by Kim McMahon
He ran to her in panic, dropped to his knees, and opened his arms to hug her—then stopped, afraid he might aggravate her wounds.
“Hang tough—I’ll get Theodora,” he panted.
But strangely, Artemis didn’t act like she was seriously wounded. Her face had a calmness that was almost eerie, and her eyes weren’t pained—solemn was the word that came to Adam’s mind. In fact, he got the sudden sense that she was somehow transformed—that just in these past few minutes, she’d both aged and acquired a power that was awesome, but also was a weight that she would have to carry from now on.
Adam was a little scared by it, and a little jealous—and he wondered if he looked the same way.
“I’m all right—it’s not my blood,” she said. “One of them knocked my sword from my hands, then grabbed my hair and was dragging me up onto his saddle—and then an arrow struck him right under the chin. He fell off his horse on top of me, and his hands were clenched so tightly I couldn’t get loose. I managed to get his dagger and cut my hair enough to free myself. But it took a minute, and—he bled all over me.”
Adam shivered as he imagined it. Then he noticed that the sleeve of her robe on her left upper arm was slashed and also bleeding, and this was definitely hers.
“But you are hurt,” he said anxiously.
“It’s not bad—I can hardly even feel it.”
“You will. Can you walk okay?”
She nodded. He clasped her other hand to help her stand, and they crossed the field back to Saladin and Theodora, who welcomed her like a long lost daughter—then immediately turned motherly, ordered her to sit still, and started tending to the wound.
“So this is the young lady I’ve heard about,” the Sultan said. “Headstrong and prone to stirring things up, I understand. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He glanced sidelong at Theodora.
Just then, another voice sounded out, yelling from high up on the battlements.
“Hello—oooh! I guess nobody remembers the little guy who saved the day. Okay, fine, I’ll just sit up here in this rock, and maybe in a few thousand years an earthquake will knock me loose and I’ll get crushed by a huge shower of stones, to lie broken both in heart and skull until some vulture comes along and pecks out my eyes, then drops what’s left of me in the ocean—”
Saladin stared up at the sound, then at Adam.
“Is that—it?” he asked.
“It’s actually a he. But yes, and I’d better go get him—he’ll never shut up.”
“See to him, then, Adam—I must go my own way. But I’ll always hold dear this strange miracle. If Allah grants me a quiet old age, I hope that Theodora and Cristof and I will spend many pleasant hours trying to puzzle it out.”
“Sir, can I just tell you two things?” Adam asked quickly.
“Of course—say on.”
“I’m sorry about Zuleika—the Templars were coming, and I had to turn her loose. I figured she was smart enough to find you.”
“You did rightly, and fate ordained that as my men and I approached here, she was near enough to recognize us.”
Adam exhaled with relief that the Sultan wasn’t angry. “And Mustafa—he’s been incredibly loyal and brave. I just thought you should know that.”
Saladin gave a firm nod. “The kind of young man I wish to keep close to me. Don’t worry, Adam. I’ll raise him as one of my own—and I’m sure that Cristof will gladly undertake his education both in combat and learning.” He clasped Adam’s shoulder again, a gesture both of affection and blessing, then strode back toward his soldiers, raising his voice to issue orders.
Adam’s eyes dampened at saying goodbye to another great man, one he barely knew, and yet who felt like a close old friend.
Theodora was taking Artemis away to bandage her wound and wash off the Templar’s blood. Adam hurried to the fortress to get Orpheus, who was still carrying on with his self-pitying rant about the miserable fate awaiting him, but nobody even cared, did they?
THIRTY-SIX
“Took you long enough,” Orpheus sniped, as Adam lifted him out of the niche.
“Did anybody ever tell you that nobody likes a whiner?”
