The Long Chron Page 6

  A loud escape of oxygen sounds from behind me as Griff steps out onto the roof and is greeted by the same skyline.

  The entire city of Avalon is laid out in front of us, stretching on for about a half mile in every direction, surrounded on all sides by an elaborate wall structure. Running directly through the village is a mighty river, bisecting the town beautifully. A great bridge crosses the river, offering the only real method of traversing the wide breadth of raging water, although I see a multitude of strings and ropes and other items that run across the length of it.

  However, all of that pales in comparison to the landmark rising over the entire city. On a hill just within the wall opposite of the one we entered sits the most majestic vision of a medieval castle I have ever seen. It looks like it had grown directly out of the hill it sits on. The line between where castle ends and earth begins is completely invisible. A thin bridge over a deep chasm leads to the only visible entrance for this stone paradise, entering the courtyard of the king’s quarters through an elaborate gate. Beyond that gate, the main structure seems separated into two primary sections. The larger of the two looks almost like a fortified church. The other is a great tower reaching toward the sky.

  The tower alone shows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we have traveled quite a lot further than the few blocks to Central Park. A fact that is verified by the slow whistle that then escapes my companion’s lips.

  “That ain’t the Empire State,” Griff says, utilizing the world’s greatest understatement.

  “You are correct, that is the king’s estate. Well, it would be, were the king not missing.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Not here,” the man says. “There are ears everywhere.”

  Chapter 10

  We climb back down the staircase and return to the library, where the man once again shuts the door behind him.

  “Although I am familiar with the two of you, I don’t believe we have ever been formally introduced. My name is Geoffrey. At one time I served as this city’s oracle. From my location here, I would review the ancient texts and prophecies to determine the future of our fair land. Yet, not even I could predict the fate that has befallen us.”

  “What fate is that?” Griff returns to his seat and puts his feet up on the chair that had previously been occupied by Geoffrey. I perch on the corner of the desk.

  “Why, The Wizard, of course. Over a year ago, this man, claiming to be an all-powerful wizard, entered our city stating knowledge of an impending attack. At first, no one paid him any heed. He appeared to be nothing more than a simple beggar. However, after a time, he produced such deeds of prediction that caused even our great king, Uthyr, to listen.”

  “The Wizard,” Griff interrupted. “That’s the guy doing all those magic tricks over there at the church?”

  “The Wizard has indeed taken up residence within the minster. He claims it provides him with a more direct connection to the ethereal realm, therefore increasing his ability to circumvent our impending doom.”

  “Sounds about right,” Griff laughed. “Here I thought we were being conned, kid, but it looks like this town’s the one that’s got the scam being held over them.”

  I nod agreement to Griff.

  “What do you mean?” Geoffrey asks.

  “I mean, this wizard whatshisname—“

  “Myrddin of Ambrosia is what he called himself.”

  “Sure, Marty the Great or whatever, he’s got himself a straight-forward Fortune Telling scam going on. He tells you that something big will happen unless you have him around to keep you safe. Uses some little coincidence type crap to get you to believe him, and then he basically owns you, right?”

  “Although it could be considered an approximate summation of the events, I hardly believe it captures the true essence of how our city was taken under siege.”

  “Excuse Griff. He really likes being about to figure out a swindle before it’s explained to him. Please continue.”

  “The Wizard tried time and again to gain court with the king. He would continue to make grand predictions regarding the coming days, predications which, had they not come true, would have been nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic.”

  “He still looks like that, if you ask me,” Griff scowls.

  “Each of his predictions was more outrageous than the last, so much so that finally King Uthyr had him imprisoned in order to keep him from inciting any riots. When his most crazed prophecy came true was when things began to get interesting.”

  “What happened?”

  “The king, certain that Myrddin was attempting to make him look the fool, sent The Wizard to his death. At the very moment of execution we were attacked, from both the north and the south. Great numbers of men came flanking in to attack our walls. Although we ultimately won, we suffered great casualties. But that was not even the most amazing event of the day.”

  “No?” I ask.

  “No, for although the fire had been set to the stake and, indeed, the others who had been put to death with him were disposed of, The Wizard himself lived, and the king instantly assigned him to be his primary advisor.”

  “Damn, that’s a great scam,” Griff whistles. “He must’ve flimflammed both those other towns, too, promising them some sort of sign about coming to attack based on some such nonsense like the town being completely defenseless or whatever. He probably didn’t even know who would win, just knew that whoever it was would end up seeing him to be a good omen.”

  “If only we had your counsel at the time all of this had occurred. The king, based on The Wizard’s advice, immediately moved to return the attack. He sent half of our army north and accompanied the other half south. He not only left our city defenseless, but without leadership. The Wizard filled the void.”

  “Man, I wish I could have pulled something like that off. You said he’s been in charge for over a year now?”

  “Yes, thirteen painful months of torture and fear-based taxation.”

