“Don’t pace. A scout will see movement before anything else,” Arthur said quietly, his eyes still closed.
Savaric froze and turned his head to look at Arthur, who hadn’t moved.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Go lean against the cliff or squat on the ground by the opening.”
“Yes, your sir, I mean, your majesty.”
“There’s a good lad. No more talking.”
Savaric went to the opening and lowered himself to sit on the edge of a rock, not wanting to be too comfortable so he wouldn’t fall back asleep. He kept watch, seeing and hearing nothing but the normal nocturnal movement and life of the little patch of trees that encircled them. When the waxing moon rode high in the sky, lighting the landscape, Savaric woke Arthur and they switched places. At dawn, they were back on horseback, galloping north across the open plain.
Within less than an hour, Arthur pulled up on the reins, stopping abruptly. The horse reared, neighing loudly. They were almost thrown from the saddle, but Arthur’s powerful arms pulled them both back up and they settled into place on the horse’s back. Savaric leaned out to the side and looked around Arthur. Before them a meandering river flowed through the plains. High above the river on a triangular spit of land, sat Banna. Walls of hewn stacked stone created a powerful barrier to enemies, in addition to the towering cliffs that Banna stood on. Beyond the walls lay a fortress, with parapets and guard towers to watch the surrounding land for invaders. With all the power that the fortress spoke to its surroundings, an air of desolation and loneliness also seeped from it. The feeling of control and domination had been lost, replaced with forlorn sadness.
“Where is everyone?” Savaric asked.
“Banna has been abandoned for many years, first by the Romans and then by the chieftains that followed.”
The two sat in silence for a moment watching the fortress, drawn by the feeling of conquered pride, waiting for signs of movement in this desolate place. The horse circled impatiently, and they turned their heads to keep their eyes fixed on the fortress.
“What does your riddle say?”
“The maiden shall lead you to the way. Naban guards the hill on high, but a lowly bridge guards the greater treasure,” Savaric intoned.
Arthur dropped his gaze from the fortress down to the river.
“There, by the bend in the river closest to the cliff, there’s a small stone bridge,” he said, spurring the horse forward.
As they got closer to the bridge, a stiff breeze stirred up, and when they came to stop above the river on the bridge, a full burst of wind swirled around them, pelting them with leaves and sticks and stinging drops of water.
Savaric raised his cloak to protect his head. “What is this unholy wind?” he screamed into the wind.
“I don’t know. Look around and see if you can find any out-of-place thing.”
They both dropped off horseback, and Savaric scanned the surface of the bridge, looking for anything unusual carved into the stones. Arthur moved toward the banks, looking at the foundation stones. Suddenly he jumped over the edge and into the choppy water. Savaric rushed to the spot on the bridge and looked over the edge, but saw nothing but swirling water.
“Arthur!” He ran to the edge of the bridge and circled around the edge to the ground next to it. His foot went into a hole in the ground, and he fell and doggedly got up again, all the while calling out for Arthur.
He ran to the edge of the escarpment, looking around and seeing nothing but the howling wind whipping the river into the air. He jammed his hand into a crack between the stones and leaned out over the water and peered at the underbelly of the bridge. To his relief, Arthur swam under the bridge toward him, parallel to the shore. He reached the shore and waded out, heaving great breaths and sloshing water onto the ground.
“It’s there,” he said between big gasping breaths.
“What is?” Savaric said excitedly.
Arthur held up his hand, signaling for him to wait.
“A keyhole,” he said a few minutes later after catching his breath.
“By god’s body.” Savaric plunged his hand into his cloak and withdrew the keys. He stared at them, the metal glittering with crystalline drops of water, then looked tentatively over at the seething water.
“I’m not much of a swimmer,” he said to Arthur.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go first and put the key in the keyhole and turn it. I’ll then come back and help you over.”
Savaric looked up at him, a tinge of worry sparking his stomach. He hesitated for a moment and then nodded, handing him the keys.
