by W. Peever
The elderly Templar shook his head in disgust and profound disappointment. "A Templar must be pure, interested in only the truth and not concerning himself with the affairs and politics of Manserian. We are above that. We are truth and enlightenment. We are closer to the Gods than anyone else. But no, Saint Clair was not content with that! He brazenly set himself above everyone else. And in spreading his influence, others followed him. Oh yes, they followed him."
The old man now bowed his head as if recalling a poignant personal event. "His deceit resulted in many tragedies, but I shall tell you just one."
Despite their best judgment that rejected all this fraud was saying, the children were held spellbound anyway, riveted by the man's convincing performance—which went on.
"One young recruit—very much like yourselves, oh yes!—worked in our great archives. Henry Saint Clair seduced the poor lad so that when he came across a sacred text on parchment that no other clergy had seen since its creation he betrayed his own elders and took it to Saint Clair!" The old man spat on the floor in disgust at the thought. "Oh, this changed everything for Saint Clair's cause. The words were far too inflammatory for anyone else to ever read—that's how sinful these passages were, and how blasphemous Saint Clair was. He took the pages— and, of course, killed the innocent young man who brought it to him. Corrupted him and killed him in cold blood—for what was contained in that text would throw doubt on the voyage he was preparing to take. Nothing could get in the way of this great theft, so Saint Clair thought. And so he stole the Babel Tablets from the Templar treasure room and brought them here, to the New World. We always knew the day would come that his followers would try to gain access to the Tablets and hand them over to the Order. And now that day has finally come. You, the four of you"—he couldn't see Tillie—"are on a quest to put the Tablets back in the hands of the Order, those traitors to the Gods!"
Tillie, still invisible to all, maneuvered in her tree trying to get a clear shot with her bow and arrow at this tired old windbag spouting all this guff.
"Did you hear me! Traitors I say! For it was the Order that trapped the Gods all those centuries ago. It was Merlin who ensured they could never return! And Merlin who hid the crystals—closing the door to the Gods' dimension, exiling them from us forever! That was what your traitor of a great-grandfather was trying to hide, Colin! The truth."
Vali smiled his most self-satisfied leer as the old man continued venting his frustrations.
"So yes, I, the Grandmaster of the Order of the Templar, have given our allegiance to the Vanari, for they only want to bring about the return of the Gods, to allow the battle to happen, and to join forces when it does. The Order of the Griffon has failed, my lad, as has your quest."
"And my hope," Vali added, turning to Colin, "is that now you understand what really took place all those years ago—perhaps you will finally choose the path of Truth, and join us. Before it's too late," he appended, sensing Colin's continuing resistance.
"This old man knows nothing of the truth," Colin spat back. "He's just another one of your little followers. The Order of the Griffon left the Templars because the Order of the Templar was corrupt! So keep your corrupt, worthless offer! I will die for what is right, before losing myself to your filth and lies."
"So be it!" Lord Vali snapped back. "And that goes for the rest of you as well?" His eyes darted back and forth taking in all four who were visible at a glance, seeing them all as staunch as ever. "I see our Grandmaster and I have wasted our time once again with this leniency, hoping you would see reason, that not all would be lost and you could see past the manipulation and deceit of your captors. For that is what they are—they hold your mind's captive. It is a mixed blessing to be so young—so full of potential, and so naive. I see now there is no hope for you, no hope at all."
The children held tight to their weapons, determined to go down with a fight to end all fights—if that be the way of it. Charlie took in a deep breath and grasped Bailey's hand. If they must they would go out of this world as they traveled through it: together.
"You young fools! And what a waste…I will find your father someday, Charlie. It is only a matter of tedious time and effort before I find the envelope of time he is hiding in. Then with the help of your ring, which I will pry from your still warm but very dead finger, I will convince him to help us. Oh, I am sure he will resist, but perhaps a knife against your pretty mother's neck will loosen his resolve. After all, once you are dead the Order will have no need to protect your house, now will they." Vali chuckled. "So really it is no loss at all to us when you add it all up. We will take the astrolabe, use it to find the Tablets, decipher whatever the ring has to offer—see, we know what you have been up to every step of the way. It will be so simple. And finally, we will release the Gods—which I am sure will win them to our side, no matter who is the victor of the civil war they are having. This will give my Lord ultimate power. Then, good-bye Order of the Templar."
