”
“Jeez. They’re the same thing. We just brought it from the future, you know, after he’s died and left it lying around somewhere that finally ends up at the shop I got it from.”
“That sounds needlessly complicated.”
“It doesn’t matter what it sounds like, it’s obviously what happened. Unfortunately, what he thinks happened is that we stole it from him, or that we will steal it from him at some point in the future, so--”
“But he’s from the future, too, right? Maybe he’s the guy from the antique shop?”
“No, definitely not the same guy.”
“I mean, maybe he’s the owner of the shop or something, or someone else stole it from him and then pawned it off or something or--”
“Whatever.” I pull against the chains in frustration. “It really doesn’t matter right now. Did you hear what he was talking about right before we got taken down here? About the prophecy?”
“Kid, there was a lot going on, I’m not really sure what all was said.”
“The Wizard was talking about a prophecy, the same prophecy Geoffrey was talking about, I bet. What if he thinks we’re the fulfillment of that prophecy, just like Geoffrey does?”
“Yeah?” Griff asks. “So what?”
“What would you do if you had the person who you knew was going to kill you locked up in a cell in your basement?”
“Leave them to die or kill them myself, I guess,” Griff says before the truth finally dawns on him. There’s a short pause before he finally continues. “Right, so, first thing we need to do is get out of here.”
“Yeah, any ideas?”
“Of course,” Griff grins, brings his hands in front of him, and rubs his wrists. It takes me a moment before I realize that they are no longer bound together. “I wouldn’t be a very good con man if I couldn’t break out of some simple handcuffs.”
“Then why haven’t you taught me how to do that?” I accuse.
“All in good time, kid.” He begins working on his ankles with a small thin piece of metal of some sort.
“What is that?”
“Just a paperclip. I’ve got them hidden all over myself just in case something like this happens.”
“Does this happen often?”
“Often enough to be precautious,” he laughs as his leg shackles fall to the floor beneath him. “Give me your hands.”
I lift my wrists toward him and he gets to work on my bonds. Within seconds, I feel them fall away and he starts on my feet. “You’re really good at that,” I admire. “Seriously, how come you haven’t taught me that trick yet?”
“Hey, I’ve gotta leave something out to keep me useful. There,” he says. I feel my the bonds around my feet loosen and determine they are freed. He stands up and looks around the room. “So, next task: How do we get out of here?”
“Can’t you just pick the lock to the gate?”
“Not with a paperclip.” He takes a quick glance at the padlock holding us in. “That lock’s too heavy to pick with something so flimsy. We’ll have to come up with something else.”
“Well, there aren’
t any windows or anything down here,” I frown. “Could we squeeze through the pipes or whatever they’re called?”
“Bars,” Griff says absentmindedly. He seems more focused on scrounging around in the corners, “and no. There’s no chance we’re fitting through those. However, based on the way that the walls in here look like they were dug out a lot earlier than the walls out there, and the fact that the ceiling in here is a whole lot taller, I’d be willing to bet that this room began its life being an oubliette. That means—Ah!” he exclaims. He’s found a chair hiding in a dark corner, which was apparently what he had been hunting for. He presses the chair against the wall and climbs onto it. “That means that there’s probably a hatch somewhere up here that we can use to push through into the church.” He begins feeling around on the wall above him.
“But wouldn’t that be up on the ceiling, not on the wall?”
“Yeah, but even you can clearly see, even in this dark room, that ceiling’s much too high for either of us to reach. However, there is a little known fact about oubliettes, which is that there was always a secret way out. Dungeon keepers would place a series of indentations within the walls of these things, just in case they ever found themselves at the bottom of the pit.” He steps down off the chair and moves it to the right three steps and climbs back on, continuing his search. “They’d have the first indents about eight feet up so people wouldn’t find them accidentally.”
“How do you know so much about dungeons?”
“My teacher was very thorough in her lessons about escaping.”
“You know, you’ve never really told me all that much about who taught you. Seems like she was really thorough.”
“She was.” He steps off the chair and moves it again.
“And she was a woman? Isn’t that weird for this business?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. She taught me everything she knew. And for what she didn’t know, she took me to the people who did.”