Arthur waded into the water, then dove in when it got too high to wade. In a flash, he swam under the center of the bridge. Finding tiny handholds in the stones, he climbed out of the water and reached up high above his head to a tiny fissure in the rock and inserted a key. He turned it and leaned back, holding on with just one hand. Nothing happened. He took it out and put the key back in, this time slamming it in as far as he could. Nothing. Frustrated, he let go and fell back into the river, disappearing below the surface. He surfaced in a huge surge of water on the opposite side of the bridge from Savaric. Savaric rushed up the escarpment and stumbled down the other side to him.
Arthur handed him a key. “Hold this,” he said, and dove back into the water.
Savaric watched him repeat the process of swimming and climbing. This time he slammed the key in hard the first time and turned the key sharply. Nothing happened. No sound, no voice. Arthur clung to the side of the bridge watching. Savaric turned away and brushed his hands through his hair in frustration. With his hands resting on his head, he turned back. Arthur looked at the wall of the bridge closely. A small sliver of black widened on the wall, looking strangely like a dark snake of inky blackness growing savagely larger. In complete silence, the black snake turned into a massive rock door, its edges jagged from the staggered shape of the hewn rocks that formed the bridge.
Arthur fell away to the water once again, and in seconds sloshed over to Savaric on the shore.
“What’s in there? Did you see anything?” Savaric needled.
Arthur stayed silent as they waded into the water. When it got deep, Arthur grabbed Savaric’s cloak and pulled him through the water. He gasped and burbled his way through, swallowing water as Arthur’s powerful strokes propelled them toward the center of the bridge. When they reached the wall, Arthur commanded, “Tread water.” He obeyed, and Arthur let go and swam around behind him, then pushed him toward the wall. Savaric swam a few weak strokes. “Do you see the handhold?” Arthur asked. Savaric looked at the wall and nodded. Arthur gave him a boost up to reach the first handhold, then watched him climb up. Savaric crouched in the opening, squinting into the darkness. Within a second, Arthur stood in an alert warrior’s stance beside him.
“Are you all right?” Arthur asked. Savaric nodded, breathing heavy. As they faced each other, something black moved toward them out of the even darker blackness behind it. They both turned their head toward the movement, realizing with a start at the same moment that they were not alone.
CHAPTER 27
Arthur drew his sword from the scabbard on his back and pushed Savaric behind him.
“Stop. Right. There,” he said through gritted teeth.
The blackness continued moving toward them and became an enormously tall figure dressed in a black robe and hood that concealed the face. The figure stopped and seemed to be looking outside beyond to the river. It stood still for a long time. Suddenly two hands flew out of the robe and up into the air. Arthur tensed, raising his sword. The figure’s hands rushed together with the index fingers and thumbs meeting to form a triangle, then overlapping fingers twice to form two smaller triangles. The figure uttered some strange words in a language foreign to Arthur and Savaric.
In an instant, the rain and wind whipping around them ever since they got to the bridge stopped. Savaric glanced over from his position behind Arthur at the river.
“It’
s gone. The storm stopped—completely,” Savaric said, awed. “How…?”
“I stopped what you started,” a deep, gravelly voice said from within the cloak. “You have fulfilled the prophecy of nature unhinged. Have you fulfilled the other prophecies?”
“Speak the prophecies and we will know if we are the fulfillers,” Arthur commanded.
The faceless figure stood silent for a moment, then uttered, “The chosen is a king’s son who gains his throne from a sword in a stone.”
“I am that chosen king,” Arthur said.
The faceless figure stood silent for another moment, then uttered in a monotone, “The chosen comes bearing the keys of the Pythagorum.”
At this, Savaric crept out from behind Arthur and raised his hand into the air, holding up the key. Arthur, seeing this, switched Excalibur into his other hand and raised the other key into the air.
“You are the fulfillers,” the black figure said tonelessly. “Our wait is over.”
The figure turned and disappeared into the darkness. After a few seconds, a flame burst into life in the passage behind the figure. A lit torch showed the figure floating further and further into the darkness.
