by R. G. Bullet
Archy followed Alturus up a winding staircase to the top floor. Alturus opened the door to a particularly depressing-looking sitting room. An electric heater sat inside a small fireplace, emitting a feeble orange light and no warmth. A two-burner hotplate was backed into a corner and a portable TV sat on a three-legged chair leaning against the wall. On the other side of the room, there was an unmade bed. Archy spotted his portable music player, the one he’d swapped for the rug back in Bodrum. It seemed so long ago.
On a rickety table he saw dozens of items: alarm clocks, umbrellas, magazines, and other things that were strangely out of place and not what Archy expected Alturus to have. It looked like a lost-and-found. There were women’s perfumes still wrapped in their boxes, hairbrushes, packs of unopened shampoos and creams. A skateboard was under the table along with several attaché cases of varying colors.
“It’s not much of a place,” said Alturus, closing the door. “But I think SOTS name this a safe house. They give me shelter, until I tell what happened. It take me ages to remember your correct name.”
Archy stood in the center of the room, his jaw chattering from the cold like a wind-up toy.
Alturus made a feeble stab at covering the things with a dirty sheet. “Do you have fifty pence for heat?” he said.
Archy wriggled to get a coin from his wet pocket and handed it to him. He heard Alturus wind the meter and one of the electric bars on the fire began to glow, releasing a strange smell as the dust burned away.
“So, what are you doing here?” Archy asked.
“I am a Snuffer,” said Alturus, handing Archy a smelly towel to dry his hair.
Archy frowned.
“A Snuffer…” Alturus continued, “We sweep hairs and dust in underground stations. When wind is blowing takes hairs off traveler heads, skin too, off all people on platform. It whooshes going up tunnel and get stuck in tracks. I clean. Big, big fire hazard.”
“That’s disgusting,” Archy said.
“Yes, isn’t it? A lot of hair and skin. Yesterday I found a toupee.”
Archy felt the conversation was already off-track. It was all just meaningless small talk so far—what he really wanted to say was, “Why do they want my rug back?” but he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words just yet. “At least your English is better,” he said.
“I think it’s because I watch a lot of quiz shows,” said Alturus. He filled a small kettle from a rusty faucet. “This is only job I can get till SOTS find out what goes on, but I am very happy you come.”
“Who or what is SOTS?”
Alturus shoveled sugar carelessly into the chipped mugs.
“Oooh, I forget SOTS meaning, but I tell you they want your name and where Shroud is. They give me hypnosis to remember your name. So they can start file on you.” He turned away quickly. “Er—I take souvenir on my travels with the rug. Thought no one would miss and that I would not be catched.”
“They have a file on me—you stole?” said Archy, more confused than ever. “What is this, Alturus?”
“Yes! Yes! I tell more later, but first, how is rug. You like?”
“Alturus, I think it’s amazing, it’s out of this world, but I want you to explain. Do you mean you’re in trouble because you stole something?”
“NO, No. Not stole, Alturus is no thief. No. I borrow, Archy, and now you must return the thing I borrow. This is why I ask your help, Archy. Simple really, very, very simple.”
“Simple to you, Alturus, but I have no idea what’s going on.” Archy unzipped his backpack, pulled out the rug and unrolled it on the floor. “It’s wet, look.” He smoothed the fringe with his hand. “I’ve run into the police since I’ve had it. I’m pretty sure they’re looking for me too.”
Alturus froze, a look of awe etched on his face. He drew closer, as if magnetized, and dropped to his knees. He brushed his hands lightly over the fine weave of the rug. A long moment passed before he spoke, and his voice was barely a whisper.
“Oh, Archy, look! I don’t have word for this.”
The background noise of the street faded away, as though someone had turned down the volume, until there was silence. It was as if they were in another world, on another frequency. Archy could feel the presence of a strange force coming in from all sides. He felt as if he were connected to Alturus, and to everything everywhere.
The kettle began to whistle and the energy of the moment vanished. Alturus stirred, and his voice was composed for once. “You have to protect, Archy.”
