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Book III – Return to Earth

Chapter 3 – Canterbury

After finding that Ross had arranged to close all the portals on Shambhala to them James began to wonder if the immortal Roman might have left a little surprise on the other side, just for good measure. They debated whether to send someone who Ross would not recognize through first, but that meant using Oyo or Netyu. James guessed that an Avian appearing suddenly on Earth in Medieval England would cause too much of a stir, however, so he opted for them all to cross at once, ready to face whatever awaited them on the other side.

They found themselves in a small stone room with a single wooden door. After listening for sounds on the other side James opened the door and, sword at the ready, boldly stepped through. He was surprised to find that they had emerged in a church of some kind.

The building was large but not cavernous, entirely made of stone, and roughly cross-shaped. In what might be presumed to be the head of the cross there stood a simple alter and a gilded crucifix, which was mounted on the wall behind it. The interior was dim, lit only by tall narrow windows filled by crude stained glass that let in little sunlight. Yellow wax candles stood in niches and were mounted on iron chandeliers, but none were lit.

“The Cathedral of Canterbury.” Coyotka said from behind him, her voice muffled under the drooping hood that hid her canine snout.

“Cathedral?” Annie sneered. “It’s hardly big enough to qualify as a church back in Kingston.”

“Populations are much lower in this age,” Coyotka reminded her, “and this is a very large, enclosed space given the architectural knowledge of the time. You can see that it is special too by the fact that it has stained glass windows, a recent and expensive innovation. Most ordinary churches of the era would have no glass at all, just wooden shutters to keep out the elements out on the worst days. Also, if you note the stonework in the apse ...”

James interrupted before the coyote could get carried away. “Alright, fine. We believe you. I take it hat the Canterbury Cathedral is in York?”

“Yes.” Coyotka replied curtly, peeved at being cut off. But she could not resist adding, “King Aluric of York converted to Christianity and ceded the land to the church. He was instrumental in converting the other Saxon Kings in the region to Christianity and helping Arthur unite Briton.”

“So we should have no trouble travelling to Camelot from here?”

Before she could answer there came the sound of many footsteps on the stairs outside. James signalled for everyone to draw their weapons but keep them hidden as the large oak doors were drawn open on their iron hinges.

They had the advantage of having had time for their eyes to adjust to the dark interior, so they could see the people gathered in the doorway better then the newcomers could see them.

The group at the door were all dressed in dark brown robes that were tied at the waist with rope. Their heads were partially shaved, and wooden crucifixes hung from beaded cords around their necks. There was no evidence that they were armed, so James sheathed his sword, the others behind him did so too.

“Hail-o, is there someone there?” The monk in the lead asked, blinking into the dark interior.

“Hail Brother.” James greeted the monk as Coyotka had taught him. “Pilgrims on our way to Camelot. We stopped by to, uh, ... to pray ... in your most excellent ...”

“Cathedral!” Coyotka hissed.

“... Cathedral!”

“But you came in through the portal?” The lead monk said, confused.

“Oh, you, ah, know about the portal, do you?”

“Of course! It is the Bishop’s holy task to guard it against infidels that might try to circumvent the holy laws of Briton by escaping through it to heathen lands.” Now that his eyes had time to adjust the monk peered at them suspiciously. “Just where have you come from?”

James hesitated, but Annie stepped forward to answer. “My red-haired college and I are warriors from a place called ‘King’s Town’. We have been hired to escort a group of pilgrims from lands ... far off lands ... Christian lands. They have come to pay homage to King Arthur before continuing on to ... other holy sites.”

“Be that as it may, but we were told that the portal was closed.”

“Really?” Annie looked around for help from the others.

Coyotka stepped forward. “Closed on which side?”

“On ours, for certain, uh, Brother?” The monk was uncertain as the muffled voice had made it difficult to tell whether the speaker was male or female. “We are not to allow any to cross from our side, and we were told that none would cross from the land of the Eagles either.”

“Brother, yes.” Coyotka said in a deeper tone. “Well, you heard wrong. The Eagles had temporarily closed the portal to commercial traffic but have recently decided to re-open it. And while the portal is closed to heathens, of course, it is still available to devout servants of the one true god, like us.”

The monks were not convinced. They eyed Magnus’ antlers where they stuck up from his hood and muttered about calling the Bishop’s guard.

“You are concerned about my colleague?” Coyotka asked, indicating Magnus.

“Yes. Why is a ‘devout’ Christian dressed like a Druid?”

“Ah! I can see why you would be concerned with that. You see, like your King Aluric, some of us are recent converts to Christianity, only a generation or two ago. As such the Holy Father of the Church in Rome has granted them dispensation is the manner in which they observe the sacraments. Magnus here is a priest back in his world ... land, in his land. As Easter is approaching, he wears these cast-off antlers to symbolize new growth and new beginnings.

“This ... man ... is a priest?” The lead monk asked suspiciously as he tried to peer under Magnus’ hood. “If that is the case, he will not mind staying overnight to say mass for us on the morrow.”

“No, sorry.” Coyotka said, laughing nervously. “We must hurry if we are to make Camelot in time for the Easter celebrations. Magnus is to take part in the ritual.”

The monk squinted then smiled smugly. “Exsúltet iam angélica turba cælórum, exsúltent divína mystéria.” He said in a sing-song voice.

The monk was clearly shocked when Magnus replied, singing: “Et pro tanti Regis victória tuba ínsonet salutáris.”

The antlered one continued, as if for the benefit of his disbelieving guards. “That is the opening verse of the Exsultet, the Easter Proclamation. It is a song familiar to many Christians, like my Father, and one that he sang to comfort those believers who have found themselves far from home at this holy time of year. I learned it from him.”

