Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Sir Pellias reached up and closed his visor. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light beaming in through the slit. Gripping his lance, he let the weight settle into his side. It felt right in his hand. The balance was, well, perfect. It was part of him, and he part of it. It was an extension of him.

The cheering of the crowds faded away as the sound of his breath was amplified inside the metal. Some knights disliked the helmet around their head, its protection as much a prison as a shield. A wall to enclose, not a wall to protect. But not Pellias. Like the lance, it was an extension of him, an outer skin, a hardened skin. It made him feel stronger.

His steed snorted, stomped and shifted to the side. With his free hand, Pellias patted the horse and stroked its mane, calming it before they charged. His horse had the most dangerous part; little shielding, more mass, and no sense of when, or if to duck or veer away.

The trumpets blew—a sign for the jousters to ready themselves for the coming sprint. Pellias became keenly aware of smell of broken grass under his horse’s hooves and meat cooking over the pit in the nearby stalls. Time slowed. His mind focused. He looked to his horse, then to the hilt of his lance, following it down the shaft to the point. He then turned his eyes to the knight ahead.

In the stands of the tiltyard, the beautiful Archade stood and raised her kerchief before the two jousters. Both knights knew all that was happening, and all that was about to happen. The rhythm was always the same--the sights, the sounds, the smells, the start, the strike. But the ending. The ending was unknown.

The white kerchief dropped, slowly floating to the ground. Neither man saw it land. Upon release, they had set off, racing fiercely toward one another. As the knights enclosed upon one another they remain focused on the chest of the other. Spears driven forward by knights conducting the locomotive power of their charging horses' legs. Lances crossed, then a splintering collision exploded in the arena.

-------------------

On an October night 500 years in the future, kids engaged in the odd custom of going house to house, draped in costumes, threatening homeowners with tricks unless they were given treats. In this way, they collected candy while parents ushered them along, wondering just how full bags or buckets would need to grow before they could head home.

One house in the neighborhood had been decorated in a castle-themed décor--a moat, drawbridge, and even a dungeon. At least it was something to break up the monotony of the night. The smell of cooked turkey is what initially caught the attention of parents and children; it drew them in like teenagers to a cabin in the woods. Added to the smell of turkey was the sound of medieval music, and the sight of fog rolling out from under the drawbridge. None of that mattered in kids' minds; what they really wondered is if they’d receive full-sized candy bars. The treat they’d get was far bigger than they hoped.

-------------------

Pellias awoke staring up to darkness. Gasping for breath, he quickly arose from the ground and stumbled to his feet, prepared to continue battle. Instinctively, he reached out, waiting for his squire to hand him a sword. No sword came. As his vision came more in focus he realized why--he was no longer in the arena and it was no longer daytime. His helmet was missing, but his suit of armor was still intact.

It was one of the kids who first spotted the shiny metal in the bushes on the side of the house. While her parents were distracted talking to the neighbors and eating turkey, the costume-clad child in her glittering gown glided over to the shrubs. Then she stared up at the shiny silver man behind the tree whose hand was outstretched reaching for something that wasn’t there.

“Hey mister, whatcha doin'?” The child said, clinging to a stuffed candy bag.

The knight stared down at the very short princess. Then he quickly knelt and replied, “Your highness, I, uh, beg your pardon, I am Sir Pellias. I am unsure of what happened. Where am I?”

The child laughed, “We’re in Mountain Lodge, silly. We’re about to see the King and Queen in their castle.”

“Ah, the King and Queen! Very good, I wish to see the King. Will you show me the way?” The knight replied.

“Sure, follow me.” She said, walking back toward the front of the house to rejoin her family.

Though very small for a castle, the building was magnificent. Lit with strange colors, it emanated amazing sounds. They walked past the cooking turkey, up the drawbridge and over the moat.

Passing through the grand hall, the knight knelt and bowed his head in reverence to the King and Queen. “Your highness, it is I, Sir Pellias. I’m afraid I am in foreign lands and have lost my way. I was in a joust and am now unsure of what land I am in. Can you help me find my way?”

“Good sir,” the King said, “Tell us, where are you from?”

Pellias turned his eyes to the King, “Camelot, your Highness.”

“Camelot? Oh, that’s near 410 and I-35.” The King responded. “Just go south on 281, east on 1604, then south on I-35. It’ll be down on your left after you pass 410.”

Pelias’ stared at the royal couple. “King, I…I am unfamiliar with what these numbers mean.” He said, hanging his head in despair.

Sensing his dismay, the Queen stepped off her throne and approached the knight. She reached down, put her delicate hands under his chin, and lifted it until he looked into her eyes. “Do not fret good sir,” she said, “I can see that the Camelot you speak of is not in this time or place. I know of someone who can help. We have commissioned a great artist and wise man, to do work for us. Perhaps he can give you direction.”

“Who is this person you speak of?” Pellias asked.

“Why, it is Leonardo Da Vinci! I shall take you to him,” the queen responded.

With that, she led Pellias to Leonardo’s workshop where he was drawing out a design for a flying machine. The Queen watched him for a while, admiring his ability and skill.

“Pardon me, Leonardo, but I’m need of your assistance,” the Queen quietly said.

“Yes, my Queen,” Leonardo replied, looking up from his desk.

“This is Sir Pellias, and he’s trying to get home,” the Queen said.

“Ah, yes, Pellias. I know of you,” said Leonardo.

“Your greatness, you know of me? Surely not. I am but a humble knight, only here to serve my king. Alas, though, I could use your help,” Pellias pleaded.

“But, of course! I know why you are here. You seek a way home,” Leonardo replied.

“Yes, yes! I do,” Pellias replied excitedly. “Do you know the way? Will you tell me?”

Leonardo sighed. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You come from another time, another place. The path home isn’t clear, only the next step is clear.” Leonardo fumbled through papers on his desk, then dashed to a bookcase. He flipped through various books, then moved over to a collection of maps, unfurling several. At last, after pulling out a drawer, he exclaimed, “Ah, here it is! You see, you’re not the first person to come from your time. This occurred once before, and the traveler recorded his journey."

Then he handed Pellias a scribbled note that read:

I left the magical castle and climbed up the Alpine Ridge until the Seven trade Winds blew me southwest.

Then I ascended the mighty Misty Peak, and even further along Heaven’s Peak.

Alas, the path went downward, and I came to a low point, a break between dwellings.

I walked to the trees and found a rock to sit on.

I sat there pondering my fate. What to do? What to do?

It was there, to the west, I saw the sign.

A truly heavenly sign that shone out from the top of a great tower.

It gave me strength and reinvigorated me for my travels.