by Tom McGowen
“I was trying to prove the existence of ghosts,” said Simon grimly. “But I can’t, because they don’t exist.”
“Oh,” said the Highlander. “Do ye not believe in ghosties?”
“No,” replied Simon. “Well, that is, not entirely.”
“Well, noo,” said the old man, “ye shouldn’t be too hasty aboot such things.”
What happened then was so shocking that Simon was completely unprepared for it. The man reached up with two brown, gnarled hands and took his face off. The pleasant, wrinkled countenance and the tousled hair peeled away like a rubber Halloween mask. What was left was a bare, white grinning skull, with two redly gleaming points of light flickering in the black eye sockets that stared into the physicist’s own horrified eyes.
“Do you believe in ghosties noo?” asked the skull. It leaned closer until the black sockets were only inches away. “Listen, mortal, you will tell me what I wish to know. Merlin is in the witch’s cave, and they have the Sword, have they not? Answer!”
Simon felt as if he were in a dream, struggling to awake. All the world had turned gray, and he could see nothing but two immense black holes with glowing red sparks far down in their depths. “Yes,” he heard himself answer in a faint, far away voice.
“Who is with them?”
Simon struggled to escape from his trancelike state, but to no avail. He had to answer. “Constable Wier. Sergeant Small. Three brownies. The robot. And me.”
“Robot?” hissed the questioning voice. “What is that?”
And Smith answered honestly, “An electronic powered, servomechanism in manlike form, with a sensory system and computor brain.”
“Your words have no meaning,” hissed the questioner. “Is it a magical device? What does it do?”
“It is not magical,” said Simon dreamily. Some part of his mind was still struggling to break free and it seemed as if, far away, someone was calling his name. “It is designed to do work.”
“Two mortals, three brownies, a slave, and a fool who likes to know why the moon goes around the earth.” said the voice. “Clearly I have little to fear.”
There were other voices calling his name now. He could hear them distinctly. The world was still gray, but the black holes were gone. Suddenly the grayness vanished, and Simon found himself lying on a bed in the witch’s cave gazing into the anxious, blue eyes of the wizard, Merlin.
Chapter
12
Simon struggled to sit up, but Merlin gently forced him back. “Rest yet awhile,” he said. “You have suffered a harrowing experience.”
“What happened?” gasped Simon.
“We were awakened by the guardian crying that an evil force was probing the barrier,” Merlin replied. “As soon as it left, Sergeant Small and Constable Wier hurried out to search for you. They found you finally, lying face down in the woods beside a fallen tree, looking so drawn and gray that they feared you were dead. They carried you back here.”
Simon closed his eyes. “I remember,” he said weakly. “But it seems like a dream. I met an old Highlander who asked a lot of questions. Then suddenly he changed into something horrible and he asked other questions which I had to answer. I couldn’t help myself!” He groaned. “It wasn’t a dream, was it, Merlin? He hypnotized me didn’t he? And I told him everything about us! I’ve ruined your plans!”
“No!” said the magician, firmly. “You have helped them. You met Urlug, or one of Urlug’s creatures, and he put you into the sleep of mind possession—hypnotism, as you call it. But I know what you told him, for I too probed your mind while you were still in the sleep. You told him exactly what MacHinery is—a machine that is designed to do work. Consequently, he thinks the robot is simply a sort of slave. He is contemptuous of Small, Wier, and the Brownies, and he believes that you are a fool who seeks answers to useless questions. Therefore, he is convinced that I will bear the Sword of Power against him. He will ignore MacHinery, and all his efforts will be aimed at me. And nothing could be better, for this gives us an even greater chance of enabling MacHinery to reach him with the Sword.”
Maggie entered the room with a steaming cup cradled in her hands. “Drink this, laddie,” she urged. “ ‘Twill help bring yer strength back.”
“What is it?” grunted Simon, as Merlin slipped an arm under his head and eased him to a sitting position. “A magic potion?”
“Nay,” chuckled the witch. “Just gude beef broth.”
