Read Eli Arnold and the Keys to Forever Book One: It's About Time Page 32
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
525 A.D.
BOOM! The doors to the great hall flew inward and slammed into the stone walls. Two large metal shields knocked loose from their hooks and crashed to the floor. The King stomped across the room, his feet thundering on the carpeted floor. He threw himself into his throne.
“I want my daughter found now!” he bellowed. Couriers, Knights and attendants rushed to and fro, each hurrying to complete their assigned tasks. A sense of urgency hung over the castle. All assembled were anxious to carry out the king’s commands, but it was something more. These people cared about Princess Pitter Pat and each wanted to do his or her part to aid in her safe return.
Merv and I had relayed the recent events surrounding Pat’s abduction to the king in great detail.
“Order all knights to active alert,” the King yelled. “All castle personnel are to report to their assigned posts immediately. I want status reports every fifteen minutes! And I want to know why the fortune tellers and seers we keep on staff did not see this coming!”
Young pages fled the hall, sent to fetch those commanded to appear by the King.
“Calm down, Aloicious,” a frail voice said from just outside the door. Sir Mortimer the Blind shuffled through the opening. A new walking stick swung from side to side before him - TAP. TAP. TAP. The cane made the tapping noise as its owner struck it against the floor in an attempt to find and avoid any potential obstacles. “We’ll find her, old friend.”
Sir Mortimer had been brought to the castle immediately following Pat’s abduction. With Fowler and Harold’s whereabouts unknown, the King hadn’t wanted to take any chances with his friend’s safety. It had also given Merv and me another opportunity to speak with Sir Mortimer about his research and the Stones. Unfortunately, he either had nothing or refused to offer any further information. He did have the good manners not to say ‘I told you so’.
Mortimer’s new staff knocked a pewter pitcher filled with water off its pedestal. It bounced across the floor, spilling its contents. Several members of the king’s court hurried forward to attend to the mess and to help the old man to a chair near the King.
Sir Mortimer looked tired. Our visit, coupled with the bad news of Fowler’s attack and theft of the rubbing, followed by the worse news of Pat’s kidnapping had taken a toll on the old fellow. Despite his obvious weariness, however, Sir Mortimer continued to encourage the King. His presence seemed to calm Pat’s father, at least a little. The King’s anger and worry remained visible but, for the moment, contained.
Merv and I stood in the corner, not sure what to do; a feeling with which I have little familiarity. Brady had always been our leader but I didn’t stand idly by very well. I needed to do something.
I leaned heavily on the signpost, still not fully recovered from my recent injuries. In an effort to give myself a boost, I had raided my pack and eaten an energy bar with little taste and polished off my last Mountain Dew. The caffeine rushed through my veins, and, temporarily kept me going.
Pat had been gone for several hours now. Although no one blamed me for her kidnapping, I felt responsible and I certainly blamed myself. She was involved with the Stones because of me and my desire to get home. Sir Mortimer had been right. I should have left things alone and just settled in this time and place. This business was much too dangerous to involve my friends. Now Pat was gone and it was my fault.
“Stop blaming yourself, lad. It’s not your fault,” Merv whispered next to me.
“How did you ...”
“You have guilt written all over your face, son. It’s not your fault that Pat is missing. Cyrus Fowler and Harold are the ones responsible for this.”
“What do we do now, Merv?” I asked.
“The only thing we can do, Eli. We continue our research and try to track down the Dragon’s scale. That’s what Fowler is after. If we find it, we’ll have some leverage we can use to try to get Pat back.”
Merv made perfect sense but I had no clue where to even begin.
BAM! - A knight slammed his armored fist on the table in frustration.
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP - A leaky pipe deposited water into a puddle in the corner.
CLANK! - A castle maintenance man leaned a ladder against the wall to repair the aforementioned leaky pipe.
THUD! THUD! THUD! RUMBLE, RUMBLE, RUMBLE, RUMBLE, KAPEW! - A bowling ball found the end of the lane on the floor above the castle keep, crashing into the pins.
I couldn’t focus on the task at hand with all the noise and calamity banging around the Great Hall. I felt myself becoming overwhelmed by the myriad sounds and disorder.
“I need to get out of here, Merv, so I can think,” I told my friend.
“Of course, lad. Let’s head up to my laboratory and get to work. Just let me clear our departure with his majesty.”
“I’ll meet you in the hall,” I replied.
Merv made his way through the swirling mass of people and attempted to get the King’s attention, which was currently fixed squarely on one of the Court’s fortune tellers.
“I just do not see how thee could not foresee my daughter’s abduction,” the king jabbed his finger into the psychic’s face. “Perhaps thou wouldst fare better as a manure collector in the stables. Bet thou did not see that coming either.” The king waved the seer away. From the stunned expression on his face, he had not, in fact, seen a career change in his future.
“Ahem,” Merv cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Sire,” he began. “Young Eli and I would like to retire to my chambers to see if we can find any information that may be of use in securing the princess’s safe return. With your permission, of course.”
“Of course, Mervyn,” the king responded. “Please keep me informed of any progress you make.”
“Of course, your majesty.”
Merv headed toward the door where I waited. The king caught my eye across the room and nodded slightly. I returned the gesture and exited the hall. He was counting on me. Pat was counting on me. As I mounted the stairs leading to Merv’s lab, all I could think was that I hoped their trust in me wasn’t misplaced.