Adam of Albion

by Kim McMahon

But Artemis had a very different spin on it. Her eyes widened in disbelief, which quickly turned to a glare of outrage.

  “You kept her locked up in there?” she demanded, with icicles dripping from her words. “Like a slave?”

  “Locked up? But—that was just her place.” Orpheus actually looked confused, like he didn’t get why Artemis was upset. Probably feminism hadn’t advanced all that far when he was last up and about, a couple of hundred years ago.

  “Oh, of course you’d think so,” she retorted. “It was all about you, wasn’t it? You took it for granted that she’d always be there for you, and you did whatever you pleased. I expected better from you, Orpheus, but now I see you’re just another typical barbaric male chauvinist. She gave you her very essence to keep you alive. What did you ever give her?”

  “I took her everywhere—”

  “Where she wanted to go? Or only where you did? Did you ever even ask her?”

  Orpheus winced. Score another one for Artemis, Adam thought.

  “I protected her for thousands of years,” he tried, floundering now.

  “Protected her by almost getting her thrown into a volcano, plus all the other near-death experiences?”

  Adam was about to interrupt and try to quell the argument, but her wild white-blond hair was practically crackling with electricity, and even her pale cheeks were tinged with indignant red. Smart money was to keep his mouth shut and let feminism carry the day.

  “I love her!” Orpheus fumed.

  “Yes, that’s always the excuse men like you give, as if it makes everything just peachy.”

  This time Orpheus slumped, or managed to give that impression, even without shoulders.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said despondently. “I honestly never even thought about it until she was gone—I suppose that’s usually the way those things go. She never said she wanted to get out and live on her own. But I admit, I’ve wondered in my darkest hours—if she liked it so much once it happened that she didn’t want to come back.”

  Artemis softened visibly at this confession. “I could see where she might have stayed away for a while to teach you a lesson. But I’m sure she loves you, too—and certainly, she wouldn’t let you die.”

  “You’re right about that, too,” he agreed, sighing. “The problem is, she’s naïve. I was always the one who figured out how to get us from place to place, and dealt with all the realities. She didn’t have any actual idea of how tricky that was. I suspect she got trapped someplace and she doesn’t know how to get away—she’s helpless.”

  Which left them still facing the big question:

  What could they possibly do?

  They hashed the situation over a while longer. Their best bet was to find others like Jason, who knew about Orpheus and wanted to help him. But how could they even start looking when they didn’t have a clue who those people were? It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you could post on Facebook. Plus, there were ruthless enemies out to get Orpheus, and the reason was sinking in—they might be able to tap into the advanced technology in his files and use it to gain wealth, power—even to make devastating weapons.

  “Come on, we have to get smarter,” Artemis said. She was practically grinding her teeth in frustration. “How about it, Orpheus? You’re the one with the supercomputer brain.” As she spoke, she distractedly ruffled his hair.

  Both kids gasped when another small panel slid aside in the upper back of his skull.

  “What?!” Orpheus almost shouted. He was wide-eyed, looking even more startled than they were. “That’s impossible—it hasn’t happened since I left MaelTarna! How did you do it?”

  “I—I didn’t do anything, really—just gave you a pat.”

  “Thousands of people have patted me, prodded me, examined me in every possible way. Nobody ever opened it—even I can’t do it. The only person who ever could was the scientist who created me. You must be keyed to it somehow, Artemis—it recognizes something in you.” She looked both pleased and unnerved.

  Adam leaned close to Orpheus and peered into the cavity. There were seven strange symbols arranged in an upright triangle, glowing with a beautiful green luminescence.

  The instant he saw them, he felt something kick over, way, way deep inside him. He was certain he’d never seen anything like them—and yet somehow they were familiar, even intimate.

  “What’s in there?” he asked.

  “I don’t know—I can’t see into the back of my own skull,” Orpheus snapped. “But I know what it does—it activates my time travel function.”

  Artemis and Adam stared at him. They were almost numb to surprises by now, but this was the most astounding one yet.

