"We're both leading two horses so it's bound to take longer.” But Jamie, too, felt uneasy. As Bart seemed in no hurry to move again, he brought the two mares to a halt. Then he noticed Bart held his head to one side, as though listening. “What's wrong?” This time Jamie spoke in mind-speech.
No sooner had his mind formed the question than he, too, pricked up his ears. He could definitely hear something.
"There's water around somewhere,” Bart said, also using mind-speech, before Jamie could identify the sound.
They moved off again. At the next forking of the way the sound became louder. They stopped the horses again.
"I didn't hear any water on the way in. Did you?” Jamie said. “I'm sure I wouldn't have missed it. You'd have to be pretty deaf to miss that."
Bart made no reply but moved into the only lighted tunnel ahead. As they entered it, the noise of the water increased dramatically. This tunnel was also considerably damper than the others. They soon found themselves stepping through shallow puddles.
They didn't see the waterfall until they were almost upon it because it was hidden behind a turning to the right. The water cascaded nearly twenty feet into a fair-sized pool before continuing down another tunnel to their left. Their own tunnel continued at the other side of the pool.
Bart and Jamie eyed the dark pool warily.
"It looks awfully deep,” Jamie said.
"Whether it's deep or not, I think we'll have trouble getting the horses in,” Bart replied gloomily. He turned to Jamie, holding out his free hand. “Let's have the matches."
Wordlessly, Jamie delved into his pocket and handed over the box again. Bart dropped the horses’ bridles, knelt down at the water's edge and struck the last match. He held the light over the water farthest from the waterfall. “I think I can see the bottom just here so it can't be too deep."
He dropped the match into the water. Jamie heard it sizzle as the water instantly extinguished the flame. Then cautiously Bart lowered himself into the pool, gasping as its chill closed over his knees. Carefully he made his way across the water, which came no higher than just above his knees. He returned by a different route, pulled himself out and took hold of the horses’ bridles again. “If we can get the horses in we should have no trouble."
Obsidianus and Crystalline made no objection to entering the water, but once in refused to move. Jamie also had no trouble getting Silvera and Argent in. Soon they were all standing in the pool. The glacial chill bit instantly into Jamie's legs, seeming to turn them into blocks of ice. Spray from the falls hit his head and shoulders. Suddenly he noticed he could scarcely see the horses. A thick mist had risen from the pool so stealthily he hadn't been aware of it until it was all around him. In a matter of seconds he couldn't see even the end of his own nose. He clutched the two bridles harder and used them to propel himself towards the horses. At least they were still there. The velvety feel of a hide under his hand was of considerable comfort.
"Bart?” The mist seemed to swallow his voice. He received no response. Heart thudding violently, Jamie called again—louder, panic edging his voice. “Bart, are you there?"
"Yes,” came back the muffled reply.
"Where are you? You sound miles away. Have you moved?"
"No. I can't see to move."
Even as Bart spoke, Jamie became aware of something strange: he could no longer feel cold water pressing against his thighs and buttocks. In fact, although still very cold, he didn't feel wet at all. That wasn't the end of the bizarre changes, however, for he next realized his clothes felt unfamiliar. Instead of his padded jacket he had something without sleeves around his shoulders. He tried looking down at his clothes, but the mist was still too thick. He moved his free hand and it touched something soft like fur. Instinctively he drew his hand away with a muffled gasp until he realized that the fur, whatever it was, belonged to no living animal but to the garment draped around his shoulders.
"Bart!” This time his voice came out unnaturally loud.
"Yes.” Bart's spoke with quiet reassurance. “It's a fur-lined cloak, Jamie. I've got one, too."
"What's happening?"
"I'm not sure, but I think we're about to find out."
As Bart spoke, the fog lifted slightly. Something huge and menacing towered up on Jamie's right. He started back in alarm until he realized it was some type of stone—a great, rough pillar-like shape looming far above his head.
Before Jamie could investigate further, Bart's voice came out of the mist again. “What's the date today?"
