“Of course you do. It’s clear that the story has many holes that beg for filling. I have deduced that the sword and the candlestone are the keys to the entire mystery, though I do not yet see the purpose of the stone. The sword, however, must be the true Excalibur. It had the power to transform matter into light energy when wielded by one who has a heart made pure by God and—”
The professor halted, his mouth dropping open.
“What’s up, Professor?” Billy asked.
The professor smacked his forehead with his palm. “Transluminate! Of course!” He retrieved his spectacles and tapped his finger on the page. “Trans means change, and luminate refers to light. The poem uses the word transluminate to describe Excalibur’s method of transforming matter into light. I should have thought of that immediately.”
Walter let out a snort. “It’s okay, Prof. What did it take you? A whole minute?”
The professor laughed and laid his palms on top of the diary. “You are kind, Walter to . . . how do you say it? Cut me some slack? In any case, it seems that the mystery is beginning to coalesce, and the clues point to Excalibur. If you could show me the approximate place of its disposal, William, I should like to search for it while you visit your friend.”
“I can only guess and point out the area from the sky. It’s probably within walking distance of where we’re going to land though.”
“Very well. While you are consulting your friend, I shall have a look around.”
After landing on a crude airstrip atop a grassy mountain, Billy and his mother secured Merlin II and joined their two passengers standing by the wing tip. Professor Hamilton studied his handheld GPS while Walter peered over his shoulder. A chilly alpine breeze blew against their heavy jackets, and Billy and his mother began bundling up. The northwesterly winds bent the brown, snow-speckled grass, signaling a renewal of winter’s icy spell.
“I anticipate,” the professor said, pointing down the eastern slope, “that our search should begin about one and one-third kilometers in that direction.” He tucked the GPS under his arm and stretched a taupe beret over his wild hair. “Does that sound correct, William?”
“I think so.” Billy fastened the next to last button on his lined Washington Redskins jacket. The bottom button was missing, lost in his backyard after he tackled his father during a Thanksgiving Day football romp. He pulled a baseball cap out of his jacket pocket and pressed it over his head. “Bonnie could tell you better than I could. I’m just not sure.”
“Very well. It should take about fifteen minutes to get to our starting point, and we’ll search for about thirty minutes. Then we’ll meet you back here in, shall we say, one hour?”
Billy waited for his mom’s okay. While listening to the conversation, she had squatted in her navy blue corduroys and red windbreaker to retie the laces of her hiking boots. At last, she nodded. Billy raised his index finger. “One hour sounds good.”
“At least one of us will be here,” his mother added. “The other might stay with our friend.”
“The mystery dude?” Walter asked. “Will we get to meet him?”
Billy’s mom smiled at Walter. “If you do, don’t call him ‘the mystery dude.’”
The professor checked his GPS coordinates and pressed a button with his thumb. His black leather jacket wrinkled, and blowing tufts of thick white hair protruded from his cap. “Shall we go now, Walter? We must step lively.”
Walter and the professor marched down the hillside, the professor relaying coordinate data in his British dialect. His voice faded as their forms shrank in the distance.
When they had traveled out of earshot, Billy turned to his mom. “I guess we’d better get going.” He picked up a cardboard tube that held his drawing of Hambone. “Dad already knows we’re here.”
“You can sense that?”
Billy stepped toward a slope that descended at a right angle to the one the professor had chosen. “Sort of. He probably heard Merlin’s prop anyway.” They left the grassy area and entered a sparse forest. As they walked onward, the growth thickened. Leafless branches above made stick-figure shadows on the carpet of brown, crackling leaves. Bright sunshine poured through, enough to take the edge off the dry chill and to sharpen the earthy landscape.
“I guess we don’t have to worry about any ambushes around here,” Billy said. “There’s no place to hide, and with all the crunching leaves you could hear someone coming from a mile away.”
His mother stepped up to a stone and vaulted over. “No slayers lurking, that’s for sure.” She patted a side pocket on her windbreaker. “But if one does show up, he’ll find out you’re not the only one packing heat.”
