Time out of Time

by Maureen Doyle McQuerry

  “Where’s Maggie?”

  McMorn looked up. A rusted birdcage hung from a beam in one of the dim corners of the map shop. Inside, a gray mouse shivered.

  McMorn let out a sigh of relief. “He hasn’t come yet?”

  Newton shook his head. Tears leaked from his eyes and glittered on his round cheeks.

  It took several seconds for Timothy to process what he was seeing. The mouse in the cage—could that be Maggie? He was sure he knew who “he” was without being told. The name coursed through his bones like a disease. Balor.

  “What happened to her?” As Sarah looked up at the cage, the mouse thrust a twitching nose between the narrow bars.

  “No speaking.” McMorn’s eyes were flat black disks. His nostrils flared.

  Timothy and the girls huddled together, so close that he could smell the scent of Jessica’s shampoo and feel Sarah tremble against his side, but from fear or anger, he couldn’t tell. A sharp wind whistled up the alley and pushed its way into the room.

  McMorn closed the door. He kept his eyes and the gun pointed at Timothy, even though he spoke to Newton. “Take the map from him.”

  Newton rubbed his hands down the length of his thighs. Then he walked behind Timothy and fumbled with the zipper on his pack.

  “He finds the stone, we get the map, and the children go home and tell a story no one will believe.” Newton spoke as if he were reciting a plan. His breath came in eager gasps as he pulled out the pouch with the map. “Oh, my pretty little thing,” he crooned.

  “The map won’t do anyone any good; Timothy’s already stepped on the coronation stone.” Sarah’s voice held that stubborn note Timothy had known all his life.

  “What?” Newton’s voice trembled. “The boy stepped on the stone?” His voice dropped. “What will happen to Maggie now? He threatened she’d be raptor food!”

  “It isn’t just the map. This is the prize Balor wants.” McMorn pointed at Timothy with one blunt finger. “The boy of the stone. I give Balor the children, and he has what he wants. But first I make sure he returns Maggie to her right form,” McMorn said.

  Overhead, the mouse shrilled.

  “Everything I’ve believed in, everything I’ve fought for, will be gone. The world will be a different place.” McMorn’s voice rumbled into silence.

  Timothy thought he had never seen eyes look so bleak. He said nothing. His mind sifted through years of information about Balor, about the ways of the Dark. All the things he had learned when he met the Society of the Stone.

  The bell on the door tinkled. Expecting Balor, Timothy tensed. Instead, Electra entered silently in her long dress and bare feet and pushed the door closed behind her.

  Newton Seaborg began to sputter. He clutched the map to his chest, breathing in shallow gasps.

  “The star girl, is it?”

  Timothy noticed a tremor in McMorn’s voice.

  “Get out.”

  “I have come to bear witness.”

  “Then you shall witness a great unmaking.”

  Wind rattled the windows. The door crashed open, and a man in a black woolen coat and scarf draped over a tuxedo entered. He wore fine leather gloves; his golden hair shone. And on his shoulder was a bird with a charcoal hood of feathers and blue-gray wings that formed a cape across his back.

  “Have I arrived too late? Ah, Brian, Newton, I see you’ve been waiting for me. You can see I brought a guest, a peregrine falcon. He’s very hungry.”

  The skin on Timothy’s scalp tingled. If he had been a cat, the fur would have risen on the back of his neck. Every inch of his being reacted to the finely dressed man in the doorway.

  Newton blanched and glanced up at Maggie in her cage. Jessica stuck out her chin.

  As if he had swallowed something distasteful, McMorn grimaced. “You can see that I brought you what you wanted.” He lowered the gun.

  Balor drew off his gloves slowly and tossed his scarf onto a chair. Each movement was theatrical, exaggerated, for the captive audience. “You have brought me exactly what I want. And we even have a witness to your deed.” He looked pointedly at Electra, who stood silent and watching. “Did you know that the peregrine prefers rodents to all other food? He swoops down and crushes his prey with his talons.”

  Newton began to sweat. Timothy could see shining rivulets run down the sides of his face.

  The falcon cocked its head.

