by S L Ager
‘Gladys, can I ask you a bit of a funny question?’
‘Of course, Claire. What is it?’
‘Why would a Knight Hawk buy a lottery ticket?’ she asked in all seriousness.
Chuckling, Gladys put down the teapot and rubbed her hands on her apron. ‘You are funny,’ she answered, sitting down. ‘The lottery money helps fund22 the museum where you’ve spent most of today,’ she laughed. ‘We knights must pay our way.’
‘Ahhh, I get it,’ Claire nodded as Gladys pottered23 about.
Gladys put two mugs on the table and sat back down.
‘Where’s Thomas?’ asked Claire, looking around.
‘We’re not sure at the moment,’ Gladys replied.
‘What do you mean, not sure?’ Claire frowned.
Gladys, Jack and Thomas were inseparable. Why didn’t she know where Thomas was, and why wasn’t she worried about him?
Gladys poured the steaming tea into the mugs and added milk from a blue-and-white jug, its pattern identical to the crockery24 she’d seen on the dresser in Wales.
‘When I got home, he had gone,’ she said.
‘But is he OK?’ asked Claire, splashing her tea onto the table.
‘Yes, we’re sure he’s fine, cariad. He is self-sufficient25 and will be gathering valuable information for us. Cats are excellent at surveillance26.’
‘Surveillance?’ asked Claire quizzically.
‘Yes. Cats make superb27 spies,’ said Gladys, calmly stirring her tea.
‘Spies, wow,’ laughed Claire. ‘Old Thomas is a spy? Amazing!’ she said, thrilled. ‘Thomas Bond!’ she giggled.
‘Yes, he is – a spy, that is,’ said Gladys. ‘When he has relevant information for the Knights Hawk, he will return.’
Gladys curled her papery28 hands around her mug and blew a gentle ripple29 across the tea’s surface.
‘Do you have any idea who he’s spying on?’ asked Claire.
Gladys paused. ‘He’s tracking30 the Cutter,’ she eventually answered. ‘Wherever the Cutter is, Thomas will be also.’
‘So he’s at the museum, then?’ asked Claire.
‘No, Claire, Thomas won’t be at the museum; the Cutter is no longer there.’
‘Really?’ Claire sat up, shocked. ‘The bracelet is safe, isn’t it?’ She fidgeted in her seat, fear rising at the thought of the scene she’d witnessed in the gem.
‘The bracelet is safe; however, half of the Cutter is gone.’
‘What do you mean, half? Where’s it gone?’ asked Claire.
‘The Master only obtained31 half of the Cutter, the other half is safe with us, in Robert Evans’s keeping.’
‘You mean the creepy curator guy from the museum who was on the train today?’ Claire flinched, regretting what she said the moment the words left her mouth.
Gladys fell silent, a pensive32 look on her face.
Claire cringed again, mortified at her rude33 comment. She mentally scolded34 herself; Evans was a Knight Hawk after all. Although, if she was being honest, she didn’t like the way he made her feel. The ensuing painful silence from Gladys proved ample punishment for her lack of tact.
‘Did you say Robert Evans was on the train with you earlier?’ Gladys eventually asked in a quiet voice.
‘Yes, he was. After seeing him today when we arrived through that awful tunnel, I assumed you or Gwilym had sent him,’ answered Claire, relieved that Gladys hadn’t told her off for her comment, or, being diplomatic35, had seemingly sidestepped36 it.
‘So there’s two bits to the Cutter, then?’ continued Claire, trying to fill the awkward silence.
‘Yes. The Knights Hawk sealed the Gwalch Gem bracelet in the case. The glass is impenetrable unless both parts of the Cutter are used to open it. Two tiny, identical arrows. Alone they are useless; together they are all-powerful. Today Dewi discovered more to the gem’s security than he realised.’
Claire massaged Jack’s ear again. ‘So if Dewi has half of the Cutter, Mr Evans has the other?’ asked Claire.
‘Yes, Robert Evans has it. Today at the museum, Evans recognised Drane’s accomplished37 Mal-Instinctive power and knew the Master was close. Evans acted without hesitation to save the Gwalch Gem bracelet.’