The question, spoken sharply, was so surprising that Jamie jerked his head down and stared open-mouthed in Bart's direction. He thought quickly. “Twenty-first of June, I think."
"That's what I thought—mid-winter day."
"It sure feels like it.” As he spoke, Jamie moved and his boots crunched loudly. He looked down. Snow! Then he realized that, although the fog was shifting, the main reason he couldn't see very well was that it was night-time. Dawn appeared to be approaching, for a faint flush glowed on one of the horizons. In the distance patches of snow tinted pink showed between drifts of fog. With the slow growing of the light, Jamie found he could see his surroundings better. The fog still swirled lazily around, revealing just enough for Jamie to realize where he was.
"Stonehenge!” he breathed in astonished awe, gazing up at the huge trilithon nearest to him. “The winter solstice.” Then something jarred as his mind repeated the date. “But it can't be the winter solstice. June the twenty-first is mid-summer day in England."
"It would appear we've not only been transported over eighteen thousand kilometers but also into another time."
Jamie's mind, however, barely registered what Bart said. He had seen a movement over his friend's shoulder. His eyes, wide with alarm, stared at something behind Bart. When a voice spoke behind Bart, they both jumped.
"Ah! The horses! Thank goodness! For one dreadful moment I thought you weren't coming."
Jamie recognized the voice and his spirits soared. “Merlin!” A figure emerged from the foggy half-light and the dawn flush lit up Merlin's hollow face deep in the folds of the hood of a fur-lined cloak. Jamie rushed forward. “Boy! Are we glad to see you!"
"I think it's the other way round,” Merlin replied grimly. “I'm sorry I stopped you going home. But it's better if you don't return without Peter and John, and I need fresh horses."
"What's the matter?” Bart asked.
"I've just proclaimed Arthur as King. The people want him—well, most of them—so our enemies are more determined than ever to kill us both. We're barely a few hours ahead of them."
As Merlin spoke Jamie saw another, shorter, figure behind him, as yet unidentifiable in the swirling mist and half-light, and two horses. Curiously he craned forward to see, and gave a strangled gasp that brought Bart's eyes swerving in his direction while Merlin, following the path of Jamie's gaze, jerked his head back over his shoulder in rigid fear.
"Peter?” Jamie said uncertainly as the figure behind Merlin stepped forward. Then he frowned in bewilderment, for this boy seemed older than Peter. He was, Jamie realized, the spitting image of what Peter might look like in a year or two.
"This is Arthur,” Merlin said hastily, with total lack of ceremony. He continued before Jamie could introduce himself to the other boy, still speaking jerkily, “We want you to take our horses to the Lady Mary's nunnery and leave them with her. We'll come with you as far as the road. Turn left and look out on your right for a narrow muddy road. There's a signpost with the convent's name on it, so you can't miss it. Unfortunately we have to ride in the opposite direction. I'll take Obsidianus and Argent. They'll be returned safely to you when we no longer need them."
Even as he spoke Merlin swung himself onto the big black stallion's back. Arthur, grinning ruefully at Jamie, took Argent's rein from the younger boy's unresisting hand and followed suit.
"Come on,” Bart said with a jerk of his head at Jamie as he mounted Crystalline and grabbed
the bridle of Arthur's tired pony.
Jamie hastily jumped into Silvera's saddle, grabbed the reins of Merlin's gelding and followed the others through the circle of stones. At that instant the sun lifted itself over the horizon, dispersing most of the remnants of the mist. It hit the lintels of the trilithons making up the giant horseshoe of stones, scattering horizontal rays of golden light over riders and horses. The cold brilliance sent a shiver down Jamie's spine as he turned his head in the direction of the sunrise. It was one of the most awe-inspiring sights he could remember. Then, realizing the others were getting far ahead, he turned his attention back to the horses.
Jamie's mind overflowed with questions he wanted to ask Arthur, but he found he needed all his attention to urge the gelding forward. They reached the road and he briefly watched Merlin and Arthur gallop off to the right before reluctantly following Bart in the other direction.
