CHAPTER THIRTEEN
525 A.D.
“Our first step should be to organize the information we each have and compare notes, so to speak,” Merv said.
“I agree. Once we’ve coordinated what we know, I think it will be easier to figure out what our plan of attack should be,” I responded.
Merv nodded in agreement and began gathering books, parchments, scraps of paper, and a variety of other mediums containing his collected research.
“Hand me that rock over there, my boy” Merv muttered indicating what appeared to be a brick in the corner.
I picked up the stone and immediately noticed strange symbols scratched upon its surface.
“I found that in the Kingdom’s archive along with the manuscript written by Sir Mortimer the Blind. It was wrapped in a parchment that made mention of the Dragon’s Scale and its guardian, so I thought it might be useful,” Merv explained.
I handed the stone to my elder partner and he placed it on the desk atop the other papers he had collected.
“Looks like I was right,” He joked. “Best paper weight I’ve ever had!”
I laughed at the old man’s joke and picked up my pack. Rummaging around inside, I located and removed the Heart of Ra and placed it beside Merv’s papers. As I was about to close my bag, my fingers brushed against the binding of the book I had stored there when I first encountered Jeffery.
“With all the excitement, I totally forgot. I have something for you, Merv,” I said.
My new friend gave me a quizzical look. “For me? What do you have for me, lad?” He replied.
Grasping the item, I removed the Big Book of Puns from the back pocket of my pack. Under the circumstances (the circumstances being that Jeffery had pushed my brother and me into a time vortex without my permission) I didn’t even feel bad that I had forgotten to return the book to him. With a huge grin, I handed the Big Book of Puns to its rightful owner.
“I believe this is yours,” I said.
Merv reached out and gingerly took the book from my hands. He flipped through a few pages and with a huge smile on his face, hugged the book tight to his chest.
“This book got me through some very difficult times. I can’t believe it’s here.”
“I thought maybe some of the Patootie writings might give us a clue about how to get home,” I said hopefully.
Merv was speechless. He stared at the book for several minutes, saying nothing. Without warning, he began laughing uncontrollably, joy evident on his face.
“The writings may be helpful, my boy, but this book is much more important than that!” Merv exclaimed.
Sitting down at his worn wooden desk, Merv cleared away the papers he had collected and placed the Big Book of Puns before him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he hurriedly flipped through the pages to the back inside cover. Gingerly, the old adventurer ran his fingers over the worn page. If possible, his smile got even bigger.
“We are not one step closer to finding a way home, Eli. We are two steps closer!” Merv yelled excitedly.
I stared in amazement, not fully understanding what he meant. Merv pulled a long thin dagger from the folds of the sleeve of his robe. He inserted the tip into the inside cover of his treasured book and sliced the paper binding away. A bright silver light flared from a small compartment that had been concealed by the cut away paper. Merv emptied an object into his hand, marveling at the many faceted black stone.
“The Jaguar’s Claw!” Merv exclaimed. “Right where I left you all those years ago.”
The stone, except for its color, exactly matched the Heart of Ra that rested on the desk at Merv’s elbow. Both jewels pulsed with a dull inner light and seemed to be synchronized with one another.
I stood astounded looking at the two stones. I couldn’t believe that I had been carrying not one of the Keys to Forever around in my backpack but two.
The rustle of paper brought my attention back to the present (of course, I’m using that term loosely). Merv flipped through the book resting on his lap until he came to an illustration of the Patootie’s time portal. He ran his finger over the drawing while staring at the precious stones before him on the desk.
“It all starts here,” Merv whispered. “We have much to discuss, Eli Arnold. Much to discuss.”
Merv placed the black gem on the desk next to the Heart of Ra. We both marveled at their inner fires.
“I suppose an explanation is in order, lad.” Merv broke the silence and the spell we were under from staring at the stones.
“How did the the Jaguar’s Claw wind up in the Big Book of Puns?” I asked.
Merv looked a little embarrassed, his cheeks beginning to show a little color.
“Ahh ... because I stole it, Eli,” Merv hesitantly admitted. “As my days with the Patootie Tribe wore on, lad, I started feeling like something was amiss. The little men stared at me constantly like they knew something I didn’t know.” The old man paused as if trying to figure out how to proceed. “Then members of my party started vanishing without any trace. No one could explain what had happened to them. I began to suspect the Patootie were behind the disappearances. To give myself a little insurance, I took the Patootie’s sacred stone and concealed it within the bindings of my book. I figured that if they tried to do anything to me, I could bargain for my life with the gem.”
I nodded in understanding. “A good plan. What happened to separate you from the book?”
“All my belongings, including the book were in my room inside the Ziggurat. I had been out exploring the surrounding valley and returned late one evening. By this point, my entire party was gone. I was the last member. My hosts were waiting for me and I could tell something was up. I inquired again about my companions but Walter was evasive, as usual, and told me that ‘time would tell.’
“What happened next, Merv?” I asked. I felt like a little kid listening to one of my Pop’s stories.
“Walter told me that it was time to reveal the secrets of the Patootie to me and led me up to the roof of the ziggurat. I thought I was finally going to find out what happened to my friends, instead, the little snake fed me a story about the fountain of youth and convinced me to step into the time vortex. I’ve been in Snard ever since.”
“Did you ever find out what happened to your friends?”
“I’ve always assumed that they were tricked into going through the portal as well. Heaven only knows when and where they are.”
It seemed we both had others lost in time. I hoped Brady might have found someone like Merv. Someone who could help him get home or back to me.
“Thank goodness you took and hid that stone, Merv. We’re one step closer to finding a way home because you did. We might even be able to find my brother and your friends,” I added.