Chapter 15
Alturus Tells a Secret
I will protect the rug,” said Archy, picking up on the seriousness in Alturus's voice, “but from what? I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
Alturus pulled himself up and went over to turn off the kettle. “SOTS have some knowledge about the Kurul. But not enough.”
“Then tell me what you know about these SOTS. You’re saying I have to protect the rug from SOTS?”
“No, no, no. SOTS are the ones that help you. They are older than the Stonehenge. They teach many things. They have secrets. They call them Absolutes. There are seven, maybe more.”
“Absolutes?” Archy was completely exasperated now.
Alturus held up his index finger. “The first is the flight of the Shroud. It’s sacred. Then they will teach you others, to protect it. Journey back in time to help the Keeper escape the Kurul. The Kurul can’t go back. They don’t have this knowledge yet.”
“I need to know more about the Kurul and these Absolutes and SOTS. Who are they? Please be clear, Alturus,” said Archy, more confused and frustrated with every vague answer. He looked at Alturus counting on his fingers.
“Six, no, seven. Telepathetic…er…telepathy, telekinesis, intuition, how to communicate with living thing and laws of sick… sink-no-chrinity.”
“You mean synchronicity?”
“Yes, that too. We’re all connected, and they teach to Keepers to protect Shroud. TimeQuests are just fun part.”
“But you don’t sound sure, Alturus. When did SOTS tell you about all these?”
“I was learning telekinesis from SOTS when Kurul caught me.”
Archy ran his hands over his face. His eyes felt like they had sand in them. He was so tired, so confused. He’d heard of these things but only in comic books. It didn’t help him that Alturus's answers were so scattered.
“Well, I make many mistakes,” said Alturus, handing Archy a mug of brick-red tea. Archy took a sip but it was luke-warm and bitter so he put it to the side. “You have the most powerful thing in the world, the Kurul know this. I know it can bring a man much wealth. I become weak, Archy. I start like, like the POPE….” He paused, his finger pointing dramatically to the cracked ceiling, “…only to do good and keep from bad. The Kurul never stop hunting. I always move from one place to next. They have some kind of extra sense they develop for seeking Shroud. But I am clumsy, maybe make too many mistake. Then I turn into a devil-man. I could only see the money. I could have diamonds, gold. I become emperor of any place and king of any world with Shroud.” He paused in reflection and Archy could see the torment in his face.
“But Alturus, you only had it for six months. In the log you sent me, some of the Keepers had the rug for sixty years or more.”
Alturus’s shoulders slumped and he looked down at the floor dejectedly.
“I’m sorry,” said Archy.
“It’s all right, I know I’m wrong. No use crying in the milk, eh? There is an escape that was my right as Keeper, Archy, a break from my constant watch, to travel away from the chase of the Kurul. It is to get away. To go back in time. It is a Keeper’s right.” Alturus broke into a smile. “A TimeQuest, Archy. I went back. But I take souvenir.” He frowned again. “This is strictly not allowed. Go back, yes, but take nothing.”
Archy’s frown became deeper.
“It’s in the rules, so you understand and agree before you take any TimeQuest. Only the new Keeper could help me. You!”
&nbs
p; It began to dawn on Archy exactly what it was Alturus wanted him to do—to go back and clean up the mess he’d made. “Show me this souvenir.”
“Of course, yes. I get it. Hold on there small, itsy minute.” Alturus shuffled off down the corridor and into a room at the back.
Archy strained to listen above the noise of the rain and traffic. His thoughts were firing on all cylinders. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Alturus would bring out. There was a sound of shifting furniture, wood breaking and then a heavy thud.
Alturus appeared, holding something long and thin, wrapped in a bed sheet. He beamed triumphantly, “Here it is!” He placed the wrapped package on the table.
Archy drew closer as Alturus revealed an exquisite short sword. It shone so brilliantly, its light reflected onto the walls of the dingy room. The handle was solid gold, embedded with diamonds and emeralds. The silver blade was over two feet long, with elaborate engravings right up to the tip.
