Christopher Stasheff - The Warlock Unlocked

Rod stared.

Then, slowly, he looked up, and all about him; all the trees were just like the first. They towered above him, spreading a tinsel canopy between himself and the sun; it tinkled in the breeze.

Slowly, he turned back to the meter-wide trunk behind him. So that was why Geoff had faded, instead of just disappearing—the machine’s computer had sensed solid matter at the far end, and hadn’t released him from its field until he was clear of the trunk. Rod nodded slowly, drew his dagger, and carefully cut a huge “X” in the trunk; he had a notion he might want to be able to find it again.

Apropos of which, he turned his back to the trunk, and looked about him carefully, identifying other trees as landmarks—the one with the split trunk over to the left, and the twisted sapling to his right…

And the gleam of water straight ahead!

And just about the same distance away as Elben Pond had been. The machine had set him down in the spot that exactly corresponded to the pick-up point.

But when? When had there been silver-leafed, white-trunked oaks on Gramarye?

When would there be?

Rod shook off the tingling that was trying to spread over his back from his spine. He had more important things to think about, at the moment. He stepped away toward the shoreline, calling, “Geoff! Geoffrey! Geoff, it’s Papa!”

He stopped dead-still, listening. Off to his left, faintly, he heard tiny wails, suddenly stopping. Then a little head popped up above underbrush, and a small voice yelled, “Papa!”

Rod ran.

Geoff blundered and stumbled toward him. Silver leaves rang and chimed as they ran, with a discordant jangle as Rod scooped the little body up high in his arms, stumpy legs still kicking in a run. “Geoff, m’boy! Geoff!”

“Papa! Papa!”

After a short interval of unabashedly syrupy sentimentality, Rod finally put his second son down, but couldn’t quite bring himself to take his hand off Geoff’s shoulder. “Thank Heaven you’re safe!”

“Scared, Papa!”

“Me too, son! But it’s all right, now we’re together—right?”

“Right!” Geoff threw his arms around his father’s leg and hugged hard.

“Well! Time to go… what’s that ?”

Something blundered into the underbrush and stopped with a clashing of leaves. Then it set up a frightened wail.

A voice faded in after it. “…thou dare—Cordelia! Thou’st done… Oh, child! Now two of thee are lost!”

“Uh—three!” Rod called, peering over the underbrush to see Magnus come barrelling out of the tree-trunk. “Come on, Geoff! Family-reunion time!”

“Not lost, Mama!” Cordelia crowed triumphantly. “We’re all here!”

“And all lost,” Rod agreed as he came up. “Here he is, Gwen.”

“Oh, Geoffrey !” Gwen fell to her knees and threw her arms around her boy.

Rod let her have her few minutes of sickening sentimentality while he set his arms akimbo and glared down at Magnus. “You know, this wasn’t exactly the world’s smartest idea.”

“If one of us’s lost, we should all be lost!” Cordelia declared.

“So said she to Mama,” Magnus stated, “and me thought her idea had merit.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” Rod growled, glaring; but he couldn’t hold it, and grappled them to him, one against each hip, hugging them hard. “Well, maybe you’ve got a point. The family that strays together, stays together—even if we are all in danger.”

“Danger?” Magnus perked up. “What danger, Papa?”

Rod shrugged. “Who knows? We don’t even know what kind of country we’re in, let alone what lives here.”

“It’s all new !” Cordelia squealed in delight.

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” Rod shook his head in amazement. “And to think I used to be a cynic!”

“Where are we, Papa?” Magnus was looking around, frowning.

“It’s beginning to get through to you, too, huh? Well, I think we’re still in Gramarye, but way in the future—way, way in the future. It couldn’t be the past, because Gramarye never had trees like this—before the colonists came, it was all Carboniferous.”

“Carbo- what ?”

“Just giant ferns, no trees.”

“Art thou certain?”

“Well, that’s what the rest of the planet still has—but let’s check it, anyway… Fess?” Rod waited for the robot to answer, then frowned. “Fess? Fess, where are you? Come in, hang it!”

There was no answer.

“Can Fess ‘talk’ across time, Papa?” Magnus asked quietly.

“Well, we tried it once, and it worked—but Doc, uh, Dr. McAran was lending us a time-machine’s beam, then.” Rod didn’t finish the thought, but a cold lump of dread began to swell in his belly.

“But isn’t there a time-machine still running, here?”

Rod would have to beget brainy kids! “Don’t miss much, do you? Uh, Gwen, dear? I think it’s time we were getting back.” Or trying to .

Gwen looked up, startled. “Oh, aye!” She scrambled to her feet. “I had clear forgot about time! Why, Gregory must be squalling with hunger!”

“I have a feeling you should have weaned him sooner,” Rod mused.

The telepathic mommy picked it up from her kids. “What is this foreboding…? Oh.” She looked up at Rod. “Magnus fears the gate may be closed.” Her face firmed as she accepted it.

Rod felt a surge of admiration, and gratitude that he’d lucked into this woman. “There is that possibility, dear. Let’s check it out, shall we?”

Without a word, Gwen clasped little Geoff’s hand and followed after her husband.

Rod went slowly, holding Cordelia’s hand and letting Magnus stalk by his side, searching for the bent sapling on the one hand, and the split trunk on the other. There, and… there. And there was the big oak with the “X” on it.

He caught Magnus’s hand. “Take your mother’s hand, son. I think we’d better be linked up, just in case this works.”

Silently, Magnus caught Gwen’s hand.

Slowly, Rod paced toward the tree.

He stopped when the bark was grooving his nose, and didn’t seem disposed to melt nicely out of the way.

“Thou dost look silly, Papa,” Cordelia informed him.

“I never would have guessed,” Rod muttered, turning away. His eyes found Gwen’s. “It didn’t work, dear.”

“No,” she answered, “I think it did not.”

They were silent for a few minutes.

“Art thou certain ‘twas here, Papa?” Cordelia asked hopefully.

Rod tapped the tree-trunk. “X marks the spot. I should know—I put it there, myself. No, honey—whoever opened this particular door for us, has shut it.”

“At least,” Gwen pointed out, “I will not have to wait dinner for thee.”

“Yes.” Rod smiled bleakly. “At least we’re all here.”

“No, Papa!” Cordelia cried. “ Not all here! How could you forget Gregory!”

“Believe me, I haven’t,” Rod assured her, “but I think whoever trapped us here, did.”

“ Trapped us?” Magnus’s eyes went round.

“Don’t miss much at all, do you?” Rod gave him a bitter smile. “Yes, son, I think somebody deliberately set out to trap us here—and succeeded admirably.” His gaze travelled up to Gwen. “After all, it makes sense—and it’s about the only theory that does. There’s a storm brewing, between the Church and the Crown, back on Gramarye— our Gramarye, that is. And I’ve got some pretty strong hints that somebody from off-world’s been pushing the Church into it. So what happens? Church and Crown have a meeting this afternoon, a confrontation that should’ve blown the whole thing sky-high—and what do I do but foul up the plan by getting them both to see reason! No, of course whoever’s behind it would want me out of the way!”