‘Accomplished? Rat-boy Drane? He can’t be that great if I managed to beat him.’
‘Maybe it says more about you than you realise,’ Gladys replied.
Claire felt a huge rush of pride and couldn’t disguise her grin at the thought of what she’d done. ‘Where’s Mr Evans now, then?’
Gladys hesitated. ‘We’re not entirely38 certain.’
‘What do you mean, you’re not certain? You’re never not certain about anything, Gladys!’
Gladys got up and took a cloth from the sink and mopped the tea splashes from the worn vinyl39 tablecloth.
‘There are far-reaching tunnels that run from the edges of the museum’s basement and beyond. They are most complicated, intertwining and unforgiving40. No Mal-Instinctive knows them as well as they would like. They are primarily41 Evans’s work, and he traverses42 them better than any other knight.’
‘Gosh,’ said Claire. Maybe she had underestimated Evans.
‘Evans escaped with one arrow before Dewi reached him. He left the other for Dewi to find, to throw him off the trail. Dewi thought he had the whole Cutter until it failed to break through the glass, but we are still waiting to hear from Evans,’ she finished.
‘Is that unusual?’ asked Claire. ‘Should you have heard from him by now?’
‘Possibly, although not necessarily.’
‘Why was he on the train with me this morning?’ Claire asked, but Gladys didn’t answer.
‘I suspect you are wondering what happens now, cariad.’
‘Yes,’ Claire blurted. ‘Yes, I am.’
Gladys smiled a weary smile and said, ‘You have no obligation43 to us; everything you pursue is your choice, and always has been.’
‘Yes,’ Claire mouthed in a half whisper. ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ she finished, expecting her future would prove more complicated than she’d anticipated.
‘It’s getting late. You mustn’t put your mum through any more heartache44; she has suffered enough for one day.’
‘Gosh, yes. Is that the time?’ She plopped Jack down from her lap and kissed his head. ‘See you Monday, buddy45.’
Standing to leave, she fastened her coat and stuck her hands into her pockets, swaying from foot to foot.
‘Gladys?’
‘Yes, cariad, what is it?’
‘Today’s been so crazy for me, unreal, but something else has felt wrong.’
‘What has felt wrong, Claire?’
‘Well, the day seems longer somehow. In a way, it feels like it’s taken forever.’
Gladys smiled, mulling46 over what Claire had said.
‘Yes, I suppose it has felt strange to you. You’re not used to it as we are.’
‘Not used to what?’ Claire’s round face crinkled.
Gladys smiled. ‘We tangled time for you,’ declared Gladys.
‘You did what?’ Claire asked, stunned.
‘We tangled time for you,’ Gladys said, allowing her words to sink in.
‘What do you mean, tangled time? I thought the Gwalch Gem bracelet was the only thing that could change time,’ asked Claire.
‘We have other means. Although time-tangling does come at a cost, today it was necessary. We could not have achieved all we did without it.’
Claire recalled47 the day: the journeys, how long they took, the lack of people along the way.
‘So that’s why no one was around when I woke up, why Ben had gone and there was no traffic. Is that why my clock didn’t work?’ She didn’t wait to let Gladys answer.
‘Yes, Claire, that’s more or less right. We had to confuse the Mal-Instinctives and needed more time than we had, so we tangled time to change that.’
‘Wow! Tangled time.’ Claire blew out a long, low whistle – impressed. ‘You k
nights can change time without the bracelet.’
Gladys nodded.
‘How do you do that?’ asked Claire.
But Gladys just smiled and tapped Claire’s shoulder.
‘Come on now, your mum will be worried. Although you don’t always see it, she tries her utmost for you children, and you should head home to her now. Jack and I will still be here on Monday.’
‘And Thomas?’ added Claire.
‘Yes, and perhaps Thomas too,’ Gladys answered, dropping her gaze.
‘Will I ever see Gwilym again? And Owain and Anwen?’ said Claire, tears filling her eyes.
‘I’m sure you will, Claire. This is the beginning of your Instinct journey.’
Gladys curled a soothing arm around Claire’s shoulder and steered her towards the door.
Claire swooped Jack up one more time and kissed his nose; he licked hers in return. ‘Yuck, doggy breath,’ she joked, plonking him down.