  “Did you just say what I think you said?” Artemis asked slowly.

  TEN

  His creator, Orpheus told them—a genius scientist named Vantorix, in the ancient kingdom of MaelTarna—had worked desperately to prepare him for a vitally important mission that required time travel. Orpheus never knew exactly what it was—he’d been kept inside the laboratory, secret from the outside world, and Vantorix, although kindly, told him very little. Probably Vantorix was afraid, even then, that Orpheus might fall into the wrong hands, and any information could be used against them. But Orpheus guessed that the mission was intended to stave off the cataclysm that destroyed MaelTarna. Vantorix was on the brink of success—but doom struck before he could act. He only had time to seal Orpheus into a cask, and hurl him into the sea as the huge tsunami waves raced toward them.

  The time travel slot had never been opened since then—until now. It was a mystery how Artemis had done it, but it was sort of like King Arthur pulling the great sword Excalibur out of the stone. Was it magic? Or, as Orpheus seemed to think, something about her—maybe her DNA—that it was coded to? She’d closed it back up again with the same effortless touch—there was no doubt that it responded to her.

  But those questions got shoved onto the back burner because of the possibility that opened along with it:

  On top of everything else, Orpheus was a time machine!

  “So you can control the time travel function?” Artemis asked him. Her eyes had that excited glow again.

  “Yes, but it needs a human to physically activate the mechanism—like Vantorix.”

  “But couldn’t someone else do it, if they knew how?”

  “Theoretically,” Orpheus said, sounding wary. “I don’t really have much experience with it—just a few trials we made while Vantorix refined it. But I do know it’s very risky.”

  “Suppose we tried it—went back to the Third Crusade, when you lost Eurydice! Maybe we could prevent that from happening, or follow her and find her. I’d be glad to take the risk, and I’m sure Adam would, too.”

  In fact, Adam was not at all sure of that. Time travel was one of those ideas that sounded really cool, like going out camping and hoping to see a grizzly bear—until you actually saw one. What would happen when you got there? Suppose you landed in some really bad situation, or got stuck and couldn’t get back home?

  Still, he was starting to recognize that gleam in her eyes. It meant that she was determined to have her way, and she was figuring out how to make it happen.

  But Orpheus shook himself no. “Look, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but there are other problems besides. It takes a huge energy charge out of me. With the shape I’m in right now—without Eurydice to build me up again—I’d only be able to do it once. It’s a million to one shot anyway, and if I’m going to try it, I need to be with somebody like Jason’s people.”

  “Instead of just a couple of silly, helpless kids?” she said, raising her almost invisible eyebrows.

  “Since you put it so bluntly, yes,” Orpheus said, moving back into his patronizing mode. Adam could tell that he was trying to regain some ground after she’d hammered him in their last argument.

  “Quite,” she said, with icy sweetness. “Adam being just a kid who risked his life to rescue you from those murderous thugs? Both of u
s kids in danger right this second because we’re hiding you from said thugs? And willing to keep on risking to help you, while asking nothing for ourselves?

  “Let me tell you something else, Mister Oh-So-Smart Head. Eurydice may be physically different from me, but she and I are still women, and you are dealing with female energy. I know how she thinks. And that is exactly what your fruitless search has lacked all these centuries—someone besides a doltish man who not only doesn’t have a clue about that, but far worse, flatters himself that he does.”

  Wow! Adam thought. Get out of her way! Orpheus was on the ropes again, practically cringing.

  “I’ll think it over,” he muttered.

  “Good. Because even on our short acquaintance, Orpheus, you must realize that I’m extremely stubborn, and I’m not about to drop anything that intrigues me. On the contrary, the more you dodge, the more intrigued and stubborn I’ll get. But I won’t keep us up all night nagging—yet. It’s getting late—Adam and I need to sleep or we’ll be useless tomorrow. The P’s are going for a drive along the coast first thing in the morning, so we’ll be able to start fresh and talk on.”

  In other words, Adam thought, she wanted to be rested and sharp-minded when she picked up the argument again.