"We will never allow that!" From behind the children boomed a new voice, emanating from the forest, seeming to shake the very trees with its unquestioned authority. They turned for a moment in reflex, but had already recognized the powerful presence of Professor Grayson, now pawing into view on the back of Joelle, who was hissing and spitting her best protected by full tiger armor. Grayson encircled the children in whirling fire, warding off the circling vultures of the Vanarian. Avery and Colin's father headed the charge below him on the ground, leading the Manserian guard and some two dozen or so other Manserian foot soldiers.
Charlie and his friends could make out nothing for sure through the billowing smoke and heat of the wall of flames around them—only the impression of fast-moving figures in conflict, now and again swooping in and out of the fray. The loud clash of weapons and clatter of battle was intense, frightening for fear of the unknown and frustrating at the same time. While supposedly guarded by an impenetrable shield of flames, they had also been rendered helpless to attack their enemies—the enemies of the world—or even defend themselves. Tillie had loosened her grip on her bow and arrow, and now couldn't see anything to aim at, never mind Lord Vali himself. At some point during the chaos—it was hard to remember when— Bailey had dropped Charlie's hand. He was worried she had fainted and was afraid to reach down to confirm her condition in case she was far worse off. Fire and the thick smoke of a conflagration had always terrified Charlie since a certain incident as a little boy, and now reliving that moment he was frozen to the spot.
As quickly as the rescuers had arrived the noise from the battle faded and halted. The wall of fire retreated. Grayson, Avery and Joelle raced to the children's side.
"Thank the Gods you're here!" Colin rasped out as a greeting to his father.
"How did you find us?" asked Tillie, amazed to be safely down from her tree, unscathed as the other children appeared to be. "We never told you where we were going."
Charlie, still recovering from mortal fear, stood rooted to his spot though convulsed in a coughing fit, his eyes streaming as much in panic as smoke irritation.
"It was the level of raw power generated from whatever was happening in these woods," answered Grayson's now gentle Scottish voice instantly calming them. "We had been searching for you since Marley broke down the door to the church in Marblehead." The words didn't matter. The novices were in strong, friendly hands for the first time in the better part of a week—but seemed much longer. At last, they could relax after days and nights of always being on guard for their lives and with the future of the entire world at stake.
"Your professor saved our skins," said Avery. An unconscious head count of the children had him looking around. "But where is Bailey? Why is she not with you?"
For the first time Charlie was made aware for certain of his best friend's absence. The Knight Templar Avery's words crashed upon him like a waterfall, crushing his chest, threatening to suffocate him. She'd just fallen. She was at their feet, and maybe they just hadn't looked. Bailey had to be the
re. Charlie fell to his knees, reaching out in the dirt, searching. Tears started from his eyes again, streaking his face, and not just from the smoke that hadn't fully cleared. His fingernails bled as he scraped among the dirt and rocks.
"She's right here…I had her hand. She just let go for a second."
"Charlie, you're hurt." Tillie dropped to his side, and felt the bloodied wound that had gone unnoticed on his side.
"He took her? But we were protected—the fire!" Mick swore until his words choked off. "That evil nutter will never get away…" he said, simmering with resolve as his words trailed away.
"No! She had my hand…" Charlie collapsed onto the ground, and the world went black.
Chapter Fourteen Boston
Light streamed through the white-paned window of the room, its pale-blue sterility heightened by an old windup clock sitting vigil on the bedside table and displaying the time as ten o'clock. The clock was kept company by a bedside lamp left on all night—most likely by the boy sleeping in a red velvet armchair on the far side of the room. The air had an odor of alcohol and lemon-scent cleanser with a dash of fragrance from flowers resting in a vase on an empty bookshelf. A set of monitors beeped, and a long pole held an i.v. drip-dropping happily to itself, delivering sustenance to the room's sole occupant for the past week.
