Merlin's Nightmare (The Merlin Spiral) (57 page)

The man in shadow handed a wooden bucket to Loth, who poured its contents on Merlin’s legs, torso, and head. “A wee bit o’ sheep’s blood to whet the appetite.” The liquid was sticky and rancid, making Merlin gag and struggle against his ropes.

Next he coated Dybris with the blood and then laughed at them. “We must encourage proper feedin’ for the little one, now mustn’t we?”

“We’ll retire now and leave you to your meal,” Mórgana said. “I don’t expect to find you here in the morning.” And with that, she, Loth, the hooded man, and Mórganthu climbed up a stone ledge
and out of the cave. Behind them they closed a stout door and slid a bar in place, locking Merlin and Dybris in. The footsteps of the four echoed as they strode down the far passage.

The dragon lifted its head, opened its silver eyes, and stared at them. From its nostrils flashed a small green flame. The dragon opened its razored jaws in salivating anticipation and gave out a purring hum.

Merlin froze as the creature began crawling closer.

M
erlin struggled as the dragon slid closer — nose sniffing and tongue licking at the trail of foul-smelling blood Loth had left behind. All the time, a humming pulsed from its white throat, and its strange, silver-flecked eyes focused on Merlin’s face.

“Dybris!” Merlin yelled, “Help!”

“Sing,” Dybris said, twisting and rolling toward Merlin.

“What?”

“Sing!”

Merlin sang, quavery at first, but then stronger as he saw the dragon lift its head and pause its forward motion. The song was an old lay, taught to him by Colvarth, about a young king from the fens of Ekenia whose bride had vanished on a cold, blustery night. The man searched for her for a year and a day, but never found her. It was a sad song, and though Merlin didn’t know why he chose it, he was glad to have something to sing, for the dragon completely stopped in order to appraise him.

Stretching its neck out, the creature twitched its nose as if it were sniffing the tune floating through the air. “THOU SINGEST . . . WELL,” the dragon said, its deep voice vibrating like a drum.

Merlin kept singing as Dybris slid closer, feetfirst.

The dragon’s pupils narrowed as it studied them.

“BUT WE MUST EAT . . .”

Merlin’s heart convulsed in his chest and would barely let the words be sung.

The dragon opened its jaws, a humming hiss escaping from deep within its throat, and the long teeth shone in the torchlight.

“It’s not working!” Merlin yelled, rolling backward until a sharp rock on the floor of the cave jabbed painfully into his spine, halting him.

“I’m sorry!” Dybris said, scooting closer.

The dragon lunged forward — toward Merlin’s defenseless middle.

Merlin flinched just as Dybris lashed out with his feet, kicking the dragon in the head and knocking it to the side.

The dragon rolled, screaming and hissing in frustration.

Merlin swiveled his feet toward the beast and bent his knees, prepared to strike.

“Keep him busy!” Dybris said. “I’ve almost got a hand loose . . .”

The dragon spun, jerked its head in rage, and then lunged at the monk.

Merlin kicked, missing the creature’s head but knocking its front legs out from under it.

The dragon fell, clunking its chin on the ground. It turned on Merlin, snarling.

“I’ve got a hand loose!” Dybris yelled.

“Stop talking!” Merlin said, “I can see!”

“You can?”

“Long story.” Sweat began to pour down Merlin’s face as he kicked again, this time slamming the creature in the snout and knocking it back against the cave wall.

“Jesu help us!”

The dragon shook its head and reared up, balancing on its hind legs and tail, with its still-damp and weak wings spread out as well.

Merlin tensed, ready to strike back with his feet.

But the dragon took in a great breath, swelling its snake-like chest to twice the size, and let forth a powerful stream of green fire.

The flames engulfed his legs, and Merlin started to scream — until he lifted his knee-high boots to block the torrent, dispersing the flames and decreasing the pain. The thick leather soles blocked most of the heat, protecting him. Still, he could feel the flames flicking at the sides of his boots, the ropes, and his breeches, causing acrid steam from the sheep’s blood to singe his nose.

Merlin gritted his teeth as the heat leaked through the leather and the pain approched excruciating. Then with a whoosh, the fire went out and the dragon fell back, out of breath. If the creature had been larger and able to produce more flame, Merlin would have been roasted alive.

Dybris now had his other hand free and, reaching past Merlin, he grabbed one of the tripod’s wooden poles that held up the castiron pot. Pulling it loose, the pot crashed to the ashes below.

With one hand Dybris swung the narrow end toward the dragon to keep it back.

The creature hissed, its forked tongue flicking up and down angrily.

Merlin rolled and held his bound hands up to Dybris, who began picking blindliy at the knot with his free hand while keeping the dragon at bay with the makeshift staff in the other.

The dragon began swinging its head back and forth, looking for a path to strike, but Dybris countered every move.

“LET US . . . EAT!” the dragon roared, and then it bit onto the end of the staff and jerked backward, trying to wrest it from Dybris.

The monk grabbed on with both hands and threw his weight sideways, pulling the dragon off its hind feet. Swinging with all his strength, he threw the dragon and staff against the far wall of the cave.

The dragon slammed to the ground, stunned.

Rolling closer, Merlin held up his hands. “Dybris!”

The monk knelt down and worked desperately at the knots.

