Gateway Through Time

by David Kernot

  A face appeared alongside Morgan le Fay's. Lined with age, the old woman pulled a hooded cloak over her grey hair and tried to hide.

  "Old crone, have you had any success with the talisman Gareth stole from Lancelot?" said Morgan le Fay and she stepped forward.

  "I have," said the old crone. "But I don't trust this Holy Grail. The talisman's tainted with an old evil. It spoke to me through a series of images. I sense a power from beyond this time. The talisman can fix your problem with Arthur's young wife, but I fear we have woken the god's minions, and they approach."

  Morgan's face lit. "Can you do it without breaking my promise to Arthur?"

  "I can," said the Crone, "and I can ensure he and Giselle never separate."

  "Then I can take Arthur?"

  The crone nodded. "Merlin has created the sword Excalibur with help from the Old Gods. He meddles in ancient magic he does not comprehend. Nimue, Lady of the Lake, will bless it before she presents Excalibur to Arthur. Steal it for me, coax his recent bride here. I will use the talisman and trap Giselle within the sword. But I warn you, my price will be high."

  "Name it. I will pay, if it is as you say." Morgan laughed.

  "It will cost your soul," said Nimue, the old Crone. "The talisman will take it on death and preserve it within. You will become the Keeper of the Sword to watch over Giselle. I will also take another soul at a time of my choosing."

  "Agreed," said Morgan.

  "You will reach out through your descendants," said the Crone. "They will serve as your vessel to do your bidding—for your spirit to take on substance."

  The images faded. Morgan le Fay reappeared in the crystal. "Look closer, Doris. Feast your eyes on our sister-in-law, Giselle."

  Doris struggled to make sense of ancient flashback told through Morgan's ancient recollection.

  In the murky fog, Giselle stood with Morgan.

  "Do you love Arthur completely?" said Morgan, her eyes burning with hatred.

  "More than anything," replied Giselle.

  "Then bless Excalibur, before the ceremony," said the old Crone.

  Doris struggled to take control of the scenes she was watching and failed as Morgan's spirit overpowered her. Morgan handed Excalibur to Giselle. "Here, hold it tight and close your eyes. Say a silent prayer to the Goddess for Arthur's long and happy life."

  Giselle grasped Excalibur and bid Arthur a prayer.

  Morgan le Fay laughed. "Stupid woman!" She pointed the elongated, silver talisman at both sword and Giselle.

  Giselle screamed and vanished. The sword clattered on the ground.

  Morgan held Excalibur and inspected the talisman again. Longer than her hand, with one end inverted like a cup, and the other rounded and transparent, it felt warm, almost inviting. The Crone could return Excalibur to Nimue, but the talisman would remain Morgan's.

  Doris couldn't avert her eyes and the murky image of Morgan le Fay glared at her. "Look deeper, granddaughter."

  More images formed and Doris struggled. She cried, "No!"

  "Is it done?" The Crone appeared from a darkened corner of the room. Her previously lifeless eyes flashed with an extra spark.

  "Behold Excalibur, and Arthur's precious Giselle, trapped for all of time. She will forget after I visit Arthur." Morgan le Fay flicked her raven black hair and laughed.

  "The talisman!" demanded the Crone.

  "It's hidden, no longer yours."

  The Crone's eyes flashed. "Very well. I will still abide by my part of our agreement. I will forge the sword in stone. If Arthur loves Giselle enough, he will remove the sword from the stone, and Giselle will be with him throughout his battles."

  Morgan ran her tongue across her dry lips, and her eyes sparkled.

  "If, as you believe, he loves you—his sister—more than Giselle, the sword will stay locked in stone. Now I require payment."

  "Agreed, but the talisman remains mine."

  The Crone hissed and exposed her blackened teeth with a wide grin. "As you wish, but I want the soul of the child inside you. The one you call Mordred. Agreed?"

  "Agreed," said Morgan. "I will have another of Arthur's children. He will be mine."

  The image faded and Doris stared back at the face of Morgan le Fay.

  "Doris, your turn to help," said Morgan.

  "No, I won't be part of this." Doris struggled.

  "You have no choice. Your pathetic body is mine!" Morgan le Fay's eyes widened with a bright flash.

