Tafe and I exchanged glances. "Go on," she whispered, her voice filled with awe at what we had seen. "Touch the others with it."
As I moved the true Excalibur toward the next sword I saw that the inscription on the blade had grown clearer, though it was still blurred beyond reading. Metal touched metal and another violent gust of wind chilled our faces and hands. The sword whose hilt I gripped was again heavier, having reabsorbed some of the power that had been stolen from it.
One sword remained on the stone floor. Slowly I brought the now weighty Excalibur against it. The torch on the wall guttered and went out in the sudden gust of wind that filled the chamber. We were left in darkness with the object which we had undertaken our quest to find: the one true Excalibur restored to its full power. It lay heavy in my hand as I lifted it and ran trembling fingers along the length of the blade. The runic letters of the inscription were now clearly incised.
I reached down to my feet and found the wrappings in which I had carried it. I felt now the sacredness of the object and the respect the ancient artefact deserved. When it was bundled once more I turned toward Tafe in the darkness and whispered, "We have found it."
"Yes," came her reply. "But what good does it do? We're thousands of miles and God knows how many centuries away from the one who can use the sword. Arthur's back in the England of your time and we're in the middle of this Godforsaken frozen waste. Even if we could get out of this dungeon, how do you propose to get back?"
My joy at the restoration of Excalibur to its true state disappeared with Tafe's reminder of our condition. Our victory had again receded into shallow defeat. "Well," I said, my voice coming from some hollow centre of pain in my chest, "then there's nothing but- Wait! Did you hear something then?"
In the darkness it was easy to concentrate upon our sense of hearing. For a moment I thought it was perhaps nothing but the blood rushing in my veins, then Tafe spoke. "There," she said. "Something rumbling in the ground below us."
The sound grew louder, evolving into a churning, roaring noise. Soon the floor beneath our feet began to vibrate, and the ancient stones of the castle grated against one another. Dust from the long undisturbed roof sifted down upon us from above.
"What is it?" cried Tafe. "What's going on? An earthquake?"
The words of a half-forgotten dream came back to me, and suddenly I understood them. "No," I said, "it's the sword! It seeks to return to its proper time – and didn't the woman say that this was a place of power? Excalibur is turning the centuries back to the time where it rightfully belongs!"
With fearsome rumbling and groaning noises the walls of the castle began to crumble into their component atoms. The stones of the dungeon toppled in on us, but dissolved into nothingness before they hit us. Through the sudden yawning spaces above us I could see the moon and stars whirl about as they wrenched themselves back into the constellations of the year 1892.
"Hold on to the sword!" I cried to Tafe, thrusting the bundle between us. "It will take us with it. The power is great enough!"
Her hands grasped the cloth-wrapped sword. The floor heaved and creaked beneath our feet but we managed to stay upright. The stones of the castle lay all around in ruins, then flicked one by one out of existence as Time coursed backward.
The Earth's motion grew less, then finally was stilled. An eerie calm settled over the snow-covered crag on which we found ourselves. Moonlight bathed the drifts, silvered the trees of a forest below. Some small mechanism of my heart felt at rest. This I knew was the year 1892. Only distance separated us from England, Arthur, and the end of our quest.
"There's still a chance," I said to Tafe. "We may have arrived at a time early enough to forestall the Morlocks' invasion plans – if we can get Excalibur into the hands of Arthur."
"Yes, but how?" she said. "That's hundreds of miles away!"
"Col. Nalga said there was a village near this spot. If we can get to it we can hire some means of transportation to a larger town, and then travel by rail back to England."
"Is there enough time for that?"
"What other choice do we have? Either we go that route and pray we have enough time, or we simply give up where we stand."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "We've come too far for that. We'd better hurry if we're going to find that village before we freeze to death out here."
We commenced walking and were lucky enough to stumble upon a well-marked trail leading down out of the hills. After following its winding length for only a half-mile or so we were able to spy a cluster of lights below us. We quickened our paces, longing for the sight of plain human faces.
Tafe suddenly spoke. "Don't turn your head yet," she whispered. "But when I say to, look about twenty yards up the face of the cliff just to your right, and be quick about it. All right, now."
I did as she directed and was rewarded with the sight of something being jerked back behind a little outcropping of rock. A death-pale face with white hair and dark blue spectacles! Perhaps.
"You saw it?" said Tafe.
"Yes," I said, nodding. "They're waiting for us here. When we disappeared from the castle in the future they must have reasoned that we had found a way to unite the swords and return with it to this time. Obviously they mean to stop us before we can reach Arthur with Excalibur."
"Let em try," said Tafe with fierce determination. "I haven't gone this far just to be stopped an inch from the finish line."
We made our way without incident to the little village at the foot of the hills. There I convinced one of the local burghers that Tafe and I were English tourists who had gotten separated from our hiking party. For a nominal amount of pound notes – my wallet had stayed in my inside coat pocket through all our trials so far – I hired a small cart and a pair of horses to draw it I promised to have them sent back by someone at our destination, which was the nearest town situated on a railway line. Another wad of notes secured the possession of two ancient, rust-specked rifles and a handful of rounds. "For the trolls?" said the seller, laughing as he handed the guns to me.
"Trolls?" I said. "What trolls?"
"Ach, some of the little children here claim to have seen trolls in the hills nearby. Pale white ones with blue glass spectacles. Such imagination they have!"
"Indeed," I murmured, and hurried outside to where Tafe was waiting with the cart.
"I'll take the reins," I said and handed her the rifles. "Load these and be quick about it. We'll need them before very long, I'm afraid."
The sun had not yet risen when we left the village. To reach our planned destination we would have to pass directly beneath a row of weathered cliffs that terminated one section of the hills from which we had descended earlier. This was the point at which I anticipated the Morlocks attempt upon us. I coaxed as much speed from the two venerable plow-horses drawing us as was possible, while the cart jarred in and out of the rural lane's ruts, shaking as if it were ready to fall apart.
For a moment, as we passed the last of the small cliffs that bordered the road, I dared to hope that the attack I had expected was somehow not to be realised. My small spark of hope was dashed when a pair of rifle shots sounded above us. The two startled horses bucked and reared at the noise, tearing the reins loose from my hands. One of the cart's wheels caught in a rut and twisted, snapping the worm-eaten axle. The cart crashed onto its side, throwing us clear and interposing itself as a temporary barrier between ourselves and any more shots from the cliff.