Most of the monks were nodding their heads in agreement. This was exactly the sort of thing they expected from a foreign priest whose practices may be eccentric to them, but who was still essentially catholic. Their leader was much more polite when he implored Magnus again to stay and honour them by celebrating mass at the Cathedral.

“No, we really must be off.” Coyotka insisted. “You see, we are delivering a Holy Relic to King Arthur, a gift from the Pope to help in his quest to rid the land of infidels and pagans.”

The monks clamoured to know more.

“Patience, good Brothers, patience.” She said as she waved them back. “The relic we carry is none other than the Spear of Destiny, the Spear that pierced the side of Christ on the cross.”

A couple of the monks protested that it could not be, and even James and some of the robed companions raised their voices in shock, but Coyotek was not deterred. She gripped the shaft of the holy spear, which she used as a walking stick, and turned to Annie.

“Guard, show them your spear!”

Annie looked confused but complied. She took the head of the emerald spear out from its sheath and assembled it onto the two-piece shaft that Gael had made for it. When she was done, realizing now what Coyotka was up to, she planted the haft firmly on the stones of the nave and silently mouthed a spell that would induce growth.

Tiny seeds, laying dormant in the cracks between the stones, bust into life. Tendrils grew and surrounded the shaft as the emerald glowed with magical power. The vines thickened, climbed higher, and just as they reached the end of the shaft they burst into a hundred small yellow flowers, framing the glistening sharp spearhead in a magical bouquet.

The monks fell to their knees, convinced that they were in the presence of the spirit of their god.

“Our apologies, Brother. We should not impede you on your holy task. In fact, if there is anything we can do to speed you on your way just mention it, and it will be done.”

James and Coyotka looked at each other for a moment. “Fresh provisions would be nice.” He said.

“And directions to Camelot.” Annie added. “None of us have ever been there, you see, and reliable as they are, the books we are using to guide us have occasionally led us astray.

Beneath her hood Coyotka might have been steaming, but she said, “Yes, if you could refresh our knowledge, please.” In an even enough voice.

The monks hurried to comply, telling the group to wait outside the Cathedral in the sun for them. Just before he hurried off the leader turned back to them and addressed Coyotka.

“As you are going to Camelot with an armed escort,” he said, indicating James and Annie, “perhaps you could do us a small favour.”

“What would that be?”

“We have a prisoner that must be sent to Camelot. Perhaps you can escort him? He is in chains but is perfectly capable of walking on his own. He is not a threat.” The monk hurried on, seeing James’ look of concern. “He is a Charlatan and a fraudster, a trickster of the lowest order. He is sought by many to which he owes money, and most would prefer to see him skinned alive, but he does have a connection to the High King, and Arthur would look favourably on anyone who delivered him safely to Camelot, to face the King’s justice, as it were.”

James conferred with the others in whispers.

“It would not hurt to be in Arthur’s favour since we need the portal he controls to get back to our time.” James said. The others agreed. A single prisoner, especially a cowardly conman, should be easy enough to handle.

“We shall be glad to assist you in this matter.” Coyotka announced as they broke the huddle.

“Good.” The monk said with a smile. “Wait here.”

As soon as they were gone James turned to Coyotka.

“What was all that with the spear about?”

“Arthur has sent knights out after all sorts of holy relics.” The coyote began. “The cup of Christ, the platter from the last supper, pieces of the true cross, and the Spear of Destiny. Bearing gifts from Rome will make our ‘pilgrimage’ easier, believe me; rumour will travel faster than we can and we’ll be welcomed by every Christian lord and landowner on our way.”

“But what happens when they realize such a new, clean spear, one with an emerald mounted on it no less, could not possibly be the spear of a simple Roman soldier from a thousand years ago?”

“Ha!” Coyotka laughed. “These monks are as bad as the peasants when it comes to archeology; they wouldn’t know a first century artifact from a whoopie cushion. Didn’t you see the frescos in the Cathedral? Knights with halos carrying jewelled grails and platters, the true cross decked in gold being carried away by the apostles, and a Roman dressed like the empower sticking a golden spear with gems the size of goose eggs into a glowing Jesus? If we had showed them the real thing they would have called it fake and locked us up with their charlatan.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, James. There are at least three accredited ‘holy’ spears in your world, two of which are obvious fakes, but people still worship them.”

“Yeah, some people will believe anything, like radio trackers in their vaccines.”

Coyotka shook her head sadly. “They must know that the hypodermics are much too narrow to insert radio tracking beads. They put those things in your breakfast cereal.”

“What?”

“Never mind. It’s beside the point. The people of this time and place have been conditioned to expect glitzy, expensive trinkets as a sign of holiness. The reformation will not be for centuries yet.”

“Speaking of which,” Gael said, “will our gems work here once we’re away from the portal?”

“Give it a try while the monks are gone. We’re far enough away now for it to have no effect.” Coyotka assured him.

Gael drew his sword and made the lightning dance on the blade. “It’s not as strong as on Shambhala but it still works.”

Magnus produced his lute for a second and James heated up his sword before letting Chris cool it off with a shot of water drawn from the air.

“The magic is not as powerful as on Medioterrae even,” James observed, “but workable. We’ll just have to adjust our expectations.”

Annie turned to Coyotek. “It’s good that we don’t have to rely on the real holy spear; I don’t like having to tote that thing around. I’m always afraid that Ross will steal it from us by some trick that our weapons can’t counter. Knowing what we know now, though, why we can’t just hide the real spear in one of these historical sites and retrieve it later, when we get back home? It would save us the trouble of carrying it through so many hostile lands.”