As they plunged deeper into the forest, the towering trees gathered into dense columns of massive, wooden sentinels. The two hikers maneuvered through the twisting maze, shuffling through a familiar path and talking in soft whispers, giving each other reminders of where to turn as they approached rocks and trees they had marked on their previous visit. After winding their way through the heaviest wall of trees they had yet encountered, the oaken soldiers gave way, opening into a tiny glade surrounded by a wall of stone on one side and a fence of winter-stripped oaks on the other.
Billy pointed upward. “With that canopy over us, it looks sort of like the ceiling of a church. I didn’t notice that last time.”
A halo of thick branches stretched above to create an ornate ceiling of knobby fingers overarching the flat, leaf-strewn ground. The sanctuary’s rock boundary towered almost to the tops of the trees and bent over to create an arch. Where the arch met the trees, the sun was squelched, and the shadows painted a black curtain on the mossy stone wall, the shadowy entrance to the cave.
Billy and his mother walked straight toward the granite blockade, passing through the dark curtain as though its shadow had reached out and swallowed them up.
“It’s not as cold in here,” Billy said, his voice resonating in the damp recesses of the yawning tunnel.
His mother pulled a flashlight from her belt clip and flicked it on. The stream of light shot out into the depths of the cave, and swirls of mist dashed through the beam in currents of newly awakened air.
“I hear him,” Billy said. “He’s here.”
“I do, too.”
A glow from somewhere in the midst of the cave brightened as they ventured farther in. A deep rumbling grew in their ears, like the churning of ocean breakers. They turned a corner and beheld the sight they had journeyed to find. Shrouded in a dome of sparkling light sat a massive winged dragon.
CHAPTER 4
EXCALIBUR
Walter stopped beside the professor. “Is this the spot?”
Professor Hamilton eyed the GPS. “I believe so, Walter. It matches the coordinates I calculated, but it’s all based on a guess I made while in the air.”
Walter kicked at a pile of dead leaves and surveyed the bare trees that stood like sleeping wooden skeletons on the gentle incline. “Okay. What now?”
The professor marched across the slope, his head turning from one side to the other. He sniffed the brisk air as though a scent might give him a clue. “We’ll just have a look around.”
“If the sword is here, won’t it be covered by leaves?” Walter picked up a rotting maple leaf and tossed it into the wind.
“Good point. Be sure to shuffle your boots as you walk.”
The two searchers dragged their feet across acres of uneven terrain, kicking up dozens of small logs, stubbing their toes on hidden rocks, and wetting their shoes in concealed snowmelt puddles. In spite of their logical, crisscross search pattern through the layers of countless leaves, they knew they could be shuffling right past their quarry, perhaps missing the sword by mere inches.
After about twenty minutes the professor pulled his pocket watch from his trousers. “We’re running short on time, Walter. We’ll start heading back. Perhaps we can return with a metal detector on another day.” He pointed up a rocky slope. “We’ll hike over that rise a
nd cover an area we haven’t seen yet. It’s a roundabout way of getting back to the plane, but we should make it on time.”
“Suits me, Prof.” Walter followed his teacher over the protruding crags, struggling at times to scale the larger boulders that the professor chose to climb rather than go around. His teacher’s agility amazed him as the older man scrambled along with his lanky arms and legs.
The professor stopped near the top of the hill and placed his hand over his eyes to block out the glittering sun. Suddenly, his body stiffened. “Walter, did you see that?”
Walter shielded his eyes and stared in the same direction. “See what?”
“That glimmer.” He pointed downslope toward a group of protruding rocks that interrupted the treescape about a hundred or so yards away. “Over there!”
Walter caught a glimpse of a bright reflection, like the sun’s rays bouncing off a car mirror. “Yep. Got it marked.”
