Germany! Even in the numbing onslaught of cold, a shock ran through me on hearing this revelation. For what purpose could the Morlocks have brought us here? This seemed to surpass all the mysteries that had been generated so far.
"For God's sake," I asked, "what could possibly be here?"
"In your time there was only a small village nearby. That's all gone now, of course. If you hadn't had the misfortune to arrive in this storm you would have been able to see that to which we have come. But there!" He extended his arm, made thick with his heavy coat. "You can just make it out where it stands."
My eyes followed the direction the Morlock officer indicated, but at first I could see nothing. Then an outline took form, looming through the obscuring storm. Dark against the surrounding darkness, it seemed like some massive medieval fortification standing alone on the bleak crag above us. In all my studies I had never read of such a thing being erected in this remote area. Who could have built it in the centuries since my time, and for what reason?
The Morlock guards were at last assembled about us, and Col. Nalga led the way toward the towering dark shape. As we struggled toward it, staggering in the face of the wind and the snow, I could make out the sputtering glow of torches at a point near the castle's base. A few yards closer and I could see that they flanked a high-arched entranceway. Another group of Morlocks was there, awaiting our arrival.
We gained the shelter of the arch and could stand upright again. The storm beyond the stone walls continued to rage, blotting out any sight of the train that had brought us to this desolate landscape.
Salutes were exchanged between Col. Nalga and the Morlock officer in charge of the group that had been waiting for us. After a brief exchange in their own language, Col. Nalga turned to Tafe and myself. "You're in luck," he said, grinning malevolently. His pallid face beneath the fur-trimmed hat was as cold and heartless as the snow beyond. "You won't have to spend any time waiting. The one who ordered you to be brought here is ready to see you now."
"This seems as good a time as any," I said, then defiantly: "Lead the way."
With our previous guards behind and the ones from the castle before us, Tafe and I were escorted into the dark structure. By the light of the smouldering torches set at intervals in the walls I noted the castle's apparent great age. The stones that formed the walls were much battered and covered with time-worn inscriptions, and the stones of the floor were worn in channels from centuries of feet treading upon them. In all, everything about the castle gave an atmosphere of great antiquity and the solemn mystery that often accompanies old relics.
The corridor led to a wide stairway, the stone steps of which were similarly eroded by wear. The Morlocks halted and the group in front of us parted to form a passage between them. Col. Nalga came and bowed with mocking courtesy to us. "This way," he said, sweeping a hand toward the steps. We followed, I at least motivated by a desire to face the one who had so cruelly dashed our hopes.
The rest of the Morlocks were left behind as Col. Nalga, Tafe and I mounted the steps. We felt our way cautiously as the light from the torches in the corridor below was soon lost to us, and none were mounted on the walls of the stairway. Upward in darkness we proceeded, steadying ourselves on the uneven steps with our hands against the cold, damp walls.
At last Col. Nalga halted and raised a barely discernible hand. "The one beyond this door," he whispered, "is a person of great power and quick wrath. Guard your tongue, then, as it may mean a good deal of difference as regards the ease of your deaths." He pushed open the door he had indicated and motioned for us to go through. When we had stepped past him he did not follow but pulled the door shut behind us.
Not torches but a pair of candles partly illumined the chamber in which we now found ourselves. The wax tapers stood on a table close to the wall farthest from us. A figure sat at the table. In the dim light I at first thought it was some kind of a joke created by the Morlocks – a parody of an Egyptian mummy with a silk dressing gown wrapped about it. The figure's head was completely swathed in white bandages as were the hands resting on the table like ill-shaped parcels on a butcher's rack.
We stood motionless for several moments as we studied this gauze-wrapped apparition. Then it spoke. "Come closer. Where I can see you."
A shiver crawled over my flesh at the sound of the words. The voice, though somewhat muffled by the bandages, was oddly familiar to me. A woman's voice – where had I heard it before? I puzzled over this new mystery as Tafe and I crossed the room.
"So." The bandaged head looked up and studied us when we stood beside the table. "It's my pleasure to entertain the two of you again. Though I certainly hope you repay my hospitality better than the last time we met."
I could contain my curiosity no longer. "Who are you?" I asked, peering at the lines of the face concealed beneath the wrappings. "Why are you disguised in such a fashion?"
"Disguise?" A bitter laugh emerged from the gauze. I wish it were so." The white mass turned slowly from side to side as if the neck were capable of only limited and painful motion. "No," the woman went on, "the bandages are to keep my charred skin from sloughing off my flesh like leaves. Come, come, my dear Mr. Hocker. Was my fate so unimportant to you that you can't even recall a certain conflagration for which you were responsible? Such callousness from one who no doubt styles himself virtuous!"
"The clinic," I said, slowly realizing the truth. "Where Merdenne was keeping Arthur prisoner."
"That's right," affirmed the muffled voice. "Quite the little heroes then, weren't you? Rescue your precious doddering king, but leave a woman behind to die in the flames!" The bandaged hands flexed as if trying to curl into angry fists. "Are you saddened to discover that I survived?" A drop of spittle soaked through the gauze over her mouth with her bitter words.
"The nurse," I said. "At the clinic…"
"Ah, yes, the nurse, as you say. That was Merdenne's little masquerade for me. All the time I had served as his right hand, he wished to humiliate me that way. He knew my ambitions. were as great as his, and might someday cut the ground from beneath his feet. The wretch! Leaving me to die and rot in a hospital charity ward as soon as I had answered all his questions about your rescue of Arthur. I vowed then, in the heart of my scabbed and twisted body that I would live and take his place somehow. And so I have. Merdenne is gone and I am now the Morlocks' collaborator. The sweet triumph for which Merdenne craved will be mine."
The intensity of the woman's greed and egotism repulsed me. So Evil always had an understudy such as this to take its place when needed! "Do you know where Merdenne is?" I asked.
"It doesn't matter," said the woman. "From the fact of his sudden disappearance it's easy to surmise that your friend Dr. Ambrose has somehow managed to remove him from the scene. And since you two have been pursuing your quest without Ambrose's help, it's equally obvious that your powerful ally is also no longer a force that needs to be considered. No, the contest is between you and myself – and I have won."
"You knew then what we were trying to do? What the purpose of our quest was?"
The bandaged head nodded slowly. "After your raid on the clinic you had Arthur the King. What else would you need other than the sword Excalibur restored to its true strength?"
"So that's why you had the sword that had drifted to the Lost Coin World brought to you."
"Of course. But not just that sword. All of them I had located and retrieved, except for the one that was already in your possession." The woman's gauze-wrapped hands left the table and lifted up something that had been propped next to her chair. It was the sword I had carried, still bound in its cloths and leather straps.