“Two reasons.” Coyotka answered patiently. “First, things change. Archeological sites get robbed, and buildings get torn down, fall down, get renovated or moved. This isn’t the Canterbury Cathedral as it exists a thousand years from now. Not even one of the original stones was reused.”

“And second?” Annie asked, sure that the first reason had covered all the bases.

“Second, this is not the same Earth as the one you cane from. Nothing you do here will effect things on your world.”

“Fuck the what now?”

“We’re in a parallel universe.” Coyotka explained. “One where an alternate Earth, Terra, Medioterrae and Shambhala can exist. Wanderers crossing over through these rare portals bring stories from these places back with them. The similarities between the worlds gave rise to legends that our ancestors mistakenly situated on their own worlds.”

“Not all legends are false.” Annie pointed out.

“True. Some, like your Trojan war or Terra’s Battle of the Five Furs have been proven to be true through archeology and academic rigour, but others have never been proved historically, like the legends of King Arthur or Prester John. That is because they and their kingdoms existed on parallel worlds. On your Earth, Annie, Briton was not united until Alfred, the King of Wessex conquered and convinced the Anglo-Saxon kings to join up under him; and even that didn’t last more than a hundred years or so. But on parallel worlds King Arthur and his knights of the round table united Britain, Prester John ruled a Christian kingdom in the orient and the Toronto Maple Leafs won a Stanley Cup in the era of colour photography.”

“None of the Arthurian legends are true?” Annie sounded disappointed.

“Wait.” James interrupted. “Just what year did the Maple Leafs win the cup? Who did they beat? Montreal, I hope, and can we travel to that time and world to catch the series?”

“James,” Annie admonished, “this is serious.”

“So is the Leafs winning a cup.” He grumbled.

“He’s right.” Coyotka said, siding with James for once. “The celebration riots destroyed half the city; it was the talk of the universe for years after.”

Annie shook her head. “I wish you would tell us these things beforehand.”

Coyotka shrugged. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that these things aren’t common knowledge where you come from.”

“Hey!” James exclaimed. “Will there be a version of me on this earth in the future?”

“Possibly.” Coyotka replied. “There is reliable evidence that there was a knight named Arthur on your Earth who was a great warrior that fought the Saxons, he just wasn’t the king.”

“Then maybe I can leave a message for my parallel future self, like ‘Your Uncle Rory will try to destroy the portal and kill your dad’.”

“James …”

“Or perhaps I can just make my future self rich with a message like ‘buy Amazon stock’.”

“James …”

“Hmmm … maybe it would be simpler just to bury some gold where my future self can find it. I’m sure we can get enough here so he won’t have to rely on the business from the family portal. Then Rory can have it and there is no more threat.”

“JAMES!” Coyotka yelled in her best ‘this librarian has had enough of your tomfoolery’ voice.

“Huh? What?”

“How would future James know where to find either a message or the gold? You would have to travel to the future to tell him, and that is impossible given that the portals are arranged to prevent such events.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Oh well, it was just a thought. Be cool if we could do it though.”

Coyotka began to explain how the portals protected the space-time continuum again and when she paused for breath Chris jumped in and tried to change the subject.

“Hey, Magnus! Very cool that you were able to remember that song.”

The deer-man shrugged. “I can remember any song that I’ve heard, even if only once, and I’ve heard my father sing that one a few times. You see, along with the shrines for the usual gods there was a small Christian chapel near our village where my father and a handful of other humans would go on their holy days. I used to tag along.”

“You never took up his religion?” Junafir asked.

“No.” Magnus replied, fingering the gold tooth though the material of his robe. “He claimed that he worshiped more out of habit than belief, but he sure believed in the spear of destiny. Looks like he was right too. Maybe there is something to this Christianity stuff.”

“Oh, the Christians don’t have a monopoly on holy relics.” Coyotka said with a snort. “Other Earth religions have had their share; the beard of Mohammed, the ark of the covenant, Buddha’s tooth, the golden plates of Jehovah, Zuzu’s petals ...”

“So, you don’t believe in any of the gods, is that it?” Asked Gael, who adhered to the prevailing religion on Terra, that of the Maker.

“No ... yes ... that’s not what I said.” Coyotka protested. “It’s just that they can’t all be right, therefore most of them must be wrong, ergo ...”

“Why can’t they all be right?” Magnus interrupted. “I mean, sure, there are a few that are based on superstition or created to control the masses for sure, but the ones that developed as a system of beliefs and ethics, the most popular ones that attract followers naturally, don’t they all preach the same thing ... essentially?”

“How so?” Annie asked.

“Well, they all celebrate and venerate life, they mourn the dead but believe they have gone onward, and they believe that some, if not all, beings have a soul. They all talk about peace and justice and fairness and charity. It’s really only in the details of how to worship where they differ, and those rules were mostly ‘interpreted’ later by ordinary people.”

Most of the group sat in silence. “Where did you learn so much about religion?” Annie finally asked.

Magnus shrugged. “Many of the songs the people want to hear before the taverns open are religious songs that contain clues to their beliefs. And the oldest songs known to the bards come from religious celebration.”

“Magnus is right.” James asserted. “I can’t think of any major religion from my Earth that doesn’t include music and singing in their rituals.”

“Nor can I.” Coyotka said, biting her lip as she was forced to concede the point to the singer. “And the older they are to more important music was to their beliefs, so much so that talented singers were considered blessed and often made members of the clergy.”