The professor marched straight toward the rocks, and Walter bolted down the hill to lead the way. Just before reaching the boulders, the two stopped and stared. A gleaming sword quivered in the wind, its blade wedged deep within a large stone.
The professor gasped. “Excalibur!”
Bonnie blew on the car window’s glass and wiped it clean with her sleeve. The view of her old home brought a stream of poetic memories. The mountains that bordered Missoula were always tall and majestic, but this time of year they had settled into their long winter’s nap, undressing their trees in the usual way, shaking off leafy garments in the early autumn winds, waiting to be covered in frosty white raiment. There was little snow on the bare limbs today, though a thick blanket dressed the base of the trunks, like silver skirts on pencil-thin supermodels. The road from the airport to the university was clear and dry, but dark clouds loomed in the mountains. A sporadic ensemble of flakes danced across the hood as the Ford Explorer roared onto the campus road.
The hill that towered over the University of Montana carried a huge, block letter M prominently emblazoned in the frosted grass near the top. On warm, sunny days dozens of students and faculty members climbed the hill, negotiating the steep inclines on a path that switched back and forth across the hillside’s broad face. Today, with snow threatening, the trails remained empty except for a dusting of frozen white and a lone bird flitting around the gigantic letter.
Throughout the trip, Bonnie answered only the most necessary questions. Since the private chartered flight had required no security check, her wings remained safely tucked away in her backpack, so she didn’t have to dream up any ways to dodge a search. She and her father were the only passengers in the small jet, and the lack of conversation made the flight seem interminable.
Now, after parking near the Skaggs Building, which housed the Department of Pharmaceutical Sciences, Bonnie knew she would have to break her silence. She had hoped to go straight to the hospital, but for some reason her father had to stop by his office.
“I have to pick up something here,” he said as he got out of the Explorer. “And there’s someone I want you to meet. She’ll be traveling with us.”
Bonnie pulled her coat on over her backpack and climbed out, her curiosity piqued by her father’s boyish smile. She followed him toward his office across a snow-patched, grassy field on a narrow footpath, worn to the dirt over the years by hundreds of tromping feet.
They rounded the corner of the building, past two enormous white panels that looked like oversized garage doors, but Bonnie didn’t see any way they could open. The boxy structure loomed over her, its bricks showing off patterns of red, black, and gray, a vivid contrast to the tiny flecks of white falling from the darkening sky. Square, borderless windows hid the interior with dark, reflective glass, making it look like a secret headquarters for a government agency or a prison for dangerous spies. With gloomy gray clouds silently hovering, the building seemed morose and lonely, not the exciting institution of higher learning she knew it to be.
After taking an elevator to the third floor, they crossed the carpeted hall to the entrance of an office suite numbered 340, not the same workplace Bonnie remembered. Her dad’s smaller, cramped office used to be on another floor. This suite held the office of the dean, and a nameplate carried her father’s name.
“When did you get the promotion?” she asked.
Her father turned the knob and pushed the door open. “A few months ago. The president likes my work.”
A young female greeted them from behind the waist-high receptionist’s desk. “Good afternoon, Dr. Conner.” With a big smile she extended her hand over the desk. “And you must be Bonnie. I’m Ashley Stalworth. Pleased to meet you. Your father’s told me all about you.”
Bonnie took her hand and shook it firmly, trying to return her genuine smile. “Hi, Ashley.” Bonnie tried to read the girl. She looked too young to be a college student, maybe seventeen at the most.
“Ashley is supposed to be a junior in high school,” Bonnie’s father explained, “but the school’s science department couldn’t challenge her, so they sent her here. She’s a true genius, and she’s helping me with my research.”
Ashley put her hands behind her back and blushed, and Bonnie caught her glancing at the lump under her coat, her hidden backpack. He told Ashley all about me? I hope not everything!
Bonnie’s father picked up a briefcase from the floor in front of the desk. “Do you have everything packed?”
Ashley held up a large wooden case with squared corners. “The latest results are in your briefcase, and the samples are in here.”