Orpheus went livid with outrage. “Whiner? Well, isn’t that just right. Whenever somebody who’s downtrodden has the courage to speak up, somebody else who’s wearing the boots calls them a wimp. Ohhh, I shudder to think how a champion of the oppressed, like Spartacus, must be turning in his grave right now. ‘Cus,’ I told him,‘this rebellion of yours doesn’t stand a chance, but it’ll go down in history as a great symbol of—’”
“Can it, will you?” Adam said, with the feeling that he’d said it a thousand times before. “We’re going to get Eurydice!”
“Believe it or not, Adam, I haven’t forgotten that,” Orpheus answered sarcastically. “But as the saying goes, I can walk and chew gum at the same time. With a certain amount of allowance for poetic license in my case, of course.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “You can talk and do just about anything else at the same time, we all know that.”
Orpheus didn’t respond to the barb—he seemed suddenly withdrawn, with a silence that was almost deafening—and then Adam understood what was really going on.
Orph was stalling and blustering because he was scared. Scared that after his centuries of lovelorn yearning, after all of this incredible adventure and danger, the moment had come for him to lay his heart at Eurydice’s feet—and she might reject him.
Adam tried to come up with something encouraging to say, but nothing came that didn’t sound outright stupid, like, Don’t worry, it’ll all work out fine. Besides, he was remembering Orph’s warning that Theodora, and maybe even Artemis, might waver on their promise.
He perched Orpheus on his shoulder and hurried back down the stone staircase to the courtyard, just as Artemis and Theodora were arriving, too—and then Mustafa came bounding along, still holding his bow and looking exultant.
“My friends! I could die of happiness to see you safe!” he cried out.
Artemis fixed her gaze on him, her eyes shining.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” she said. “You killed that horrid knight who was dragging me off!”
Mustafa bowed humbly. “Allah guided my arrow to protect you, angel lady.”
After all she’d been through, she was still able to smile. “You’re very sweet, Mustafa. But I’m no angel, and right now, I must look absolutely frightful.”
“I see the angel beneath,” he answered gallantly.
Whoa! There were no flies on this dude when it came to babes, Adam thought—he wished he had more time to hang around and pick up some lessons.
“Mustafa, the Sultan wants you with him,” Adam said. “I told him about all you’ve done for us—he’s going to take you in, and have Cristof be your teacher.”
Mustafa’s eyes went wide at the news—but wider still when Artemis stepped to him and planted a kiss firmly on his lips. He looked like he might actually pass out. He tried to stammer something but couldn’t get the words out, and he ended by bowing again in a hasty salaam, then spinning around and running like he was afraid that if he stayed a second longer, he’d awaken from a dream.
That left the four of them—Artemis, Theodora, Orpheus, and Adam—all now thinking about the fifth:
Eurydice, the tiny, precious elephant in the room.
“Come—I’ll take you to her,” Theodora said.
But she didn’t look happy about it.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Theodora led them through the hallways to the stone door that concealed the treasure chamber. As it slid aside, Adam could feel Orpheus trembling on his shoulder.
Everyone’s gaze locked onto the altar, with the small green ankh at center. A tense hush fell over them as they waited to see how this would play out.
Then Orpheus started singing again, the same haunting melody as before, but very softly.
And Eurydice started to glow, an emerald green color as beautiful and unear
thly as the song. Her clear sweet voice rose to answer him, and then the two of them joined in a harmony that held the three humans entranced, paralyzed by the sheer rapture of the music resonating not just in their ears, but their minds and hearts.
But as the sound died away, nothing else changed—there was no joyous exclamation from Orpheus, no demand to be taken to her so they could reunite. The slot in his forehead stayed closed.
And he looked troubled.
Theodora was watching sharply, and she didn’t waste any time pronouncing her opinion as to what this meant.
“The Goddess has made clear Her will,” Theodora declared. “Eurydice stays here—and Orpheus, I’m sorry, but you must go.”
Almost violently, Orpheus shook himself no.
“She wants to talk to you, Artemis,” he said, with quiet intensity. “Go ahead—pick her up.”