  Doris felt Morgan settle within her mind and take control.

  ◆◆◆

  Morgan le Fay glanced at the reflection of a short middle-aged woman in the crystal. She moved her hand, and the reflection did the same. The woman Doris had gone for now and her body was Morgan's. Morgan closed her eyes and concentrated. She had looked forward to going into the future, and now she was the most powerful woman in Avalon. She searched for Arthur's reincarnation and smiled. He could tell he was close: she could sense him, not the boy she had thought, but a man, young at heart. He would find the magic talisman device and she would retrieve her soul, keep him from Giselle and break his spirit. She laughed. She couldn't wait.

  Morgan turned at the knock at the door.

  "Doris, it's Gerald."

  She opened it to a brightly dressed man with dreadlocks, and daylight spilled inside the room. "Yes?"

  The man flashed a nervous smile. "Everyone's waiting down by the inner circle. It's half-past eleven."

  "Oh." Morgan smiled. "I lost track of time."

  "Here you are." Gerald handed her two thin pieces of steel bent at one end.

  Morgan stared at them, silent.

  "Have you forgotten how to hold your divining rods?"

  "No." She smiled again.

  "Everybody's gathering at the West Kennet Avenue near Silbury Hill. Come on, it won't take us long to catch them."

  A memory bubbled up, Morgan recognized the names, but she pushed away Doris' presence, and nodded at Gerald. "King Sil's tribute over at the Roman village."

  "Roman village?" Gerald laughed. "You're full of jokes today, Doris."

  Morgan followed Gerald out the door. She needed to find Arthur, or whatever name he went by now, to find the sword and talisman. If only Lancelot had not killed Gareth, her son would have mentioned where he buried them.

  Doris' personality bubbled to the forefront of her mind. "Pathetic woman," Morgan murmured. "It will be over soon." Morgan pushed Doris' thoughts away. The bond between them meant she could find Arthur in the same way he could find his precious Giselle. Love transcended distance and time. Sweet, innocent Giselle would lead Arthur to the sword and talisman.

  Giselle would not be set free.

  He should have married me after Giselle, not Guinevere's stupid sister. But I will fix everything now!

  Morgan joined the group and tromped around the marshy grounds along the base of Silbury Hill.

  ◆◆◆

  Andrew Stone stood in the parking lot, shadowed by the Neolithic structure of Silbury Hill and held his breath as he waited for the man with the odd-looking gypsy folk and their divining rods to answer. Andrew hoped the man knew that Giselle lived around here."

  The man shook his head. "There's nobody here by that name. Is she a local?"

  "Not sure." Andrew didn't know what Giselle looked like.

  A woman near the man overheard and shrugged. "Gerald, what about that dreamy girl who's always making cow eyes at you?" The woman laughed.

  "Could be." Gerald cupped his hands to his face. "Hey Gee, this chap here wants to know if your name is Giselle?"

  A slender, attractive woman with long blonde hair turned and laughed at the man. "'Fraid not," she said to Andrew. "The G's for Gwendolyn, but for the right price I can be your Giselle."

  The woman laughed. Andrew smiled, and his gaze swept the small throng of diviners.

  A short, middle-aged woman with red and green beads in her braids glared at him. Andrew reeled with some familiarity about her. Or was he jus
t wanted Giselle to be there? The woman stepped forward but halted.

  Try to follow my thoughts until you reach me.

  Andrew sensed a distant urge to walk away from them all and head toward the West Kennet Long Barrow.

  He turned to the man. "Thank you. I think I know where she is."

  "Sure," he said.

  Andrew crossed the road, and followed the path to the Barrow, over the small bridge and through the stile. Careful to avoid the puddles of rain, he tucked the Multi-Channel Analyzer under his jacket and climbed the hill.

  He approached the ancient, Neolithic burial chamber, and the wind and rain increased.

  You're closer!

  "How can I hear you?"

  Don't you feel our special bond?

  He did. "Can you see me?" Andrew's side ached with stitch. He slowed and rubbed his side.

  I can't see anything.

  He couldn't see anyone standing around the Long Barrow either. He turned. Silbury Hill appeared small, distant, and the stones at Avebury hid under low cloud. A woman had reached the small river below. Like him, she stopped and tasted the fresh but chilly water. "Are you below me?"

