by W. Peever
Slowly, silently, the five edged their way along the far wall of the Troll encampment, pausing every time one snorted in his sleep. Almost clear of the area, it had to happen. One of the Trolls closest to the far door opened its great eye, the scarlet pupil darting from one side of the cave to the other. The creature appeared to be a young female, perhaps just a child in troll years. Her great green nostrils opened and closed rapidly as she sucked in air for the scent that had woken her. Clumsily, she struggled to her feet, as large as flattened beach balls, and began to shuffle, nose high, around the cave. Stepping on a sleeping troll, a startled screech woke the rest of the tribe. They squawked at each other with clicks and squeals, something like a pen of pigs, till one of them caught that same whiff and screamed so loudly the others fell silent. The older troll, who must have been their leader, followed its nose around the room and then focused on the far wall where the five children were trembling.
"Squeeeech!" it called out, and its saucer-sized scarlet eyes focused in on Charlie as if it could see him. One foot in front of the other it waddled over towards them followed by the rest of the tribe, many of them grabbing crude clubs and pointed sticks.
"Run!" shouted Colin, who let go of Tillie's hand and drew his long silver sword. "The entrance is not far, that way to the fresh air! Go!"
Charlie drew his sword. Mick leveled his staff in reflex, and Bailey and Tillie notched arrows on to their bows. The trolls stood in shock at the five cloaked figures that had appeared in their den.
"Either we all fight or we all run—choice is yours!"
"Damn you, Charlie Burrows!" Colin swore. "Let's go!" He grabbed Charlie by the arms and pulled him at a run towards the exit. Mick ran backwards, shooting green jets of energy at the trolls, who had begun to chase them in a brisk waddle, accelerating to what looked like a canter.
Panting and out of breath, the five reached the end of the tunnel, where two long slabs of sheer rock blocked their exit.
"It's not granite," said Colin as the sound of shuffling feet grew louder behind them. "Marble breaks," he told himself. And with that he swung the hilt of his sword hard into the exact center of one slab, splitting it into two big shards. "Even better—limestone!"
"Move aside!" cried Bailey, pushing the boys away from the blocked entrance. "We don't have time. Can't you hear them?" A blue glow came from Bailey's palms as she dug deep for her energy. Then, with a giant lunge forward, she shattered the rock. The path was clear.
Chapter Eight Newport
Charlie was first through the shattered limestone exit, followed by Tillie, Bailey, Mick—then Colin, jumping out of the hole so fast he banged roughly into the others.
"Hear that?" Colin asked, smiling mischievously at Mick.
"Wow, someone's sure mad!" Mick snickered. "You would be too if you lost a prime rib dinner and
had to eat three-day-old road kill instead." Colin joked, picking up his gear and relighting his torch. "That was the biggest family of Trolls I've ever seen. They would've cleaned our bones for sure." He turned and began to search the room.
"Find anything?" Mick yelled over to Charlie. "A whole lot of darkness over here," responded Charlie. It was a good question. Where were they? Charlie's hand ran along cold, damp rock, his fingers gliding over rough protrusions. This place had a musty atmosphere, more like a basement than the earthy claustrophobia of the underground tunnels.
"There's a wall over here!" shouted Colin.
"Ya, here too!" Charlie yelled back. "Why don't you follow your wall towards me. Maybe together we can find a way out."
"Sounds like a plan, mate."
The two boys felt their way around the cool granite walls, their hands becoming clammy with condensation that clung to the rock.
"Yow!" cried Charlie, as a sharp pain attacked a fingertip.
"You okay?" shouted Mick.
"I think so, but it seriously hurts." Charlie took his finger out of his mouth and examined it in the torchlight arriving with Colin. There was a deep slice on his index finger, an ooze of blood just reemerging. He shook his hand and then guided the torch to see…a light switch, sharp edges on its metal casing. As he tore at a piece of his shirt to bandage himself, a sharp sensation of heat hit his leg. Instinctively, Charlie's hand went to this new source of pain, only to feel a distinct outline of something hard in his pocket. He realized what was happening.