Merv smiled at that thought. “That would be wonderful, lad. But we aren’t going to find them or get ourselves home unless we get started. Let’s review what we know,” Merv said. “We both began our journeys through the Patootie time portal. I arrived here in the Kingdom of Snard and have remained here for many years. You, however, traveled to ancient Egypt and then were transported here through a second rift. Why?”
“I have an idea, Merv.” I had given this question a great deal of thought. “What if the stones are attracted to each other?”
“I’m not sure I follow you, lad,” Merv replied, crinkling his brow.
“What if one stone leads to the next? For instance, the Jaguar’s Claw led me to the Heart of Ra, which led me here to the Dragon’s Scale.”
Brady and I read and studied, in great detail, the Collected Works of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Our father insisted that we explore Doyle’s use of the principles of deductive reasoning. “Analyzing a problem and breaking it down into manageable pieces is the best approach to finding a solution,” my dad reasoned. “One step at a time, son.”
It sounds like it would be more work but it’s really a very simplistic way of going from a general premise to an educated co
nclusion. The arguments aren’t always one hundred percent accurate but they certainly help me get my mind around the problem and help me see possible solutions.
It worked for Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective of all time, so I figured it might work for me.
Understanding dawned on Merv’s face and he hurriedly began shuffling through the papers on his desk. Finding what he was looking for, Merv grabbed a piece of parchment and held it above his head in triumph.
“Of course!” Merv exclaimed. “You are a genius, lad. Look at the order of the stones on the entry I copied from Sir Mortimer’s manuscript! Jaguar’s Claw. Heart of Ra. Dragon’s Scale! It all fits.”
“And you arrived here randomly because you didn’t possess the Jaguar’s Claw when you entered the Patootie’s portal,” I finished. “Without the stones to keep one on course, a person traveling through the portals has no control over where or when they land.”
That realization made finding Brady seem like a very remote possibility. He could literally be anywhere at any time. My heart sank. My excitement over our discovery soured and became dismay.
“Amazing!” Merv said as he continued to study the sheet of paper in his hand. “Sir Mortimer certainly knew something about the Keys to Forever. Unfortunately, his manuscript wasn’t complete. Many pages were damaged or missing altogether. As you can see from my copy, the list of the Stones’ names was incomplete. Part of that page had been torn from the book.”
“Crap!” I said trying not to let my despair show. “I’m sure he could have helped us, Merv. It’s too bad we can’t talk to him,” I complained.
“Talk to whom?” Pat’s voice floated through the open door accompanied by the rattle and clanking of plates and dishes on trays. The welcome smell of roast beef followed closely behind causing my stomach to growl in anticipation. I was dying for a chili dog. “Who dost thou needeth to speak with?” Pat repeated.
“An old knight who authored a manuscript that could help me get home,” I replied. “Sir Mortimer the Blind.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s around anymore,” Merv said around a mouthful of roast beef. “I don’t recall seeing his name on the latest tax rolls and the manuscript he penned appeared to be quite old.”
“That’s because he was quite young when he wrote it,” Pat said. “Just because Sir Mortimer doesn’t own property and is not on the kingdom’s tax rolls, does not mean that he is no longer around, magician.”
Merv and I stared expectantly at Pat waiting for her to continue. She took her time, savoring the fact that she knew something that we did not. She dismissed the servants and purposefully avoided our gaze while she began eating her lunch.
“Do you know where I can find Sir Mortimer the Blind?” I asked breaking the silence.
“Of course I know where to find ‘Uncle Mort,’” Pat replied, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Uncle Mort?” Merv and I exclaimed in unison.
“Well, he’s not really my uncle,” Pat continued. “He and my father have been friends since he came to our village. They grew up together. When Sir Mortimer went from being clumsy to blind, my father awarded him a title and set him up on royal lands with a servant to attend to his needs. I used to spend a great deal of time at Uncle Mort’s when I was younger.”
“Can you set up an appointment for me to meet Sir Mortimer, Pat? I think he may hold the answers I need to get home,” I said.
“I owe you my life, Eli. Of course I’ll help you in any way I can. When we hath finished our lunch, I shall send a messenger to Uncle Mort and advise him that we will be calling upon him directly. But I must warn thee, Uncle Mort is over the hill.”
“We understand that he’s very old, Pat,” I responded.
“Of course he is, Eli. What does that have to do with where he lives?”
“Huh?”
“Uncle Mort lives over the hill,” Pat said. “His home lies some distance from the castle.”
“Oh, you mean Sir Mortimer is literally over the hill,” I replied with a grin.
“What else would I mean?” Pat questioned.
“Where I come from, ‘Over the Hill’ is an expression used to indicate that someone is old or past their prime,” I explained.
“That is terrible, Eli!” Pat exclaimed. “But it is odd that thou hast mentioned it. Uncle Mort can be quite literal. His speech is often difficult to decipher. Thou will see what I mean when thou meets him.”
“Thank you both again,” I said to my new friends. “I have a really good feeling about this.”
We returned our attention to the delicious plates of food before us and hurriedly ate our lunch. I had some suspicions about Sir Mortimer the Blind that I was anxious to confirm.
Pat summoned Harold the Herald who appeared almost immediately. She explained our desire to meet with her uncle as soon as possible. As she spoke, a curious look spread across Harold’s face; a mixture of worry and dismay. He began fidgeting with an ornate ring on his right hand, twisting it round and round his finger. At the time I thought little of it, chalking his expression up to the length of the trek before him. I would find out later how wrong I had been to ignore Harold’s odd behavior. I should have kept an eye on him (not literally).