She hugged Gladys on the doorstep, and tears didn’t fail her. ‘I’ve done this a lot today,’ she sniffled, wiping them away on her mucky48 sleeve. ‘Are you OK, Gladys? You look worried about something,’ Claire asked.
‘I’m fine; it’s been a long, long day, as you now know,’ said Gladys, winking at Claire.
‘See you on Monday with Ben, I suppose, then,’ Claire sniffed, not entirely convinced she believed Gladys, who she now knew could keep things from her.
‘Yes, cariad, see you on Monday,’ waved Gladys as Claire walked down the short path.
Claire glanced back, waved, then left, closing the creaky metal gate to head home.
‘Claire! Claire!’
Claire spun around, worried by Gladys’s tone. Gladys stood at her front door, pointing upwards.
‘What is it?’ asked Claire, striding back to her.
But Gladys didn’t answer; she just stared skywards49.
Claire turned towards what looked like a speck hanging high up in the sky. Screwing up her eyes, she strained to see what it was, but couldn’t make it out. Gladys persisted, pointing to the dot growing in the sky. Blinking, Claire realised that in the distance, but rapidly nearing them, was a helicopter. It flew towards them until it was almost above them; then it lowered altitude50 to a steady hover, suspended51 above the green.
A moment later a strong surge turned the responsive52 blades faster, and the aircraft did a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree pirouette, dropped its nose and bowed before them. Then, in a graceful manoeuvre53, the yellow helicopter banked54 and flew away, Gwilym at the controls.
Claire, who had been waving madly, smiled as it disappeared into the distance.
‘How do you knights have access to RAF helicopters and jets?’ asked Claire.
Gladys smiled. ‘The Sea King and Hawk T1 are decommissioned55 aircraft. The RAF don’t use that type any more, so we do. We have resourceful friends. Now, Claire, go home and get some well-earned rest.’
‘But, Gladys, there’s something else I meant to ask you, something I saw, something about the gem,’ said Claire anxiously.
‘No more questions now, Claire,’ replied Gladys. ‘Your mum will be waiting.’
‘But, Gladys,’ persisted Claire.
‘Your mum, cariad; it’s late.’
Claire knew she’d pushed her mum far enough for one day, and if she overstepped the mark56 now, she’d never let her go to Ben’s competition in the morning.
‘You’re right, Gladys. I’ll see you on Monday.’
And with that, she headed home.
17. How Evans Tangled Time Alone
Whilst Claire slept at home, more truth to the story unfolded deep in the underground tunnels.
Busy foraging for food in the damp black recess, beetles, bugs and insects scurried about their daily duties1. A swollen2 cocoa-brown cockroach3 deposited4 her precious eggs in the peaceful moist crevice she had fortuitously5 discovered in the nook behind the man’s knees. This unusual incubator6 had lain still long enough to present her with the ideal hatching7 place for her egg case, although she didn’t realise her eggs would never quite reach the forty-something days required for maturation8.
Like a full-term babe9 cocooned10 in its mother’s womb11, Robert Evans lay still, curled up in the soggy soil, bent knees pulled up close, locked to his chest, small, petulant12 fists tucked away in angry balls above them. His bony, bare feet protruded from shredded trousers, and a scant, ragged13 shirt partially exposed the sullied14 dirty-white skin on his arms. A neat black beaver-cloth waistcoat15, intact16 and still buttoned, had endured the ordeal. Prim17 and incongruous,18 it swaddled19 his upper torso20 as if aptly21 dressed for a morning at church.
Silent and still, he appeared at peace. Sleeping perhaps. However, this refuge22 offered little nurturing23. No such loving, matriarchal24 comfort blanket existed here.
How long he had languished25 there, dormant, was difficult to gauge26. How injurious27 his unpreventable sacrifice would be was not yet apparent, because earlier today this diminutive28 man had surpassed all other Knights Hawk; he had tangled time alone. Eclipsing29 all others, he had reached the pinnacle30 of his existence31 and changed the landscape permanently. Robert Evans hoped his heroic deed would go down in history for millennia32 to come. For in his fist, he still clutched the tiny arrow. One half of the precious Cutter, which he had snatched from the fairy figurine whilst attempting his one desperate hope of escaping his sinister pursuer33 – Dewi, the Master.
