The Indigo King

by James A. Owen

  But tonight the storm seemed different. The clouds were taking shape.…

  He dropped the sticks and crossed himself as three giants came striding out of the surf, directly toward the town. They were massive creatures that towered over the tallest trees in Caerleon. Behemoths such as these might have cowed even Arthur, Geoffrey thought. Yes, even he.

  Then, as quickly as the apparitions had appeared, the giants paled, then faded, then disappeared completely, leaving behind less than smoke in the air.

  Geoffrey lifted his robe and hurried back to the church. If nothing else, he intended to get his transcriptions done and turn in early. He could tell a sign when he was given it. No need to burn any bushes for him.

  Although, he thought as he trudged back up the stairs, that would have made him warmer.

  He reached for his door, and oddly, found it jammed from within. He rattled the latch, and from inside he heard a soft cursing, followed by the sound of tearing paper.

  He pressed harder, and suddenly the door flew open.

  The room was empty save for his small fireplace, his table, his chair, and the parchments he’d been working on. The window was locked. And there, on the floor, lay the ancient book he’d been transcribing.

  Somehow the first few pages had been torn out diagonally, from the upper left to the lower right side. Only the left-hand pieces remained. There was no sign of the torn pages themselves.

  Shaking his head, Geoffrey crossed himself again and closed the door. Something beyond his ken was happening here, and he hadn’t the presence of mind to deal with it. Not while it was so cold. The history of the kings of England would have to wait until later.

  Still mulling over what the vision might have meant, and trying not to consider the possible ways someone could have entered his study invisibly, Geoffrey of Monmouth fell into a fitful slumber. As he did, all around him, time itself shook and trembled like a tree in a thunderstorm.…

  Being declared the High King of the lands both known and unknown has its benefits, and when John and Jack made it clear that Hugo was their friend, Arthur immediately pardoned him and ordered him released.

  The Lawgiver took Arthur aside to discuss matters of his new office, and the rest of the knights immediately began to start a celebration—which, Hugo decided, was practically identical to the tournament, with less of a point.

  Of the companions, only Chaz had noted that not all the cheers were heartfelt, and not all the new subjects seemed to be pleased with the King, or the process by which he’d been chosen.

  Hugo was mostly just relieved to see his old friends from Oxford. “I knew it!” he exclaimed happily. “I knew you’d be here to fetch me!”

  “And just in time, it seems,” John noted. “It looked like you were about to be drawn and quartered.”

  “All under control, I assure you,” Hugo said with a wave. “But I’m not going to complain about your timing.” He turned to Chaz and took his hand, which he began pumping frenetically. “And you, dear boy! So happy to see you, too! What happened to your face?”

  Chaz pulled his arm free and tightened his collar. “Ah, I’m happy to see you well, Hugo.”

  John gave Chaz a quizzical look, and Chaz took him aside, out of earshot of the others. “I didn’t want t’ give him anything t’ regret,” he said flatly. “He doesn’t know I’m not Charles, and he doesn’t need to know where I came from or,” he added with a quick glance back, “what else transpired there.”

  John nodded. “I understand. You’re a good fellow, Chaz.”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  They rejoined the others, who were now conversing with Hank Morgan. He showed them his watch and seemed as pleased as Hugo that they’d come.

  “It still isn’t working,” he said, shaking the watch. “When you return, can you get a message to Verne?”

  “I’m sure we can,” said Jack, “one way or another. What year is it, exactly?”

  “It’s the year 498 AD,” said Hank, “give or take a few weeks.”

  “Not quite the sixth century,” said John.

  “Close enough,” said Hugo. “So,” he added, rubbing his hands in anticipation, “when do we go home?”

  “That,” John said, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulders, “is something we need to discuss.”

  Back at his tent, Hank prepared another stew for his hungry new guests as John, Jack, and Chaz offered an abridged version of what had happened to them.

  Hugo had barely begun his reciprocal tale, starting with his trip with Pellinor, when the High King poked his head inside the tent.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Arthur said, “but Archimedes has just captured something for our dinner.”