“So, Magnus really is a priest of sorts.” Gael chuckled.

“Quiet.” Magnus warned, adjusting his hood. “The monks are returning.”

The monks were escorting a skinny old man with sparse grey hair and a white beard that hung to his waist. The old fellow was dressed in a dirty and tattered robe that may have been light blue at one time. He clutched a pointed wide-brimmed hat in his hands, which were shackled at the wrist. Chains also dragged from his ankles, making it impossible for him to do more than shuffle along.

The monks stopped before James, who examined the restraints, shaking his head when he found that the iron cuffs had cut into the thin, pale skin of the prisoner.

“If he is to be returned to King Arthur in good condition he should not be kept in such cruel restraints.”

The lead monk laughed. “Oh, just have a healing spell cast on him before you get to Camelot; there are plenty of healers and wise women along the way. Just don’t let this one mix the potion himself or you’re sure to have a corpse on your hands.”

“He’s that bad?”

“Worse. Assassins are known to use his healing potions to dispatch victims quickly.”

Chris’ ears pricked up at that, making his hood rise, but fortunately none of the monks were looking his way. The prisoner’s eyes, however, flicked to him and back quickly.

James looked down into the pitiful, washed out pale blue eyes of the old man. “What is your name?” He demanded.

The old man shrugged, and gibberish issued from his almost toothless mouth.

“Like most fraudsters,” the monk offered, “he is known by several names; Ambrosius, Emrys and Myrddin, but most folk just refer to him as Merlin.”

Annie gasped. “Merlin the enchanter? The wizard that hid and raised Arthur until it was time for him to be king?”

“More like Merlin the imposter.” The monk said. “He was pretending to be the keeper of a shrine near where the future king was being raised in secret, using it as a base to steal whatever he could get his grubby hands on, including the sword that Uther Pendragon was to pass down to his heir. When he found out that the boy was an unaccredited heir of some royal personage, he put two and two together and set out to endear the lad to him. Even managed to give Arthur his birthright sword in some gaudy display involving a stone and an anvil.”

The prisoner raised a finger. “That’s not quite true.” He protested, his speech suddenly clear and understandable. “It was really very clever, involving magnets and hidden cams that made it impossible for others to draw the sword unless they had the counter magnets that I had fashioned into wrist guards for the boy, and ...”

The monk backhanded the prisoner into silence. “The less you let this one talk the better.” He advised the travellers. “He has used his relationship with the High King, exaggerating his importance and prowess, to con the gold from many a lord’s pulse, and to spread the legs of many of their daughters.” He added with a huff.

“You should talk, with all your religious mumbo-jumbo.” The old man countered before turning to James, who he perceived as the leader of the mysterious group of pilgrims. “These guys are mostly religious eunuchs after the Lords’ gold. Those that still have a pair of balls are after the Lords’ sons, this one in particular.” He said with a jerk of his head toward the lead monk. “Got a thing for the young ones.” He added in a fake whisper.

James pulled the old man toward him before the monk could strike the prisoner again. “Thank you, good Brother, for the warning. If you would give me the key to these shackles, we can manage from here.”

The monk reluctantly passed over the key to the prisoner’s fetters, snarling when the old man stuck his tongue out at him.

“I hope that you know what you are doing.” The monk said as he stepped back.

“We’ll be fine.” Annie replied as she used a vine pulled from her spear to encircle the old man’s waist. Several shoots grew along his arms and legs, reaching under the shackles and cushioning them away from the raw flesh. Drops of nectar even began to heal the cuts already there.

Annie took the other end of the living rope in her fist. “Make a sudden move and those vines will engulf you like a hungry snake.” She told him.

The old man raised his hands in surrender.

James turned back to the monk as the others gathered their packs and distributed the fresh rations other monks had brought. “You promised us a guide?”

“Oh, Merlin will guide you. He knows that his only hope of survival is to be delivered to the High King in Camelot before any of his many enemies find him.”

James’ brows narrowed at the monk’s tone. “You said that there would be no threat.”

The monk laughed. “I said that ‘he’ would be no threat. Those that seek his hide are another matter. My advice? Go with speed and keep your weapons handy. Holy mission or not, there are those that would risk damnation to see this one’s skin flapping from their bastions.”

Having shouldered their packs James said the proper words of departure, even though is heart was not in them.

“Which way?” He demanded curtly of the source of his anger.

“That way.” The old man said, pointing to a wide path heading west from the cathedral.

James set out at a brutal pace. Having trekked halfway across three worlds his companions had no problem keeping up, but Annie and Junafir had to take turns keeping the prisoner on his feet.

“Why are you going so damned fast?” The old man complained when they stopped to rest after two hours.

“Because, in addition to those who want to take the holy spear, we’ll now have those that want to kill you after us.” James replied between bites of cheese. “I’m sure the monks won’t waste time getting the word out. It seems that you have a talent at pissing people off.”

James had not expected the man to understand his expression, but the prisoner nodded his head at his words.

“Yeah, the fuck-up fairly does like to follow me around.”

James looked closely at the prisoner. Although he had been complaining about how old and frail he was Merlin was looking much more fit and somewhat younger than he had back at the Cathedral. He also somehow managed to look taller and generally healthier.

“You’ve been pretending to be old and weak.” James said. “Why?”

The older man did not try to deny it. “I act frail because it keeps people from being too rough on me. If they are holding me for some pissed off Lord they are generally afraid of killing me before they can collect the bounty. Once the Lord has me, he will want to keep me alive so he can torture me a bit before he orders my execution. Either way, the loose shackles and inattentive guards make it easier to escape. The monks weren’t buying the act though; they have been fooled by the likes of me once too often it seems.”