As he sipped the hot liquid, he felt the chill leave his body. His senses now seemed fully clear, so he swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor. “I think I’m all right now.” Standing up, he took a few hesitant steps, then briskly walked the length of the room, “Yes, I’m fine,” he announced.
“Good,” said the wizard heartily. “Then come to the magic room and let us discuss our next moves.”
Maggie, Merlin, and the physicist took seats at the table where Small and Wier were sitting while the three brownies sat cross-legged against one wall. MacHinery, silent and immobile as always, stood beside the bearded painting, holding the Sword upright before him. Bathsheba lay curled across his metal feet.
“Now, then,” said the wizard. “The time has come for our council of war. I will outline my plan, and then any of you who have any ideas concerning it, please speak up.”
“A friend of mine who was a great warrior once remarked that the best defense is a good offence. Therefore, I feel that we must invade demonland as quickly as possible.”
He cleared his throat and was about to continue speaking, when the bearded painting suddenly raised its voice. “I detect many, many hostile presences gathering in the woods outside!”
There was a moment of frozen silence. Then Merlin leaped from his chair with an exclamation and peered into the murky mirror. Curious, Simon joined him.
“Too dark to see anything,” muttered the wizard. “I’ll make a light, but it will last for only an instant. Look carefully, Simon, and help me see what’s out there.”
He spoke a single word, and for just a few seconds, the clearing outside the cave was revealed in the mirror, brightly lit as though by a lightning flash. Simon gasped. The instant of illumination had shown that a horde of figures were pouring out of the forest, into the clearing. Simon caught quick impressions of scuttling, malformed shapes, clad in black scale armor, bearing shields and spears. He saw bulbous, staring eyes and cruel mouths. “Are those demons?” he asked in dismay.
Yes!” Merlin brought his fist down upon the table with a crash that caused the stuffed raven to topple over and the crystal ball to wobble on its stand. “What a fool I am not to have anticipated that Urlug would send his forces against us now that he knows for sure where we are, and how feeble is our strength.”
“But the Sword,” exclaimed Maggie. “We have the champion and the Sword o’ Power!”
“The Sword is only of use against Urlug,” said the wizard staring about wildly, “and Urlug is not with those outside. He has no need to be. He is relying upon numbers to defeat us, not magic.”
“We’ll just have to fight ‘em off,” said Small calmly, reaching for his Sten gun.
“With my magic and your weapons and MacHinery’s untiring strength, we can slay hundreds,” said the wizard. “But once they break in, they will overwhelm us with sheer numbers. There are a thousand or more of them out there. Our only hope is that I can hold the barrier up until dawn.”
“Why dawn?” questioned Simon, sharply.
“The demons cannot stand strong light,” answered Merlin absently. “Starlight, moonlight, even torchlight, yes; but sunlight they cannot abide.”
“Then all we need is a strong enough light between us and the demons, and they can’t get at us,” Simon declared. “OK Merlin, if you’re a real magician, I can get us out of this. But if you’re a fake, our goose is cooked. Listen; can you produce things? I mean, can you really conjure things up out of nowhere?”
“Of course,” said the wizard. “But what—”
“No time for buts,” snapped Simon. “Get me two round sticks of graphite about four inches long and as thick as your fingers.”
“The barrier is failing,” cried the painting.
Merlin turned and made a series of passes with his hands and muttered some words. Then he glanced at Simon. “What is graphite? I don’t know the word.”
“It’s a highly compressed carbon,” said Simon excitedly.
“Carbon! What is carbon?” cried the magician.
“Oh, blast it! How can I make you understand?” Simon found himself yelling. “It’s a chemical element with a valence of plus or minus four and a nucleus with—”
“I don’t understand!” exclaimed the magician raising his arms in vexation. “Simon, this is as unfathomable to me as one of my magical spells is to you. Can you show me this substance?” His brow was beaded with sweat.
Simon glanced around desperately, then had a sudden inspiration. “Constable Wier. Do you have a pencil?”