  “He’s an industrious bird,” said Chaz. “Tell him to bring it here, and we’ll add it to the stew.”

  “That’s the problem,” said Arthur. “It’s talking—and insisting it’s here to rescue something called scowlers.”

  John and Jack beamed and simultaneously sighed in relief. John dashed out of the tent, and Jack clapped Hugo on the back. “Hang on, old sport,” he said, smiling broadly. “The cavalry’s here, and they’re short and furry.”

  John followed Arthur to the crest of the hill, where Archimedes was grappling with an extremely agitated Uncas.

  “Stupid bird!” Uncas exclaimed. “What are you, a cannibobble?”

  “I’m a mathematician, if you must know,” the owl replied, still keeping a grip on the badger with one claw.

  “Let him go, Archie,” Chaz said as he and the others caught up to John.

  The bird immediately loosed the badger, who snorted at it, then patted down his fur. “I come on a rescue mission, and nearly get et by a cannibobble,” Uncas muttered. “No respect.”

  “We respect you, Uncas,” Jack said, sweeping up the badger in a tight hug. “I’m thrilled to see you.”

  “Scowler Jack! Scowler John! Mister Chaz!” Uncas shouted. “I finally found you! I knew I would!”

  The little fellow was so happy, and they were so relieved, that none of them noted that it was actually the owl who’d brought him to them. “What happened?” asked John. “We went back to the proper spot, but the portal was gone. It had only been a few minutes.”

  “That’d be my fault, Scowler John,” Uncas said, looking as embarrassed and forlorn as they’d ever seen him. “Mine, an’ mine only.”

  Jack knelt down and took the little fellow by the shoulder. “It’s all right, Uncas. Mistakes happen. What did you do?”

  “I, uh, I tripped over the cord, and accidentally unplugged the projector.”

  “Okay,” said Jack, suppressing a grin. “Then why didn’t you just plug it back in?”

  “I tried!” Uncas wailed. “But I got all tangled up in it, and then I pulled over the whole thing, and it breaked! I mean, broked.… Um, I cracked it, is what I mean t’ say!”

  “So how did you get here?” asked John.

  “We fixed it up—Reynard is a work an’ a wonder with lenses—and plugged it back in. But by then you were gone.”

  “How long did it take you to repair it, Uncas?” asked Jack.

  Uncas closed one eye and estimated. “About an hour.”

  Jack’s shoulders slumped. “Then we’re still in trouble,” he said, shading his eyes and looking at the afternoon sun. “It’s been twenty-four hours already, plus the hour it was down. The slide will have burned out by now.”

  “We thought of that!” Uncas said, preening. “Fred and I looked all over for you around that old oak, until just an hour ago. Then we stopped it before we ran out of time.”

  “Is Reynard simply going to turn it back on so we can return?” asked Jack.

  Uncas looked crestfallen. “That would have been a good idea,” he admitted.

  “But he would have no way of knowing Uncas found us,” Chaz said, “and the slide would still burn out.”

  “He’s right, Uncas,” John said, still confused, “how do we get back?”

>   “Easy,” Uncas said, bursting with the ingenuity of his plan. “We brung it with us—the entire Lanterna Magica.”

  They had Arthur ask Archimedes to return to Grandfather Oak, to look for a second badger and a small machine, and to return, as carefully as possible, with them both.

  The bird flew off, and inside of an hour returned with the projector in his claws and Fred riding on his back.

  “Please don’t drop the time machine,” said Jack.

  “Or the badger,” added John.

  “I meant to say that,” said Jack.

  Archimedes spiraled slowly down and lowered the Lanterna Magica to the grass, and Fred leaped off his back and hugged Uncas.

  “Did you see, Father?” Fred exclaimed. “I flew! In the air!”

  Uncas hugged his son back and glared at the bird. “I had the same trip, under less pleasant circumstances.”

  John and Jack stared at the projector. The badgers had indeed managed to bring it through.