  “So, yeah, probably a safe bet that your Uthyr is dead and he’s got the pull of this berg for the rest of his life. Hell, those taxes he’s taking, the women and the money, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s being used to pay off whoever attacked you guys to begin with. And he’s left here to sit like a king, able to do whatever he wants, probably because he says something like there’s always a threat of even more danger. Man, that guy’s got this town wired.”

  “You are indeed a much stronger oracle than I, sir.”

  “Not an oracle. Just a man who knows how to play the game.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain the prophecy from the book,” I join in. “I mean, from the looks of this, you were already aware that this all was going to happen. Couldn’t you have used it to show King Uthyr the danger this wizard guy posed? And I’m still trying to figure out why it has us in it.”

  “Ah, well now that is when the story begins to become interesting.”

  “I don’t know,” Griff disagrees. “I already thought it was interesting.”

  “Shut up, Griff,” I shush. “What do you mean, Geoffrey?”

  “Well, you see, this text has been within my library for a number of years. However, it was believed to be a spent prophecy.”

  “A spent prophecy?”

  “Yes, as in, one that has already come to fruition. You see, this is the tale of Saint Christopher himself, the tale of how the Reprobian Sphere came into existence. However, I am starting to believe that this may, in fact, be a repeating prophecy.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you there, bub.” Griff sits up in his chair, finally truly interested in the tale.

  “I can’t state that I’m any more certain of what it means than you are. The only thing I can say with certainty is that the events pictured in this book are historical events, not prophetic visions.”

  “What?” Griff asks.

  “He’s saying that this is a history book, not a book that’s telling us what’s supposed to
happen.”

  “Actually, I’m saying that it is both. This book is a prophetic book complete with the historic events that fulfilled it. I’ve placed several pages within it myself.”

  Griff grumbles as he stands and walks to the desk. “What I don’t get is how this could be something that’s happened before. I mean, look.” H points at the image in the book of the two people standing in front of a felled wizard at the steps of the cathedral, “those two people are definitely us. I mean, they’re wearing goofy clothes, but that still looks a lot like us. That chick’s got that probe sphere or whatever. Hell, they’ve even got the same haircuts as us.”

  “I thought you weren’t buying into all of this,” I ask Griff.

  “I’m not.” he replies. “That whole thing on the roof could have just been one of those virtual reality rooms or whatever. I’m just saying that if we’re going to go along with this stupid story they’re telling us, that picture is obviously not something that happened in the past.”

  “Ah, but that is one of the problems,” Geoffrey frowns. “You see, I drew that picture myself. I was there the day this occurred. The day The Wizard took power. I placed it within because of the involvement of the sphere.”

  “This all seems like it’s pretty poorly contrived.” Griff crosses his arms in frustration.

  “That is why I decided to take a second look. You see, I am well familiar with the stories of Saint Christopher, my mother was a world traveler and I, myself, have often called upon the sainted father with thanksgiving for blessed travels.”

  “Okay,” I begin, “so maybe the next best question is, what’s the story of Saint Christopher?”

  “The legend of Saint Christopher is that he was a man who got it in his head that he would go off to serve the greatest king there was. To abridge the story slightly, he went from king to king until he came to the conclusion that Christ was the greatest king.”

  “Is that it?” I ask after a short pause.

  “Well, the next bit gets somewhat contentious within scientific circles.”

  “Please,” I urge.

  “As you wish. Because of his newfound servitude to Christ, he was convinced that the best manner in which he could show his service was to aid people in crossing a rather dangerous river. After doing this for a while, a child came to him and asked to be assisted in the crossing. Christopher obliged and the child rode on his back across the river. As they continued, the child got heavier and heavier. When they finally reached the opposite shore, Christopher asked the child about it, to which the child replied that he was carrying not only the weight of the entire world, but also of that which made it. And then promptly disappeared.”

  “And then what?” Griff asked.

  “The story basically ends there. Well, Christopher did go on with increased vigor to spread the news, but was decapitated shortly after.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with us.”

  “Neither do I,” Geoffrey agreed. “Which is why the prophecy this image fulfills makes no sense. I had originally placed it within, like I said, because of the sphere, but I’ve long wondered whether it should be there, considering the Reprobian Sphere is the only reason for its inclusion. That is, until I realized that there is actually a prophecy included in this book regarding this image, regarding the fall of Avalon.”

  “Alright, whatever. That still doesn’t answer the question we need answering,” Griff said as he returned to standing. “How in the world do we get back home? Does this book tell us how to use that sphere for that?”

  “There is a great deal of information available within the text on the construction of the device, although the origin of the sphere itself is shrouded in mystery, as is its intended use. I would be unable to tell you whether or not it contains the information you seek.”

  “Would it be alright if I borrow this for a while?” I ask. “You know, to see if it has anything we could use?”

  “Of course,” Geoffrey smiles. “What’s mine is yours.” I gently place the book within my backpack.

  “Is there anyone else around here that might have any information we could use?” Griff asks.