When they arrived at the convent, Jamie found it looked exactly as Peter described it, except the inhabitants were already astir and the travelers had no trouble gaining entry. They were led into a room bleakly furnished with hard wooden furniture where the only comfort was a large fire burning in the grate. The tall figure of the Lady Mary rose to greet them as they entered the room.
"You must be very hungry after your long journey,” she said in her soft, yet strong voice. As she spoke, Jamie heard his own insides rumbling loudly. He colored with embarrassment and the Abbess bent her sympathetic smile upon him. She had a distinct twinkle in her eyes. “You will do me the honor of breaking your fast with me, of course."
"The honor is ours, my Lady. We should be most grateful for your hospitality,” Bart said with a stiff formality that transferred the amused twinkle from Jamie's face to his.
"Please warm yourselves by the fire. I'll see if I can get something remotely decent from our kitchen for you. Crusaders can't be expected to fight on inadequate rations."
Before either could protest, she left the room. Jamie and Bart spread their cloaks on two of the chairs and sat down, leaning towards the fire to warm their frozen fingers.
When the Abbess returned both she and the nun accompanying her carried trays laden with food. The aroma of what smelled to Jamie like chicken soup increased the gnawing inside him to painful proportions. Along with the soup, thick with vegetables, there were boiled eggs, freshly baked coarse-textured bread and plenty of yellow butter, together with a cheese with a bite too strong for Jamie's taste. He found he preferred the convent's honey, of which he ate several tablespoons with his bread while he drank the mug of hot milk later brought in for him. Altogether, it was the most unusual breakfast he had ever eaten.
They ate in silence. The Abbess, Jamie sensed, was unaccustomed to conversation during meals and he was too hungry to do much else but eat.
The Abbess herself ate sparingly. “I usually break my fast a little later in the morning at this time of year, and I haven't traveled over twelve thousand miles and through fifteen centuries,” she said to Jamie with a twinkle as though reading his thoughts. She stood up as a bell tolled from somewhere in the depths of the convent. “Now you really must excuse me. I have a very busy day ahead of me."
Bart and Jamie scrambled to their feet.
"My Lady, I think you should know: Merlin has just proclaimed Arthur king and he and Arthur are fleeing for their lives,” Bart said quietly.
"Yes, I know. I shall be there to help when I'm needed.” Her gray eyes looked thoughtfully from Bart to Jamie. “After you've finished eating go down to my small private garden. When you leave the room turn right. That will take you to the cloisters. Cross to the other side where you'll find a door. The path beyond the door leads straight to the garden. You'll see a tree there—an ancient oak. Bide your time beneath its branches. It may have a message for you."
She turned to leave. Jamie rushed to open the door. The gentle radiance of her smile as she passed through left him with a warm feeling for hours afterwards.
"Have you finished eating?” Bart asked, looking from Jamie to the remains of the honey-laden bread and the mug partly filled with milk.
Reluctantly Jamie jerked his mind from contemplating the nature of the woman who, though obviously a high-born lady, chose to imprison herself in a life that to Jamie seemed dull and cheerless. He looked with distaste at the rapidly cooling milk with the nauseating skin on top.
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
Bart strode through the door. Jamie took one quick look around the room and followed, closing the heavy door behind him. They followed the Abbess's directions, passing a walled vegetable garden and an orchard on the way. They saw the oak tree long before they reached the Abbess's garden; with the exception of the fruit trees it was the only tree in the grounds of the abbey and its massive crown of bare branches could be seen from most vantage points. The Abbess had planted a herb garden here, now looking sadly forlorn under the drifts of snow partially covering it.
With its mighty branches laden with snow and ice crystals, the oak tree itself was transformed into something from a world of fantasy. From a distance, against the pale winter sky, the snow looked like masses of white blossom, while the icicles danced and glittered in the sunlight like jewels in a king's crown. The sight made both Jamie and Bart catch their breath.
"Quercus robur,” Bart murmured. "A regal tree indeed."