  “It was Reynard who figured it out,” Fred explained. “He used an extra lens to keep the projection large as we pulled the machine closer to the screens. Then, when it was almost inside, we pulled it through, and the portal closed behind it.”

  “It almost didn’t work at all,” said Uncas. “The cord in the back was barely long enough to let us pull the projector through before it came out of the socket.”

  “That’s actually my next question,” Jack said, already knowing—and dreading—the answer. “We’re at the end of the fifth century. Where are we going to plug it in?”

  The mournful howling of the two badgers was so pitiful that the companions had to move them down the back side of the hill, away from the celebration and into the woods.

  It took several minutes and the combined efforts of John, Jack, and Chaz to settle them down. Then the companions began to discuss any ideas they might have to get back to Sanctuary.

  “The Lanterna Magica used to be powered by a candle,” John suggested. “Maybe we don’t need the electricity.”

  Jack shook his head. “I was looking it over with Reynard. We’d have to take it apart to do something like that, and we don’t understand enough of how it works. What if we broke the mechanism that makes it function?”

  “I wish you’d thought to bring a generator, too,” John said to Uncas. “Not,” he added quickly as the badger started to tear up again, “that I’d have thought of it either.”

  “The Serendipity Box?” asked Chaz. “Could it give us a generator?”

  “Not likely,” John said, eyeing the box. “It’s too small, and too big a risk to wish for something it can’t give us.”

  “We might just as well wish for a generator,” said Jack. “It could fall into our laps this very minute.”

  “Not quite that fast,” someone said, “but give me a few days, and I might be able to arrange it.”

  It was Hank Morgan who had spoken. “I’m only an amateur time traveler,” he said with some degree of modesty, “but in my day job, I’m an electrical engineer. I’m certain we could construct an electrical generator in a few days, give or take. And then we can power that thing up and get you on your way.”

  “Perhaps we could fix your watch,” John suggested. “Could you take us back with you?”

  “I wish I could,” Hank replied, “but I’m afraid the device doesn’t work that way. Not yet, anyway. It’s a one-person contraption. I’ve tried to take a passenger, but it just left them standing and clutching empty air. But perhaps in the future something can be done to change that. It’s busted, anyway. But if I ever get another one, I’ll give it to you. You really ought to have a watch if you’re going to be traveling in time.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” said John. “I’m going to catch hell for the last one I lost.”

  The group returned to Hank’s tent, where he kept a large bag filled with various handmade tools and implements, and a second one filled with raw materials.

  “Ever the Boy Scout, eh?” said John.

  “The what?” said Hank. “No, I just like to always be prepared.” “Couldn’t you have just used that watch of yours to pop back and forth in time, and simply bring back the tools you need?” asked Jack. “That would be a lot easier than fashioning everything by hand.”

  “Would if I could, brother,” Hank replied. “It just doesn’t work that way. The only thing I can actually take back and forth is the watch. Everything else has to be created or acquired.”

  “Does that include … ?” Jack asked, indicating Hank’s clothes.

  “Yep,” Hank admitted with a slight blush. “First trip out, I found myself absolutely starkers. Should have seen the first knight who stumbled over me. He thought I was some kind of crazy man.”

  “It didn’t say that you were naked in the book,” said John. “Not that I recall, anyway.”

  “A favor from Sam,” Hank explained. “I have to preserve my dignity where I can, you know.”

  “But I’ve seen you take notes,” said Hugo. “Should I even ask how you get them back?”

  “Better for us both if you don’t,” said Hank.

  As Hank worked, the companions remained apart from the celebrations and revelry, so as not to risk disturbing the timestream worse than they had. Now that they had Hugo, all John and Jack wanted to do was get home.

  Fred, Archie, and Chaz turned into an unexpected trio of friends, who passed the time playing logic games. Uncas mostly stayed at Hank’s side, feeling as he did responsible for the entire mess. If he could help, he would.

  As it turned out, the Little Whatsit was a great benefit to Hank’s efforts, providing him with instructions and diagrams that he otherwise would have had to work out himself.