  “We’ll have to figure out a way to ditch Barry,” he said.

  She smiled mischievously. “No worries, I know how to punch his buttons—just follow my lead. Now, Orpheus, I’ve got just the place for you tonight. There’s a little room in the secret passageway, where priests used to hide when they were being persecuted, like by Henry VIII.”

  “Oh, fine,” Orpheus groused. “Sure, I’ll just sit there alone all night in a dark stuffy closet while you two sleep peacefully in your soft warm beds. Don’t give me another thought.”

  That gave Adam an idea. He jumped up, got his netbook, and brought it back to the bed.

  “What’s that?” Orpheus eyed the little computer suspiciously “Some sort of primitive artifact?”

  “It’s your ticket for catching up with the modern world. Someone of your vastly superior intellect should be able to figure it out in no time.”

  “Come along, I’ll get you settled with it,” Artemis said. She tucked the netbook under her arm and picked up Orpheus gently, cradling him like a baby. “See you at breakfast, Adam. Remember—we have to pretend it’s our first meeting.”

  As she stepped back into the secret passageway and the door swung shut, Adam felt a sudden, odd pang of jealousy—like the possessiveness he’d felt earlier with Barry, but stronger. He was the one who’d found Orpheus, and now she was taking him with her. It didn’t help that she had the mysterious power to open his time travel compartment.

  But then, there was the haunting kinship he felt with those symbols. Did that mean he had the same kind of connection?

  Anyway, it was stupid to resent her. They were partners in this now, and she was right—with Orpheus hidden, they wouldn’t have to worry about Barry barging in or the maid stumbling across him. And once he hooked into the Internet, he should have plenty to keep him entertained. Adam grinned as he imagined Orph hopping around on the mousepad and pecking the keyboard with his nose.

  He made a quick pit stop, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed. But there was so much to think about. How many people who’d ever lived had had a night like this? And on top of all the other mind-boggling stuff—starting with Orpheus himself—one thing was so outrageous that it almost made his head hurt.

  Time travel! Was it really possible? Adam was sure that Orpheus wasn’t blowing smoke about this—he might juice up his stories a little, but not with something so important. Adam also remembered reading somewhere that the great physicist Einstein, who had to be one of the absolutely smartest people ever, was fascinated by the possibility of time travel. He’d used the term wormholes to explain how it could work—shortcuts through the universe from one time and place to another.

  Suppose they could to go back to the exact moment when Orpheus and Eurydice had been separated, the Holy Land in the Third Crusade? But Orph was right. Adam and Artemis would be as helpless as kittens around a bunch of medieval knights and soldiers, men like Templars mounted on great warhorses, swinging swords and battleaxes.

  With any luck, Artemis would come to her senses and realize that too, and he admitted a little guiltily that he’d be relieved. They’d find another way to help Orpheus, something they could handle.

  Wouldn’t they?

  The thoughts tossed and turned in Adam’s mind while he tossed and turned in bed. But he was exhausted like he’d hardly ever been, his eyes started drifting shut, and the thoughts blurred into each other and then into the crazy stuff of dreams. Within a couple of minutes, he was out like a shotgunned light bulb.

  ELEVEN

  Adam didn’t need an alarm clock to know it was time to get up—Barry came barging through his door at 9 A.M.

  “Yo, dorko, this is your lucky day,” he chortled. “You’re about to meet the freak.”

  Now that Adam had met Artemis, he bristled at hearing Barry call her that again. The way he used the term was nasty in itself, and completely unfair to her. True, Artemis wasn’t exactly normal, but normal was completely overrated.

  Adam threw a pillow weakly in Barry’s direction, but remembered, as he clawed his way out of his deep sleep, that he had to play this cool—like he hadn’t yet even seen her.

  “Who?” he said, stumbling out of bed. “Oh, you mean your cousin?”

  “No, idiot—I mean look in a mirror. Who else besides my cousin?”

  Barry had a point. There were no other kids around, and although the grownups were weird in their own ways, you wouldn’t think of them as freaks.