“You don’t talk like a tenth-century wizard or shyster.” Annie commented. “Where did you pick up the slang?”

“Oh, her and there. I come from a mostly Human world with portal connections with your Earth, near a delightful town called ‘Las Vegas’. I would often visit before I was banned from most of the casinos.”

“So,” Gael said, “you are a charlatan, as the monks claimed.”

“Charlatan is a strong word. I prefer ‘entrepreneur’.”

Annie was curious though, and brushed Gael aside. “How did you come to be known as Merlin, Arthur’s wizard?”

“Well, it’s a long story ...”

“We need to rest and eat, and you aren’t going anywhere.” She reminded him, touching the emerald on her spear to make the vines at his wrists and ankles a bit tighter.

Merlin winced. “In that case, I don’t mind telling you.” When the vines loosened, he settled back comfortably against a nearby tree. “I was what you might call a precocious child, smarter than average but bored and dissatisfied with the career my family picked for me.”

“And what was that.”

“They wanted me to be a Wanderer.” Merlin said with a scoff that made it sound like a worthless profession.

Coyotka’s ears pricked up at his tone. “Being a Wanderer is an honour!” She chided him. “Only the most intelligent and deserving can attain Wanderer status, and then only after proving themselves to be responsible and willing to live by the Wanderer’s code.”

“Well, canine, I memorized the texts, mastered the languages and cultures in record time, and fooling the Elders into thinking I gave a damn about their rules and codes was easy enough. But being a Wanderer does not bring much in the way of material rewards, so I branched out.”

The academic coyote, who had always dreamed of becoming a Wanderer, was offended. “The knowledge Wanderers acquire is its own reward.” She snapped.

“Yeah? You try covering the spread with knowledge and see how long it takes for the bookies to rearrange your kneecaps.” Merlin turned back to Annie. “As I was saying, I conceived a number of, uh, schemes ... to cover my expenses and pay the interest on what I had to borrow to maintain a decent lifestyle, but things never worked out. Fate or someone always seemed to get in the way.”

“You can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.” Annie quoted.

“Oh, regular people can be fooled all the time.” Merlin assured her. “It’s the naively honest and innocent that get in the way. There was this one girl named Dorothy ... had an irritating little dog and silver shoes ...”

“The Wizard of Oz!” James exclaimed.

“Yes, that’s what they called me. How did you know?”

“A guy named Frank L. Baum wrote about it and it became famous. I read the original and all the sequels when I was a kid. Then there were the movies, the stage plays and the television adaptations ... geeze, everyone on Earth knows the story.”

Merlin slapped his knees. “There you go. I get drunk one night and spill my guts to some two-bit reporter and wannabe children’s author in Chicago and he turns it into a successful career while I have to slip out through a portal because the Sicilians moving into the city want to run everything ... and because I owed them money.”

Merlin went on to describe several other worlds and failed schemes but suddenly Coyotka interrupted him.

“Hey! You called me a canine.” She said as she pulled off her concealing hood for the first time since landing on that world. “How did you know I wasn’t a human pilgrim?”

“Like I said, I learned the ways of the Wanderers in record time, including how to spot an Anthro by the way they walk,” he tilted his chin at her, “by they way their ears move under a hood,” he said to Chris, “and by their smell,” he added tilting his head toward Gael. “And don’t get me started on the antlers.”

One by one the Terrans lowered their hoods. Merlin whistled when Junafir uncovered her head. “A tigress, that’s a new one. Say, it must be warm under those heavy wool robes. Feel free to go ‘just fur’; I’m not shy.”

James gripped his sword and took a step toward the old man, but Junafir restrained him. “He’s not worth it,” she said, “and we might need him when we get to Camelot.”

“If we get to Camelot.” Gael grumbled.

“Why ‘if’, Gael?”

“Because if the monks expected the portal to be closed you can bet that Ross had something to do with it. He probably paid off the Bishop to close it on this side, like they said. Once the Bishop finds out that a group of pilgrims has come through, he is sure to send word to Ross, perhaps ask for instructions. Knowing that we are on our way to Camelot, it won’t take him long to catch up to us.”

The rest digested that bit of insight.

“What can we do about it?” James asked out loud of no one in particular.

Merlin held up a hand. “If I may be allowed to make a suggestion?”

James looked at him suspiciously but nodded for the man to continue.

“I dare say that of all the creatures here I know the most about the other worlds and the creatures that populate them.” He saw Coyotka open her mouth to protest. “Now, now, I was, after all, a real Wanderer.” Coyotka’s jaws snapped shut at the implied slight.

“I know you are all thinking, ‘why should I listen to this conman?’ Well, this conman has survived by keeping one step ahead of the authorities and criminal elements on a dozen different worlds. If you want to side-step someone who is watching all the official portals, then you need the services of someone like me that knows all the unofficial links between worlds.”

Coyotka gasped. “So, it’s true!”

“What’s true?” Chris asked.

“That there are portals that are not included in the Wanderer’s handbook.” Merlin answered. “Portals that only the Wanderer’s know of; many of them in fact. It is how the Wanderer’s can move around secretly and avoid political interference with their work, and undue duties and taxes on the materials they trade to finance their Handbook. Printing on parchment ain’t cheap, you know.”

James turned to the coyote. “Is this true, Coyotek?”

“It’s something we academics have long suspected, but did not dare accuse the Wanderers of, for fear they would cut us off from their knowledge.”