"The astrolabe is vibrating!"
"Open it, Charlie," urged Tillie, the others crowding around.
Slowly, Charlie opened the golden lid of the compass like a pocket watch. They all gazed inside. The vibrating stopped, and the metal began to cool to the touch. But the golden light still shone from the runes.
"Look!" Bailey excitedly pointed at the hooked X, shining brilliantly in the dark room. "And this rune I don't recognize is on too. There's a tower of some sort pictured on the smaller dial beneath it."
"That's not just a rune, Bailey," said Colin. "That's the Path of the Templar Rune. It means we're on the Path to finding the Templar Treasure. We need to figure out how an astrolabe works."
"I might know, guys—I mean, if it's anything like a real astrolabe." Bailey had gone to a special seamanship camp one summer leaving poor Charlie to fend for himself —the longest six weeks of their lives. She hated the whole experience, her mother forcing her to go because someday it would come in handy. Bailey held out her hand and Charlie placed this special astrolabe gently into her palm.
The golden disk grew warm in Bailey's hand as she gazed down at the instrument. It truly was beautiful, a work of art. "Okay." she sighed, sitting on the ground. "During the Middle Ages an astrolabe was used to navigate. It's like a fancy compass, but the astrolabe measured the angle of a particular star in reference to magnetic north or south."
The others' wide-eyed expressions made Bailey giggle to herself with an electric jolt of pride. She loved being able to tell the boys what for, especially when Tillie didn't have a clue.
"It means," continued Bailey, "that the old astrolabes were like ancient GPS systems. They could tell a navigator exactly where they were on the planet just by spinning a few dials on the disk and aligning them with the star—and the arrow in the center would point the way." She paused, momentarily puzzled by the object gently vibrating in her hand. "This one is different, though, besides the obvious vibrating upgrades. There are four circular dials here, each one smaller than the other, and they all have different shapes or runes on them."
Bailey got to her feet and paced a little while to keep her brain active. The roll she was on was coming to a dramatic, crashing stop. What was she missing? In theory, the runes on the astrolabe must be the names of particular stars or constellations, so if you put them in a certain order the arrow would point in the direction her group needed to follow. All were relying on her. But she couldn't read the runes! It was so frustrating. Bailey's hands began to clam up and she wiped the dial on her pants, inadvertently clicking one of the dials. The vibrating stopped.
"It stopped glowing, Bailey," Charlie exclaimed. "You did it!"
"I just…" Bailey sputtered. "I must have clicked something into place." Bailey turned the disk over in her hands, peering at the small dials. The largest dial, with the hooked X at the top, was still where it had been but the rune that looked like… "Colin!" Bailey cried aloud. "If this is the rune for the Path of the Templar, then…"
Colin reverently took the small device from Bailey's grasp and examined it. After a moment he looked up with a great grin on his face, and nodded. "Do you think it was already set with those two signs aligned?
Bailey shrugged. "Only one way to find out," she said. Taking it back, she turned the dial with the Templar rune so that it aligned underneath the hooked X. The whole gadget came back to life, the body glowing and vibrating with even more vigor than before.
"Well," Charlie laughed, "a lucky guess, but didn't you say the arrow should be pointing somewhere?"
Indeed, the silver arrow, whose fulcrum w
as set at the center of the smallest disk, was spinning slowly in a circle.
"Maybe we haven't aligned all the runes yet." Mick offered.
Bailey squinted at the next circular disk. It had more than twenty markings, some runes, others pictographs of castles, Griffins, Trolls and one particularly menacing tower that reminded Bailey of the story of Rappunzel. Having to choose one, she shifted the Rappunzel tower so that it aligned with the hooked X and the Templar Path rune. She lifted her fingers and watched as all the disks spun around and around as one, while the compass vibrated like one of those chairs from the gadget store in the mall. Finally the arrow stopped spinning and pointed toward the wall where Charlie had been exploring.
"Well, it worked!" exclaimed Charlie. "Now if only there was an ability that allowed us to walk through walls." He smiled too cutely.
"Funny." said Colin. "Something tells me it's going to be a long day."
