Gateway Through Time

by David Kernot

  "Impossible to believe, you mean."

  Andrew shook his head. He wasn't sure what to believe, what was real and if his PTSD blurred his judgment. "The device is a weapon of some sort, constructed with a sophisticated technology."

  Rick yawned. "I sorry, but I'm finding it hard to buy this, and I need sleep."

  "Indulge me. The device could dematerialize people and hold them in what we can only think means stasis—give them immortality—and we believe the item refers to an ancient device powered by an Einsteinium isotope we can't create. We're searching for the Holy Grail."

  "An ancient stasis device? Come on, Andrew." Rick laughed, and it echoed around the room like a slap in the face. "Have you seen a doctor? A psychologist, even?"

  Andrew smiled. He had visited the NSA's Operation Centre, a bunker buried deep beneath the Earth, and dedicated to the IRIDIUM project. "Rick, some world's greatest minds are researching this Stasis Cube."

  Rick didn't look convinced, and Andrew sighed. There was no way he'd convince anyone about any of this unless they'd experienced it like he had. "How long have you known me, Rick?"

  "All my time in the Canadian Forces."

  "And during that time, I've never seemed strange?"

  Rick shook his head. "Not until now."

  "I've worked in Iraq, on and off, for two years. I've followed ancient texts, worked alongside other military people like me. It's a passion ever since I learned to read at Glastonbury. The chalice that caught the blood of Christ is the Stasis Cube."

  Rick laughed. "The symbol of Christ's immortality? Some people would call that blasphemy."

  Andrew grinned. "No," he insisted, "that's history. Some in our group believe they buried the Stasis Cube with the sword Excalibur, wrapped in cloth and buried with Arthur. But nothing of Excalibur, Arthur, or a Stasis Cube has surfaced in Glastonbury."

  Rick shook his head.

  "I believe it. In fact, I'd stake my life on it, even though I know it's hard to believe". Andrew shrugged and handed Rick a card. "Some people don't believe that man walked on the moon, but that's not for me to decide. I know you must make up your own mind on this, but here is my safe combo, add the last four digits of my home number to it and it'll get you some basic intel. The Einsteinium information in a file marked IRIDIUM, along with everything you have to do during my absence."

  "Man on the moon?" asked Rick, who didn't look convinced.

  "Ring the Director of the NSA if you need, but don't breathe a word otherwise."

  Rick nodded. "Will you be back after your IED meeting?"

  Andrew felt a twinge of horror at the mention of IEDs. The sound of thunder roared that day, and a flash of white. The agony that followed was a darkness he could not shake. The Improvised Explosive Device that had exploded by him was the reason he'd returned to NDHQ.

  He recalled the vivid images in Rick's basement. Could the Stasis Cube, or the sword Excalibur, be at Glastonbury? He shook his head and cleared his mind. "I'm not an expert in ancient archaeological super-technologies."

  Rick frowned. "You're a super-technologies specialist? I thought you're an intelligence officer?"

  "Yes, but my specialty is archaeology. I was direct-entry recruited for it."

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter IV

  London, England

  Andrew arrived in Heathrow at eleven-thirty hours and shuffled through customs. He flashed his official military passport.

  "What is the purpose of your visit, Mr Stone?"

  Andrew stared at the woman's expressionless mask of a face.

  "Official MOD business in London—" He paused, citing the Ministry of Defence didn't reflect the genuine nature of his visit. "And a journey back home."

  "I'm sorry?" The woman's eyes narrowed.

  "I'm visiting Glastonbury too."

  The official glanced at his passport and smiled. "Oh, you're one of us. Welcome home, Colonel Stone."

  "Thank you."

  "Take the fast track through line one, and enjoy your stay, sir." She waved him on.

  He stepped outside to catch the rental car shuttle. While London's noisy conditions and mild weather contrasted Ontario, neither was as warm as the Iraqi desert.

  Four weeks ago, he'd been sweltering in Iraq's oppressive heat. It was as if his last mission had only yesterday, and he remembered it vividly. He'd been standing in the Iraqi desert… A soldier in an Australian uniform had greeted him; he recalled how he had arrived in Iraq, clothes soaked in sweat.