  Despite being gifted with the long history of the Dark, despite being a Filidh meant to rule the Market, Timothy felt powerless. There was no one piece of knowledge that came to mind to help him in this situation. He was sure Sarah and Jessica expected him to know what to do. All three of them were weaponless, trapped by a man Timothy had thought could be trusted, once he knew him to be a member of the Society of the Stone. In desperation, he thrust his hands into his pockets. Empty, except for the heavy fairy stone given to him by Nessa Daring.

  “So now you’re a Filidh. You’ve found the Stone of Destiny.” Balor’s voice was light but his eyes hard when he turned them on Timothy. “Make no mistake, I have known generations of Filidhean before you, and to their displeasure, they have known me. A true Filidh is a problem. The last one was your great-great-uncle Edward. But he was easy—willing to trade his title for great wealth. You don’t seem as easy to convince.”

  As he paced the room, a smile, thin as a thread, crossed his face. Timothy couldn’t draw his eyes away from the falcon’s talons that clutched Balor’s shoulder.

  “There can be only one ruler. One mind to control what people know, the stories they remember.” Balor turned back toward Timothy. “Edward was intelligent enough to understand this. Every story has more than one version.” He raised his neatly arched eyebrows. “Who is to decide what version they hear, you or me?”

  “But there are true stories,” Sarah interrupted. And then she looked startled, as if the words had surprised her.

  “Which truth? Your truth, my truth? You are not so naive to think that there is only one truth, are you?” When Balor shook his head, light reflected off his curls. “With the right words you can make any man, no matter how noble, change sides, eh?”

  McMorn cocked the gun. “Return my sister, or you lose the map. I’ll burn it.”

  “You’re willing to trade all you believe, even bring me the Filidh, to protect your sister? And if I don’t play fair, you’ll destroy the map? Pah! Why do I need it now? The stone has been found.”

  “The map contains more than the location of the stone.” McMorn’s words settled over the room.

  More to the map? Timothy’s mind whirred.

  “What else does the map tell?” Balor asked, clearly surprised.

  In the silence, the falcon ruffled its feathers and flew to a beam just above Maggie’s cage. Jessica cried out.

  Balor turned to her. “Great power requires great sacrifice. The Light breeds servants. I make kings.”

  Jessica spat.

  With a swift movement Balor slapped her face with such force, she dropped to her knees.

  Timothy lunged toward Jessica.

  “McMorn, shoot him if he moves again. In the leg. Just to disable him. The Light loves martyrs, Timothy, but I won’t let him kill you. I can always use a puppet.”

  The mouse scrabbled at the cage. The falcon fixed it with a bright eye.

  Balor looked up. “McMorn, you’ve known this day was coming ever since I called you from the dance concert and explained the way I wanted things to go. You’ve had plenty of time to bring me the boy, yet you’ve kept me waiting.”

  Timothy gripped the stone in his pocket. A fairy stone, Nessa had called it. If you looked through the naturally bored stone, you could see what others couldn’t. But there was more. And he remembered Finula’s words: And once you know something’s true nature, you know its weakness . . .

  Slowly, he drew the stone from his pocket, but Balor noticed the movement.

  “What’s in your hand?” His voice was deceptively light. “I think you
should give it to me.”

  Instead, Timothy raised the stone to his eye, but before it could get there, McMorn grabbed for it. Knocked from Timothy’s fingers, the stone hit the floor and rolled to rest near Electra’s bare feet.

  “Get the stone, McMorn.” Balor’s voice was a command.

  Sarah’s voice was sharp with disappointment. “What good is that? It’s only a rock!”

  McMorn hesitated and looked at Electra. She smiled.

  “Get it,” commanded Balor. “Don’t worry about her. She is here as a witness, and she can’t intervene in the affairs of men. If she acts, the consequences will be great. She will never return to earth again but remain fixed forever in her constellation.”

  McMorn stepped toward Electra and bent to retrieve the stone. As his fingers closed around it, Electra lifted her foot and placed her bare toes on McMorn’s hand. He screamed. The touch of her skin seared his skin. He grabbed for his burned flesh with his other hand. The gun clattered to the floor.

  Timothy dove for the stone. Sarah scrambled for the gun. She picked it up and held it in two hands, pointing it first at McMorn, then at Balor. The falcon shrilled a harsh kak and clicked its beak.