Suddenly, after all their herculean efforts, the initiative was taken from them and events moved independently of the five friends. The lights in the room flickered, illuminating the room.
"And what do you think you are doing in the catacombs?" echoed a voice from the top of a series of rickety wooden stairs that had appeared, leading out of the basement. An old man, who had to be at least eighty, was descending the stairs. The sight of his frail form contrasted sharply with an old-fashioned pistol grasped tightly and pointed at Colin's chest. "No good is my guess."
He glared at them, raising an extraordinarily luxuriant, bushy gray eyebrow, the last trace of hair until the back of his shiny bald head. "Damn kids! Always breaking into the old place," the old man muttered under his breath. "This is sacred ground!" he shouted at them. "Do you not grasp the concept?" His tone was severe but his thick Scottish accent was somehow comforting as he shrugged, lowered his pistol and grunted under his breath. "Just be off with ya!"
Just then a glint from Colin's concealed sword sparkled in the fluorescent light. "Thief!" the old man shrieked. He raised the gun at Colin again. "What do you have there? Show me or I'll arrest you for the authorities right now!"
"It's mine sir. I came with it, and I'll be leaving with it," said Colin, patting the silver sword under his cloak.
"I'll be the judge o' that, sonny boy!" He tapped his gun on the wall. "Unless you have one of these, and then we'll have ourselves a Mexican standoff!" he said with a wry half smile showing what teeth he had left. "Now why don't you show old Armest what you have under that shawl?"
Reluctantly, Colin unclipped his sword. The old man took a step back, an odd look transforming his face. His deep wrinkles, the toll of a life spent outside, began to pull back into a euphoric smile, and a twinkle electrified his brilliant blue eyes. "Hoc Signo Crucis Vinces," came as a gushing reflex from old Armest's mouth. He placed the gun on the ground and pulled his long broadsword from its scabbard. The old man stood tall, and tore his sleeve open to reveal an ornate tattoo of a shield and sword.
Colin's mouth fell open gasping. Then he revealed the same tattoo on his arm. "Hoc Signo Crucis Vinces, Grand Master." The teen took a knee and bent his head in obeisance.
The acknowledged master dropped his sword, finding the stair with his hand behind him, and lowered his old frame to meet it. "My Gods. A follower of the Templar of Saint Clair, and four young travelers have emerged from the tunnel? Could it really be?" His eyes were red and watery; a single tear ran down the gray stubble of his cheek. "Please tell me that one of you has the ring." He looked from one to the other of the four fierce faces before him. "It would have a hooked X on it. It is a very special ring, even if you don't realize it."
Charlie lowered his sword and the master stood with a start. "Excalibur? Then…" He staggered to Charlie, putting his hands on his shoulders.
"Stand back! I warn you!" Mick started, pushing his staff against the old man's chest.
"Mick, stand down!" Colin shouted, getting to his feet. "He's one of us."
"If you have Excalibur then you are the heir of Merlin, the Ringbearer and the Jumper of the In-between." He ran his rough hand along Charlie's cheek. "Then you came through the tunnels? From Salem? This means the heir of Saint Clair has arrived." The children lowered their weapons in a mixture of confusion and wonderment. "That's a full day's trek. You spent the night in the tunnels, and with those pesky Trolls around you must have had a time of it! Come!" The old man turned towards the stairs. "To my chamber—I have some poor eggs and bread to offer. And I will explain everything I know of your quest."
They began their ascent of a long wooden staircase, and emerged into an old church, its pews bathed in bright light streaming through stained glass windows. Mick, dazzled by the rush of strong light, stumbled over a pew. Armest looked over his shoulder. "Take care, ya big lummox! The furniture dates back to before Trinity Church."
"Trinity Church?" Colin stopped walking. "This is Rhode Island in present-day terms? When was the church built?" There was an eager edge to his voice, like a child pinpointing which hand holds the candy.
"I'm not quite ancient enough to recall, laddy—by the end of the 1600s," Armest responded, "maybe a half century before."