They approached it slowly, unwilling to destroy either the vision or the magic, until they stood among the roots looking up through the branches. The magic remained. They were simply seeing it from a different angle. An unseen icicle splashed water into Jamie's upturned face, landing in his eyes. Even as he yelped and dashed his hand across his eyes, the same thing happened to Bart.
As he stood blinking in the pale wintry sunlight, Jamie thought he saw something move on the oak's massive trunk. He stepped closer to see it clearer. “Look! Someone's carved lettering into a wooden plaque and nailed it to the tree. We didn't see it because we were looking upwards.” Jamie peered at the writing. “It looks like Latin."
Bart stepped forward and looked over Jamie's shoulder. “My Latin's pretty rusty, but I'll have a go at translating.” After several minutes of peering and frowning, Bart intoned:
"In the darkening forest flaming bright
Only the One Tree can put things right.
Though all the trees may look the same,
when the One is called upon by name,
At the moment of time so ordained
Evil shall fall when rights are claimed."
"The final prophecy! But what on earth does it mean?"
Bart didn't answer. He seemed too busy memorizing his translation. Several minutes passed before he looked up. “What was that? What did you say?"
"Nothing. I was just wondering what it means."
Bart looked down at the plaque again, and it was no longer there. He ran his hands over the bark where it had been fixed, but could feel no sign a board had ever been bolted onto the tree. Before he could reply to Jamie's question, something whizzed past his ear from above, causing him to start back in alarm. But it was only a mass of melting snow that had lost hold and fallen to the ground with a soft plop. Even as they realized what was happening, another mound narrowly missed Bart's head. Both he and Jamie hastily stepped outside the circle of the tree's branches. More snow plopped to the ground.
Bart looked up at the sun. “How long do you think we've been here?"
"About ten minutes,” Jamie replied, surprised at the sharpness in Bart's voice. “Why? What's wrong?” He, too, turned his eyes towards the sun. “Gosh! We must have been here for hours!"
Bart turned abruptly. “I think it's time we were off."
"Where to? Have you forgotten? This isn't home; it's England in the Dark Ages."
Bart laughed humorlessly but carried on towards the gate. After another glance at the tree, Jamie followed.
"I was born not too far from here, Jamie, and I'm well aware it isn't home. It's nearly as alien
to me as it is to you. But we can't stay here. Our presence is bound to be reported sooner or later and we could bring danger to those sheltering us. We'll find an inn to stay at until we learn what our next move is."
Jamie followed Bart to the stables, where the stable lad silently watched as they saddled their own horses. Jamie gave him one curious glance, which the boy, who looked no older than himself, returned with what appeared to be a mixture of hostility and fear. The fear seemed to extend to both Silvera and Crystalline.
As they rode towards the door in the front wall, the portress came scurrying out to open it for them. Jamie turned in the saddle for a last glance at the stable boy, just in time to see him racing across the stable yard as though he had the Devil at his heels. For some reason the sight made Jamie feel curiously uneasy.
* * * *
"I think it's time you went to bed, lad."
Jamie blinked up at Bart from his place by the fire. It took him a while to realize where he was. A moment ago he could have sworn he was tearing down a dark tunnel, his breath coming in tearing gasps, his throat parched, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth. Another figure ran a few steps ahead of him. From the back it looked like Peter and he seemed to be carrying a greenish light of indeterminate shape with which he lit the way. Footsteps pounded behind them—loud, ominous, and surely gaining?
Jamie rubbed his eyes to rid himself of the last of his nightmare. His gaze dropped from Bart's face to examine himself. He had been, he now saw, slumped in uneasy sleep on the floor with his back propped against Bart's chair and his cloak folded underneath him as a cushion. Bart chuckled at the expression on the boy's face. He spoke his next words into Jamie's mind.
"Yes, it's very hard to adjust when one's accustomed to twentieth-century luxuries. Even our open fire, though it burns your face and leaves your feet cold, is better than this smoky old thing. You'll probably find your bed not much more comfortable either."
"And flea-ridden as well.” Jamie staggered to his feet. “You coming, too?” he added hopefully, this time aloud.
The Third Age of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book Three] Page 10