The room had seen many visitors since the paient's arrival, from large burly men with swords to persons in white coats, as they all busied themselves with the young boy who lay unconscious in the bed, his freckled arm always held by the young blond girl who sat in the other red velvet chair by the bedside. The right side of her arm resting on the rail of the hospital bed was bruised. A knock came at the door causing the girl to flutter open her eyes to the morning sunlight, and the tall boy in the chair to jump to his feet, staff clutched tightly at his side.
"It's me. Anyway, there's six council guards outside the door, not to mention the giant tiger patrolling the ground in unassuming kitty-cat form," said Colin.
Mick stretched and returned to his well-worn spot on the chair. "I lost Bailey, after he told me to keep her safe. I'm not about to…"
The look on Mick's face as his voice drained away brought tears to Tillie's already red eyes.
"Shouldn't he be up by now? Did you talk to the doctors?"
"He lost a lot of blood. That, combined with the shock…he's lucky to be alive." Colin shook his head and looked at his feet. "I was by him the whole time. If it's anyone's fault it's mine." He put down a tray of food for them, pushing the clock aside, and slumped on a chair.
"I spoke with the doctors—asked if there was a way to bring him out of it. His body's fine. His mind is damaged, not injured. If they brought him back before his mind's ready to handle it we might lose him forever." Colin grabbed a bagel and tossed one at Mick. He gnawed on his not out of hunger but for something to do. And the harsh scraping of dry bread on his dry throat made it feel like he was paying penance.
Just then the door opened to Professor Grayson, changed back into his tweed suit.
"My apologies for taking this long to see to your needs personally." Despite everything his eyes sparkled with something close to optimism behind the gold-rimmed glasses, and he stroked his well-kept beard. "So much has happened since the attack on the church the night you escaped…a strong part of me wishes Marley had reached you sooner. Then none of this would have befallen you."
"Just a part of you, sir?" Mick stood up. "Where was Marley, exactly? At the local bar, having a pint while we struggled to stay alive? Is that it? Well, Bailey is gone, being tortured—or maybe already dead!"
"We are searching for our friend, Mick. The Seers and Influencarians are hard at work as we speak. They are doing their best."
"Then why haven't they found her? Or at least found someone who knows where Vali sent her!"
"I deeply wish it was that simple," the old man continued. "It seems Vali has trusted no one with her location. Marley has abducted fifty of Vali's followers, some high in his council. Not one had knowledge of her whereabouts. I wish I had better news for you, but these are the consequences of the choices we make in life. Bailey knew the risks just as you all did when you chose to go right instead of left that first night in the tunnel. She is a very intelligent girl. And I am sure she is alive—she's too stubborn to be otherwise—and that is the message you must send to Charlie when he wakes up. You must be strong for him. He needs you now more than ever. Vali has taken so much from him: his father, the life he should have had, and now the one person who was always there for him. You must be his strong supports, or we will lose them both." He looked at Mick, his eyes no longer sparkling but steely blue with resolve.
"Sir?" Tillie looked up from her shoes. "You said a part of you was upset that we chose the path we did."
"Yes, and I meant it."
"Well, what does the other part of you think?"
"Tillie, you…all of you chose a valiant path, not for glory but for truth. Acting bravely in the quest for enlightenment and justice is never to be condemned." Grayson stroked his short beard and then reached for the coffee pot Colin had placed on the nightstand. "Wonderful…we English have never seemed to be able to perfect it, probably due to some lingering resentment over the Boston Tea Party."
Tillie was about to laugh at this, before she realized the professor was serious. He took another sip and spoke to them over the rim of his coffee cup. "All of you will find Truth before your journey's end."
"But Professor," Mick shouted, slamming his staff on the ground. "We're already at the end! Bailey's gone and Charlie's on this bed. Our journey's over."