“Alturus! Is this real?”
“Yes, very much, Archy. It is gladius used by Roman Praetorian Death Squad,” he said with more than a hint of pride.
Archy shot him a glance. “Nice souvenir.” He lifted it with both hands and could feel the rounded jewels pressing into his palms. “You want me to return this?” he said, swinging it to and fro.
“Yes. I no able to say better. You do this you’ll become a Keeper and I get pension from SOTS. Good for you and good for me.”
“When?”
“Well, as soon as possible.”
“I meant, when did you steal it, Alturus?”
“Ahh, now that’d be—” he raked his hand through his oily hair and drew a deep breath, “let me see, yes it was at three twenty.”
“You stole this at 3:20 this afternoon, and you want me to put it back now?” Archy placed the sword back on the table. “From where, a museum?”
“No, Archy I mean 320.”
“So, what does 320 mean, exactly?” said Archy irritably.
“320, 320 A.D. Anno Domini. From Rome, Archy! Please sit. You look unhappy.” He motioned to the chair and Archy sat down heavily. His thoughts drifted away but he could still hear Alturus in the background.
“…I took it from Roman Emperor’s Death Squad leader. I thought I do good to take gladius, protect people from horrible man. He kill with this!”
Archy listened numbly as Alturus sat on the side of the bed. “There are things you must know, Archy, quickly. You brave boy and what I say is true. The rug had many protectors. I was 57th Keeper and you the 58th. I choose you because...” Alturus looked away sheepishly before he continued. “you honest and, well, you were in the right place. You see, there is gateway which you go back and if it’s obeyed, good. If you dishonor it, only a life of misery. I took things from the past and this is very bad. The old Fleury, he found out. Punish me.”
“Who found out?” said Archy.
“The sentinels, Archy. They help maintain the gateways. The gateways that allow travel through time. I need you to return gladius. That’s all. Put it back in right place at right time. Easy, squeezing—if you do not, then—” he lifted his chin and put on an affected English accent. “I will live in eternal misery.”
Archy pressed his palms into his eyes and took a deep breath. “Alturus, you’re crazy.”
Alturus continued as if he hadn’t heard Archy. “This place you see today,” he said, waving his finger around the room, “is most luxury I will have if this gladius not returned. So, you return gladius, make restitution, and become Keeper. You help me, Alturus, become free?”
Alturus stopped talking and looked pleadingly at Archy. Archy could only sit there, his mouth slightly open, not really knowing what to say and trying to get his mind around it all. He needed time to think. Even though Alturus dangled the title of Keeper like a carrot in front of him, Archy sensed he was being tricked in some way. Alturus’s words felt like choking ivy, winding around everything. He seemed to tell only half-truths. Archy wondered why he felt compelled to help him. Why should he trust him?
“These Kurul. They’re here in England looking for me, aren’t they?” he finally asked.
Alturus fixed him a blank stare and nodded. “They are from every country, Archy. I don’t know much more. Your work as Keeper is to keep going. To stay ahead of them and honor this beautiful thing.” He glanced at the rug. “And above all, not be greedy, like me. Only safe time is with TimeQuests.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“Archy, I tell you something more. It is important. It isn’t you I worry about, it is the sentinels. All Keepers must be accepted by them before TimeQuests are allowed, and problem is there never was boy as Keeper before. There is big chance they say no. You will not have their support. You will be forced to pass Shroud on. And I—I stay here in this place.”
Alturus dropped to his knees and searched under the bed for something. “This is why I worry. If you don’t give back gladius, another Keeper no want to help me. If you accept, you are kind boy and then I give them your real name and then you be official Keeper. I must tell them where you are. It’s a risk we take.”
“Risk!” Archy fired back. “We? You mean me! A risk I take.”
“I don’t think another Keeper as kind as you, Archy. I wasn’t good Keeper. The Kurul nearly killed me in Turkey. And that big, big monster man in car, that is, Bundo Slovak—Kurul’s killing machine.”