  "Colonel Stone, welcome back, sir," the soldier had said.

  Andrew recognized the Australian uniform with khaki slouch hat, different from the other soldiers of the multinational force, and smiled. He returned the salute.

  "We don't normally carry high-ranking passengers. You blokes sit back at HQ and let us troops do all the hard work. At least that's what our blokes do." The boisterous soldier laughed.

  Andrew nodded and searched for the man's nametag. "Just remember, sergeant—"

  "Sergeant Donaldson, sir, but call me Dingo." The man laughed. "I know the drill, but don't ask why you're here." The three other men alongside, dressed in similar dusty cams and desert boots, laughed.

  "Well Dingo, then you know officially I was never here."

  "Mum's the word." He brought a finger to his lips. "Troop, we never saw him."

  The Sergeant and his team's expressions change when they climbed into the Australian Light Armoured Vehicle. The ASLAV was like the Canadian Forces LAVs, but changed for the Australian's requirements. The men's light-hearted banter stopped, and in the silence he could see they were professionals.

  "Stow your equipment in any of the rear compartments, sir. The convoy departs at ten hundred hours—that's in seven minutes."

  "Thank you, it's fine." Andrew grasped the portable Multi-Channel Analyzer he used to detect the Einsteinium elements. It was a fancy Geiger counter.

  The routine patrol took them deep into the Dhi Qar Province, north of An Nasiriyah, about two hundred and fifty miles southeast of Baghdad, and close to the ancient city of Ur. It was one of the oldest cities of ancient Mesopotamia, and according to sources, the home of Nanna, the 'illuminator', or Sumerian moon god. Andrew's stomach tightened from anticipation. He hoped to take some readings from Ur. He was keen to find out how the Einsteinium discovery on ancient, long-buried relics, and what 'illuminations' could have occurred three thousand years ago. It might just be the location of Arthur Pendragon's the Stasis Cube. Still, as much as he wanted to believe in stories passed down through generations, he had doubts to the authenticity of the story.

  The rear ASLAV's machine-gun barked. The convoy slowed, and Andrew tensed. An explosion drowned the constant rat-tat-tat of machine-gun fire, shook their vehicle. Shrapnel peppered the ASLAV's tough outer shell. It braked, and a machine-gun above his head fired quick bursts.

  "Contact six o'clock. IED toppled Brownie's ASLAV." Fear eked from the voice over the radio.

  Andrew pulled the Browning 9mm from his holster, wary of an ambush. He cocked the pistol, and his hands shook.

  "RPG," somebody yelled. "Brace yourself!" Andrew tensed and a Rocket-Propelled Grenade hit the side of the ASLAV with an explosive thud. The ASLAV shook, and he couldn't silence the ringing in his ears. Adrenalin coursed through him like an electric current.

  "Everybody out," yelled Dingo. Blood poured from a cut on Andrew's head. He grabbed the Minimi machine gun from the rack and stormed out of the ASLAV to small arms fire. The Australian's returned fire. Andrew ran with them. What he thought to be at first a tall man, standing against the sunlight, he realized was a Shoggoth, a hideous creature with a head of tentacles. At the end of each writhing tentacle, an eye opened and closed, a mouth snapped exposing sharp teeth. Eyes looked at Andrew and he shivered and opened fire on the monster he had only seen in NSA briefings before.

  Dinga joined him and emptied a magazine at it, but it leaned toward Andrew, and all of its eyes at the end of its tentacles followed his
every move. It was interested in him. The Shoggoth shrugged and strode away unharmed.

  "What was that?" asked Dinga.

  "I wasn't here, sergeant." Andrew pointed to where the Shoggoth had stood. "That never happened. Understood?"

  Dinga nodded and turned back to the fight. He ran across the opium crops, the sound of his Minimi lost within the rest of the gunfire.

  After the fighting, Andrew leaned on the side of the ASLAV, and shook with emotion. The crew of the first ASLAV had died, but Dingo and another soldier in their ASLAV survived. So much death. He could still see the faces of the six Australian soldiers.

  Andrew pulled his coat closer and pushed away the recent images of Iraq. He reminded himself he was now safe in England. The cold sweat abated, and he noticed the irate driver who gestured he could board the Heathrow shuttle bus.