  Newton Seaborg moaned. The mouse shivered.

  Still on his hands and knees, Timothy lifted the stone to his eye and looked through it at Balor. And Balor froze like a pinned insect. Timothy saw a great emptiness, a deep blackness, and at its very center a small and twisted thing, strutting and posturing. It was no bigger than a finger puppet. The thing he had feared so long was nothing in the light of truth. Timothy laughed.

  A line appeared on Balor’s smooth forehead. The line widened, revealing a flap of skin.

  “Timothy, watch out. It’s his Evil Eye!” Jessica called out.

  “The stone—throw the stone!” McMorn’s command filled the room.

  As the flap lifted, in one swift motion Timothy hurled the fairy stone straight at Balor’s face. With a satisfying thwack, the stone struck Balor in the open eye. The smooth mask of his face began to crack, first one small fissure and then a larger one, until what had been his face slivered into shards, which splintered onto the floor. The shards dropped with the sound of ice pelting a window. The fissures spread throughout his body. Cracks split his neck, his hands. And with one massive tremor, Balor’s entire body collapsed. A coat, a tuxedo jacket, and pants lay crumpled and slack on the wood floor as if the owner had discarded his clothes in a hurry. And where Balor’s body should be, there was nothing.

  McMorn, clasping his injured hand, stared, slack-jawed. His eyes, dark under beetling brows, darted from what had been Balor to Timothy.

  Sarah still held the gun, pointed now at McMorn. Footsteps rang out from the alley, footsteps and the sound of toenails clicking over cobbles.

  Newton’s face blanched. The noise grew closer.

  The door swung open.

  Newton Seaborg closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. A man appeared in the doorway. He wore a thick cloak with a silver clasp, and on his head was a silver circlet. In his hand he held a spear, the Spear of Lugh. Gwydon stood by his side.

  “Julian?” Jessica’s voice was unsure.

  It was Julian but not Julian. The man in the doorway filled the room.

  “Lugh Lamfada, champion of the Tuatha Dé Danann, one of the high kings,” Electra announced.

  “The myths are walking. Don’t let him near me!” Newton pleaded as Julian strode closer. “I only did what I needed to save my wife!”

  Timothy felt as if his heart would burst with joy, as if something familiar, something long awaited, had arrived at last.

  Julian’s voice rang with authority. “Brian McMorn, a member of the Society of the Stone! You of all people should know that bargaining with the Dark is always futile. Balor wouldn’t hesitate to enslave Maggie for all time, just as he did Edward, even if you delivered Timothy. Or he’d kill her while you watched. Do you think he’d give up his power over you?”

  McMorn’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I’ve been a fool.”

  “Not completely. You knew the old prophecy that Balor would be felled by a stone, and you told Timothy to throw it. You saved the Filidh. And Balor’s power is diminished.”

  “You mean he’s not gone for good?” Jessica asked.

  “No, the battle between the Light and the Dark isn’t over yet. But the Dark has been set back for a time.” Julian took the gun from Sarah’s hands.

  “You’re Lugh?” Sarah asked, puzzled. “So the Spear of Lugh was forged for you?”

  Julian nodded. “But tonight, thankfully, it was not needed. And the falcon will go hungry.”

  Timothy glimpsed a movement from the corner of his eye; Newton Seaborg was climbing onto the chair, reaching for the cage. “You’re safe now, Maggie.”

  The falcon lunged its hooked beak toward Newton’s hand but stayed settled on the beam. Gwydon growled.

  Newton climbed down, cage in hand, and turned to Julian. “You can turn her back, can’t you?”

  “She can be returned, but not by me. Even though Balor’s power is diminished now, what he has done must still be undone by a power greater than mine.”

  “But I thought . . .” Newton began.

  “Open the door, Sarah,” Julian said. Then he raised the spear and circled it in the air. With a harsh kak the falcon flew out the door and into the night.

  “The Greenman will tend to your wife, Seaborg.” Then Julian turned to Timothy. “Your first act as a Filidh seems to have been successful.” He smiled. “I think it’s time to reclaim the map and for you and the girls to find your family. I need to have a conversation with a certain star.”

  A NEW CHAPTER

  N THE DISTANCE a ship burned.