“Then let’s hit the road.”
Bonnie’s mind raced with questions. What was the research? How had her father become so familiar with a high school girl? But the most important question burst through her thoughts and came out verbally. “Aren’t we going to the hospital to see my mother?”
Her father hurried out the door. “No. I’ll explain on the way.”
Ashley locked the office door, using a set of keys that hung from her belt loop. Bonnie’s father had already punched the elevator call button and now stood inside the waiting car. Ashley stepped hurriedly away, lugging the suitcase and holding out her free hand, gesturing for Bonnie to join her.
For some reason, Bonnie wanted to grasp this friendly girl’s hand, a little sister kind of feeling she had never had before, but she declined with a brief nod and a smile. There were too many weird things going on, too many unanswered questions to allow herself such familiarity.
Ashley didn’t seem to mind Bonnie’s refusal. She just marched into the elevator, and Bonnie followed. The slow car lowered the silent trio back to the first floor, and they clopped along the shiny terrazzo floor toward the exit doors. Once outside, Ashley dutifully strode behind her professor across the field to the parking lot.
Bonnie stayed close, eyeing every detail through the thickening snow flurries. Ashley wore designer jeans, modestly cut, fairly loose fitting and riding high on her slender waist. With her coat slung over her shoulder, her long-sleeved blouse was exposed, feminine but not fancy, tucked in and accentuating her fit body. She was obviously athletic, with toned muscles tightening the sleeve on the arm that lugged the heavy case. The stiffening breeze threw its weight against their bodies, blowing Ashley’s shoulder-length brown hair around her face.
Bonnie shivered. She must have logs burning in her belly. I’m freezing with a coat on!
When they arrived at the Explorer, Ashley set her case down and opened the front passenger door for Bonnie.
Bonnie tapped her knuckles on the back window. “Why don’t we sit together?”
Ashley smiled. “Great! We have a long drive ahead of us. Maybe we can get to know each other.”
Bonnie pulled off her coat and slid into the back. By the time she was seated, her father had already started the motor. “A long drive?” she repeated. “What’s going on?”
Her father backed the SUV out of the parking space. “We’re not going to the hospital. We’re going to a l
ab that I built up near Flathead Lake, a couple of hours away. Because of your mother’s deteriorating condition, the doctors gave up hope. I was advised to authorize the removal of her feeding tube in order to let her die. I couldn’t do that, of course. There’s hardly any death more cruel than starvation. So, I had your mother moved to my lab quite some time ago, and I’ve been taking care of her myself.”
“Some time ago? But what about the picture? I thought you took that yesterday.”
“Actually, I took it a few weeks after you left Montana. I faked the date to get you to come home. If I had explained everything, I would have had to reveal some secrets I wasn’t ready to reveal.”
Bonnie scowled, a feeling of dread creeping along her skin like a thousand hairy bugs. “You mean, you lied?”
Her father stared straight ahead, waiting for a traffic light to change. He paused, as if trying to think of a good answer. Bonnie could hardly stand the delay. For a moment she watched her father’s furrowed brow in the rearview mirror, but the sight of what looked like another lie brewing made her feel nauseated. She turned her head to watch the worsening weather. Large, wet flakes fell all around, sticking easily to the grass, but melting as they tumbled to the warmer pavement. When the light changed, her dad cleared his throat. “A lie is sometimes necessary to save a life, Bonnie. And that’s what I’m trying to do, save your mother’s life. When we get to the lab, I’ll explain everything, and I think you will be very pleased at what you see.”
Bonnie dug her fingers into the armrest. Why did he lie? Sure, lying to save a life is one thing, but lying to your own daughter to send her back to her nightmares is another! She rubbed her hand up and down her sleeve. The thought of a laboratory gave her the shivers— needles puncturing her skin over and over again, each one drawing yet another tube of blood. Her arm itched and her head pounded, but she would face a ten-foot-long needle and give a whole gallon of blood if it meant helping her mother.