  ◆◆◆

  Andrew stepped into his rental car and inserted a USB drive into the surround sound stereo. He selected his favourite track, 'Pilgrim,' by Enya, knowing that if his military colleagues knew they'd tease him. But it set the tone. Today he was the pilgrim, returning from the Holy Land like King Arthur.

  Light traffic on the M3 presented an opportunity, and he accelerated through to 120 miles an hour in seconds. He pushed himself deep into the leather seat and relaxed.

  Miles on, a light rain fell, and he closed the sunroof, but it wasn't enough to dampen the moment. He had returned home.

  South of Basingstoke he turned into the A303 and English mansions came and went. Stonehenge, and the town Frome, slipped passed on his right—time enough to look another day. The large circular observatory vanished in the distance, and uneasiness settled over him. He drove for ten miles and ignored the desire to turn back toward Frome, and it clawed at his mind.

  Drew, the Keeper of the Sword is resurrected. Hurry, my Lord!

  "Giselle?"

  But the urgency to return to Frome faded, and he drove to Glastonbury without interruption.

  ◆◆◆

  He pulled into the parking lot of The George and Pilgrims Hotel, on the High Street, across from the Abbey at dusk, tired and ready for bed. The sun lit the western face of the Tor like a flame. He smiled, content. He had returned home. The search of the Einsteinium deposits could wait. After he checked in and had a meal, he climbed into bed.

  A gentle touch caressed his mind.

  Drew, don't sleep!

  Andrew sat upright in the empty room. "Giselle?"

  Do you remember me yet?

  "No."

  Then try. We have a special bond that time can never unravel.

  He shivered from the truth and powerful conviction of her words.

  "We are one?" It felt weird talking to himself.

  Remember who you are!

  "I'm Andrew Stone."

  No! Close your eyes, my love. Follow my thoughts.

  Giselle's voice soothed. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

  Images unfolded. A movie played in his mind.

  "Arthur!"

  Arthur turned to face the beautiful youthful woman. "Giselle." He smiled, sheathed the sword. The love he felt for his wife, Giselle, was unmeasurable.

  "Is the sword new?"

  "Yes." Arthur let go of it. "The other snapped off in a Saxon's chest. I only hope this one lasts until Merlin finds me his Excalibur. Did you enjoy Avalon?"

  "Yes, sire. I met with Nimue."

  "Nimue?" Arthur shuddered over the troublesome witch. "What would you want from the Lady of the Lake?"

  "Oh, the usual woman's talk." Giselle blushed. "I asked about my chances of being with child before spring. Nimue sends her congratulations."

  "As she would. It's not every day I take a wife, especially one as beautiful as you."

  "There is always Guinevere."

  "True," said Arthur. "Your half-sister is almost as beautiful. I admit the resemblance between you is uncanny, but I'm convinced I have chosen wisely."

  "Arthur Pendragon, you take it back!" She gripped his arm tight.

  He enjoyed that look in her eyes, fiery and yet soft with love.

  She kissed him. "Guinevere can have you when I'm dead and buried."

  Her warm breath tickled at his ear, and he pushed her gently away.

  "But, I hope by then, my sister will be an old hag."

  "As you wish, my Lady." Arthur performed a formal bow. "Only a fool stands between sisters." He winked at Giselle. "I shall marry her only when you tire of me."

  Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

  She placed her hand lightly on him. "Shall I send the serving staff away early tonight? Make a start for a family in the spring?"

  Arthur's face reddened. "Giselle you are breath-taking."

  "We are one, my Lord."

  "I believe we have a special bond, one time can never unravel." He meant it. "Nothing in this world would give me more pleasure than to spend the evening alone with you, but Lancelot and Gareth have returned. Lancelot's vision of the Grail took him far south into the Holy Land and they have requested an audience. They found a magic talisman. It could be the Holy Grail! But never fear, I shall be as quick as I can and then attend to all my wife desires."

  "Remember your sister arrives tomorrow afternoon."

  "Morgan le Fay… here?" Arthur paled. What could she want?