Arthur and Savaric hurried to follow the robed figure into the darkness. As they traveled down the passageway, bursts of flame flared to light the way, then sputtered out again seconds after they passed. As quickly as they had started walking, they came to a stop. In the dim light of the passageway they could see that it widened slightly and opened into a tall chamber. The chamber glowed with an eerie golden light that seemed to be coming from the ceiling high above.
The black-robed figure stood on the far side of the chamber, with the cuffs of the robe’s long and deep sleeves touching in front of him, concealing its hands and arms.
The figure stood silent for a few long moments. Then the gravelly voice said, “Use the keys of Pythagorum to yield the keys to the kingdoms.”
Arthur and Savaric glanced at each other and cautiously walked over to the other side of the chamber. The black figure stepped aside. On the wall lay two keyholes, similar to the one on the stone wall under the bridge outside. They each put their keys into the wall, turned them, and stepped back quickly. After a few moments of waiting, they realized nothing was happening. Without speaking they stepped up to the chamber wall again and switched the keys, just as they had outside.
This time as soon as the keys turned an ice-blue glow radiated from the wall. They strained to turn the keys all the way to the right, and sparks began to fly and intensified as they reached their mark. Squinting from the bright light and raising their hands to protect their faces from the sparks, they watched a piece of the jagged rock slide open noiselessly. Rock dust, pebbles, and sand sifted onto the ground. The room got brighter, and a faint scent of apple blossoms and oranges drifted into the chamber.
All eyes focused on the chamber wall, waiting to see what had been hidden behind the jagged rock. As the chamber door slid open, the sparks receded then sputtered out. Arthur stepped closer to the opening and peered inside. Three objects nestled inside an area chiseled into the rock, each wrapped in a fine linen cloth. Reaching inside, he carefully grasped the largest one and handed it to Savaric. He took another one and began unwrapping it.
A high tinkling laugh trickled through the chamber behind them. “It’s so lovely of you to find this for me, Arthur. I know I can always count on my dear brother.”
Arthur and Savaric froze, then slowly turned around. Morgain stood behind them, her wand ready.
“Now put those things on the ground by my feet.”
Arthur sighed. He took the object from Savaric and stepped over to Morgain, settling the objects carefully in the sandy ground at her feet. He then walked to the side of the chamber opposite the black-robed figure.
“Boy child,” she said sharply. “There’s something else in there, isn’t there? Be a good boy and bring it to me.”
Savaric took a deep breath and walked slowly over to the hollow. As he did, he fumbled inside his cloak, reaching deep within. With one hand still in his cloak, he reached the other hand into the hollow and pulled out the other object. He walked back over to Morgain and as he bent over to lay the object at her feet, he thrust his arm further beneath his cloak, pulling out his last remaining pine needles until they made contact with his bare skin. In that instant, he disappeared from the sight of everyone in the rock chamber.
Morgain screamed in fury. Savaric grabbed the three objects and hid them under his cloak. Bent over at the waist, he scuttled to the side of the chamber and dropped to the ground with his back against the wall, turning to watch what happened next. Arthur rushed across the chamber toward Morgain with Excalibur raised. A split second later, the black figure also rushed toward Morgain with a strange-looking heavy curved sword. Equally as quickly, Morgain raised her wand and was beginning to apparate, but Arthur’s sword proved to be too swift. He caught her arm in midair and ran through it entirely with his sword. Excalibur pierced the rock behind Morgain, holding her fast to the wall with the tip of the blade. Morgain screamed in pain, blood pouring down her arm and dripping to the ground. She looked in horror at the sword and then wide-eyed back at her brother, who still held the sword.
“Arthur, Arthur! Please take it out,” she cried piteously. “Arthur, brother. It pains me. Have mercy on me.” Morgain wept, agonized over the searing pain.
Arthur drew breath to speak, but was interrupted.
“You will do no such thing, Arthur,” a strong female voice resonated through the passage. With her wand outstretched, Queen Ygierne strode down the passage. The knights Gawain and Lancelot followed close behind her, their swords drawn and ready.