Shyly, hardly daring to believe it, Artemis stepped to the altar. Theodora made a sudden movement as if to stop her, but then caught herself, forcing her trembling hands back to her sides.
Artemis touched the glowing jewel as carefully as if it was a newborn baby, cupping it in her palms and lifting it close to her face. It felt thrillingly warm and vibrant—alive. As she gazed down at it, she got lost in its emerald light, and the world around her faded into a state of being without time or space, sight or sound. There were only thoughts that came into her mind, like when she’d been in the cavern, but now with crystal clarity.
Theodora speaks truth, child—although not for the reasons she thinks. There is war in heaven. Its roots lie far in the past, and its branches reach far into the future. This is only one battle—another must be fought.
But what about Orpheus? Artemis’s mind protested. He’ll die!
Your victory here has earned new power for you and your friends—and opened a pathway that was closed. Find it, and all will be well for a time. But be warned—a still greater challenge lies ahead.
What challenge? Artemis pleaded. Can’t you tell me?
In the city of flowers, at the time of rebirth, the lovers will meet again. But the peril is growing—for the young knight, most of all. The help of his friends will be crucial.
Now, your journey here is ended! Go back to your home, and remember—greater power is a gift, but it requires greater strength and wisdom.
Then, blinking in confusion, Artemis was standing there in the stone chamber again, with all eyes watching her anxiously.
Theodora was first to break the silence. “Well?” she demanded.
“I—I’m not sure,” Artemis stammered, shaking her head. “I think it was the Goddess, but Eurydice, too—speaking as one.”
“What did She say?”
Artemis hesitated, torn again, but worse than ever. Theodora speaks truth, the voice had said—but there was no outright command to set Eurydice back down and leave her here. She was still in Artemis’s hands, and Orpheus could open the time travel wormhole in an eyeblink. What was right? To risk defying the Goddess, and steal Eurydice from her own Sisters? Or to leave Eurydice here, and risk finding out that she’d misunderstood the message, and Orpheus was doomed?
She looked at the three faces—heartsick Orpheus, anguished Theodora, and nervous Adam—and felt her own heart take over.
I’m so, so sorry, Theodora, Artemis thought, with tears welling up for the woman who had treated her with such wonderful tough love.
But she steeled herself and cried out: “Orpheus, take us home—right this second!”
Instantly, the whirling black vortex of the time tunnel appeared in front of them, exactly as it had when they’d come here to the Holy Land.
But just as she dove into it, or it sucked her in like a giant shop vac, she couldn’t really tell which—the glowing ankh of Eurydice seemed to leap out of her hands and lofted up into the air, flying like an uncaged bird.
That brilliant emerald image was still burning in her mind when she opened her eyes again—to find that she was lying on the floor of the stable at Blackthorn Manor, still wearing her black robe and red sash, and still with the bandaged wound on her arm.
But with her hands empty.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Artemis shoved herself up onto her knees and searched frantically through the straw, flinging handfuls of it aside and running her palms across the rough floor—hoping that she’d somehow held onto the ankh long enough so that it had landed here and now, instead of back there and then.
But her clawing fingers found nothing.
Adam was a few feet away, looking dazed as he managed to sit up. But his eyes cleared quickly as he realized where he was—and what had happened.
“Eurydice’s not here, is she,” he said quietly.
Artemis dropped her face into her hands, her eyes wet with tears. There was no way to fight them back now.
“Artemis,” he said, still in that almost dangerously quiet tone. “It looked like you threw her back to the Sisters.”
“I did not!” Her head snapped up again and she glared at him. “Just the opposite—I made up my mind to keep her, but she jumped out of my hands.”
Adam didn’t look convinced. His gaze stayed on her for a few more seconds, and then he turned away to find Orpheus.
He was lying on his ear with his eyes closed, looking small and frail, rolled up against a hay bale like a baseball tossed away by kids who’d gotten tired of the game.