Alturus pulled out a huge pair of rubber boots. “I have to work now. Stay! Dry Shroud with fire.” He gave Archy a desperate look. “I need help. Will you take gladius for me?”
Archy was silent.
Alturus hugged him. “The sentinels are very much informed—very clever. If I take any longer they will find you anyway.” He held Archy firmly by the shoulders. “Don’t looked this worried, Archy. I come back at 5:30 in morning. If you are here, we have some more English tea. Everything going all right, yes?”
“If I haven’t been gutted by the Kurul or hung by SOTS,” said Archy miserably.
“Don’t be depressing person, Archy! See you in while.” With that, Alturus clumped off down the stairs.
Archy slumped on the floor by the electric fire. It had become a lot more complicated than he ever could have imagined. He loved the rug and the thought of being a Keeper but Alturus was too much. Now he had to deal with the sentinels too. It was more than he could cope with.
Archy whiled away the minutes listening to the tooting car horns below, worrying about the Kurul, SOTS, and the confusing information he got from Alturus. Should he trust him, he wondered. His head spun until exhaustion finally struck and he dozed off.
Chapter 16
The Feesh
The two Kurul that had followed Archy into England were both experts, picked for very specific reasons. The thin accomplice, a skinny and spiteful man with a centipede mustache was a skilled assassin holding dozens of identities. No one knew his real name because he guarded his anonymity zealously. He could eliminate a man using anything at anytime, anywhere. The orders he received from the Kurul bosses were simple: clear the way for Bundo Slovak to find the Shroud.
Right now for instance, as the thin accomplice watched Bundo drive the rental van through the streets of London, he already figured out how he would kill him. It came as second nature. 1. Drop the red-hot cigarette lighter into lap for distraction. 2. Slide seat back to dodge any thrashing arms. 3. Knot seatbelt around neck, looping it through the headrest. 4. Brace for impact. He would have to give an extra tug to the seatbelt, given the circumference of Bundo’s neck. The very thought of the mayhem he could inflict made his right eye twitch uncontrollably, and he was quick to cover his face before Bundo spotted his telltale affliction.
But Bundo’s attention was elsewhere. Trying to fathom the wickedness of the thin accomplice was not on his mind. If the thin accomplice had had any sensibilities other than annihilation and death, he would have picked up that Bundo had grown angrier than a rogue elephant. The chances of capturing t
he boy, Archy Rushbury, and the Shroud were slipping from him with every passing hour and he’d grown very tired of the thin accomplice’s behavior. The thin accomplice hindered his pace. Somebody somewhere was going to die a hideous death if the Shroud wasn’t found very, very soon.
“I hate this country,” yelled Bundo, turning the wipers on the van to full speed. It had rained incessantly since they arrived, but he knew deep down that it was a good omen. It increased the chances of finding the Shroud.
Although he resembled an orangutan, Bundo commanded respect by being a descendant of the ancient Warlord Konya, founder of the Kurul. His heightened awareness to the Shroud when it was wet had led them to capture Alturus that day on the beach, and now qualified him to search for Archy on this mission.
“Help me, fool. I’ve been down this road twice. Get the map!” Bundo barked.
The thin accomplice scurried over the back seat to look for the map. Amidst the junk he saw a pair of pliers and his mind flashed back to the day he had accompanied Bundo on Alturus’s capture. Eager to witness the Kurul’s master-torturer fashion his craft, he observed how Bundo extracted information and it wasn’t pretty. He recalled Bundo plodding down the cellar stairs, each wooden step creaking under his weight. Alturus’s sniveling pleas had echoed up. “I can give you money, whatever you want!” he’d cried. “Pleeease, let me go.”
“Well,” Bundo had said, placing a small toolbox on the table. “I can let parts of you go.”
The memory triggered a warped sense of humor in the thin accomplice and he started giggling.
“Shut up, you idiot. Where the hell are we?” Bundo barked.
The thin accomplice jumped back into his seat, ripping the map. He pushed his face up against the steamy window, searching for a street sign.
“Full Ham Road,” he said, catching the name at the lights.
