Earth's Magic (10 page)

Merlin realized that here he was unknown and was probably seen as just some young retainer of the King’s. So in a casual-seeming way, he and Heather wandered off from the guided tour, trying to sense if there was anything amiss. They felt it right away. Both of them had been too close to Morgan in the past to miss her imprint now.

“She’s been here, all right,” Merlin whispered as they walked down a side street in town. “She or her people haven’t bothered to hide their stench. Mostly, it’s several months old, though I think I’m getting a few fresher traces.”

Heather nodded as she hung on his arm, trying to give the impression, which she did not greatly object to, of their just being a loving sightseeing couple. “And it feels like the animals here are edgy—the small ones particularly, like the mice and dogs. Something dark has spooked them. When I ask about it, the pictures I get are confused but frightening.”

The two rejoined the royal party once it had finished inspecting the troops. The ordinary people on the street, they noticed, seemed genuinely thrilled about seeing the High King Arthur himself. In the happy, cheering crowd, they also heard
admiring comments about how lovely and capable Queen Margaret looked.

“I wonder what Duke Clyde’s subjects would think if they knew about his planned treachery,” Heather whispered as they watched excited children throw a few rare hothouse flowers at the royal couple.

“Unless Morgan has offered something marvelous which he can share with his subjects, definitely not her style, they probably would not take kindly to it.”

As they again entered the walled compound around the Duke’s rambling residence, Merlin stopped and leaned casually against the wall. “Morgan has left a port here, and she herself has used it,” he whispered to Heather.

“She left a what?”

“A port, an object that can serve as a temporary gate for her or one of her agents to travel here quickly.” He flicked his boot toward a reddish piece of rubble that jutted out slightly from the rest of the wall.

“Can you disable it?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to until we’ve confronted the Duke. It might put something on the alert.”

Duke Clyde invited them all in for talk and a meal in what was once the old factory’s cafeteria. Now it was furnished luxuriously in things that must have been salvaged from the old city of Manchester—rugs, antique furniture, paintings, and lamps that even without their lost electricity still made interesting fixtures.

Gesturing at a long, lace-covered table, the Duke said grandly, “We are so honored by your presence, Your Majesties. It’s not often that we get an opportunity to bring out our best table service, but we are happy to now. Manchester was once a wealthy city, and we hope to make it so again. With your inspired
leadership, Majesties, I’m sure it will be soon—as will all of Britain.”

“Yes, very impressive,” Arthur said, eyeing the jewel-encrusted goblets and gleaming chinaware spread on the table before them.

Standing beside him, Margaret whispered, “Blanche would love this stuff. When all this marching and fighting is over, we’ve got to see about building up her hoard.”

When Arthur’s party and several from Duke Clyde’s court sat down around the table, servants brought in silver tureens of food and crystal decanters of wine. Merlin was surprised. Wine was very hard to come by these days. Ceremonially, the Duke poured wine into the largest, most ornate goblet and placed it in front of Arthur.

That decanter was then passed down the table. Merlin, who was seated three from the King, suspiciously inspected the wine, but he sensed no poison, drugs, or any magic about it.

Once all the wine had been poured and the food served, Duke Clyde raised his own goblet for a toast. Before he could begin, Arthur intervened.

“Your Grace, we appreciate your hospitality, but our time is short, and before we get too engrossed in formalities, there are a few matters we would like to clarify.”

Looking somewhat shaken, the Duke sat down. “Yes, Sire?’

“Last year we received your allegiance and your recognition of me as High King of Britain. For this I am grateful, because I value honor and loyalty above nearly all else. However, it has since come to my attention that you have met with and struck some agreement with a person who is unquestionably an enemy not only of mine but of my vision of a peaceful and united Britain. This dark allegiance, sir, is one which you must sever if you wish to remain at peace with me and with the forces I command.”

Duke Clyde’s normally ruddy face had turned so pale, his dark beard stood out like a bruise against it. “I—I can assure you, Sire, that I … never—”

“Clyde,” the King said evenly, “we have a reliable eyewitness to testify that you did. Merlin,” he said, turning to the teenaged boy a few seats away, “have you any further confirmation?”

The look of incredulous surprise on the Duke’s face caused Merlin to smile slightly. Clearly, the Duke had not connected the fabled wizard with this gangly youth. “I do, Arthur. Morgan’s minions have been here for some time, and Morgan herself has visited within the month.”

“I—I don’t … It simply isn’t …,” the Duke spluttered.

Arthur raised his hand. “Clyde, I don’t totally blame you. Morgan can be very persuasive. She and I have known each other a long time, a very long time. And no doubt she offered you inducements and made threats that you found hard to resist. But believe me, we can do the same. And in the end, would you not rather side with the forces that would see Britain ruled with peace and unity instead of those that would subject it to death, fear, and chaos? Would not your people also prefer that?”

Silence filled the room. “Think on it a moment,” the King added as he reached for his wine.

Candlelight glinted green on the goblet as Arthur raised it to his lips. Merlin stared as realization suddenly hit him. Not the wine, the glass!

“No!” he screamed, grabbing his staff and striking the jeweled cup. The goblet smashed to the table, spilling its wine over the ancient lace tablecloth. Around it, the red puddle turned to sickly, bubbling green. Green vapor rose in a twisting cloud and congealed into a pulsing reptilian form with tentacles reaching for Arthur’s throat.

Yelling, Merlin leaped onto the table and drove his staff into
the creature. Tentacles wrapped around the staff, but purple energy shot from its tip and coiled into the shape of a saber-clawed griffin. As everyone screamed and leaped back from the table, the two beasts rolled over and over, clutching and clawing at each other. China and glassware flew from the table, shattering on the floor.