  “Unfortunately, I do not believe many others within the village would be of any use to you. Since The Wizard has taken over, he has placed a moratorium on intellectual conversation. All books and sacred texts were to be burned. All mention of the word York is forbidden upon threat of death. Even discussing anything outside of the city walls is considered dangerous. This is why I have brought you here, within my hidden sanctum. There are no eyes or ears that can see within here.”

  “I guess that’s why you’ve still got the books then, huh?” Griff asks.

  “Yes,” Geoffrey says, turning his gaze to the floor. “When The Wizard declared that all knowledge be destroyed, I had to move with haste to ensure that as few irreplaceable texts would be destroyed as possible. Were it not for this hidden location, I fear that all our most treasured of books would have been burned.”

  “Great,” Griff scowls. “So, there’s no one else who can help us figure out how to get home?”

  “I fear there is but one who would even be willing to discuss such matters. Of course, I use the term willing quite loosely.”

  “The Wizard?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Geoffrey nods with wide eyes. “There is something odd about that man. I fear that he may have arrived here under similar manners as you yourselves. Perhaps he might have the knowledge you seek regarding a return path.”

  “Well then,” Griff claps his hands and moves toward the door. “I guess we’re off to see The Wizard.”

  “Wait,” Geoffrey states. He moves between Griff and the door. “I must warn you that The Wizard meets with no one. All those who have dared enter the sacred cathedral have never been seen again.”

  “And let me guess, he’s really got an issue with some witch that lives out in the west somewhere?”

  “I am unaware of any such rivalry.”

  “Excuse Griff, he’s just making a joke.”

  “Come on, kid. I mean, they had me with the whole castle shot and everything, but ripping off an old movie? Isn’t that a little rough even for them Renn Fest kids?”

  “Have I said something that has offended you?” Geoffrey asks.

  “No,” I clarify. “Griff’s just being cynical. As always.”

  “I’m being cynical? Kid, if you want me to take this all seriously, you’re expecting me to believe that we traveled by tornado to some magical land run by a wizard who refuses to see anyone and uses some mirrors and tricks of light to make people think he’s something special. I’m going back to my original idea. We’re being scammed.”

  “Unless,” I argue, “this Wizard is also familiar with the movie and knows these people aren’t.”

  Phase 2: Approach

  You gotta be smooth, prepared, and most of all, in charge.

  – Scammer’s Bible

  Chapter 11

  “We’re off to see The Wizard—“ Griff croons once we step back onto the cobblestone street and head toward the cathedral.

  “Shut up!” I cut him off.

  “What?” he replies innocently.

  “You know what.”

  “Come on, this is textbook Oz, if there is a textbook on Oz. Actually, you would know. Is there a textbook on Oz?”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Alright, well, if you’re the smart one, what do you think we’re going to get out of trying to visit this wizard guy? Shouldn’t we find a scarecrow or a lion or something first?”

  “If you’re right that he’s pulling this scam straight from The Wizard of Oz, doesn’t it stand to reason that he’s also not from around here, that he might just happen to hold the key to getting us back to our time?”

  “That’s assuming that we’re actually in some other time and not just in the midst of a very convincing Renaissance Faire.”

  “Really?” I ask, stopping in the street. “Are you really going to say
that you still don’t believe all this?”

  “I’m just saying that it’s all pretty damned incredible, this idea that we were whisked away to a different time and place just by pushing a button on that damned necklace of yours. And it’s pretty damned convenient that we can’t just push the button again to go home.”

  “Well, you got any better ideas on where we are then? Because I still haven’t seen any reason to believe we’re sitting in the center of Manhattan right now.”

  “Unless we’re dreaming because we got knocked out by a mugger or something. You were holding onto a large amount of cash right before we ended up here.”

  “Fine, unless that.”

  “Then, no. I don’t have any better ideas.”

  “Good, so then can we go see The Wizard and find out if he knows how to get us home?”

  “Sure, as long as you answer me one question first. This is the guy who runs the place, right? Why would he even want to stop and talk to us?”

  “I don’t know. Wouldn’t he?”

  “If I see another con man working off on the other side of the street, I don’t usually go out of my way to shake his hand. In fact, I usually try to do everything I can to avoid him. It’s all part of the game, kid.”

  “But this is different, isn’t it?”

  “The guy’s got a whole city under his gaffle. I can’t imagine he’s going to be too willing to do anything that might hurt the scheme.”

  “Well, I think you’re wrong.” I raise my head and walk away.

  Once we approach the cathedral, I see the man from earlier is still in a lump on the steps. I cringe, realizing now that this man had actually died at the hands of the horrible Wizard, instead of it all being some show for our amusement.

  I also cringe at the realization that he still hasn’t been moved. I know Medieval England wasn’t known for its sanitary measures, but you’d think someone would have done something by now, at the very least out of respect for the dead. Not that I have any intentions of doing anything about it myself. Griff, ever the realist, kicks the man onto his back to get a better look.