“Aye,” said the constable, fumbling furiously in the upper pocket of his uniform tunic. “I carry one for making notes when I have to make an official report.” Handing it to the physicist, he remarked somewhat abashedly, “I dinna use it much.”
“Here,” said Simon, holding the pencil before Merlin and touching its point with his fingertip. “This is graphite.”
Merlin seized the pencil, glanced at the point, then set it down on the table. There was a tiny flash and there appeared two, finger-thick, four inch long cylinders of black shiny substance.
“That’s it!” crowed Simon. “Now—copper. Do you know what copper is?”
“Yes, praise to the Red Dragon!”
“Then get me two lengths of copper wire about twice as long as you are, and about half as thick as that pencil.”
Merlin reached into the air with one hand and seemed to pluck two stands of wire from nowhere.
“The barrier! The barrier!” called the painting.
Gritting his teeth, the magician repeated his passes and mumbled words. Sweat was now pouring down his face, and his teeth were clenched.
“Now,” said Simon, “I need a round shield, like the knights used. Make it about so big.” He described a circle in the air with his arms. “And make it convex, like a shallow bowl, and as bright and shiny as possible. Put a hole on each side of it, just a little bit bigger than those pieces of wire.”
This time Merlin muttered a few words. A shield of the exact sort Simon had described appeared out of thin air and fell to the floor with a clank. From outside the cave a dull thumping noise began.
“They must be using a batterin’ ram against the side o’ the cave,” muttered Small, fondling his weapon.
Simon ignored him. “Now, the last thing,” he said. He pulled off his battered shoe and pointed at the worn rubber heel. “Two pieces of this stuff about as thin as a piece of paper and a couple of inches square.”
Merlin placed his fingertips on the rubber and closed his eyes. With his other hand he reached out once more, and from thin air plucked two pieces of rubber which he handed to the physicist. From outside, the thumping was growing louder.
“Don’t worry,” said Simon grabbing up the strands of wire and the sticks of graphite. “In a minute we’ll have plenty of light, and a big surprise for our nasty friends out there.”
With one foot shod and the other bare, Simon hurried into the passageway. “MacHinery, pick up the shield and follow me,” he called. The robot leaned the great Sword against the wall, and picking up the shining shield, followed his creator from the room. The others clustered anxiously after.
“Stand here,” ordered Simon, pointing to a spot a few feet from the door, “and hold the shield straight out in front of you with the inward curve facing the door.”
Working feverishly, the physicist tightly wound a strand of wire around each of the graphite sticks. Then he stuffed one of the rubber squares into each of the holes on the shield’s sides and slipped the wires into the holes through the rubber. He was careful that the wire was completely sheathed by the rubber and did not touch any part of the metal shield. He bent each wire inward so that the two graphite sticks pointed toward one another, a fraction of an inch apart, in the center of the shield.
“Open your frontal area,” he ordered, moving around to the robot’s side. Knowing that it might be necessary to make repairs on the robot’s internal parts, he had constructed it so that a large section of its tubular body could be made to swing open. This section was hermetically sealed and could be activated by the robot itself. Soundlessly it now opened, revealing the intricate parts inside. Simon quickly attached one wire to a terminal within the robot’s interior and the other wire to another.
After a moment or two, the ends of each of the carbon sticks began to glow. The glow quickly turned white. Then, an intense, blue white light snapped and crackled between the two sticks. The curved, shiny surface of the shield intensified the light. The inner surface of Maggie’s gray wooden door turned glaring white. Simon had constructed a crude carbon arc lamp, using the same principle by which a searchlight beam operates.
“The barrier is yielding!” called the voice of the painting from the other room.
“To heck with the barrier,” said Simon confidently. “Open the door!” Maggie glanced at the wizard, who nodded, his face as alight with triumph as the glow that filled the passageway. Everyone stood huddled behind the figure of the robot who stood stolidly, shield erect before him, facing the door. Slowly, it swung open.