  “With that book,” Hank said, wiping his brow, “we should be done tomorrow.”

  “That quickly?” asked John. “Excellent. Good show, Hank.”

  Jack seemed a bit put out that Arthur was not spending more time with them. “We are the ones who brought him here, after all,” he complained. “If not for us, he’d still be asleep under the tree.”

  “Now, Jack,” Hugo said consolingly, “he is the High King, after all. He’s got a lot to do, I’m sure.”

  Of Merlin there was no sign. And Mordred never rode back to the camp. In his stead, Arthur had moved in to occupy the tent he left behind.

  “There’s a metaphor in there somewhere,” John remarked, “but I’ll be damned if I know what it is.”

  By late the next morning, the generator was assembled and running.

  “Should we say good-bye to Arthur?” asked Jack.

  “Best not,” John replied. “We’d have to explain too much about where we’re going and why. And I’d prefer to let history take its course without any further help from us. And you, Hank?” he said to the engineer. “Will you be all right?”

  “My device is still not working,” Hank said, holding the silver watch to his ear, “but no matter. If I have to stay awhile, so be it. Sam and Verne will straighten it out. Besides, it’s good weather—I’m thinking about organizing a few baseball teams and having a tournament of my own.”

  “Ah … Go Sox!” said Hugo.

  “Attaboy!” said Hank. “Good luck to you, gentlemen … and badgers.”

  They plugged in the Lanterna Magica and crossed their fingers. “Ready?” Hank asked. Everyone nodded, and he gave a signal to Uncas, who threw the switch.

  Against the wall of Hank’s tent, the brilliant projection sprang to life. But instead of the room at Sanctuary they were expecting to see, they saw a tree on a hillside, with a young man sleeping underneath.

  Jack realized it first and slapped his forehead. “Of course,” he moaned. “This isn’t like the doors, where it’s two-way. The Lanterna Magica only projects a portal into whatever’s on the slide.”

  “In this case, a couple of days ago, when we got here,” said John.

  “Can we go through there,” asked Chaz, “before we got shut out?”

  John
shook his head. “We’d still have no way to get to Sanctuary, and,” he noted bitterly as the edges of the slide began to thicken and fade, “this slide is nearly finished, anyway.”

  “Can we go through one of the other slides instead?” asked Fred.

  “Too risky,” said John. “They would just take us to another spot in our past, and presumably, another encounter with Mordred. And now that Arthur’s taken control, I don’t want to chance another change.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hank said as the slide burned away and the projection turned clear. “I got her going for you, but after that, I’m fresh out of miracles.”

  “You might be, but we aren’t!” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “The Serendipity Box!”

  John pulled it out of his bag and handed it to Jack as Chaz explained the workings of it to Hugo and Hank.

  “All I want,” said Jack, closing his eyes, “is a ticket home.” He opened his eyes and the box at the same time, and everyone leaned in close to see what it had given him.

  Inside the box was a miniature ship inside a bottle. Jack took it out and looked closely at it.

  “A ship?” said John. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to do for us.”

  “Neither do I,” admitted Jack, deflated. He’d hoped for something more clearly useful, but this ship in a bottle was, according to the box, the thing he needed most.

  “There’s no time limit, remember,” John pointed out. “It doesn’t seem to be constrained by the urgency of the moment. Bert’s scarab brooch wasn’t needed for years.”

  “Grand,” Jack said, pocketing the bottle and closing the box. “Now what do we do?”

  “Let me try,” Chaz suggested. “It is more my world we left from, after all. Maybe it’ll be my need the box responds to.”

  Jack shrugged and handed it over. “I don’t see that we’ll lose anything if you try.”

  Chaz rubbed Uncas’s head for luck. “If it’s not a magic carpet t’ home,” he said cheerfully, “let’s hope for some oyster crackers, eh?”

  Chaz opened the box.

  “Oh, drat again,” said Uncas. “And after you got my hopes up an’ all.”