  No, keep walking. You're much closer.

  "All right, then." Andrew set off again, pushed himself into a run, and avoided the ploughed ruts on either side of the path littered with chalky marble. It exhausted him, and he stopped for a moment at the huge upright Sarsen Stones. They blocked the opening to the tomb, but Andrew squeezed between them, out of the stiff wind, and into the black tomb. "Okay, I'm inside. Where are you?" His voice sounded hollow and muffled.

  Keep coming.

  "Where?" He stumbled forward into the dark, deeper into the narrow tomb.

  Further!

  He reached the end and banged at the solid earth wall. "I can't go any further."

  Try another way.

  "I'll work my way in from the other side." He clambered out of the Barrow, into the rain and wind, and pulled his coat tight. It had been eerie to think of people buried there for thousands of years. He stepped behind the Barrow, out of sight, and hurried toward the end.

  Stop!

  Andrew stopped and glanced at the right section of the Barrow, but it didn't look any different. On his left, a low bank and a mound of moss-covered rocks stood waist high. A shiver of excitement ran along his spine. He stepped toward the pile, kneeled and grasped the stacked stone. "Giselle?"

  I feel you!

  "You can?" Intrigued, he grabbed the Multi-Channel Analyzer and turned it on.

  The reading was off the scale. He threw his head back and laughed over the Einsteinium and ancient technology at his feet.

  What is it?

  "A dream come true." He grabbed each rock from the pile, ignored the light rain, and placed them to one side, until he exposed the compacted ground. He dug away the cold, wet soil, his fingernails tore, his fingers bled, and his hands ached.

  The soil softened. The rain increased. Water ran down the back of his neck, and he shivered. A hard, silver object appeared, and he clawed at the surrounding soil until it glistened. It seemed too easy. It didn't seem as if they had buried it deep enough to have sat here for a lifetime. Again doubt clawed at him. Someone had to have planted it. He was hearing voices. They weren't real. He stood and took a deep breath. When was he going to admit that he suffered from PTSD?

  He stepped away from the hole. He needed to talk to someone about.

  Sunlight broke through the clouds for a moment and a reflection caught his eye.

  He recognized the hilt of a sword, buried upright. "Excalibur?" He wasn't going crazy then? He touched the sword: it felt authentic enough, solid, cold…

  Hurry, my Lord! I don't feel right!

  Andrew sensed Giselle's distress. He pushed away his doubts and scraped away the chalky soil around the sword's cross-guard. He uncovered a wad of cloth. "Giselle, I've found something."

  Andrew waited. "Giselle?"

  He unravelled the cloth, and his hands shook. He exposed an elongated silver object, cup-like, the size of his hand. Excitement shook him. His heart skipped every few beats, and he took long slow breaths. Familiarity, but memories not his own, suffocated him. His throat tightened, and he tried to laugh. It was all real. He didn't have PTSD. He was as sane as the next person. He had seen this before. It glistened, and one of the rounded, transparent cells at each end curved in, so unlike what he'd read in the ancient texts.

  He counted the fingers on the device's handgrip, surprised to find it allowed for six fingers. A series of coloured gem-filled circles at one end. Could this be the Stasis Cube? This was The Holy Grail! Christ's Cup and an alien device so powerful it threatened the very structure of humanity. It existed: an ancient alien device. He fell to his knees, threw his head back and laughed with a manic excitement. Giselle was inside it! He was convinced of it! It had to be, and he wanted it to be more than anything else.

  He placed the device on the ground and leaned in to remove the sword. He half-wondered why Giselle had become quiet. Given a few minutes, he'd remember how to operate the device—

  "That's mine," said a female voice from behind him.

  Andrew turned to the woman, dressed in bright yellow and red Gypsy clothes, her hair braided with multi-coloured beads.

  "Give it to me." The woman thrust out her hand.

  He recognized her as one diviner from the base of Silbury Hill. He frowned, surprised by her request. He shook his head.

  "It's mine." She glared at him. "My son found it and hid it here."

  "Lady, trust me. These items were buried for a thousand or more years."

  "The talisman is mine! It came from deep within the Holy Land. Do not push me, Arthur, or you and your pathetic Giselle will regret it." She strode forward and shoved him.