A yell of wild triumph from a hundred demon throats burst in upon them. But it turned instantly into a prolonged scream of dismay and horror. For upon the demon soldiers clustered at the cave entrance, there shown a blinding, blasting glare of intense, blue-white light that poured out into the clearing, reaching even to the forest edge, illuminating the entire area with a brilliance more dazzling than the brightest sun.
The demons nearest the light shrieked in high-pitched, agonized voices. Their bulging eyes were blinded, and their pallid skins were reddened and blistered. Flinging down their weapons, they turned and clawed their way madly through the warriors behind them, who in turn began to fall back, blinded and terrified by the fierce light which poured mercilessly upon them. Reeling, stumbling, falling, they sought only to escape back into the blackness. They melted away from the front of the cave like leaves blown by a strong wind. Scores remained, crawling aimlessly on hands and knees, shrieking with pain and terror, burnt and blinded, unable to find their way out of the brightness.
Merlin heaved a shuddering sigh and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his robe. “How long will this light burn, Simon?” he asked,
“Long enough,” said the physicist. “Fortunately, the nights are short in this part of the world because we’re so close to the Arctic Circle. The carbon will be used up eventually, but I’m sure morning will be here before then.”
“Then we are saved,” said the wizard simply. “I don’t understand how you did it. It is greater than any feat of magic I could perform.”
Simon looked at him squarely. “Merlin, I could never have constructed this without the materials you provided from wherever you got them. I don’t understand how you did that, but,” he grinned, “we sure make a heck of a good team.”
The wizard returned his grin. “We do indeed. But I still say that you deserve the lion’s share of the credit.”
Angus was shielding his eyes and peering out from behind MacHinery’s knee. The clearing was perfectly empty; even the blinded, crippled demons had managed to crawl away into the safety of the dark woods. “They’re all gone,” he announced. “Shall we continue the council o’ war?”
“The council, I think, is over,” remarked Merlin. “I think there can be no doubt now but that we must carry the battle to Urlug at once. I think we should use the rest of the night for sleeping, and tomorrow we shall set out to join the rest of our army. And tomorrow night we invade demonland.”
�
�Our army?” said Simon. “I didn’t know we had one. Who are they?”
“Do you recall when I told you of the first great war fought ages ago against the demons?” asked the wizard “And of the race of dwarves who joined in conquering them? Well, less than four hours walk from here is the last great stronghold of the dwarves—the city of Glamoreth which lies in a hidden cavern in the deeps of Mount Moraigh. Fortunately, as I learned from Angus, the dwarves have kept sharp eyes upon the demons even through all the ages that have passed. It was they who first learned that the demons were growing in strength and hungering once more for power.”
“Aye,” chimed in Angus. “ ‘Twas their Chieftain, Gwedhedda, who told me to seek oot Maggie and ask her what might be done. And ‘twas Maggie who had the idea to free Merlin, and sent us oot to search for a knight. And after months o’ searchin’, we found Sir MacHinery in yer castle. The rest, ye know.”
“Well, I’ve slept enough today,” said Simon wryly, “so I’ll keep watch here with MacHinery, just in case, while the rest of you sleep.”
So while the others trooped off, Simon sat down with his back against the passageway wall and awaited the coming of dawn. The robot, still firmly holding the shield from which the light flared forth into the clearing, stood immobile.
Despite his protestations, Simon’s head began to nod, and Merlin, awakening with the morning dawn, found him slumped down in the passageway, snoring lustily. “Awaken, Great Maker of Bright Lights!” he boomed. “We must breakfast and then be off.”
Simon rubbed his eyes. “Guess I’m not much of sentry,” he commented. “Good thing MacHinery doesn't sleep.”
Rising, he disconnected the wires from the two terminals within the robot’s body. “Close yourself up,” he ordered, and the robot’s frontal plate swung shut with a faint thump and resealed itself. “Put the shield down.” MacHinery dropped the shield with a clank that made them wince and woke up everyone else in the cave.