Colin paced the floor of the church, his urgent steps echoing in the cavernous space. So the church was built fifty years after the founding of Rhode Island, and it was built by Templar! But not just any Templar. His eyes bored into the old man. "It was built by the descendants of Henry Saint Clair, and protected by his family. So that makes you my…my…great uncle!"
The master laughed indulgently. "Yes, this church was built by the Templar Order. And yes, it goes back to the Saint Clair family. But no, you are no kin of mine. My name is Martin. My ancestors built this church to preserve the secret of the tunnel, the Path of the Templar secret till the time the Manserian and Templar joined together again under Merlin. We hold that we'll know Merlin by his ring engraved with his symbol, the hooked X." A lone tear appeared again before he could wipe it away roughly with his forearm. "I am the last of the Clan Martin—I have no offspring. I thought that failing would end the Path forever, and now in the twilight of my life you come." He grasped Colin by both arms. "Oh if only I was a younger man… what an adventure you are setting out on!"
"So you know where the tablets are? Can you tell us?" Patient up to now, Charlie could hold it in no longer.
"I am but the Gatekeeper of the Path. I know not where it will lead you. I merely set you in the right direction; the rest will be up to you. But we must hurry, boy. We must hurry, or all will be lost. You cannot begin your journey till sunset, but when the last rays disappear you must already be on your way. Come now!"
Chapter Nine The Tower
Warm streams of fresh water running down Charlie's back brought him back to life, as the filth of the previous day circled the drain. There were so many questions that needed to be answered, but mostly, how many different kinds of monsters are really out there? He had lived his entire life believing they were a creation of fairytale authors, a fabrication to explain a child's instinctual fear of the unknown. But it turned out to be a fear that was justified. He pushed these thoughts down the drain with the remaining soil in his hair, turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the silver hook on the door.
The bathroom was old, small and shabby. It suited their rescuer well, Charlie thought. He dried his amber hair with the towel, and gazed into the mirror. His summer freckles had come out. Great, he thought to himself, Mick turns into a bronzed, muscled jock, and I'm still sporting pasty geek, now featuring freckles. At least his chest and arms were developing from the rigorous year of swordplay.
Colin gave the bathroom door a rough knock and came in. "Hey, Charlie! Gotcha self all bare and squeakyclean like the day you were born!" He smacked Charlie hard on the back and took off his shirt. Charlie's life was not fair. Colin's body was, well…Greek godish. His entire chest was smooth muscles that tightened and stretched as he washed his face at the sink, and then grabbed a fresh razor from the old man's medicin
e cabinet and began to shave. How could Charlie compete with this guy, a puberty older than the rest of them?—muscular and to top it all off, having to shave. The guy was perfect. Tillie was already paying him attention, and just wait till Colin had a chance to take off his shirt.
Charlie smiled back at Colin ruefully. "Did Mr Martin set us anything out?"
"Ya, in his kitchen. The girls are changing. We have just clean shirts for now," he told Charlie, headed for the kitchen.
"Nice legs, Charlie!" Bailey shouted as he went by the girls' room. She whistled, and he hustled off before Tillie appeared. The old man was cooking in the kitchen.
"Mornin'. Clothes are there." Armest gestured at an old wooden table. Charlie slipped some on quickly and sat down at the table just as Mick and Colin entered.
"Coffee, boys?" Armest suggested. All nodded eagerly.
"The girls are taking their sweet time!" announced Mick loudly. "It's not as if we're going out on the town. Hey, that smells good!"
"Just the usual. This'll stick to your ribs, good traveling food, and where you're all going you'll need it!"
"Is that sausage?" Bailey laughed, finally fronting up with Tillie not far behind. Both grabbed plates and dug into their first decent meal in days. Armest lost no time.
"Suppose, it be time for you to ask all those questions —been a long time since I've talked Templar." He looked expectantly at the children. Nothing came. The cuckoo clock in the corner of the kitchen ticked loudly in the pregnant silence.
"Well then, let's not force the cork out of the bottle… me?" He turned to Colin, resting a hand on his shoulder. "My boy, we're no relation as far as I know. But my ancestor did go with Henry Saint Clair to America."