“Drop the wand, Morgaine,” the queen demanded. Unable to move, Morgaine glanced over at the imposing figure that stood now at the entrance of the chamber, blocking everyone’s path. Tears slid down her face and blood dripped from her arm, its grisly stain spreading across her chest.
“I am the rightful heir. Not this thing. I am the wholly royal one and the firstborn,” she cried, her body shaking. As she shook, the sword cut deeper into her arm. Morgaine shrieked again.
“I have heard this all before, Morgaine. The prophecies supersede your claim. Drop the wand,” the queen replied, softer this time.
Morgaine continued to sob. Savaric turned his head away for a moment, unable to look at her gruesome injury any longer. As he turned his head back, he saw Morgaine release her wand.
The queen held up her hands and drew the wand to her, deftly snapping it into her left hand. With her right wand-bearing hand, she drew a circle in the air and said, “Enchantum contralana. Enchantum contralana. Enchantum contralana.” She then drew a circle around Morgaine.
Morgaine looked directly into the fairy’s eyes as she stood before her; hatred and rage spilled from her core and filled the room. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
Queen Ygierne nodded, her eyes sad and misty. “I know. But you leave me no choice.” She stepped back from the wall. “Arthur, release her.”
Arthur rushed over and pulled Excalibur from the stone for the second time. Morgaine collapsed unconscious to the ground. The queen said, “There is no danger from her now. She cannot have her magical powers again unless I, as her guide and oide, consent to release them to her.”
Gawain and Lancelot picked up Morgaine and gently carried her out of the chamber.
Arthur put his hand on his mother’s arm. “I regret it came to this, Mother. You know I never wished her any harm.”
Ygierne looked up at her son and patted his stubbled cheek. “Yes, I know, son. We both never wished her any harm. But even when someone you love wants to do you harm, you still have to defend yourself.”
Looking directly at him, she said, “Savaric, you can come out now.”
Savaric, surprised, drew in his breath sharply. “You can see me?” he said, almost to himself.
“Yes.” She smiled. “But no one else can. So come on out.�
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Savaric reached deep into the cloak and pulled the pine needles away from his skin. As he came back into view, Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “You’ll be explaining that power to me in due time, but for now let’s look at these treasures.”
Savaric unwrapped the linen wrappings that protected the largest item. The heavy thing seemed to be wooden. As he got to the end of the wrappings, his face fell a bit. “It’s just a wooden disc. What’s so special about that?”
Ygierne took it from him and turned it over in her hands. “There’s a square indentation here on this side.” She looked at it carefully. “Nothing is written on it. Hmm. I’d have to agree with you, young one, there doesn’t seem to be anything special about it. But if ancient ones set it here to be guarded for centuries, there must be a reason.” She looked over at the dark ghost, who stood mute in the corner. It nodded its head languidly and made a slight bow in acknowledgment.
Arthur moved on to the smallest object. The wrapping on this soon revealed a small wooden box. This did have writings and carvings on it—small glyphs that seemed to be drawings of eyes and animals rather than letters from a language. Savaric bent over to look closer at the box. “I’ve seen this before. This is just like the eye that guarded the Cave of Thor, where we found the second key.”
Ygierne took the box from Arthur. “Yes, an ancient writing indeed. I can’t read it, but I believe this writing is from the land of the River Nile.”
Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “I have never heard of such a place. How did it get here?”
“And, even more importantly, how do you open the box?” Ygierne said. With her long thin fingers, she pushed on bits of the carvings of vines and leaves, and pressed on the hinges to see if they would move. Holding it up high in the air, she looked straight at the front of the box.
“There’s a straight line going across the face and through the carvings; that must be it.” She pushed at it from several different angles. Then she went to the left side of the box and pushed it to the right. The panel slid smoothly across and released the catch for the lid. Arthur reached over and opened the lid. They both gasped as they saw the contents of the box.
The Secret Key of Pythagorum Page 17