“They scammed you kid, no better than when I scammed the ignorant masses into thinking I had magic powers on a number of worlds.”

“But you don’t have any magic powers, do you?” Annie said accusingly.

Merlin shrugged. “Besides the point. Back to the matter at hand. What you need to do is to sidestep this Ross fellow by slipping across to another world and back again someplace else. I happen to know of a portal leading to such a world. While the search for you goes on between Camelot and Canterbury you will be travelling worry free on another world to a portal that will place you a couple of days hike on the far side of Camelot. You sneak into Arthur’s city unnoticed, present me safe and sound and I guarantee that he will allow you to escape through his private portal before Ross knows you’re there.”

Coyotka squinted through her glasses at the fake magician. “What is this other world called?”

“Hawaika.”

The group Conferred. Coyotka confirmed that such a world existed, and that it was a water world dotted with islands large and small.

“It was known to the ancient Polynesians of your plant, James, with several portals having opened up between your world and it on the volcanic islands of the Pacific. But I have no knowledge of any portals leading to it from here.” She confided. “Still, from what little the Wanderers have written, it seems like a safe enough place.”

James recalled what he knew of Polynesian culture from the movies and a single vacation with his father to Maui. “There are no cannibals, are there?”

“Not that I’ve read about.”

“I don’t think we can trust this Merlin.” Gael mumbled.

“Oh, he’s a shyster, alright,” Annie agreed, “but if the accounts of his exploits are anything to go by, he is essentially harmless. Still, I would keep him on a tight leash and count the jewelry every night.”

Chris volunteered to keep watch on the fake wizard. “Reminding him that I am a fully qualified assassin should help prevent idle escape attempts.”

James made the decision. “Alright then. We’ll got to this water world.” He turned to Merlin, who they had left shackled to a sturdy tree. “We’re going to Hawaika. How do we get to the portal?”

“We’ll need to hurry, it’s almost a day’s hike south of the Cathedral, near the chalk cliffs, and we are several hours west of the quickest road. We won’t make it before nightfall.”

“At least the change of direction may help throw Ross off our trail.” James mused as he untied Merlin from the tree. Then, keeping a firm grip on a rope circling the old man’s waist he said, “Lead on.”

Merlin did, and at a surprisingly brisk pace now that he wasn’t feigning feebleness anymore. “Yo, stallion!” He called to Gael, who was bringing up the rear. “Be a good horsy and sweep away our tracks as we double back. Once we turn south on a path few but I know of we can travel with less discretion.”

Gael grumbled but complied because it was a good idea, and he should have thought of it himself.

After an hour moving east Merlin turned right into what looked like an impenetrable hedgerow. There was however, a narrow path cut though it on such an angle that one would have to be looking directly along it to know that it existed.

“Mind you don’t break any twigs or damage the leaves.” The medieval fraudster advised as he delicately pushed his way through. “They probably won’t have professional trackers the first time they come looking for you but once they lose your trail they will hire some. And with all the Norman spies sneaking in through Dover these days it won’t take long to find trackers.”

Being careful meant taking extra time, but once they were through the hedge and across the field behind it Merlin told Gael that he need not bother covering their tracks anymore.

“They won’t find our trail tonight even if they are already looking, and by the time they do we’ll have a half-day head start on them.”

“We’ll rest for a few minutes now and them push on for a few more hours before we make camp.” James ordered. “Do you think you can keep going that long Merlin?”

“Sure, I’ll just act like someone that wants to skin me alive is after us … oh wait … they are.”

After a quick bite, a few swallows of water and trip behind the nearby bushes they were ready to go. As there was still the possibility of running into locals they kept their disguising robes on, much to Merlin’s chagrin.

The old fraudster’s spirits were lifted when they reached a pond in a secluded glade that he knew of. There the females of the party disrobed, to just loin cloths in the case of the Terrans and to sports underwear for Annie. It did not conceal much.

“I’m beginning to enjoy travelling with your little band more and more.” Merlin said as he watched Junafir and Coyotka fluff up their fur so that the sweat built up under the heavy woolen robes could evaporate. “Even your muscular human girl has a certain barbaric appeal about her.”

Before Chris, James or Gael could step in to defend their partners’ honour Annie swung around and stuck the tip of her emerald spear into the old man’s left nostril.

Merlin was hardly fazed. “I wish the Guards in the Emerald City were half as good as you.” He commented. “Then I wouldn’t have had to worry about witches or silver-shoed trespassers.”

His calm bravado made Annie smile. “I thought they were ruby slippers?” She said, lowering the spear.

“Not in the original story.” James answered for the failed Wizard. “In Baum’s novel the magic shoes were silver, but the studio changed them to red sequined shoes for the movie so that they would show up better against the yellow brick road.”

“My, aren’t you the font of knowledge.” Merlin chuckled. “You’ll be competing with the dog-lady soon.”

“I’m a coyote,” Coyotka corrected him, “and any knowledge can be useful, even if it is just entertainment trivia.”

“Hey!”

Gael interrupted. “Stop it, everyone.” The big horse said as he stood up. “Can’t you see what he’s doing? Buttering up half of you and making you start fights with the other half. Do not forget that this fellow has made a career out of conning people.”

“You have a good point there.” James admitted. “Let’s try to ignore him. The usual tasks for setting up camp?”

“We have plenty of food with what the monks gave us.” Chris noted. “So other than a few fish and some firewood we should be good.”

“I can handle the fishing.” Magnus confirmed, patting the blue sapphire mounted on his sword hilt.

“Fine.” James agreed. “Why don’t Junafir and I go over there,” he pointed to the woods on one side of the pond, “to look for wood?”