  “We’ve made it in time!” Sarah panted as they ran between revelers up Calton Hill.

  The sky crackled with flames and rousing music from bagpipes and drums.

  “My goodness, you were gone a long time!” Mrs. Maxwell exclaimed, giving them each a hug and also a puzzled smile. “I was getting worried, but I was sure that Mr. McMorn would take good care of you. And where did you get the costumes? They certainly fit right in with the celebration.”

  Sarah linked arms with her mother and hijacked her questions. “There was so much to see, all kinds of history!”

  “At least you’ve made it back before the fireworks. Where is McMorn?” Mr. Maxwell searched the crowd.

  “An emergency called him away,” Timothy said.

  “The man seems to lead a complicated life.” Mr. Maxwell looked at the throngs of merrymakers threading their way through the night streets and yawned. “We’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. I’m about ready for my own house and bed.”

  He has no idea just how complicated McMorn’s life was, Timothy thought. Although he had longed to see the Viking ship burning, it felt anticlimactic now. How could it compare to the adventure they had just experienced? How could anything?

  The streets surged with tourists and locals; many wore kilts, and others were dressed in costumes as if it were Halloween at home. Timothy stepped aside to avoid a man taking pictures. A small boy with a snow cone bumped into him. Ice sloshed down the side of his pants. Didn’t anyone watch where they walked?

  “Good evening.” One of the merrymakers, a gangly man with a large dog at his side, nodded as he walked past.

  ”Wasn’t that Nessa’s nephew and his dog with the funny name?” Mrs. Maxwell asked.

  “Julian! Gwydon!” Timothy cried out. But too late—they had already melted into the crowd. Jessica squeezed his arm. Suddenly he was very glad to be right where he was.

  In the distance, the lights of the Ferris wheel rotated against a black sky. Timothy looked up at the stars. “Do you think she’s up there?” he whispered to Jessica, thinking of Electra and searching for the Pleiades.

  “I hope so.” Jessica slipped her hand into Timothy’s. “I like to think of her watching over us.”

  “She did more than watch
this time.” He turned to Sarah. “What happened to the gun?”

  “Julian took it. I don’t think I could have used it, anyway. What do you think happened to Mrs. Seaborg?”

  Timothy shook his head. “I don’t know. Julian pulled me aside and said he would take care of things. I don’t even know what comes next, where the story goes from here.”

  “I don’t think we ever do know the whole story. I never knew that Julian was one of the high kings. What did Electra call him?”

  “Lugh Lamfada, one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. They’re a race of kings that have battled the Dark for thousands of years,” Timothy said.

  Jessica wrinkled her nose. “How do you know that?”

  “It comes with being a Filidh. I know all kinds of things now that I didn’t know before. But there are plenty of things I don’t know, too.”

  He tucked Jessica’s hand into the pocket of his jacket. Stupendous, Timothy thought. Only thirteen points, but enough. He looked at Jessica and his family. More than enough.

  EPILOGUE

  ANUARY. SCHOOL. Timothy grabbed his books and slammed his locker door. Apparently being a Filidh and knowing all he did didn’t help him at all with science tests. He looked down the hall. Jessica was laughing, surrounded by the usual group of admirers. Timothy would have to pass right by her to get to class. If he looked straight ahead, maybe she wouldn’t notice him, and he wouldn’t have to face being ignored.

  Hefting his backpack over his shoulder, he walked in her direction, eyes on the ground. He was almost clear of the group. Then her voice rang out.

  “Timothy, wait.” He stopped and looked up.

  Jessica broke away from the crowd and walked straight toward him. “I was hoping I’d see you.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Will you walk me to class?”

  THIS ENDS BOOK TWO OF THE ADVENTURE.

  THE TREE CODE

  In this book, Timothy, Jessica, and Sarah decipher the tree code embedded in a fifteenth-century map. While their particular map might not exist, there is a history of map ciphers, codes hidden in plain sight through patterns on a map. A tree code relies on the number of branches on a tree to correspond to a particular letter of the alphabet. Because the trees look like simply a geographical feature on a map, the message can easily be disguised. As you read the book, you can solve the tree code along with our protagonists! Clues are provided in the text. See if you can figure out which letters each of the forty-eight trees represents. You will find some letters are used more than once.