  The images faded with Giselle's presence and Andrew felt the caress of sleep take him.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter V

  Glastonbury, England

  Andrew strode to the site of the recent Einsteinium find and wondered what he would discover. Its presence meant selected British MI5 personnel had explored the site. But they hadn't discovered the sword or any ancient technology. It looked like a dig site, fenced off from the public, but he crossed the official barriers without concern.

  Around the site, his Multi-Channel Analyzer's gauge went wild from the Einsteinium, but Giselle, the link to Arthur and the sword, remained silent. Wherever she was, it wasn't here. The lengthy search added to his frustration when the sky clouded over, and a light rain fell.

  He visited the Tor, Chalice Hill, and the Abbey, but doubt plagued him. The townsfolk had information on every aspect of the legend of Arthur and the knights of Nimue—the Lady in the Lake—and Excalibur. Everyone had a theory on where Arthur lay buried and was eager to mention it, but it was just town gossip with no substance to any of it. He thanked them and visited the sites mentioned, but his search drew a blank.

  He sat in the rain and wondered where Giselle could be, ran fingers through his hair, frustrated, and retraced his steps.

  He recalled Stonehenge, and a smile formed.

  ◆◆◆

  Andrew ran to the hotel parking lot and pulled out a roadmap, retraced the journey around Stonehenge. He marked the A303 from the Stonehenge turnoff to Frome, a distance of about ten miles.

  He gunned the car engine and took the road to Shepton Mallet. Excitement built at the first signpost to Frome. He tackled the roads with disregard, and the narrow roads sped by fast, but an eerie tension returned. He glared at the vision of himself in the rear vision mirror and sped up toward Stonehenge.

  A mile later down the road, the tension within him faded. He slammed on the brakes and turned back, foot hard on the accelerator. The car fishtailed along the slippery road and left a trail of chalky mud. But at Frome, the eerie tension returned. This time he drove toward the town of Trowbridge and on to Devizes. Every mile that passed, he felt closer to Giselle.

  As the miles clicked over, the presence inside his head increased. Along the low foothills to his left the Barrows, small ancient monolithic burial sites, flashed past. Giselle had to be at Avebury, a town steeped in ancient history, with the largest of stone circles in all of Britain.

  Andrew pushed on to Avebury, but rain settled over the landscape. Visibility fell, and he slowed. Car lights, wipers, turned on automatically, and at the tight Avebury roundabout, he missed the turn into town and drove away. "Damn it!" He slow
ed, searched for a place to pull off along the narrow road.

  He departed Avebury, but Giselle's presence grew.

  Drew, I'm here!

  He recognized the Neolithic structure of Silbury Hill and pulled into a parking lot in front of it. The West Kennet Long Barrow sat on the hill to his right. This had to be the place.

  In one corner of the parking lot, Gypsy folk held divining forks, and he smiled over their colourful sight. He realized they might help. A man ambled over, and Andrew wound down the window. "Excuse me," he said, "but have you heard of a woman called Giselle living around here?"

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter VI

  Avebury, England

  Doris Randall wore her fresh clothes to impress Gerald while they straddled the ley line from Avebury to Silbury Hill. She pulled back a curtain, unconcerned that people would call her a Gypsy, and glanced outside at the perfect day.

  A shaft of sunlight speared across the room. It bounced off her crystal and sent a myriad of colours across the compact kitchen. She let go of the curtain, stared at the crystal, and felt its hypnotic pull. She stepped closer and stooped over it, moved her coloured braids away from her face. The crystal dimmed, brightened, and Doris leaned toward the shape inside the crystal.

  "I see you, great granddaughter," said a voice in her mind.

  Doris gasped. "Who are you?"

  "As Keeper of the Sword," said the voice, "this task is now yours."

  "What's a Keeper? I am nobody's Keeper!"

  "You are my direct descendant, a true sage. You stand between King Arthur and his pathetic Giselle, to ensure they do not reunite."

  Doris frowned into the crystal. "King Arthur is a myth."

  "Stupid girl, behold."

  Doris cried out in pain. She struggled against a force, unable to take her eyes from the crystal. Tears ran over her cheeks.

  A fog formed, cleared. A face appeared.

  "Who are you?"

  "I am Arthur's sister, Morgan le Fay. Know this…"