“Annie and I can gather on the other side.” Gael suggested. “I need to get away from this greybeard for a while anyway.”

“In that case Coyotka and I stay here and watch the prisoner.” Chris volunteered.

“And maybe go looking for truffles for breakfast later.” Coyotka said as she pressed up against him from behind, giving him a pinch in a delicate place at the same time.

The interchanges and knowing glances were not lost on Merlin. “I’ll just lay here and rest then, shall I? I’d pitch in but it’s been a hard day for an old man like me … and I’m a prisoner.” He added, lifting his shackled wrists to demonstrate his uselessness.

The group broke up into pairs. Soon magnus was seated by the pond, humming a tune while using the sapphire to draw the fish toward him. Gael and Annie had disappeared into the woods to the right while James, with his arm around Junafir’s waist, had gone left. That left Chris and Coyotka to lay out the bedrolls, make a fire ring and watch the prisoner.

“Too bad there are no trees here to tie him to.” Coyotka commented as she looked lovingly at Chris’ ass when he bent to place the stones for the fire ring.

“We could drive a stake into the ground and pass the chain through it.” The fox suggested.

“Let’s do it. That way we don’t have to be staring at his grizzled hide and toothless leer all the time.

Chris got out a hammer and a spike that doubled as a throwing weapon and drove it into the turf firmly. He placed the chain on the man’s wrist shackles under the hook on the end of the spike before driving it in even further, locking the chain against the hard ground.

Chris tried to wiggle the spike, but it was in solid. “That ought to do it. We can get supper ready to cook while we wait for the firewood to arrive.”

Coyotka pulled the fox abound behind Merlin. “That could take a while.”

Sitting uncomfortably cross-legged on the hard ground, Merlin could hear the sound of slaps and gasps and giggles coming from where the packs were stacked behind him. It seemed to him that his guards were not paying full attention, and that was fine by him. He had carefully cultivated a sense of contempt for his abilities in the Coyote, who he assessed to be the dominant one in this pair, causing her to underestimate his chances of escape. Being easy to underestimate was one of his strongest survival skills.

Merlin kept his back to them as he heaved and coughed up a small leather pouch that he had swallowed each morning before the monks conducted their daily search of his person. Inside were small but sturdy tools that could be used to pick any lock. He would have used them to escape the Bishop’s dungeon but the door to his cell was secured by a heavy wooden beam rather than a conventional lock. Now here on the outside there were just the shackles to overcome.

He had learned how to regurgitate the tools and how to use them from an Earth ‘magician’ who specialized in escapes and illusions. The skills cane in very handy, especially with simple mechanisms like the ones found in this era. Selecting a hooked rod, he unlocked both wrists and lay the shackles carefully and quietly down on the turf. Then he set to work on the ankle bracelets.

They would bot budge. He could not even get the pick inside. Peering into the keyhole he found out why, one of the monks, having heard of his reputation no doubt, had plugged the lock with lead beads. The soft metal would deform if he tried to hard, jamming the lock. It would take hours to pry them all out. Hours that he did not have.

He cursed himself for not checking while he was still in the isolation of his cell, but there was nothing for it now but to either replace the wrist shackles or try to sneak away. Judging that his chances of survival with his ankles shackled in the woods were better than on that horrible sea-world he made his move.

Slipping his robe off quietly he wrapped it around the ankle chain to muffle it as he belly-crawled away from the sounds of the two Terrans engaged in a little ‘slap and tickle’, mostly ‘slap’ from what he could make out. Keeping his ears open for signs of detection from that quarter he kept one eye on the back of the deer-man, who was oblivious to the nearly naked human sliding through the grass like a great white snake behind him.

A pregnant snake, Merlin told himself as he tried to flatten his pot belly against the ground as much as he could.

It took almost five minutes, but he finally reached the edge of the woods. Merlin resisted the temptation to jump up and run for it, however, as the undergrowth was not thick enough to hide behind and there was still the human boy and his tigress to get by.

Thinking of her lovely behind as she strutted away with her tail swaying gave him an uncomfortable bulge in the loin cloth. Merlin tried to clear his mind to eliminate it, but with not much success. Perhaps it was those thoughts that drew him unconsciously to the soft sounds coming from a mossy patch among the trees.

James and Junafir had not gone very far into the woods, collecting bark and dry twigs for kindling before they started to touch each other with tender gestures. They had found a new kind of intimacy since she had recovered from the shock of the spiders’ attack. No longer consumed by lust their lovemaking was less spontaneous, more deliberate, and much more tender.

By the time that Merlin slid into a position where he could spy on them they had progressed from touches to standing caresses and long, tender kisses. The mossy patch they had come upon looked comfortable and it was far enough into the woods to muffle any sounds they might make. They had peeled off what was left of their clothing while their lips explored each other and had dropped down onto the soft moss when they were both completely naked.

Junafir was on her side, facing back towards the camp with her eyes closed. Her hands were curled together under her cheek and her breathing was faster than normal. James lay behind her with his head resting on hers, eyes also closed as he let his hands do the exploring. His breaths came slow and steady as he restrained himself, keeping things slow and deliberate for now.

Merlin’s eyes widened at the sight of the tigress’ large breasts and the pink nipples that now protruded from the thin layer of fur on them. The boy had one arm under her, and that hand was gently squeezing those glorious globes and tweaking the hardening nipples in turn. His other hand was sliding up and down her flank, under her arm, over her wide hip and along her thick thigh.

