by Tom McGowen
“Hold!” hissed Urlug to the robot. “What do you want? Wealth? Power? I can give it to you!”
Merlin laughed, and MacHinery gave no answer, for Urlug’s words meant nothing to him. He was a machine, about to perform his function. The great sword swung up and back, ready for the single, final blow.
And Urlug realized that he could tempt this creature no more than he could have tempted a drawbridge or a watermill. He realized that it was without fear, and that he could not destroy it. It was the perfect champion. Had he known this earlier, he might have devised some way of overcoming it, but it was too late.
So Urlug fled! He fled in terror from the Sword of Power in the hands of the champion who could end his existence. And as he fled, MacHinery gave chase.
“Come on,” yelled Simon, rushing after him. Wier paused to grab up a burning torch, Small yelled in triumph, and they joined the chase. With Urlug’s hold on him gone, Merlin muttered a spell, and the ropes that entwined him fell away. He dashed after the others.
They passed down the broad highway and into city of the demons. From the openings that led into their dwelling places, demons peered with luminescent fear-filled eyes. They watched their once powerful ally fleeing in fear before the small, silver bearer of the sword and the mortals from upper earth.
They passed out of the city and into a lightless cavern of brown granite, down one wall of which poured a gushing waterfall which plunged noisily into a broad underground river. Following the river’s bank, Urlug sped into a long tunnel of stygian blackness, through a cavern of greenish rock, and into another cavern of brown granite. The path he took led downward, toward the very depths of earth. Steps behind him, clanked the robot with upraised sword, and at a distance came the four men, following his progress by the glimmer of the torchlight on his silver body.
At last, they entered an immense, gloomy cavern filled with gigantic and fantastically shaped lumps of black basalt, among which Urlug whirled and dodged, with the robot just steps behind. The entire cavern sloped down like a bowl, and at its very bottom was a circular patch which, even to MacHinery’s vision, appeared pure black. This was the gateway to the region from which he had come, and it was to it now that Urlug fled in desperation. Sir MacHinery was less than twenty paces behind him.
But suddenly, with one foot raised in midair, the robot stopped dead. Then gently, the silver figure collapsed to the ground with a faint clatter. Its hands relaxed.
Simon, with Small and Wier right behind him, saw what had happened. They were panting for breath from the chase, but Simon shrieked, “MacHinery!” and with a burst of speed reached the sprawled figure. He knelt beside it, and almost absentmindedly picked up the sword which had fallen from the robot’s hand.
What’s happened,” gasped Wier, catching up to him.
“Some kind of malfunction,” said Simon desperately, “A short circuit, a wire jerked loose, heaven knows what. But he’s out of commission.”
At the brink of the pit of blackness, the shape of Urlug paused, taking in the scene. The four men heard a sudden horrible hissing of laughter, and looking up, saw the great smokelike figure rolling toward them.
“Victory is mine after all,” it gloated. “A mere machine cannot defeat me. With my magic I have destroyed it!”
Simon exploded in fury. He knew that MacHinery’s malfunction was purely mechanical. For Urlug to claim that it was the result of any supernatural effort made the physicist nearly dance with rage.
“Curse you, Urlug!” he shouted. “Your so-called magic had nothing to do with this! I’m sick and tired of all this mystical, magical nonsense. There’s a logical explanation for everything that’s happened and I’m going to figure it out. I don’t believe in your infernal magic or any other kind.”
As Simon made this statement, he angrily swung the sword in a ferocious arc. It sliced into Urlug’s smoky body.
And Urlug was gone. He simply blinked out of existence, like a flashlight beam that has been turned off. Simon was left standing, poised on the balls of his feet, with the sword pointing straight out ahead of him into the blackness of the cavern.
“Ye did him in!” exclaimed Small, in a voice that trembled with awe and jubilation.
“Frankly, I think he did himself in,” said the physicist, shortly. “He believed that this sword could destroy him, so it did. There’s nothing supernatural about it. African witch doctors can make people die just by telling them they’ve been hexed. That’s what’s at the bottom of all superstition and magic—belief, instead of knowledge.”
Merlin gazed at the excited young scientist. In those clothes, armed with the sword, and with his hair and beard trimmed that way, he is the image of King Arthur, thought the magician. The prophecies were true—Arthur and Merlin were together again when the world needed them!
Aloud he said, “Simon—an age has ended. I can feel it. I think the very strength of your disbelief has put an end to all magic. He pointed at a rock and muttered a charm. Nothing happened. “Yes,” he sighed, “It’s as I feared. I tried to call that pebble to me, but my magic is gone. Perhaps it’s just as well, for neither Urlug nor I really belong in this world of yours. The time of magic has passed.”
Simon stared at him. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” he mumbled.
The magician held up a hand. “No matter,” he said. “We have other things to worry about, anyway.”
Turning, Simon trudged back to the immobile figure of Sir MacHinery. “Can ye fix him?” asked Wier hopefully. “Or is he—dead, like?”
“I can fix him,” said Simon confidently. He looked at Merlin. “You’re still in command. We’ve got to get out of here. What’s next?”
“Many things,” stated the wizard. “We have a small, brave brownie who must be released from a cage, a young maiden and a kitten who are no doubt wandering about in these caverns and must be found, a group of ensnared dwarves who must be persuaded to return to their home, a blocked tunnel that has to be opened somehow, a long climb upstairs that I look forward to with little relish, and then”—he grinned—”at least two weeks of conversation which you have promised me.”
Simon grinned back and, handing him the sword, took hold of MacHinery beneath the metal arms. Wier hastened to take the robot’s feet, and the four men, with Small leading the way and Merlin bringing up the rear, began their journey out of darkness and danger, toward the bright sunlight, and a world which, all unknowing, had one less problem to worry about.
Merlin lagged behind the others until he was sure they were paying no attention to him. He glanced about until he saw a small boulder lying a few yards away on the rocky floor. Pointing a finger at it, he muttered something. The boulder sailed through the air and landed gently in the palm of his hand where it turned immediately into a heavy, saw-toothed steel file.
“We’ll need this to free Angus from his cage,” chuckled Merlin, “since I no longer have any magical power!” He slid the file into the sleeve of his robe and, whistling a gay, sixth-century tune, hurried to catch up to the others.
Tom McGowen is a writer, artist, and editor. Among his books are Hammet and the Highlanders and his picture books, Apple Strudel Soldier and Dragon Stew.
Mr. McGowen has always lived in the Chicago area, where he attended Roosevelt University and The American Academy of Art. He lives with his wife and four children in Norridge, Illinois.
Trina Schart Hyman attended the art school of the Philadelphia and Boston museums, as well as one in Stockholm, Sweden. She has illustrated many children’s books, including Epaminondas by Eve Merriam and Dragon Stew by Tom McGowen.
She and her daughter live in a two-hundred-year-old stone house located on the banks of the Connecticut River in rural New Hampshire. Mrs. Hyman enjoys gardening, canoeing, and bicycling.