“Orph, you okay?” Adam said, carefully picking him up. The feel of him was a shock—cold and lifeless. Adam cupped him, trying to warm him—willing those eyes to pop open and some smartass remark to come jeering out of his mouth. But he stayed still as a stone—and Adam knew he wasn’t faking.
“He’s not dead,” Artemis insisted, drying her eyes. “Getting us home must have taken his last energy, so he’s gone back into sleep mode.”
“How would you know?” Adam said hotly.
But she was angry now, too. “Because of what the Goddess told me.”
“Are you really sure you heard the Goddess?”
“Do you really think I’d make it up? You’re being a pig, Adam—you’re blaming me, but you don’t even know what happened.”
He exhaled. That much was true, he had to admit. “Okay, tell me.”
“She said we’ve earned new power, and it’s opened a pathway that will save Orpheus, for a while at least—we have to find it.”
“Find it how?”
“I have no idea, and I haven’t had a second to think about it. Let me finish, will you? She said there’s a sort of cosmic war going on, and the next battle will be in the city of flowers, at the time of rebirth. I don’t know what that means, either, but the two lovers—they must be Orpheus and Eurydice—will meet again there. And—there’s a young knight who’s in great danger. She didn’t say who he was, only that he’ll need our help.”
Adam’s mouth opened in astonishment—no way could she know about King Richard dubbing him Sir Adam of Albion. Maybe the young knight was somebody else—Adam sure hoped so, because that “great danger” part was not welcome news—but it all tied together uncomfortably well. Artemis definitely couldn’t have made that up. And hard as it was to believe that the Goddess had actually spoken to her, so many other unbelievable things had happened that it almost seemed like business as usual.
There was no sense in blaming her, that was the one thing he knew. He knee-walked over to her and hugged her gently, careful not to touch her wounded arm. Artemis resisted for a second, but then leaned against him.
“You have to believe me, Adam. I didn’t betray Orpheus. And I don’t think Eurydice did either. It’s just—more involved than we knew.”
“I believe you,” he said. “You’re right, I was a pig. Forgive me, please.” Things looked bleak, and he felt sad and exhausted. But what the Goddess said did seem to mean there was a plan—now to figure out what it was, and fast. With the reality of here and now coming back, he was remembering what had propelled them to the Holy Land in the first place:
>
The thugs in the exterminator van, led by the sinister, deadly young woman he’d seen at the old church when he’d first gotten Orpheus.
“Those people with the guns might still be around,” he said, lowering his voice. He wasn’t sure what time it was. They’d left the Sisters’ fortress at night, but now daylight was filtering in through the wavy old glass of the stable windows. Orpheus hadn’t said anything about how the time they spent in the past correlated with time in the present, but it seemed that he could control when and where they landed—with any luck, he’d planned it to be long enough so the gunmen would give up, but not so long that the kids would be missed and a search started for them.
He stepped over to where Pallas, the cat, had dropped her mouse when she bolted in fear. The little rodent was in exactly the same spot, still looking pretty fresh, so it must be the same day. He moved cautiously to a window and peered out. With huge relief, he saw that the pest control van was gone. It looked like the grownups weren’t home yet, either—they’d have to work on a story about how they’d gotten so beat up, but Artemis was good at that sort of stuff.
“Okay, let’s get moving,” he said, trying to step up to the plate and sound like he knew what he was doing. “We need to take care of that cut of yours.” He could tell from her face that it was starting to hurt. He was feeling his own share of nicks and bruises by now, but there was nothing serious like hers. “And we’ve got to find Barry.”
“I do hope he’s all right,” she said anxiously. Adam nodded tensely. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility that the gunmen had found him.
She still had on her jeans and what was left of her tee under her robe, and Adam had the hemp sack he’d gotten from Mustafa with his own clothes stuffed inside it. They changed quickly so they’d once again look like they lived in the twenty-first century, and with Orpheus in the sack, they hurried across the manor grounds to the house.
As they went through the hallways, they called Barry’s name and checked rooms. There was no sign of him.