Raising his arms, Merlin shouted a word, and fire ignited in the griffin’s mane. The fire shot out in writhing arms of flame, shriveling the tentacled beast until the creature faded into a sulfurous green haze. Quietly the purple griffin nodded to Merlin and winked out.

Using his staff, Merlin climbed down and resumed his seat alone now at the table. He watched as Duke Clyde made a dash for the door and was tackled by one of his own courtiers. “Traitor!” the gray-bearded courtier cried as several others joined him in wrestling their duke into submission. “You could have destroyed us all with your sneaking plots!”

Returning to the table, Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Thank you. That was rather more of a show than I expected.”

“It was rather more of a need than I expected,” the wizard answered.

Raising his voice, the King said, “I am afraid I have lost my appetite, and we do have to be going. Brendon, would you please stay on our behalf and negotiate a renewed alliance with the presumably
new
Duke of Manchester.”

Then he turned to address the gray-bearded man who had first tackled Clyde. “Apologies for our hasty departure, and for ruining your fine table setting. The Summer Solstice is fast approaching, and I trust to soon learn that your former duke has been properly dealt with. Prison or death—that is your decision. I would not dictate to an ally. And so I trust also that you and
your excellent troops will be fighting beside us on Salisbury Plain.”

As Arthur’s party rode from the Duke’s residence, Merlin casually tapped his staff against an innocent-seeming chunk of wall. Morgan’s hidden port exploded into red dust.

W
ALES

A
fter leaving Manchester, the royal party rode directly to Chester to greet Arthur’s early ally Duke Geoffrey. It was Geoffrey who had presented Arthur with the magnificent white stallion Gavyn, which he now rode to replace his beloved gray, which had been killed in the battle for Chester.

Merlin knew that once in that walled city, there would be banquets and speeches and much public acclaim, none of which he felt he had time for. So the night before they reached Chester, he waited for Arthur as the King returned to his tent after his usual walk among the campfires of his troops. Quietly he took him aside.

“Arthur, I know that the plan after renewing acquaintances here is to check in on Shropshire and Herefordshire and then approach Glamorganshire.”

The King smiled wryly. “Yes, and at that last one, meet with your old friend King Nigel. Will we ever stop paying for that trick you played giving the boy donkey ears?”

Merlin shook his head. It was an old joke between them, but it still stung a little. “I know, I was childish. But I was sorely provoked. And once you meet him, you may find out just what an ass King Nigel actually is.”

“And you’re thinking that perhaps you had better stay in the background on this one?”

“Perhaps. But what I really need to do is leave you for a while and go into Wales. There is something of extreme importance that I must attempt there.”

Arthur frowned. “Can you tell me what?”

Merlin looked pained. “No, I’m afraid I cannot. I am pledged to secrecy. But let us just say that it’s a task which a mutual friend of ours, an
old
friend, has sent me on. I must not refuse
her.”

He saw realization dawn in Arthur’s eyes. “Right. You’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

“Before dawn. Heather has offered to come with me. She might be able to help.”

“Good. Maybe she can keep you out of more trouble. But you will be back with us before we approach Glamorganshire? Surely you wouldn’t want to miss a reunion with your old schoolmate.”

Merlin snorted. “Not much of an inducement. But believe me, Arthur, we will rejoin you as soon as we can.”

So next morning, just as the camp was stirring, Merlin and Heather headed their horses west into Wales. They weren’t unaccompanied. Rus and Goldie, who was now slightly bigger than her dog companion, bounded along beside Heather, occasionally dashing into the scrub to catch and eat something. Goldie did most of the catching, but Rus did his share of the eating. Sil turned his snout up at hunting but happily experimented munching new plants as he trotted along beside Merlin. Sometimes both dragons joined up to try their new flying skills, soaring low over the Welsh countryside while Rus yapped excitedly below. Merlin and Heather both cautioned the dragons not to do so when humans were around. They wanted their trip to be relatively secret, not stalked by rumors of monsters.

As they finally rode past the boundary stones that marked their official entrance into Wales, Merlin felt as if he’d pushed through a tangled curtain of emotions. This was the land of his long-ago birth, but the sense of homecoming was bittersweet. The Wales he had known was gone. Once there had been rich forests and green hills dotted with sheep as white as the clouds in the then blue sky. The shepherds, farmers, and villagers who lived among the hills were friendly, open people who welcomed strangers and were always ready to share a story or a song.

Now trees were stunted and scarce, the hills were a drab gray-green, and the few sheep that roamed them were a sooty brown. They did not pass many people on the road, but those they met were very reserved. Though not openly hostile, they were clearly cautious of strangers. And even when they had managed to warn the dragons out of sight, Merlin felt that two young people riding good warhorses and armed with impressive swords must seem very strange indeed.

Merlin deliberately tried not to dwell on his memories. The past was long past, but here in the present he was about to spend several days, maybe weeks, with the woman he loved. Yet whenever that thought cheered him, he’d start thinking about how he wanted to show her the places that he had loved. Then he’d look over the bleak landscape, and instead of seeing the bluebells and buttercups and brilliant yellow broom he might expect in this season, there was nothing but gray and brown and a sickly pale green. The most color came from the orange, yellow, and purple lichen splashed over some of the rocks.

Again and again, he had to drag his mind back to the present, though focusing on their present quest did not improve his mood. His lack of information made Merlin feel particularly helpless. “It’s so frustrating,” he complained that first day when they had stopped by the roadside for a hurried lunch. “I still
don’t have a clue what to be looking for. I’ll just have to use every power I have to try to sense … something.”

Heather shook her head. “My powers have mostly to do with animals, and I don’t know what use that will be. Your scary-sounding grandpa is not likely to have turned his son into an animal, is he?”