After many hours of fleeing34 through his web of underground tunnels, the sheer35 effort of it all had taken its toll36. Evans now lay confused and exhausted in a queer37 state of live rigor mortis38. His rigid fingers would require severing39 to release their contents. Even in this hushed foetal40 form, he would rather die than relinquish41 what would deliver greatness to him once again.
Now, in the depths of the dingy42 tunnels, ailing43 and paralysed44 with cold, his chaotic mind flooded with the harrowing45 images of what had happened to him just hours before. Shivering feverishly46, remembering the intense terror of escaping the Master, degraded47 to the status48 of a hunted animal, he now relived every step of his escape in minute detail.
He tried his utmost to outrun Dewi in the basement, but the Master’s athleticism easily surpassed that of Evans. Even though Evans took the most direct route to the Cutter, the Master came gravely49 close.
Never had Evans been required to run through the basement passages, but today he moved as fast as his short, unfit legs could carry him. Petrified, he realised Dewi’s strength had grown throughout the years, and somehow Dewi had become aware of the basement’s layout. Evans had disastrously underrated50 his pursuer.
The basement was dimly lit, but Evans didn’t need light; he could navigate it blindfolded51. With sweat soaking his coarse woollen52 suit, and the temperature soaring as the Master’s dark energy neared, he stooped to where the walls met the dusty floor, fishing around until he found what he needed. He curled his hand around a chunky cable53, and with one quick, hard pull, he plunged his surroundings into medieval54 darkness. Stumbling back up and breaking into his fastest run, he hoped the darkness would buy him the precious seconds required to succeed.
Scuttling towards the side room that held both halves of the Cutter, his feet skidded through the basement passages. He realised he would not outrun the Master and stopped. Aware the Knights Hawk had tangled time once today to help the girl, he knew risking it a second time would, in itself, be perilous55, but attempting this feat alone could kill him. Until today, tangling time unaided56 remained unattempted57, and therefore, untested58.
Hyperventilating59, he delved60 into the sodden61 left pocket of his waistcoat. At the end of a fine chain, his fingers found the item they sought62. Attached to a length of interwoven63 links lay a circular64 object. Although less than five centimetres in diameter and one centimetre thick, the weight of it hinted at its worth, its expert casting65 in solid Welsh gold. In the middle, surrounded by intricate engravings66, sat a dull round stone.
Not all knights carried this exotic piece, this faceless67 pocket watch that did not tell the time, but altered it. Just as the Cutter was fashioned from a fragment of the Gwalch Gem, so had the Time-Tanglers been crafted.
Holding the piece, Evans feared his impending68 forfeit69, because when a knight tangled time, part of their hard-earned Instinct was lost forever. Changing time alone posed a terrifying unknown.
With all hope of eluding70 the Master gone, Evans knew he must try, or face losing control of the Cutter, and with it his chance of achieving greatness once more.
Swaying, awash71 with the waves of adrenaline surging to keep him upright, he struggled to hold the Time-Tangler steady in the flat of his left palm. Needing to apply72 an exact touch, he placed his right thumb onto the matt stone. His digit rotated, moving in precise anticlockwise circles. With tentative touches, he gradually increased minuscule amounts of pressure and speed.
Buffing and polishing the rock, he worked swiftly until his skin burned. From where he stood, Evans could see the side room that contained the Cutter, but all would end here if he was unable to tangle time now. Dewi would inevitably discover both halves of the Cutter.
As his own depreciating73 energy leached74 from him into the passive75 stone, his sacrifice had already begun, the extent76 of which he would later discover.
Without warning, the stone within the Time-Tangler sprang to life. Random shards of spiny crystals shot in all directions, slicing his skin. Yet he was beyond sensation as the once-innocuous77 entity78 transformed into a gleaming, dangerous jewel. The razored79 points and flawless80, reflective81 surfaces glinted from the centre of this magnificent artefact.
His right thumb, his unique print, must stick fast to the nucleus82 of the pulsating83 stone, the umbilical84 parasite85 that had sparked into life, its selfish heart throbbing as it drained the life of its host86.