Merlin tried to calm his heart, but it banged until his throat felt like it would explode. The rope loosened much too slowly, and there were still three knots to go when the dragon leapt upon Dybris, knocking him to the ground. The beast’s claws cut through the monk’s robe, and his jaw snapped open, plunging toward Dybris’s head.

The monk twisted his face away and reached up, blindly grabbing the monster’s throat just below its spiraled horns.

“Help!”

Swinging his body over, Merlin kicked at the dragon, but was only able to hit the tail. In response the beast writhed against the monk’s grip, and its snapping jaws drew closer.

Merlin yelled as he used every ounce of strength to pull his hands free from the rope.

The dragon gained leverage by wrapping its tail around Dybris’s legs, then used its claws to cut into his arms.

Dybris screamed.

Merlin kicked again at the monster, this time ramming its curved horns.

The beast was knocked to the side, but quickly sucked in a deep breath, turned its head toward Merlin, and let out a stream of green, burning flames.

Merlin’s leather boots began to smoke, and the rope caught on fire.

Spinning to the side and away from the dragon’s fire, he rolled to put out the flames — but then changed his mind. Lifting his legs against the cave wall, he let the rope burn while straining against it.

“
Merlin!
” Dybris shouted.

His legs aflame, Merlin gritted his teeth as the pain jabbed into his calves and shins like white-hot pokers.

The dragon had drawn bleeding gashes down Dybris’s forearms now, and the monk’s hands began to shake as he squeezed at the creature’s throat.

The dragon’s neck bent forward, closer and closer until white saliva dripped off of its snapping teeth and onto Dybris’s forehead.

“
HELP!
”

Merlin yelled as the scorching pain bit into his flesh, all the while straining against the rope around his legs until they broke away and fell smoking to the floor.

Pulling at his right hand, he yanked it out of its rope.

He was free!

Standing, Merlin grabbed the handle of the large, cast-iron pot and swung it at the monster’s body.

Thud!

The dragon screamed and its tail went slack, releasing Dybris’s legs.

Anger surged through Merlin as he swung the pot back and slammed it into the dragon a second time. “Get off!” he yelled. With a loud crack, the pot broke, and its iron shards scattered across the floor.

The beast went limp as Dybris threw it against the far wall.

Merlin ran to the door and slammed his shoulder into it. But it was solidly barred from the outside, and the stout oak wouldn’t budge.

“Untie my legs . . .” Dybris called. His voice was weak, his arms bleeding, and his hands shaking.

Merlin ran back and undid the knots, keeping one eye on the dragon, which was beginning to coil up and twitch. “We have to escape! Is there a way out farther back in the cave?”

“No, but there
is
a way,” Dybris said, pulling himself up onto his feet with Merlin’s help. “Grab that barrel and bring it over here.”

Merlin didn’t understand, but obeyed. Rolling an empty barrel from the side of the cave, he carried it to the fallen tripod and jumbled ashes underneath.

Dybris limped over and accidentally stepped in the bucket of sheep blood. Kicking the foul thing away, he shifted the barrel onto the pile of ashes. Finally, he pointed up.

Merlin looked and saw that there was a wide, soot-covered hole
in the low roof right above the barrel, sort of a natural, chimney-like tunnel that angled upward. Why hadn’t he realized it before?

“That’s how Garth used to sneak in . . . It leads out.”

The dragon straightened itself, lifted its head, and eyed them with a smoldering hatred.

“I’ll help you up,” Merlin said.

Dybris shook his head. “You first — I have to get something!”

“No.”

“There’s a ledge . . . you can pull me up. Go!”

Merlin took one look at the dragon, now slithering toward them, and jumped on top of the barrel.

“THOU . . . WILT BOTH DIE . . .” the creature hummed, its eyes like the slits of a grave.

The barrel wobbled beneath Merlin’s feet, but it gave him enough height to reach into the darkness of the hole, grab the ledge, and pull himself up.

Dybris was directly behind and boosted Merlin’s legs until he knelt upon the ledge. Reaching down, Merlin grabbed the monk’s right hand and pulled him up.

But Dybris began to scream.

“It’s got me!” he yelled, kicking and thrashing.

Merlin tried to pull up against the combined weight of the monk and the dragon.

Dybris cried out in anguish for help. “Jesu! Sweet Jesu!”

Something broke free, and Dybris suddenly weighed less. Below, there was a crash and the sound of venemous hissing.

Merlin hauled Dybris up to the ledge, and squinted in the darkness to see what had happened.

“He got my boot!” Dybris said, laughing and huffing.

And sure, his left foot was scratched and bare, and the boot that had stepped in the bucket of sheep’s blood was gone.

They both looked down, and the barrel had fallen and rolled away. The dragon stared up at them in furious anger, the bloody boot hanging from its mouth.

Merlin smiled and whispered a prayer of thanks.

Something metal lay in Dybris’s hands, reflecting the dim torchlight from below.

“What do you have?” Merlin asked.

Dybris held it out to him. “It’s Uther’s torc. The night the High King died at the druid circle, I found it — just laying in the grass near the Stone. I’ve kept it secret ever since, waiting for you to return with Arthur. I couldn’t leave it behind with the dragon. Is he here? Has Arthur come . . . ?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, amazement and relief washing over him. “Let’s get out before that thing finds a way to get up here . . .”

“We need to kill it!”

“If we had swords, and if you weren’t injured, we might be able to. But Mórgana could come back at any moment, and we need to be away from here as quickly as possible.”