  Andrew's mind reeled. He stared at the woman. How could she know about Giselle, call him Andrew? He took another step back. "Where did your son find it?"

  The woman stepped forward again. She lowered her voice. "Far to the south of the Holy Land—in Mesopotamia—he said it came from The Temple of Sin. It almost cost his life retrieving it."

  Andrew tilted his head. He knew of the temple. There was truth in the woman's words. It made sense. He knew her, not this woman but the woman inside her. But who was she? Who? He frowned at her, and his stomach knotted. His throat tightened as unwanted familiarity washed over him.

  "You do not know the power you meddle with!"

  "Morgan?" Could this be Morgan le Fay?

  The woman smiled. "You remember at last, brother. Give me the talisman."

  It was real. It couldn't be, but it was. He pocketed the Stasis Cube and followed the thoughts of the man's voice in his head that he understood to be King Arthur. Bizarre, he still had trouble coming to terms with it. He took a deep breath. "Go back to your time, Morgan,"

  The voice and thoughts were familiar, but still they confused him.

  It was as if someone else spoke through him. Again, Andrew wondered if he had PTSD and shivered.

  "I am not Arthur Pendragon. I am Andrew Stone—"

  "You are both," she said.

  "It doesn't matter. It's dangerous, needs studying."

  "And yet, I have used the talisman."

  "How so?" Andrew frowned.

  "Ask your beloved, Giselle." She pulled divining rods from her belt and lunged. "Give it to me." She stabbed Andrew in the shoulder with one rod.

  Andrew lifted his arms for protection, but the pain from the rod burned hot as if it were on fire.

  Morgan lunged again with the diving rod. She pierced his knee with it, and he fell to the ground. The other rod came free from his shoulder. Andrew grabbed his knee. "Who are you?"

  She laughed. "Believe me, Arthur, I am your sister, Morgan le Fay. Mother of your child, Mordred, and slayer of your pathetic wife, Giselle."

  Andrew stood.

  Morgan raised her arms, and light and fire flashed from her hands.

  The fiery blast rolled him
over, tore at the divining rod in his knee and threw him backward to the ground.

  "You were meant to be mine," said Morgan. "Taking Giselle's sister, Guinevere after we captured Giselle in the sword wasn't part of my bargain! Say goodbye to your pathetic Giselle and Excalibur."

  The woman lifted a large, ancient Sarsen Stone as big as she was tall, and Andrew stiffened in disbelief. With in-human strength, she grasped the huge rock above her head and stepped forward.

  "Giselle…" Andrew scrambled to his feet, pushed aside the pain, and grasped the hilt of Excalibur.

  Time seemed to stop, and Colonel Andrew Stone became King Arthur. All his memories and thoughts merged with Andrew.

  Magic flowed from the hilt of the sword, and Andrew trembled. It coursed over his hands and along his arms. He sensed Giselle in the sword, and he pulled Excalibur free.

  The Sarsen Stone fell, and Andrew moved out of the way. He lifted the sword high above his head, ignored the pain in his shoulder, the rod in his knee, and once again he joined with the sword, one with Arthur Pendragon, King of the Britons. He danced the elaborate steps, all so familiar to Arthur, and Excalibur slashed left and right as he approached Morgan le Fay.

  She raised her arms, and light flashed from her hands.

  Andrew stumbled backward from the fiery blast. He fell against the low rock wall, and the rod in his knee tore at the surrounding flesh. Something popped in his back, sending a jolt of pain throughout his body. He struggled upright.

  Morgan raised her arms again.

  He ran to her, sword raised, and brought the flat of the pommel down on her head.

  She fell to the ground.

  Giselle was his wife, and she was close but trapped and still lost to him. Morgan deserved to die. He raised the sword, and anger boiled over him. He hated his sister, yelled and drove the sword toward her throat. But he stopped. A red weal appeared across her throat where the sword broke flesh.

  He couldn't slay his own sister, even after what she'd done.

  Andrew limped away. He pulled the Stasis Cube from his pocket and examined the raised symbols along its length. He did not understand what to do with it.

  The woman groaned and lifted her head.

  He took awkward steps toward her and lifted the sword.