"My dear boy, your journey is about to begin." The twinkle returned to Grayson's eyes. "Charlie will awaken soon and then, well…" He paused searching for the words. "The Council confiscated the astrolabe, for what purpose I don't know. I intend to find my own Truth in the next moment." The professor placed a small box wrapped in purple with a golden ribbon on the bedside table, and exited quietly.
Tillie opened it and gasped. "The astrolabe."
"Now Charlie can pull through!" Colin shouted, jumping out of his seat. "We can get Bailey back! We just need to find the Tablets and trade them for Bailey! What happens after that?" He stroked his dagger with purpose. "We'll carve our own truth in the hide of Lord Vali!"
Mick ran to the medicine cabinet and retrieved the smelling salts the doctors were so wary of. "Let's try these. He'll take a while to rouse himself. But when he sees we're all here, ready to take Bailey back…then we'll tell him we have a plan." He broke a small paper pill releasing a sharp stench of ammonia. Charlie's eyes flipped open, then shut, then open—this time unblinking. He looked from Mick, to Tillie, to Colin to…
"Bailey…" His voice weak, the words forced themselves through his parched lips. Tillie prostrated herself on his bed without saying anything. Charlie turned to Mick.
"So…it wasn't a nightmare…?"
Mick just nodded.
"We have a plan." Colin's tone was crisp and authoritative. "We're going to get her back." He pushed the astrolabe into Charlie's hand. "But we'll need your help."
Tillie sucked in a breath and let go of Charlie, wiping her eyes as she rose.
Again, Charlie turned to Mick. "Where am I?"
"Safe house. This is some sort of Order house here in Boston. They have healers that pose as doctors in the real world. You were hurt—really hurt, mate."
"How long have I been here?"
"A week," Tillie replied.
"And my mom?"
"She thinks you had to go back to Thornfield." Mick said. "Prof Grayson took care of it."
Charlie nodded. "So I'm guessing there are guards all over the place…great! So how do we get out of here to get Bailey?"
He was recovering better than they expected. It worried Tillie that he might be on some kind of artificial high from the drugs but she kept it to herself, deciding that she'd rather watch him closely than stop his momentum.
"Well first," said
Colin. "we need to get some pants on you." Charlie's hospital gown left little to the imagination with its slit up the back.
Tillie looked modestly away. "Hurry! There's just so much of your naked butt I can take." She handed Charlie his shirt and pants.
"They didn't take Excalibur?" Charlie asked in some alarm.
Mick placed his hands on Charlie's shoulder and squeezed. "She never left my belt, mate. They tried to take it and put it with the rest of your stuff, but I wouldn't let go." He handed Charlie his family heirloom.
Charlie nodded at his friend, who handed him the strap of the brown leather belt. He attached it to his waist, tightening it through the sold gold buckle. "Thank you."
Something in Mick's look told Charlie his friend was hurting just as much in his own way. "Don't worry. We're alive—that's what matters. Alive to save our friend." He punched Mick playfully on the arm.
"Hey what was that for?"
"That was for almost making me hug you!"
"Hey, I can't help it if my rugged good looks overcame your commonsense—happens to the ladies all the time." He winked at Tillie, who took the hands of both boys as they walked Charlie shakily from the room.
"Hey, I'm part of this too," Colin reminded them as he followed.
"You're our guard," Tillie instructed him. "You have to stay separate for now, to look convincing at the door. If the real guards see you before you can join hands with us and become invisible, we're just taking Charlie to stretch his legs."
Colin sighed meaningfully. "Great—I'm sure they'll go for that," he said sarcastically, all the time wondering how he was going to steal another car.
It took two hours before the safe house realized Charlie had discharged himself. A nurse, finding no patient, raised the alarm. The Council was called in and the guards interrogated. Yes, it was established, the Templar boy had left—alone. The guards must have been distracted while the other visitors left at the same time as Colin, they thought. They launched a massive manhunt: "The children must be found before we lose our Jumper!" called the Head of the Council.