  Adam rummaged around in his duffle for fresh jeans and a sweatshirt to replace last night’s dirt-stained duds, and managed to come up with some that were wrinkled but at least clean. While he pulled them on, Barry made his usual tour through Adam’s stuff, treating it like it was his own.

  And with the kind of radar that Barry seemed to have for anything that Adam wanted to keep private, he spotted a strap from Adam’s backpack—which was really Jason’s backpack—sticking out from under the bed. Adam tensed for a second as Barry grabbed it and started messing around with it, but luckily, Orpheus was safely hidden in the secret passageway.

  “Where’d you get this pack?” Barry demanded.

  “What do you mean? I’ve had it all along.”

  “Get off it, liar. The other one has that stupid logo.”

  Oh, no! Adam hadn’t thought about that or even noticed the difference. Both packs were black nylon and the same size, but Adam’s was emblazoned with a wolf head, his high school mascot emblem, while Jason’s was blank. It was also better quality, Adam realized, with the look of being specially made.

  Which was exactly the kind of thing Barry would notice—he was keenly aware of things like brand names, always checking out other people’s possessions and comparing them to his own. There was no use trying to convince him that he was mistaken.

  “I kept it in my duffel so I’d have an extra, just in case,” Adam bluffed. “Good thing I did—my other one got torn up when we dumped the bike last night.”

  Barry gave him a suspicious glance, wondering how Adam had managed to keep it hidden from him. But his attention stayed on the pack as he checked it out, somewhat jealously. It was pretty cool looking.

  “What’s the brand? I’ve never seen one like it,” Barry said.

  “I don’t know,” Adam muttered. “My dad bought it for me.”

  To his relief, Barry tossed the pack aside, bored with it as quickly as he’d gotten interested.

  “Come on, I’m starving,” he urged, not that Adam needed any pushing—the breakfasts here at Blackthorn Manor were great.

  The two boys half-ran through the long stretch of hallway, then down the stately, curving main staircase, which seemed five times as big as it needed to be, like everything else in this house. It made Adam fe
el like a dwarf, and with the grownups gone on their drive along the coast, it was even emptier than usual. On Sunday mornings, the cook set out breakfast and then took the rest of the day off, and so did the butler and Reg. The only one left was Sophie, the kindly maid, who would stay long enough to clean up and then go home, too.

  The morning was foggy and chilly, and the huge stone fireplace in the drawing room was lit with a roaring blaze. They hurried on past it to the dining room, where a sideboard was loaded with thick slabs of bacon and sausages called bangers, fluffy scrambled eggs with cheese, scones and crumpets, and tea with sugar and rich cream.

  And there at the table sat Artemis, picking at a bowl of fruit and cereal. She looked as calm as if this was just like any other ordinary morning, and she was going shopping or to school.

  “Hullo, Barry—lovely to see you again. And you must be Adam,” she said, offering her hand politely. Her regal manners clashed somewhat with her repeat of last night’s outfit, black ripped up skinny jeans and long tee.

  Adam’s own manners weren’t so refined, and things were a lot different in Montana than in England, but his mother had taught him the basics. He took her hand, bowing slightly, and told her it was nice to meet her.

  Barry watched it all with an expression of disdain—but Adam noticed that he wasn’t making any snide remarks about Artemis to her face. After seeing her in action last night, it was easy to understand why—she’d verbally skewer Barry so thoroughly he’d end up like a pincushion, and no doubt he knew that from experience.

  Adam noticed that Artemis not only ate like a bird but she seemed to be a vegetarian. But the two boys piled their plates high with the luscious food. He wasn’t just starving—he was dying to get breakfast over with so he and Artemis and Orpheus could pick up where they’d left off last night.

  Then, as they slid into their chairs, they realized that the morning’s local newspaper was spread out in front of their places.

  Violence Erupts at Watching Druids Concert, the main headline read, and beneath that, a subhead: Several injured in Dearth-head near riot—rumors of gunfire.