He stroked her fur gently. Sometimes he used his palm, other times he used the hairy back of his hand, and occasionally he let just the tips of his fingers brush along the sensitive hairs of her coat. As Merlin watched he saw the boy’s hand drift lower on her torso, touching the side of her breast, tracing the line from her hip to her groin, tickling the inside of her thigh.

James was nuzzling her neck, kissing her cheek, nibbling on her ear. Occasionally she turned her head up to him to accept a deep kiss or to bite the fleshy lobe of his ear. After several such bites she unclasped her hands and slid one arm between them, reaching for something that Merlin could not see.

He doubted that it was her tail she was stroking behind her back.

His hand was pressing harder against her as it made its circuit up and down her body. When it came close to the junction of her legs he lifted it so that just two fingertips were left to caress the tender flesh of the mound there. Marlin focused on those fingers, watched as they circled the area, divided as they drew a line from inside her thighs to just above the swell. He saw the trailing pinkie brush along the slit that appeared in the fur, and how her body trembled when that tiny digit touched the hairless place between.

The protrusion inside his loin cloth was becoming more and more uncomfortable against the rough ground. Merlin dared not roll over for fear that the chain between his ankles might clank and give him away, so he shifted onto one hip before loosening the cloth, releasing the one-eyed monster within. Well, maybe not a monster, per say, he admitted as he wrapped one hand around it, but it made him happy.

Junafir raised one leg in response to James’ delicate caresses. He hooked his arm under it, taking up some of the weight while exploring the newly revealed territory. He could stroke the inside of her thighs right up to the top now, and he did, teasing the widening slit at their apex with each rotation before retreating back to her knees.

His other hand was still engaged at her breasts, but it was moving with more urgency now. Her hidden paw was moving faster also, stoking his cock and rubbing it between the globes of her butt. Her neck was twisted up as he leaned down over her and their mouths hardly parted company now, and it was difficult to tell who was gasping and moaning the loudest.

This wasn’t the same as slipping over to Nibiru for a live Babylonian sex show, Merlin thought to himself, it was ten times better. Especially when the tigress stuck the lad’s hardened penis between her thighs and began rubbing her distended vulva against it. You didn’t get that kind of spontaneity in the pay to watch places.

Junafir was dripping wet now, and her moisture spread along his cock as she pressed it hard against her sex, so hard that the halves of her mound rose up around it and helped spread her juices all around his shaft.

James hips began to move behind her, making his cock slide back and forth while she gyrated against it. He moved slowly and pulled back a little farther each time. After a dozen strokes the bulbous head was all but disappearing between her distended cunt lips. All she had to do when she was ready was to press on it with her finger to guide it inside.

The boy was definitely moaning loader now, Merlin decided as James’ cock slid slowly into the tigress cunt. He could probably give that horse a run for his money in the penis department, and she’s taking it all, he marvelled. Without thinking he started stoking his own much smaller appendage.

Laying on their sides with him holding her raised leg up in the crook of his elbow allowed him to lower his other hand until he found the button of her clit just above where his cock was sliding in and out of her. A wipe around the edge wet his finger enough for him to rub that ball of flesh without being too rough.

Junafir rose up on one elbow and steadied herself by placing her other hand on the ground. Her chest was heaving as the sensations coming from inside her combined with his skillful manipulation of her clit became almost too much to bear. Her tail, which until then had been trapped between them, popped up and lashed about wildly, slapping his ass as if urging him on.

As if on cue James began to increase the pace and the force of his thrusts. The muscles on his thighs stood out and his ass clenched as he used them to provide power to his pistoling prick. He buried his face in the thick fur around her neck as he concentrated on bringing her, and him, to completion.

They had used up the last of the condoms he had bought on Earth, and he did not quite trust the brew that Oyo had given the females in their party, so he prepared to pull out, hoping that he would not have to do so before she came.

Merlin was focused on the point where the lovers were joined, and he saw the spray of clear fluid shot out from around the tight seal on the boy’s cock before the tigress cried out. Then he saw the lad pull his cock out and rub it along her dripping slit again. She pressed her hand against it, rubbed it as the boy began to gasp from the effort, and when she felt the cum shooting through the tube she squeezed it tight. The intensity of its journey through the constricted passage made James cry out too as his cum decorated her belly and the moss in front of them.

They did not stop moving right away, but rather slowed down into an easy pace with James still rock-hard cock rubbing against Junafir’s clit, drawing out smaller but equally intense orgasms while his balls sporadically clenched and fired smaller and smaller wads of cum. Both were panting hard by the time it was reduced to a few drips.

Merlin’s eyes went crossed as he neared climax. His fist flew back and forth as he struggled to squeeze one out without the usual gasps and cries that went with a really good orgasm.

Almost there, he thought as he watched the lovers kiss and caress each other down from their own admittedly spectacular climaxes. Almost there ... almost ... and ....

His ecstasy was suddenly shattered by a furry hand over his mouth. His balls exploded in surprise and sponge sprayed all over the ground as he was hauled back behind the bushes, out of sight of the lovers who were still panting too hard to hear the slight rustle of the leaves. The hand remained on his mouth until they were well away from the mossy clearing. It was replaced by hot breath from a mouth placed close to his ear.

“I’m going to fucking kill you when I get you back to camp.” Chris hissed.

No, Merlin thought as the assassin dragged him silently through the woods, the Hawaikans will kill us all … unless I can give you the slip somehow before we get there.

Gael Tholkes © MarcusXLight

Junafir Pawstone © Frostlupus

Chris Cinereo © Kyroo Echos

Constance “Coyotka” Jotkowska © Coyotek

Magnus © Thwaitesy